Around ~2008 I was in a Barcelona hostel and met a guy there. He started speaking and I interrupted him excitedly…“Oh you’re American!!”.
He looked down…the weight of pain curdled the air around us. You could sense deep sorrow welling beneath the surface of this man. He paused for what felt like an eternity to compose himself,
He looked up with a piercing, but harrowing, stare and said “No, I’m Canadian…”
I’ll never forget that moment. That sheer depth of emotion is something I haven’t experienced before or since.
Did I silently murder this poor Canadian soul? How do Canadians cope with the mistaken identity?
You must have caught that schmuck on a really bad day. I’m not upset by it, because we are really hard to tell apart. Some people do take mild offence, but it’s a pretty unfair thing to expect someone to guess.
Often, it’s good to point out you’re Canadian abroad, because we’re just less hated globally. Occasionally being “American” can be handy, especially in America.