The Interculturalists

Albanian immigration to Italy

2008-10-03T13:11:00.001-04:00

In the Italian popular imagination, Albanian immigrants are more often depicted as scofflaws than as upstanding members of society. Anti-immigrant sentiment runs high, and many Italians blame foreigners for what they say is a rise in crime. In recent months, there have been several highly publicized cases of violence against other immigrant groups.
But amid the turmoil, families like the Murrizis are quietly integrating into middle-class life in ways that Italy is only beginning to acknowledge. Like new shoots grafted onto an old vine, they are fast becoming an essential part of the country’s most valued traditions, including winemaking.
The Murrizis work full time for the Salcheto winery, based in nearby Montepulciano, planting in spring, pruning in summer, picking in fall and preparing the vines in winter.
They are the new face of Italy, and Italy is slowly recognizing them.
“At first we didn’t realize they have different needs,” said Salcheto’s owner, Michele Manelli, 33, who has gone out of his way to help the Murrizis navigate the Italian bureaucracy. “When we’d have dinner at the end of the harvest, we’d have a normal menu. But little by little we understood: no pig, no wild boar.”

Individual vs. group rights: virginity testing in South Africa

2008-09-26T12:51:00.002-04:00

From the Washington Post:

"They must leave culture aside," Ngobese said. "Human rights are individual rights, which is not the way for us. We live communally."

NYT: Saudi women inspired by Oprah

2008-09-19T16:11:00.001-04:00

From the article:

When “The Oprah Winfrey Show” was first broadcast in Saudi Arabia in November 2004 on a Dubai-based satellite channel, it became an immediate sensation among young Saudi women. Within months, it had become the highest-rated English-language program among women 25 and younger, an age group that makes up about a third of Saudi Arabia’s population.
In a country where the sexes are rigorously separated, where topics like sex and race are rarely discussed openly and where a strict code of public morality is enforced by religious police called hai’a, Ms. Winfrey provides many young Saudi women with new ways of thinking about the way local taboos affect their lives — as well as about a variety of issues including childhood sexual abuse and coping with marital strife — without striking them, or Saudi Arabia’s ruling authorities, as subversive.
Some women here say Ms. Winfrey’s assurances to her viewers — that no matter how restricted or even abusive their circumstances may be, they can take control in small ways and create lives of value — help them find meaning in their cramped, veiled existence.
“Oprah dresses conservatively,” explained Princess Reema bint Bandar al-Saud, a co-owner of a women’s spa in Riyadh called Yibreen and a daughter of Prince Bandar bin Sultan, the former Saudi ambassador to the United States. “She struggles with her weight. She overcame depression. She rose from poverty and from abuse. On all these levels she appeals to a Saudi woman. People really idolize her here.”

Jamais trois sans quatre... (?)

2008-09-14T17:53:00.001-04:00

I know I've been posting about this for the past three days, but I just can't get enough! Gender, anthropology and cross-cultural studies, all at once? Love it!

In addition to the article I keep linking to, John Tierney has a post up on his blog (the Tierney Lab Blog) on the topic. The post itself is essentially a paraphrasing of the "Findings" article, but the comments are pretty interesting. The vast majority are insightful and on-point, but the few truly dumb/insane ones are worth quoting:

So, does all this mean that if you answer the door and there’s a woman on the stoop dressed as a police officer with baton and cuffs in hand and a holstered pistol strapped to her waist you can still ask her for a date?
— John Brady

My… There are a lot of angry women out there stuck on all the ways life is unfair… I only wonder when a men’s movement will form to protest the injustices of education and preferential hiring and scholarship for women?

While this research may not be perfect, and like all research may leave more left unanswered than of seems to answer, I’m left feeling glad that despite the efforts of social engineering and feminism men and women are still maintaining some of their unique and special characteristics… maybe even emphasizing them! Could it possibly be that women’ salaries aren’t lower because of the evils of men, but because they took their positions for some other reason than money? Why should women get to be described with all the positive adjectives and get the same salaries as the aggressive and competitive males their forced to tolerate?

Women are women and men are men, for better or worse. As interesting as it is to explore and as enticing as it may be to change, we’re in the process of killing our planet and all the other beautiful forms of life on it… Can we turn our attention to that now?
— carver

What difference does it make? We’re all doomed. Have a nice day.

— Jagdish Collins

Possibly my favorite comment on ANY NYT blog, EVER :)

More on negative correlation between gender equality and gender sameness

2008-09-13T17:41:00.000-04:00

Come to think of it, if this stuff about gender differences becoming more pronounced as society becomes more egalitarian is true, that ought to shut up those geezers who are still claiming that women's lib is turning us into men. If anything, it's turning us into girly-girls.

Anyway, I just wanted to link to a few articles I've found on this topic:

Why Can’t a Man Be More Like a Woman? Sex Differences in Big Five Personality Traits Across 55 Cultures

Previous research suggested that sex differences in personality traits are larger in prosperous, healthy, and egalitarian cultures in which women have more opportunities equal with those of men. In this article, the authors report cross-cultural findings in which this unintuitive result was replicated across samples from
55 nations (N 17,637). On responses to the Big Five Inventory, women reported higher levels of neuroticism, extraversion, agreeableness, and conscientiousness than did men across most nations. These findings converge with previous studies in which different Big Five measures and more limited samples of nations were used. Overall, higher levels of human development—including long and healthy life, equal access to knowledge and education, and economic wealth—were the main nation-level predictors of larger sex differences in personality. Changes in men’s personality traits appeared to be the primary cause of sex difference variation across cultures. It is proposed that heightened levels of sexual dimorphism result from personality traits of men and women being less constrained and more able to naturally diverge in developed nations. In less fortunate social and economic conditions, innate personality differences between men and women may be attenuated.

