I was walking the three blocks to the 7-11 yesterday when I encountered a group of seven or eight raffish Latino men loitering in the middle of the sidewalk. It was nine in the morning. Some looked like they were day laborers. Some were just chilling. Some were getting their drink on already. I had to bisect their little group in order to proceed so I did my bisecting and went inside the food mart to purchase a bad cup of coffee. On the way out I had to once again push through this little group and as I did they began to make comments. I kept on walking and they shouted at my back. Typical. This is what I get for being the only white guy in the neighborhood. Then I realized I was wearing the Ronaldinho jersey I got in Barcelona. Then I started to actually listen to their Spanish instead of blocking it out. Ha-ha. They were talking about the merits of Ronaldinho and his Barca teammates, NOT calling me Whitey Swine. Ha-ha. One guy had his fist in the air yelling "Brasil!"
This happens a lot when I'm wearing this jersey. "Mira la camisa!" I hear often. The jersey makes me approachable for some reason. A non-foreigner. Maybe not one of them exactly, but at least something they can understand.
Moral: Latin peoples love their futbol.
3 comments:
I wonder what a REAL SALT LAKE shirt would do for you.
I just noticed I put this in the wrong place: Been listening to the latest Beck CD have you? I always thought it was "Gueto" that my Chicano friends were calling me all those years ago. Beck has it as "Guero." Maybe Chicanos use "Gueto". Maybe I have bad hearing.
Reminds me of being the only white guy at a Ziggy Marley concert. I feel quite out of place, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn't enjoy reggae music so much. Then, I feel angry that I even question loving something so wonderful.
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