It Wasn’t the Accent That Gave Me Away
My aunt was talking to my nephew — a 19-year-old who just moved to Miami from Havana — about accents. The fast talk of the Cuban, the elegant Venezuelan, the sing-song of Mexico. To make a point, she told a story about an encounter with a vendor in Mexico City who tried to figure out where she was from based on her accent.
Well, it wasn’t the accent that gave her away and identified her as Cuban.
I couldn’t believe my ears because I had a similar experience during a trip to Cuba. In fact, I purposely told a man I was just an americana because I didn’t want to get into a conversation with him. Yeah well, he figured it out and how he did is a story I love to tell.
Can you guess how we got identified as Cubanas?
Watch the video essays for the stories…and proof that there is a definite family trait in my familia.
Have you had similar experiences?
(A special thanks to my Tia for being game enough to let me record her and post her fabulousness on the Tiki Tiki. And, by the way, she did it all wonderfully on the first take.)