Gender Differences in Personality Traits Across Cultures: Robust and Surprising Findings

Secondary analyses of Revised NEO Personality Inventory data from 26 cultures (N = 23,031) suggest that gender differences are small relative to individual variation within genders; differences are replicated across cultures for both college-age and adult samples, and differences are broadly consistent with gender stereotypes: Women reported themselves to be higher in Neuroticism, Agreeableness, Warmth, and Openness to Feelings, whereas men were higher in Assertiveness and Openness to Ideas. Contrary to predictions from evolutionary theory, the magnitude of gender differences varied across cultures. Contrary to predictions from the social role model, gender differences were most pronounced in European and American cultures in which traditional sex roles are minimized. Possible explanations for this surprising finding are discussed, including the attribution of masculine and feminine behaviors to roles rather than traits in traditional cultures.

A Cross-Cultural Analysis of the Behavior of Women and Men: Implications for the Origins of Sex Differences

This article evaluates theories of the origins of sex differences in human behavior. It reviews the cross-cultural evidence on the behavior of women and men in nonindustrial societies, especially the activities that contribute to the sex-typed division of labor and patriarchy. To explain the cross-cultural findings, the authors consider social constructionism, evolutionary psychology, and their own biosocial
theory. Supporting the biosocial analysis, sex differences derive from the interaction between the physical specialization of the sexes, especially female reproductive capacity, and the economic and social structural aspects of societies. This biosocial approach treats the psychological attributes of women and men as emergent given the evolved characteristics of the sexes, their developmental experiences, and
their situated activity in society.

Run, Forrest, run! Forrestina, not so much

2008-09-12T17:37:00.001-04:00

As a follow-up to yesterday's post, another interesting finding from the same NYT article:

Competitive running makes a good case study because, to mix athletic metaphors, it has offered a level playing field to women the past two decades in the United States. Similar numbers of males and females run on high school and college teams and in road races. Female runners have been competing for equal shares of prize money and receiving nearly 50 percent more scholarship aid from Division I colleges than their male counterparts, according to the N.C.A.A.
But these social changes have not shrunk a gender gap among runners analyzed by Robert Deaner, a psychologist at Grand Valley State University in Michigan, who classifies runners as relatively fast if they keep close to the pace of the world’s best runners of their own sex. When Dr. Deaner looks at, say, the top 40 finishers of each sex in a race, he typically finds two to four times as many relatively fast male runners as relatively fast female runners.
This large gender gap has persisted for two decades in all kinds of races — high school and college meets, elite and nonelite road races — and it jibes with other studies reporting that male runners train harder and are more motivated by competition, Dr. Deaner says. This enduring “sex difference in competitiveness,” he concludes, “must be considered a genuine failure for the sociocultural conditions hypothesis” that the personality gap will shrink as new roles open for women.

Makes me feel better about my complete lack of interest in competitive sports. Sort of. (PS, apologies for the ridiculous title).

NYT: As Barriers Disappear, Some Gender Gaps Widen

2008-09-11T15:38:00.004-04:00

In the NYT's Science section on Monday,

When men and women take personality tests, some of the old Mars-Venus stereotypes keep reappearing. On average, women are more cooperative, nurturing, cautious and emotionally responsive. Men tend to be more competitive, assertive, reckless and emotionally flat. Clear differences appear in early childhood and never disappear.
....
For evolutionary psychologists, the bad news is that the size of the gender gap in personality varies among cultures. For social-role psychologists, the bad news is that the variation is going in the wrong direction. It looks as if personality differences between men and women are smaller in traditional cultures like India’s or Zimbabwe’s than in the Netherlands or the United States. A husband and a stay-at-home wife in a patriarchal Botswanan clan seem to be more alike than a working couple in Denmark or France. The more Venus and Mars have equal rights and similar jobs, the more their personalities seem to diverge.
...
These findings are so counterintuitive that some researchers have argued they must be because of cross-cultural problems with the personality tests. But after crunching new data from 40,000 men and women on six continents, David P. Schmitt and his colleagues conclude that the trends are real. Dr. Schmitt, a psychologist at Bradley University in Illinois and the director of the International Sexuality Description Project, suggests that as wealthy modern societies level external barriers between women and men, some ancient internal differences are being revived.
The biggest changes recorded by the researchers involve the personalities of men, not women. Men in traditional agricultural societies and poorer countries seem more cautious and anxious, less assertive and less competitive than men in the most progressive and rich countries of Europe and North America.
To explain these differences, Dr. Schmitt and his collaborators from Austria and Estonia point to the hardships of life in poorer countries. They note that in some other species, environmental stress tends to disproportionately affect the larger sex and mute costly secondary sexual characteristics (like male birds’ displays of plumage). And, they say, there are examples of stress muting biological sex differences in humans. For instance, the average disparity in height between men and women isn’t as pronounced in poor countries as it is in rich countries, because boys’ growth is disproportionately stunted by stresses like malnutrition and disease.

I remember reading somewhere that gender-specific dysmorphic disorders such as anorexia and the Adonysis complex (ie body building syndrome) tend to be more common in relatively egalitarian societies and groups. Otherwise put, the more men and women are socially equal, the more they try to differentiate each other physically by accentuating their secondary sexual characteristics. I wonder how that all ties in...

(More) bloggers wanted!

2008-09-06T11:02:00.000-04:00

Third culture kid? Expat? Bicultural? Bilingual? Minority? Invisible minority? Aspiring writer/blogger? We're looking for you! The Interculturalists are looking for new voices to join our discussion on culture, identity, assimilation, travel, and life as a global citizen. No topic is taboo, we just ask that you look at issues from an intercultural communication perspective and keep it civil. No minimum blogging requirements, either - so if you're looking for a platform for your material, we'd love to help you out!
If you're interested, please post a comment with your email address to this post. It will go into a moderation queue, and I promise to remove any personally identifying information before making the post public.
Material in languages other than English is welcome, by the way, though we'll most likely make an English translation available.

Politics and pregnancy

2008-09-03T11:24:00.003-04:00

French Minister of Justice Rachida Dati is pregnant - and unmarried - and won't reveal the name of the father. "I have a complicated personal life," she explains. The collective French reaction: "Congrats on the baby, ma'am. We don't give a f@*! who the father is. Now go back to work and fix France, please."

Given how crazy we're going in the States over the pregnancies of Sarah and Bristol Palin, can you imagine how we'd react here if an unmarried cabinet minister was pregnant? Say, Condoleezza Rice?

