Catracho Pride, part 2

Around my birthday I posted about my wife's gift to me of a Honduran national team futbol jersey. I don't wear it often because I feel just a tiny bit self-conscious in it here in Honduras because I fear it makes me look like a gringo trying to be culturally relevant or something.
However, I had no qualms about displaying it publicly during our recent visit to the states because, quite frankly, I'm sure most people have no idea that it represents a country, never mind which one.
To my surprise, on two occasions when I wore it it occasioned comments from others. The first took place in a Chipotle restaurant in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. I had the following conversation with one of the employees.

"Where'd you get that jersey?"
"Honduras."
"What? You been there or something?"
"We live there."
"Don't tell me you like it there?!"

It turns out that he was born in Tegucigalpa and lived here until he was in his early teens whereupon he (and his family I presume) moved to New Jersey. We later had a bit longer conversation about the country and his and our thoughts about it.
On another day, this time in Harrisonburg, Virginia, I vaguely heard someone say something behind me. A second later they tried again and I caught the words, "Hey, Americano Catracho!"