Asinine Affectations of an Arkansan

Recently a website titled "Stuff White People Like" was brought to my attention. Written from a pedagogical perspective it is ostensibly set up to teach non-whites about whites but the true aim is just making fun of white people. It's filled with items that white people like and each topic is usually accompanied by a humorous summary. Though the humor and insight behind each topic varies widely, it is a pretty interesting list

Although I'm proud to dislike a number of things that according to the site I'm supposed to like as a white person, several of my "likes" dotted the list, most notably The Wire, Breakfast places, & Netflix. However, the particular post that got me the most was the one on traveling (and its sister post, Studying Abroad). You can see each here: Travel, Study abroad

I hope that I currently don't act like the people described and hopefully I won't begin to affect any sort of behavioral pretensions as a result of my time here. The one area where I can see myself possibly failing is the acquisition of a taste for a refined foreign product of some sort. Generally speaking, I had assumed I was safe from this since I've never been much of a "brand man." Despite being briefly employed at a higher end distributor I've never had much pretension with beer. I grew up drinking cheap, mass produced beer and maintained the habit throughout my college and post-college years. So, although I can appreciate and enjoy foreign beers or micro brews, I never fell in love with them (in a sense I've never really out grown my penchant for beers like the High Life). Contrasting that is my relative pretensions with wine and liquor as a result of my time as a liquor store employee. Unlike my friend Skip, I won't stomach rot gut liquors like Kentucky Deluxe. Likewise I affect airs when it comes to certain wines like Yellow Tail whose success is largely based around a successful marketing approach towards women (this is especially noticeable in the college co-ed crowd).

Despite all intentions against doing so, I think I've unfortunately succumbed to the "Czechznlishiyush Pilsner" phenomenon courtesy of Morgane's mom, Monique. Oddly enough, the beverage of choice at her house is cider. I'd never had anything but the sugar soaked beer bottle style ciders of America and was pleasantly surprised with my first taste of French cider. Over the past few months I've become quite fond of the various ciders of Normandy I've been able to sample during meals with Monique. The oddity of this new penchant for cider is of course my distaste for most things involving apples except the apple itself. I've never liked applesauce and apple pie will most always be choice number two given the option. So, becoming attached to cider has been an unexpected turn of events. Though I won't be ordering cases of cider for myself when I get back home it has served as another reminder that your parents were right when they remonstrated you for not trying something--you don't know if you like it until you try it. In a lot of ways that parental dictum sums up the experience of travel (and life) itself.