Podcast recommendation: Dear Amber - ChinesePod

2008-09-01T09:49:00.003-04:00

Even if you're not studying Chinese, this podcast provides great insight into Chinese cultural quirks. Episodes are about 15 minutes long, which makes them perfect for commuting.

"Dear Amber - ChinesePod" is also available on iTunes.

Quick hit - kawaii!!

2008-08-30T17:40:00.000-04:00

From Jezebel: there are now more pet dogs in Japan than children under 10. Said dogs are mostly kawaii (tiny and cute) - when they're not inbred and deformed - and are pampered, adored and paraded around in prams. Like babies, only less demanding, and you can keep your job:

For Ms Horikoshi, sharing her life with dogs instead of babies is an active choice. She divorced her husband who had asked her to follow Japanese tradition and become a stay-at-home mum; she wanted to pursue her career. Her current partner has to accept that her dogs and her work are at the centre of her life.

A specialist in cataracts, Ms Horikoshi is now at the top of her profession and likes to spend her money on travel, her black Porsche and her dogs. Her friends share her choice.

"My friends - married, one poodle, no child. Married, two Chihuahuas, no child. Married, one Chihuahua, no child," she counts off her fingers.

According to ABC news (the Australian one), you can buy all sorts of stuff for them - bumble bee costumes, spa packages, silk-and-cashmere dog sweaters, kimonos, sushi, cookies... who knows what else.

Muslim women and sports

2008-08-29T13:04:00.003-04:00

There's been quite some discussion about Saudi Arabia's ban on female athletes competing in the Olympics. Owl's recent blog post on the tensions she's encountered as a "sporty Muslima" is an interesting contribution. Excerpt:

So why is this such a taboo in the minds of so many Muslims? Well, partly I think it’s a culture clash. I notice many questioners come from ethnicities or generations where women do/did little physical activity beyond child rearing and housework, which are worthy pursuits but currently not part of my life. The idea of women wanting or enjoying sport and fitness is as foreign to them as the idea of women wanting to stay in the home all the time is to my peers. It is simply an unknown to them and they are expressing their curiosity, which is fine. Most retain an open mind and have a willingness to understand, which we all need to have.

But the rest of the complainants are men of a certain bent - men who not only disapprove of my athleticism, but also my profession, my education, and my mind. And as they cannot easily forbid me from any of those – as Islam urges education equally and allows women to earn and own – they focus on my hobby. It strikes me as a control issue, and that saddens me. I am a much more fruitful contributor to my Ummah if I am capable, strong and empowered. To be a mindless subservient would make me drain instead of a boon, and though it would probably be easier to ‘control’ me that way, it would be at a cost of the energies of my ‘controller’ and of the actualization of my own potential.

Check out the blog itself for a breakdown of the religio-cultural arguments against women exercising.

Regional cultures

2008-08-28T11:06:00.004-04:00

A prime example of regional cultural diversity within the US, from Streetsblog:

While in DC bikes are all the rage and bike-sharing is brilliant, apparently in Michigan biking is a "transportation alternative" and bike-sharing qualifies as "bizarre news."

Pulpeuse - or, the most disturbing commercial ever

2008-08-27T16:06:00.002-04:00

How disturbing is that commercial? Jessica over at Jezebel counts the ways, including the raunchy inter-species sex, the oddly anthropomorphized animals (a doe with breasts? a panda sans bikini?), and all the bodily fluids apparently replaced by Orangina.

According to the British newspaper The Telegraph,

The advert was based around the idea of "pulpeuse", which in French means both "containing pulp" and also "voluptuous" or "sexy".

And Orangina does have pulp, which is a sought-out quality in a fruity beverage (unlike the US, at least in my experience). So yes, I get the pun, and like most French people I appreciate the desire to capitalize that (whereas in the US puns tend to induce eye-rolling, in France jeux de mots are the highest form of humor). I'm also used to sex being used to sell pretty much anything in France - in fact I'm pretty sure you are required to show at least one nude breast if you're selling body wash, and two for yogurt. But I'm still skeeved out. Thoughts?

Science!

2008-08-25T16:23:00.001-04:00

Ok, so maybe I've been (successfully) avoiding science classes since I was 15, but I still thought this was pretty cool (thanks Emma for sharing it!). Full story at Wired Science and the actual scienciness at PLoS ONE. It also appears that Japanese are more sensitive than Westerners to the Big Picture.

Culture shapes perception so fundamentally that it may determine the way we look at faces.
East Asians focus their gazes on the center of faces; Westerners looked to first the eyes, and then to the mouth.

The findings were produced by University of Glasgow psychologists who tracked the eye motions of observers as they looked at portraits.

The study was small and hasn't been replicated, but the differences were stark.

Other researchers have found similar differences in the perception of scenes, but never something so basic as individual faces. The phenomena could reflect a cultural mediation of individual neurobiology.
"Western society is very individualist. Asian societies are much more collectivistic," said study co-author Roberto Caldara.

From that perspective, the Western approach to facial recognition is piece-by-piece and intimate. The East Asian approach is both more formal and holistic: peripheral information is gathered, but without direct confrontation.

But is this tendency a product of a particular approach to life -- or vice versa?

"It's the chicken and the egg problem," said Caldara. "We're testing children to see whether these effects arise early in time."

The tendencies do appear plastic, he said.

"We tested some Chinese who had been in Glasgow for three or four years, and you see a clear difference between them and those who just arrived," he said. "That really demonstrates that it's not genetic. It's experience."

Caldara suspects that the East Asian approach may be more efficient, but both groups in the study proved equally adept at learning and recognizing faces.

"It's fascinating, and this is just the beginning," he said.

Caldara's next studies will involve British-born Chinese and children, but he said that the current research is already instructive.

"Culture is underestimated. The majority of papers published in psychology are based on Caucasian populations. In the future, before generalizing findings, we should be careful. Human beings are not all the same," he said.

Guess the accent

2008-08-24T14:14:00.000-04:00

From Amanda over at Wrong Rights:

The Language Trainer's Group has posted an accent guessing game on their website. You watch people from around the world read bits of Kipling (in English), and try to guess where their accents are from.

