Hi, my name is Brad and I'm from the U.S.

Where is THIS guy from? Oh there's a Patagonia label on his jacket. I bet he's from one of those "land" cities in the U.S. I hear those places are over. What a sucker.

Before I left the United States, a frequent topic of conversation was whether I was going to admit to being American while was out of the country. This is sadly common among Americans who travel internationally. I spent a decent amount of time in France during the George W. Bush years, or as they are now called the good ole days, and knew a few compatriots with Maple Leaves sewn to their backpacks. To my surprise, this time that hasn’t been necessary. As I noted in Vietnam I have been struck by just how excited and welcoming local people have been to me once I say I’m from the United States (if interested, see my blog post about this topic here). Perhaps even more surprisingly, foreign policy conversations I have with other travelers who have opinions about the topic aren’t as hostile as I feared. One traveler I met, an Australian working for an NGO in Afghanistan, hypothesized that people now just feel sorry for Americans in a way that they didn't when Obama was President and so are cutting us some slack. I would hope that they empathize with me as well and see some of the same factors that led to Trump’s election (nationalism, xenophobia, exploitation of social media, and discontent with the unequal distribution of wealth) at play in their own countries. For me this is fortunate because even though I am ashamed to admit it when I read the news from back home, being abroad I have realized that I am undeniably American. I’ve also decided it’s time I embrace my nationality, both for myself and the good of the motherland.

If I really tried I might just be able to pretend I wasn’t from the United States. Thanks to my Italian tinged complexion and the intentionally anonymous clothes in my backpack, people have said I look Spanish, French, Italian, Israeli, even Turkish. This ambiguity comes to a screeching halt however when I open my mouth and in my flat Hollywood-American accent declare, ‘Hi, I’m Brett.” Westerners usually say something to the effect of “that’s such an American name!” Nevermind that my parents picked it for me because I came into the world about nine months after a birth control snafu in Bretagne, France. Most locals, and about half of the Europeans misunderstand me and say something along the lines of “ah, like Brad Pitt.” I can work with that and sometimes for the sake of simplicity I become Brad. Mr. Pitt is better than "Brat", "bread," or being associated with today’s most well known Brett: recent Trump Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh.

I’ve also realized, as frequent readers of my blog may have identified as well, that at this point in my life American culture runs deep in my blood. With a bit more practice and a thicker accent my French skills might be at a point where I could pass for a Frenchie to a non-Francophone. But I can talk for hours about the Electoral College, West Coast life, the complexities of Race in America, and all the reasons you shouldn’t own a handgun. When a hip hop song comes on the radio my head experiences a subtle, involuntary twitch from side to side. If I were to open my mouth about Emmanuel Macron, the best food in Nantes, or all the ways to use six weeks of annual vacation I’d immediately sound like un idiot. Plus, I would be just another French guy out there in the world which, where I have been, is probably a greater liability than being American.

As people have gotten to know me, several have noted positive traits of my personality that I’ve come to decide are American. The most surprising to me was the observation that I have “American enthusiasm.” I didn’t realize that was a character trait of other Americans but since that observation I’ve seen it in other fellow compatriots and I think you could also call it "stoke." Maybe because of this enthusiasm, it’s been reported that I am loud. Since this can be a source of embarrassment for others around me, I attempt to keep this in check but if you know me well you know that more often than not I’m unsuccessful.

In my defense though, my loudness is useful when talking to people with limited English skills in crowded places. A number of English learners have said I’m really easy to understand, particularly compared to fellow English speaking natives the Aussies and Brits (who I’ve bafflingly heard increase their muttering and over-complicate their word choice rather than enunciating and choosing simple words when someone isn't likely to understand what they are saying). I’m adventurous and feel at home in the outdoors thanks to the fact that I’ve grown up with regular trips to the forest. Finally, I can handle spicy food and give credit to the Thai, Indian, Chinese, and Mexican cuisine I have easy access to at home.

Looking and feeling particularly American eating a chili in Vietnam. Because I wasn't sweating enough already.

Using my powers of self-awareness I have identified a few other traits of mine that are not so positive but that I can at least partly attribute to being American. I love the energy and activity found in large foreign cities but after too much time on crowded streets or public transport I get claustrophobic and irritated. I’ve gotten used to the big streets and wide open spaces of the United States not to mention the value I place on the American concept of personal space. I’ve also realized that I’m less patient than the average person. My mom might argue that this is genetic, though not from her. I want to pack in as much to my day as I can. This can be a good thing; like the American worker I’m very productive but I’ve learned that sometimes I need to chill out a bit. See my post about Surf Camp or my constant griping about the lack of bandwidth wix.com gives for its non-paying bloggers for examples of this.

No matter how much time I spend in the sun or how carefully I trim my facial hair it’s true, I’m American. Hopefully I still feel comfortable declaring this after leaving Western Europe. If you look again at the traits I associate with my compatriots you might notice that I’m a product of a multicultural, hardworking society, where people have access to nature. I am proud of all of this and want to make sure these things continue to exist for future Americans. I’ve also realized that Brad from the United States promotes a positive image of my country that runs counter to the news generated out of Washington DC these days. I’m an example of a curious, generally culturally sensitive, intelligent, and interesting American who can fit into French looking T-Shirts (but not the jeans). If this sounds like you I encourage you leave the United States for a bit a proudly own your Americanness but not go so far as to sow the Stars and Stripes on your bag. Maybe I should apply for the US Foreign Service like another American guy I met on my first day in Bishkek. He said they have a lot of openings these days. Even if they are desperate enough to hire me I’d probably be fired after a few months for swearing loudly at a State function. More importantly, I think that job would literally kill me.

I started this post on a five hour budget airline middle seat flight that added a three hour unscheduled stop in Aktobe, Kazakhstan. I finished it from the cafe at my hostel in Istanbul. One of these locations was more pleasant than the other...