I get a lot of questions about my nationality. It could be the name Naran. Or maybe, my accent sparks curiosity in people. Personally, I don’t consider my accent to be very noticeable. When I was younger, I answered the questions about my whereabouts truthfully. “I was born in Sweden and moved to the USA when I was thirteen.” This answer became monotonous. Now, I mostly opt for an outlandish location such as Tuvalu, Kyrgyzstan, Djibouti or Liechtenstein. Most people react awkwardly when they get this unexpected answer, probably because they have no idea where any of these countries are. They nod and look down, which often means the end of their curiosity.

But not yesterday. I told a smart looking man in a business suit I lived in Liechtenstein. He instantly started speaking German. It turned out he was actually from there and asked if I knew his family. What are the chances? So, I was the one to stare down and embarrassedly admitted that I had lied. The man was not offended. “You see,” he said, “in Liechtenstein there’s a fair chance people know each other. The country only has 36,000 inhabitants.” I said it was amazing that the world had so few Liechtensteinians. He said they were Liechtensteiners, not Liechtensteinians. I was relieved to learn that Liechtensteiners are nice people, and I decided not to use Liechtenstein again.
Currently, I work in Minneapolis as a biochemist. My last project just ended, and I have three months before I start at Razk Pharmaceuticals. I planned to have some time for myself during these months, but the plans have changed. I broke the Didelian law, and the consequences are unexpected.