Quick hit from Jezabel

2008-08-23T14:16:00.000-04:00

We've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. ... [Always 'asking' For It]

from Jezebel by Megan

We've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. Many women in Egypt report being harassed by men, even when wearing the pictured niqab or the more common hijab. Seventy-two percent of the 83 percent of Egyptian women that reported being harassed say they were harassed while veiled. Conservative groups in Egypt are encouraging women to adopt hijabs or niqabs to avoid harassment, while some women say they gave it up entirely after experiencing so much harassment — and are harassed less without. Once again, the problem is never what the woman is wearing — or what she was drinking — it's what men feel inappropriately (or illegally) entitled to do about it. [Washington Post]

Stuff White People Like... where's the line?

2008-08-22T12:26:00.002-04:00

From this week's edition of Campus Progress:

Earlier this year, Lander, a red-headed Canadian who lives and works in Los Angeles, became somewhat of an Internet celebrity when he started publishing his blog, Stuff White People Like. The site—a pseudo-anthropological study cum satire—documents what a certain type of upper-middle class, educated white person likes (dinner parties) and doesn’t like (typos on menus). Because of his blog’s popularity, Lander is now considered one of the web’s iconic embodiments of white identity.

Not everyone likes Lander’s shtick and, at the reading, he was quick to acknowledge that. But he was also quick to respond, “So let me get this straight, you’re getting angry about someone making broad generalizations about your race? Hm, I think we know some people who can probably relate.”

It was his best point of the night. Lander seemed to understand that his jokes straddle a thin line between satire and barbarity, and that, when poking fun at an entire race, context and self-awareness really matter. As Lander asserted, he skewers a privileged racial group in a “non-hateful way.” And even if some people are offended by his jokes, he said that wasn’t his intent.
...
One of the women, a teacher, admitted that the blog makes her challenge her own sense of identity, but not necessarily in a good way. Many of the things Landers says white people like are things she also enjoys. Which leads her to wonder: Does her love of coffee and sweaters make her less black?

One of the other black women noted that by identifying what is “white,” Lander is also defining what is "not white." That, she argued, can reinforce classist and racist attitudes. By claiming something elitist is by default “white,” Lander implies that such elitist affinities do not belong to other racial groups. For example, Lander claims perfect grammar as evidence of “whiteness.” If that’s true, is poor grammar a black thing? And by arguing that going to graduate school is white, isn’t Lander reinforcing assumptions about the kind of people that fill the ranks of academia?

Certainly, white people should be able to talk about “whiteness” without having to parse every aspect of their conversations. How else can we expect white people to deal with the issues that surround race relations in modern America? The problem with the folks at the book signing was that they seemed to be laughing about stereotypes without acknowledging a key component that allows racism to continue: the inability of a person in an advantageous position (like a white person) to recognize privilege.

This strikes at the problem of Stuff White People Like. Lander and company seem aware of the complications of their elitist attitudes but don’t care about changing them. It’s okay to laugh at Lander’s satire, of course, but white readers need to be self-aware and self-critical about why they are laughing, too.

As I walked out of the bookstore discussing this with the three black audience members, the young teacher said, “I’d like to see Lander give a book reading to a room full of non-white people. Somehow I think the reactions would be much different.”

First off, I should say that I'm a big fan of Stuff White People Like, and of its brother-, sister- and cousin-sites Stuff Asian People Like, Stuff Black Greeks Like, Stuff Black People Love, Stuff Desis/Brown People Like, Stuff Educated Black People Love, Stuff God Hates, Stuff Korean Moms Love, Stuff Nobody Likes, and even the very bizarre Stuff Stick Figure People Like. If there are any others out there that I'm missing - and I hope there are - please send them to me and I'll be sure to link.

Saxon Baird makes a good point that "It’s okay to laugh at Lander’s satire, of course, but white readers need to be self-aware and self-critical about why they are laughing, too." But isn't that true of most humor? Isn't it only ok to laugh at Jon Stewart and especially Stephen Colbert if you understand WHY it's funny?

Russian judge: Sexual harassment a patriotic duty

2008-08-12T14:04:00.000-04:00

Ugh. This just creeps me out. That said, Natalia Antonova raises some good questions about the Russian/English translation and the way the Russian and Western media have been covering this.

Is Google Streeview un-Japanese?

2008-08-11T10:40:00.000-04:00

Thanks to KT for emailing me this link to a Slashdot post about the unease that Google Streetview is apparently causing in Japan. Global Voices has the full text (with English translation) of a letter written by blogger Hisamu Oguchi, in which he explains what it is about Streetview that offends the Japanese sensibility. Some excerpts:

The residential roads of Japan's urban areas are a part of people's living space, and it is impolite to photograph ~~a stranger's~~ other people's living spaces.
In the United States, and particularly in the case of people living on the west coast, the boundary line between private space and public space, both in terms of actual ownership and in terms of the way people think, is in the boundary line between the public road and privately-held land. In fact, I think that you all will agree that your home's garden, which faces the street, actually feels itself more like a public space, and that not keeping your front yard tidy ruins the look of the community, right?
For people living in urban areas in Japan, though, the situation is quite the opposite. The residential street in front of a house, the so-called “alleyway” (roji/路地), feels more like a part of one's own living space, like a part of the yard. In urban areas in Japan, sweeping the road in front of one's home, sprinkling water over it, shoveling snow off it, these are all considered to be the responsibility of the resident. Wandering around the older parts of the city, you'll see evidence of this way of thinking in the potted plants and little storage rooms crowded out [onto the street].
...
To have one's own living space exposed to the whole world without ever having been asked about it beforehand, this however really makes me uncomfortable. It ignores our “right [to demand that] you leave us alone”, and comes off as nothing short of “evil”.

