Cross-Cultural Continues

This past weekend, between hitting up Guanajuato, a huge Mexican grocery and restaurant (Indianapolis people, they have massive tortas for $4.  Do it.), going to church in Spanish, stopping in at a Latino festival, and visiting a largely Hispanic indoor market, I found myself wishing my Spanish and/or cultural bravery were not so rusty.  How easily I forget what it feels like to be a minority or to fumble around in a language that's not my own.  Even in these places, how easy it is for me to use English and know that someone else will compensate.  And how easy it is to come back to the rest of Indianapolis, to the familiar, to where I don't stick out.  :/