The Quiet Americans

Traveling around for the last 5 months has allowed me to meet a lot of non-Americans, which afforded me the privilege of hearing (and dismantling) a lot of stereotypes about Americans. No, we're not all fat, no, not everyone in America voted for Bush, not all of us like apple pie and baseball, we're not any more irritable than any other culture, we CAN handle our alcohol (we just don't need to drink as much as our other English-speaking cohorts), and for the love of God, all of us are not loud. I can't even keep track of how many people asked me why I was so quiet compared to other Americans. Perhaps I should've asked them how many Americans they've ever met, because relative to the people I've met, we are rather quiet.
The loud Americans stereotype hadn't bothered me until I moved into my flat in Wellington (New Zealand's capital city). My 9 other flatmates are perhaps the loudest people I have ever encountered. Every morning I wake up to the rather unpleasant sounds of them stampeding down the stairs, rummaging around the kitchen, and watching the ridiculously obnoxious MTV "reality" shows they are so tragically addicted to. Ugh. I can't help but wonder how Americans got the reputation for being loud and obnoxious, when it appears that New Zealanders are exponentially more loud and obnoxious. I'm not just making generalizations about an entire nation based on my flat mates, no, since I'm still unemployed, I've had a very large amount of free time to walk around the city and people watch with my boyfriend. Here's a few things we'd see on a typical walk home in the evening: several cars racing by with a drunk guy yelling out the window at us, countless drunk girls stumbling and yelling down the streets, broken glass strewn all over the streets and sidewalks, and a girl (or two) vomiting in a fountain. Let's compare this to a typical night in, say, San Francisco. There would likely be drunk girls stumbling about the streets, but I know they wouldn't be shrieking at the same volume as the Kiwi girls do, there is rarely broken glass on the streets, I have never been yelled at by a drunk guy hanging out of a car window, and I've also never witnessed public vomiting. America: 1, New Zealand: 0.
But New Zealand has to have some redeming factors, right? Sure, it's pretty, I guess. That is, if you don't factor in the hurricane speed winds, arctic temps (in summer, no less!), and the generally dismal sky. Rumor has it that, far, far away from Wellington, there's some pretty beautiful scenery, but unfortunately, I am not far, far away from Wellington. I never thought I'd say this, but I would rather being camping than living here.
I'd say most of this is due to the epic battle over internet usage between my flatmates and me. In New Zealand, internet is charged per GB used, each household has a certain limit they pay for each month (ours is 20), and if they go over that a fee of less than NZ$4/GB is charged. I was unaware of this, and used a bit too much internet one particular day. One of the girls told me about the limits and how our house was quickly approaching the limit. Most importantly, she mentioned that this had never happened before. No problem. I cut down on internet usage. Weeks later, just before college applications are due, the internet is suddenly cut off with no explanation. I found out that one of the girls had unplugged the router just before leaving on a 3 week vacation and has not retuned the cord. Since I desperately need internet access I go out and buy a new cord and contribute an extra $10 to our expenses fund to cover any overages. All is well until the internet is unplugged again. And again. And again. Basically, here's how the rest of the story goes: I use my well-developed skills in what I like to call "fact gathering" (skills I developed spying on Chip) and find out that every single month this flat goes over the monthly allotment, but there has never been a month that they unplug the router to stop internet use, and that I am using less than my fair share of internet, and that the money that I contributed earlier this month actually covers for almost the entire overage fee. So, in conclusion, I was manipulated into feeling guilty about using too much internet and paid for extra internet usage that I really had nothing to do with. Not to worry though, in typical Maya fashion I confronted them about it and the internet has been turned back on, and I have vowed to "cut the next beezie that messes with the internet." Maya: 1, Flatmates: 0. Better luck next time.
On the bright side, my lease here ends soon, and rather than prolonging my torture in this city, I'm going to move to a more rural area and pick fruit until I leave in April.
And I'll post more.
Promise.