The comments are quite interesting, as well:

I must admit, this particular reaction to Google Maps puzzles me. It reads very much as if the writer actually believes that Street View (and the general excess of detail on Google Maps in general) is fully accepted in other nations, where it is culturally more acceptable... The real revelation here, as far as I’m concerned, is the implicit assumption that Japan is fundamentally culturally different from the rest of the world... In summary, I fully agree with the complaints here about Google Maps, but find the cultural arguments superfluous and distracting. Enough people from a wide enough variety of locales have levied these same complaints that there’s no real need to taint them with divisive red herrings like “Japan is a unique culture unlike any other on Earth” or “America is culturally imperialistic”.
Don’t want to get into an argument here, but I do take issue with your casting aside the world’s cultures as so many different “ways”. It may not be easy to define, but there is certainly a “Japanese way” whether or not every single Japanese person adheres to it is a different issue. And I tend to think that that is a good thing personally.
@Julian Stoev: “There is no Japanese way. There is also no American way, BTW.”

Wonderfully said. The letter by Osamu Higuchi posted here, like nearly all entries in the “culturally opposite ways of thinking” category, is a bunch of assertion backed by NO PROOF. Concerned people everywhere in the world have pointed out his same privacy concerns about Google Street View. While millions more around the world – including in Japan! – aren’t concerned enough to say a word. Where’s the difference? Show me EMPIRICALLY.

As a resident of Japan for over 20 years, I get so tired of “we’re so different” claims backed by nothing more than the speaker’s desperate wish for it to be true. (Unfortunately, I fear that other people will pick up on Higuchi’s blather and shout “me too!”, just because it scratches that itch for “cultural difference” posturing. )

I am always intrigued by "culture deniers," people who claim that cultural differences aren't real or are so minimal they should be ignored. For the most part, this sentiment comes from a very Western, egalitarian mindset: we are all people, we are all equal, our differences don't matter, let's not talk about them. But differences are real and carry meaning. While there are many constants across the globe (and being uncomfortable about Streetview may well be one of them!) I would also add that people can arrive to the same conclusion through different paths, in this case object to Streetview for different reasons.

Inside the mind of a DC tourist...

2008-08-10T23:18:00.002-04:00

In quite possibly her best post yet, Liz (the new Randy) over at Why I Hate DC links to a Midwestern mom's story in The Columbus Times about her family trip to DC. Liz's post probably could have used some more vitriol, but the story itself is full of intercultural delight:

We get an early start the next day, since we discover, being the tourist-friendly city it is, many places are closed on the weekends and only open weekdays till 5. We ride to the top of the Washington Monument, visit Union Station, the Capitol, the Library of Congress and the Supreme Court, where a group of young people are standing on the steps with duct tape on their mouths. I’m not sure what they’re protesting. Maybe nothing. Traveling with three teens myself, it could just be a case of some parents who’ve had enough of the whining. I totally understand.

Consider that many of the "tourist attractions" you're visiting are actually people's places of employment - Congress, for example. And those kids with duct tape are pro-lifers, I used to glare at them every day on my way to work. They're prominently featured in the scary, scary documentary "Jesus Camp."

We stop to buy souvenir T-shirts from a street vendor with marginal English. Five for ten bucks, making me realize once again, is this a great country or what?
...
While the kids pop in at the Hard Rock Cafe, I look at trinkets, like a White House Christmas ornament and a miniature Washington Monument, all made in China. Is it just me, or is that just wrong?

Ah, the irony. Do you think your T-shirts were so cheap because they were made in North Carolina by adult workers making a living wage?

By day three the kids are navigating the subway and city streets like old pros. My daughter though, is puzzled by the fact that everyone walks on moving escalators up and down the subways, whereas we treat them more like amusement park rides.

Clearly they are not. And yes, we walk on escalators, we're trying to get to work. So please walk or get out of the way. How would you like it if I treated your minivan like a go-kart?

Ouagastreet Journal

2008-08-10T11:43:00.000-04:00

Here's a job for you. Push a hotdog cart up and down the busiest streets of the city at 2 p.m. in mid July with not a cloud in the sky. Do it all day long. Except, instead of selling hot dogs from the cart put and incased glass box with shelves of panties and bras. Most girls I know can't even count the times that they were walking down 2nd street and wished that some sweaty man was there to sell them some undies right in front of everyone. Alas, this was the plight of poor Solomon. He was a man I met across from my neighborhood doing exactly what I have described. Except, I guess I live in more of a suburbia setting and it was about 110 outside. Solomon seemed to be up beat though. We joked around a little and he was understanding that I didn't want to buy any panties. He just kind of smiled and said it wasn't easy and it was bad. I didn't know what to say so I just told him good luck.

People here in Ouagadougou (and most of West Africa) will sell almost anything they can get their hands on here. They'll either carry it to you or be a roadside vender. When I say "carry it to you" I mean that they seem like they have the attitude that you didn't want to I like the time a guy walked up to me and tried selling me some g-string style tighty whities and some napkins. I wonder if he just drew the short straw that morning or if he actually has been trying to sell those things for 3 years now. I can't imagine who would buy them. Well, I could see buying some napkins, but nut huggers? No.

My personal favorite is when I'm waiting outside of a club on the main strip and all the walking vendors come up to me to show me what I could take with me to the club that night. I try to picture myself in the club dancing while holding on to things like two foot carved statues, leather sacks, picture frames, and spears. I love it. I'm having a beer right outside of a club and someone wants to sell me a spear at about midnight. I'll like to smack the tourist that bought things in this situation and made the venders think it was a good idea.

The bootleg DVD guys are every where. They are there outside of cafe restaurants, clubs, and even the supermarket. Each DVD comes with multiple movies. Most of the movies are movies like The Marine with Jon Cena or other movies that went straight to TNT weekday time slots. For the 20 movies on the DVD there are usually one or two okay ones though. They always offer you some of the very best African porn. I think every supermarket should have a guy selling porn to those who look like they could be in need of it. That way, porn lovers everywhere wouldn't have to deal with the embarrassment of going into the "back room" of Blockbuster's.

Buying things here can be fun and it can be frustrating. If you buy from the street you can get a cheaper price than a store, but you run the risk of it not working because it was made in China. Chinese stuff here is even cheaper than stuff that comes to the states. I bought a pair of hair clippers on the street here. Of course, they didn't work and with I took it apart to see why I saw that it was actually made with peices that were designed either to not work or break. I found a foam spounge wedged between the plastic peice that was supposed to move the metal clipper head. Good 'ol China business and its dirty ways. Most of the bikes here are chinese too and I've seen first hand how they fall apart piece by piece and that's all I hear from the people that buy them.

