Don't Call Me Guamish Reflections on a South Pacific freshman week By Jessica Marati Frosh Week conversations are always scintillating. Aside from where I live on campus, what I did over the summer and what classes I'm taking this semester, my personal favorite question is, "Where are you from?" My answer is usually greeted by a funny blend of bewilderment and shock. "Guam?" they ask. They think, just for a little bit. "Wait, you're going to think I'm so dumb." Don't worry, I don't. If you told me you lived in the capital of Burkina Faso, I'd be giving you the same blank stare you're giving me right now. They continue, "So where is that exactly?" I answer that Guam is an island in the South Pacific, an old-world geographic designation I love because it makes me think of lying on a hammock on a pristine white-sand beach with a Corona, singing "Bali Ha'i"… "Which, coincidentally, is exactly how I got into Princeton,” I'm half-joking. "Ooooooooooh," they say. "I thought it was somewhere down there!" Nope, that's Guatemala. Honest mistake - it comes right after Guam on the drop-down list of countries on web surveys, even though Guam isn't even really a country. Really, Guam ranks pretty high up on the list of random places to be from. A brief list of answers to frequently asked questions: Guam is an organized unincorporated territory of the United States. It's located smack-dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, four hours east of Japan and seven hours west of Hawaii. There's a huge American military presence, but no, my father's not in the military. I'm Chamorro, which is the ethnicity of people from Guam as well as the name of the language. Chamorro is mostly only spoken by the manamko', or elders (which is why I speak English so well). I don't pay federal taxes, but I also can't vote. Politics and Wilson School majors usually ask if Guam has a representative in Congress; it does, but she can't vote either. ____________________________ Signs in our tourist district, Tumon, are written in English and Japanese, advertising businesses with Chamorro names and Spanish-style architecture. ____________________________ Guam is a world away from Princeton, figuratively and almost literally due to the 24-hour plane ride. I grew up entrenched in an incredibly unique culture because Spain, Japan and now America have all occupied Guam and left behind cultural elements that blend in interesting ways with our native Chamorro heritage. Signs in our tourist district, Tumon, are written in English and Japanese, advertising businesses with Chamorro names and Spanish-style architecture. On the weekends, we attend huge fiestas to honor village patron saints, where we eat traditional dishes like keleguen (diced chicken with coconut milk and lemon juice) alongside borrowed dishes like tatiyas (tortillas), fried rice, sashimi and fried chicken from KFC. I'm not joking about the KFC. All of that is not to say that I didn't go through the same things that most teenagers on the "mainland," as we call it, go through. I went on class field trips during the fall, celebrated Christmas, rushed to find a prom date in the spring and watched bad reality TV in the summer. The difference is that my class trips weren't to art museums or Gettysburg; instead, we went across the street to see the latte, stone pillars of ancient homes that date back thousands and thousands of years. My Christmas was held during sweltering 90-degree heat and my prom date turned out to unintentionally be my third cousin accidentally — it seems that everyone on Guam is related. And those bad reality TV shows? They ran two weeks after they were originally broadcast. Naturally, it was a bit of a culture shock coming to Princeton. Okay, I take that back - it was a huge culture shock. Who were these people who didn't greet newcomers with a smile and a kiss on the cheek? Why hadn't I gotten the memo about buying Kelly green polo shirts and those big quilted bags everyone used to carry around? And what was i-banking? But I adjusted. Though I now wear jeans and a cable-knit sweater to class, I still sport flip-flops in the winter and the occasional flower behind my ear. My i-pod contains my beloved island and reggae music alongside late-night eating club classics like "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Like A Prayer." One thing that hasn't changed, though? I'll always be known as "Jess - you know, that girl from Guam." So go ahead - ask. Jessica Marati is of Italian and Chamorro descent and attends Princeton University. This article first appeared in the Daily Princetonian.  This website: Copyright © 2007 Dream World Media, LLC. / Urban Mozaik Magazine. All rights reserved. The opinions expressed in Urban Mozaik Magazine are not necessarily those of Urban Mozaik Magazine and the publisher cannot be held responsible for them. This website/publication, in whole or in part, may not be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.