De dónde sos?


Ah. De dónde sos? Only one taxi driver in BA has ever guessed, first time, where I’m from, after simply telling him where to drive me. And I’ve taken more than one…

And as a getting-to-know-you question, well, I’m over that backpacker’s intro. Just ask me what I did last night and that will give you a far greater insight into me, if you actually care.

I do visibly recoil from “where are you from?” Because it means nothing to me. I just say I’m from here, Buenos Aires, capital of Argentina, as that’s where I live, just like I used to be from Cariló where I was for two years.

At times I’m accused of being unfriendly, aggressive even, by people who think it matters de dónde soy. What, because the whites of my eyes just rolled out the back of my head onto the broken pavement to leave my irises unblinking and enraged in their sockets, that makes me unfriendly?

Does it truly make a difference? Sometimes it just seems you’ll only talk to me because I’m Canadian, or Australian, or Italian. Really, it’s not aggression, it’s just boredom. I find it tedious answering that question which gets asked as regularly as I go to the loo. And if it’s a nationality you’re after, well that final word should clarify it. And if I want to say I’m Argentine or Dominican, just let me be.

But to end on a high note, this video was made by a mate, Gonzalo Mazar, who plays in the electro-gypsy funk band Mama Pulpa. And it’s called De dónde sos?.

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