Another way its frustrating is trying to haggle down from white prices. I say white prices, but they know if you have money or not and if you do they start the haggling price out at amazingly bad prices. For those clippers, the guy started out at $100. No shame. I talked him down to $30, but I still shouldn't have payed more than $20 for him. It was just that I was surrounded by 20 smelly guys all trying to sell me things at once in 100 degree weather. I was ready to get out of there. People will say "My friend, my friend. I give you good price. Only one arm and a leg. Good price because you my friend." They really don't say an arm and a leg, but they might as well. Assholes. Turns out that you're really not their friend and they will lie to you through their teeth to get your money.

Since I'm telling you about the negative I have to throw in a positive. My mango lady was a sweety. She had the best mangos in town and never once tried to over charge me. As a matter of a fact, she would always throw in a free banana or small mango (I only bought the large ones). She knew that if she was good to me I would pass up the other mango ladies and come to her. She was a smart lady business lady because that's exactly what I did. On a sad side note, I'm talking about in past tense because its not mango season anymore. I don't know when they are coming back, but my guess is that it won't be soon enough.

The fun part about bartering is that it makes shopping into an exciting experience when you're in the mood for it. There are always 3 phone card guys waiting outside of the ATM. When I go to get money out of the ATM booth they slyly wait outside like calm paranas before I stick my hand in the water. When I come out I litteraly have to push them out of my bubble as I stand undecisive while they push each other like on black friday at Toys R Us. Sometimes I take one of their cards and sometimes I walk past them to the guy who is waiting patiently behind them and buy his card. Either way, I'm a stinker and they're a little crazy about selling those cards. I don't blame them though. People gotta eat.

Quick hint from the WSJ

2008-08-09T14:35:00.001-04:00

The Juggle had a neat blurb about blended families yesterday. Be sure to check out the comment threads.

Harassment, piropos and hollering back

2008-08-09T11:43:00.004-04:00

Feministing's first Friday Feminist Fuck Yeah highlighted the New York City MTA's new ads encouraging victims of random ass-grabbings and other forms of harassment to report it - the idea being that you wouldn't tolerate it at work or at school, you shouldn't have to tolerate it on your commute.

This made me think of my college study abroad in Santiago de Chile, when street harassment (called "piropos" in Chilean), along with other factors, drove me into a pretty serious depression. I actually put on a good 15 pounds in less than 4 months in a failed attempt to get males to stop noticing me. Notice that I say males, not just men. I once had an old man point me out as "potuta" (nice assed) to his 12 year old grandson. The kid then winked at me and yelled "chupamelo princesa" (suck me, princess). Abuelo beamed with pride.

That is no way to start a workday.

I eventually learned some profanities at my own - not that it changed anything, but it did make me feel better. What did not make me feel better was my host mom's indifference to my complaints - she told me that when I got to be her age (50) and lost my looks, I would wish that men still shouted piropos at me!

Has anyone had similar experiences? Do you think that public service ad campaigns like MTA's can help change the cat-call culture?

8.8.08

2008-08-08T10:20:00.005-04:00

In light of today's most auspicious date, I have a few thoughts on China and the Olympics:

I recently (okay, maybe it was about 6 weeks ago) returned from a week-long stint in Shanghai for work. It was probably one of the most interesting experiences I've had thus far. As best I can tell, there are not a lot of solitary black American women running around the hoity-toity foreigner part of Shanghai where we stayed. As I mentioned earlier, I was there on business, and my business involved meeting the head of a Chinese manufacturing company, and visiting some factories. One of the factories was used to having visitors come in and wander around, the other was not. I noticed at both places, I was subject to extra scrutiny as our group (which was about half white and half Chinese, with a couple of South Asians) toured the factory floor and grounds. No one was rude, mind you, there was just a bit more staring and whispered commentary in my direction.

I went to one of the old silk markets with two co-workers, and there, it was even more eerie. People stopped in the street, pointed and blatantly stared. For some reason (please enlighten me if you know) it was mostly older women. Older men and younger people didn't seem to notice, or gave me a passing glance. It was the little old ladies who stopped and stared, or tried to touch me (anyone who knows me will tell you I have an inordinate phobia of strangers in my personal space.)

My conclusion (which may be way off base) was this:
Much like many places in America, the residents of Shanghai are not exposed to a lot black people- in the streets, on television, or otherwise. And much like any sort of cultural thing, the earlier generations tend to have less exposure than the younger generations. Furthermore (I should have mentioned earlier- the factories were 1-3 hours outside Shanghai proper) people outside cities have less exposure than those in less urban areas.

Oddly enough, the whole thing reminded me of something someone (now a very close friend) told me during the first days of my freshman year of college. After a week spent at adult summer camp (drinking and partying to the wee hours, hitting the gym and having hungover meals in the dining hall), she looked at me and said "I've never met anyone like you." I asked her what she meant, and she replied "You're smart, you speak proper English, you don't try to be stupid. Where I'm from, there aren't any black people like that."

Moving onto the Olympics-
I know they're always staged and weird, but it gives me the heebie-jeebies seeing how incredibly staged Beijing 2008 seems. There is a front page article in today's Financial Times about China's massive "weather modification departments"- they employ 37,000 people, and have an annual budget of about $100 million. In that article I came across this quote:

"A senior official from the weather modification office in the northern province of Hubei, which is trying to intercept bad weather before it gets to Beijing, says it is not even keeping track of spending on the effort for the Games. 'Nobody is thinking about this at the moment - we'll consider it after the mission.'"

From the weather, to the displaced people, to articles like this one from the New York Times, detailing how many migrant workers have been ordered out until after the games, the whole dog and pony show creeps me out. Then again, maybe it's because I'm just killing time until football season starts.

In case you're interested, today's Financial Times comes with a great little magazine about the Beijing Games and the business of sport, and last week's Economist has an examination of the same, although less Olympics-centered.

