OK so I find this really, really funny.
And maybe you have to be here for it to be that funny.
But I used to always think that Ni-Vans knew that we were Pis Kops by positioning and language skills, I guess. You know, if you see a white person on a cargo boat, chances are high that they're a volunteer. Or if someone's storying in high quality Bislama at the nakamal, it would make sense to figure that we were Peace Corps.
But sometimes people can tell without us saying ... anything. Like sometimes I'll be at a resort and I'll order a coffee in English and the waiter asks if I'm a Pis Kop. From wanem? I thought. Hao nao oli save se mi mi wan pis kop volontia?
Mystery solved. Drum roll ...
Oh man, it's because of what we look like. That's rough. And this is confirmed.
One girl in my group tried to get some alcohol on a Sunday at a duty free store and got into a disagreement with the store clerk. "How do you know I'm not a tourist?" she asked. "Your clothes," he answered.
Other proof: no one has ever, ever, ever challenged my attempts to get local rates at hotels and tourist attractions. Never once, not ever, has someone been like, "Really? Where do you work?"
And you know, we do dress differently from the tourists and the expats. Even when trying to look cute. We all wear old, crummy looking flip flops. Most of us carry baskets. I would say that, on an average day, my hair looks like hell. You can't see our butt cheeks hanging out of our shorts. Here's hoping that at some point I will start to look like a well-groomed adult human without permanent dirt ground into my heels. But still, really, really funny.
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