“I can’t understand you.” During the summer going into 8th grade, this was probably the most common phrase that came out of my mouth. It was typically met by a polite nod and smile, but all the while I could see the discontent and superiority outlined on their face. Their facial expression alone mirrored their thoughts: Stupid American. Tourist. I guess this is what to expect when you go to a sport camp in a different country.
On our annual summer vacation to Greece, my parents insisted that I go to a Greek sport camp to improve my “fluency.” Fluency, however, was a strong word. I could barely understand this complex language, let alone speak it.
The first night at the camp, I begged my parents to let me leave. I was alone, isolated from the other campers due to my ethnic background. This was torture that no one should have to endure. I remember crying myself into a depressing slumber- well not exactly. But still, this was hell.
Morning brought no reprieve, in fact, it was worse. When I asked the lady serving food for cereal, I received a blank stare. I had to resort to a string of points and grunts in order to avoid starvation. Once my food tray was full, I retreated back to my dorm, eating in solitude in order to avoid more confrontations with the people who were so different.