In other news, Georgia and Russia are almost at war over South Ossetia, and Mauritania had a bloodless coup, in case anyone noticed.

[UPDATE: Now it is war.]

Thirsty Black Boy

2008-08-08T10:16:00.003-04:00

Another quick hit, via Racialicious:

I recently came across the above campaign, produced by Mortierbrigade Brussel, an ad agency in Belgium.

MediaBistro notes:

To attract attention for the cause, a young boy dressed in shorts and a tank top could be seen running into prime time TV shows (live programs, with hosts) only to drink the water that sat in front of the hosts, or their guests. The boy chugged the water and ran off.

In three days, the boy had been on enough programs that a stir was created. In just six days, people donated the equivalent of $5.24 million dollars. Considering the relatively small size of Belgium, that’s no small feat.

The viral piece was meant to highlight the disparaging situation for the 1.1 billion people that don’t have clean water, and the fact a child dies every 15 seconds from a lack of clean water. The agency’s client ‘Music for Life’ and their partner, The Red Cross, did more for clean water in a week than anyone could have imagined.

(It is also interesting to note that Media Bistro took the word “Black” out of the title when reporting the piece.)

Take a look, tell us what you think. I, much like Latoya, find it interesting that MediaBistro took the word "black" out of the piece.

Bloggers wanted!

2008-08-06T10:56:00.000-04:00

Adopting America's Bad Habits

2008-08-06T10:36:00.002-04:00

This article in the WaPo today highlights a phenomenon that I've long thought was a root cause of chronic health problems related to unsustainable lifestyle. When immigrants come to the US, they leave behind the physical manifestations of their culture but not the habits and mindsets associated with them. For example,

Instead of weeding fields and walking long distances, which make you burn too many calories, you vacuum floors and take buses, which make you tired and lazy. Instead of cooking rice and beans, which lack many vitamins, you stop off for pizza and fries, which have too much fat. Instead of catching tropical infections, you are at greater risk of developing diabetes and heart disease.

New immigrants typically lack knowledge of healthful behaviors that can counter unhealthy lifestyle:

"In my country, if you are thin, people think you are not healthy, but here it is too easy to get fat," Sosa said. "Americans sit in offices and drive everywhere, but then they go to the gym. We do the hard work, but we don't get any exercise. We need to get more educated and think in a different way. We are not in Guatemala now."

Passing through the middle east

2008-08-03T21:42:00.001-04:00

Great piece of travel writing/intercultural musings on the fluidity of identity. Check it out.

Where in the world...

2008-08-02T01:11:00.002-04:00

In case you're wondering why I haven't been posting... the past month has been rather hectic with two weeklong trips and a relatively sudden (though happy and exciting!) job change, so my reading/thinking/blogging time has been rather limited. That said I'm back in town and starting to settle into a new routine so just be a patient a short while longer! Also, it seems like the readership of this blog is expanding significantly beyond people I know in real life, and I'd love to hear from you, so please post! If you have a related site or blog I'll be happy to link to it if you'll return the favor. A bientot!

Bilingual baby update

2008-07-24T19:58:00.000-04:00

Earlier this week I was hanging out with a friend of mine, her husband and their quite-not-one-year old. They're quite the international family: Mom is a Puerto Rican/American/Jew immigration lawyer, Dad is English, and Baby is a little Puerto Rican JewBrit. Anyway the kid's official first word is "Azha!" which is his way of saying "alla," meaning "over there" in Spanish. He points toward where he wants to go when he says it, too. I teased my friend for managing to give the baby the crazy island accent :-P

Quick Hit- The Most Racist City in America?

2008-07-23T10:20:00.001-04:00

Another gem from the Freakonomics blog. By the way, if you haven't read Sudhir Venkatesh's Gang Leader for a Day, go out and buy it IMMEDIATELY.

Catch-up week continues: moral vigilantes in yemen

2008-07-22T00:26:00.000-04:00

Whoa. It took me so long to post this b/c I didn't know what to say. I still don't, but check out the article.

As an American in France

2008-07-21T23:15:00.000-04:00

I can remember the days when I went along with the rest of America and jumped on the I-Hate-France bandwagon. Those were the days. Days when I could feel perfectly fine and very American to substitute the word “french” in for queer, lazy, or snooty. I, along with any friends that would do the same thing, would get their knowledge of the French people and government from reputable places like Fox News, movies, comedy skits, and maybe other friends who had friends that knew someone who had traveled there once. Although, I even had a cousin who had lived in France and would tell me how rude the French could be. The height of French bashing in America was when they kept creating obstacles for the U.S. in the U.N. when talking about invading Iraq. Bush just wanted to do a quick little wisp of an invasion and France would go for it; further promoting the stigma of how the French were lazy and not a people of action. Well, I bet they feel silly considering how well everything is going over there.

When Colin and I were doing our Eurotrip our two main French stops were going to be Nice and Paris. We had our first taste of French laziness in the booth car of the train that we shared with 4 smelly African knock-off salesmen. These guys were everywhere in Italy, but as soon as we got into France, the cops came in and took one guy and most of their goods (this one guy took the fall and the cops didn't have any proof on anyone else). The booth smelled a little better after he left, so I was already feeling better.

After swinging by Barcelona for a few days we headed north to soak up some of the gayness of Paris. To my dismay, I had a hard time getting anyone to be rude to me. I wanted a story to take back to my French-hating Americans. Instead, all I got was smiles and good customer service. Ok, not everybody was happy-go-luck, but they were helpful when I asked them for directions or needed to ask for things like when the next train was coming.

One time we Colin and I got a perfect opportunity to build up some good karma with the French people, just in case. You never know when you'll need some good karma. We helped this old blind lady cross the street. Yeah, I know, it doesn't get much better than that. I was excitedly telling Colin that this was money in the bank and then we started in to saying our good-byes to the old lady and we started to walk off. There were chest high poles at the end of the cross walk and we let the old blind lady walk straight into them because we were so excited about our good karma we were about to receive for good deed we had done. Probably not my proudest moment. The lady smiled and laughed nervously with us and we walked away in shame.

