Easily Impressed

Whether we like it or not, whether it's intentional or not, we judge everyone everywhere on their ability to communicate with the world. Language is the mark of culture, of civilization, of humanity and of intelligence. When one cannot fully articulate and handle a language, the natural, even subconscious, assumption is a lack of these things, even given all evidence to the contrary.
I'm almost certain this is why the Belgians seem so impressed with the skills I have that carry over past language.
I play guitar. I'm not a prodigy or anything, I can't make bar chords or power chords and I can't finger-pick to save my life. I know lots and lots of simple chords, one that I think I made up (I can't find what it's called anywhere, at least) and half a dozen strum patterns. I can play easy, popular songs like I'm Yours and Love Story and even (at a stretch) Build Me Up, Buttercup. I can sing passably, really high, kind of high, and low enough that I can sing Fast Car by Tracy Chapman. I don't know if I'm flat or sharp or bang on to any of these notes, but I know that I can make my voice go up and down in these three "keys". I have a dozen songs or so that I wrote, and a few that are works in progress.
For some reason, this impresses the bejesus out of all the Belgians. I don't know if I became spoilt with the idea of a "good" singer at my theatre school with a roomate who sang for the Minnesota State Opera, or if my best friend, the conservatory-quality violinist made me forget that my "skills" on the guitar, such as they are, do impress some.
Maybe they're just being nice.
Someone at my hockey practice walked by me, brokenly singing the words to Hey Soul Sister in shabby English. I half sang along, out loud, waiting for my turn in line. The reaction was like I'd set fire to my hair.
"Oh my god!" Mathilde exclimed. "Sing for us in English! Sing, sing, sing!"
They wouldn't leave me alone. So I ended up singing several songs while we drilled. It was very bizarre.
And my host family is awed every time I pick up the guitar to practice Wish You Were Here, or even work on one of my own creations. Vero demanded I teach her the Smoke on the Water rift that is probably the most recognizable thing ever.
People seem so impressed with these small skills I've always kind of overlooked in myself, it's very strange to be held on such a pedestal like this.
But don't worry about me getting too big an ego, my French is corrected daily. And they laugh at me when I say bless you in French. I think I was lied to, that what I say doesn't mean bless you, but something mildly rude and they don't quite have the heart to tell me.