On the second day we went up to visit the Normandy beaches. It was an amazing and humbling experience to see how impossible it would've been to get through the water and up the hill at Omaha beach. The mortar impact craters were still there, as well as the very well hidden German bunkers that still had chunks of concrete missing from grenades and bullets. We spent some time there and went back to Bayeau to catch the train back to Paris after dinner.

We hopped on a late train that we were pretty sure was going to Paris. We soon found out that the train was heading south when it hit the town of Caen. So Colin and I made a blind decision to get off the train at Caen and hope that there was one last train going to Paris from there. It was one of those decisions where you make yourself feel confident because you don't know what else to do. We got off the centipede and I watched it crawl away as Colin looked on the board for our train to Paris. When he told me it wasn't on there I was still in denial so I asked an attendant in the station.

Ronnie: “Hey, are there any more trains to Paris tonight?”

Attendant: “blah blah blah scooby doo blah. Blah blah?”

Ronnie: “Um. To Paris. Paris. Sil' vous plait.”

Attendant: “Oohh! Hahaha. Paris blah blah blah thththbbbbt! Hahaha.” (ththbbbt = fake fart noise).

Ronnie: “Paris thbbbt, huh? Awesome. Merci.”

I mean, I get it that there were no more trains to Paris, but sometimes you have to break that type of news to someone a little easier than ththbbbbt. I walked toward Colin about the noise the guy made that confirmed the start of our new adventure. We accepted our fate as we walked out and passed the closed bus station; we were there for the night. I did get a wild hair up my ass one time and tried to convince Colin that it would be so much fun to try to hitchhike to Paris. I convinced myself it was a good idea, but he wasn't going for it. It was about a 3 hour drive. I started thinking about how we let that old blind lady hit the pole. Yeah, we probably lost a few karma points for that one.

The whole city of Caen was dead by 7:30. I'm talking about the shops were all closed except one that luckily served beer and there was almost no one on the streets. Colin and I were trying to save money since we were wasting money on the hotel room in Paris so we just figured we'd wait it out until 6:00 a.m. when the next train left for Paris. Another night spent in the train station like in Genoa was going to be rough, but at least it would keep us away from the chilly breeze blowing that night. So our spirits were all but shot when the police kicked us and a couple others out into the cold. We sat on the sideway for a good 20 minutes until we noticed that there was still one bar open.

The bartender let us in on the agreement that we would buy a couple drinks because their closing time was almost up as it was 1 a.m. The bar tenders were husband and wife and spoke some English. They asked, so I told them our story and out of no where they offered to let us stay on their couch-bed for the night after they close up. I was shocked. So we stayed with them till after they closed up and headed back to their apartment which was a short walk away. I could have fallen asleep on a bed of nails at this point, but they wanted to stay up, chat, offer us beer, and feed us some goose liver on a cracker. I had a little fun with this because I saw how Colin wasn't wanting anything to do with the goose liver, so I excitedly told them we would love to try it. It was worth staying up a little longer see him have to try it. I personally thought it tasted like a lighter version of spam, but I think Colin thought it tasted like a darker version of spam... mixed with fish eyes. These people were really the perfect hosts though. They gave us an alarm clock, blankets, pillows and their first born.

We slept well for a few hours and left to catch our train. That pretty much ends my story in France. I loved the liberal and relaxed atmosphere in France, which is something that is rare or nonexistent in America. It still amazes me how hospitable those strangers were and they forever changed my opinion about the French, and I always tell any Americans that haven't had much contact with them.

Fighting gender-based violence, one woman at a time

2008-07-20T00:21:00.000-04:00

Another post in the "I've been meaning to post this forever" category... Nora Boustany's WaPo article last month doesn't need comments from me.

As an American in Italy

2008-07-19T23:13:00.000-04:00

I would have to say that my train trip through the Alps from Munich to Venice had the most spectacular views of any trip in my life going anywhere. At the foothills, one small German town was split by the rail way, but each side had a matching castle off in the distance up on a hill. Lush green fields were everywhere. Once we got into the mountains we were in a valley with walls a mile high on each side of us. Everything stayed green and there was one small house at the top of this mile high wall sitting all by itself. Coming down the other side we saw a light blue river that looked fake and then with Italy came the vineyards running up and down the valley walls. Small quaint towns were also climbing the hills.

Colin and I planned to stay in Venice for 3 days because our expectations where high. Long story short, we cut it short a day. I guess I can only explain it as strong feeling being a trapped tourist. I know it was always a city of vacationers and if I had a wife there and I was an old person looking for some quiet expensive nights with a gondola ride, then this would be the place. I don't think I will ever be that person though, and Colin will never be my wife. He's a good guy, but just kind of a control freak. Plus, he has a penis. The floating city would also be a very good place to go meet a lot of Americans and maybe the occasional European. I think I saw an Italian there too. I will say that I was glad that I got to see it for a day (that's it) and I was impressed with the canals, narrow walkways, bridges, and San Marco's Cathedral. It's also the place where I learned about the honor system with buses in Europe and how to dishonor it every once in a while to save money.

Now, Florence, this is the city that I remember Italy by. I finally felt like I was in Italy. Italians guys saying "Ciao, bella" to the passing girls, pizza with the freshest of toppings, cobble stone streets, scooters everywhere, and just a vibrant feel of people enjoying life all over the city. A small river cut through the city and separated the flat city center from the steep-hilled side. The two stone bridges couldn't have been more ascetically pleasing. I thought this even though we had just walked across town with our 30 pound packs on, in under a blazing sun, and staring at the next 2 miles up hill that we had to walk to get to our camp sight. There were a lot of tourists here because of the Ufizzi and statue of David, but it felt like Italy and you could get away from them if you went to certain parts of the city. I spent my nights at the camp sight getting drunk with the group of German girls, a Frenchman, and a Finnish guy. I made out with one of the girls after a couple bottles of wine. We all hung out overlooking the city from under a copy of the statue of David and had some laughs (as people do when they're drunk).

When in Rome, I did as the tourists did. I went to all the big sights, appreciated them as much as I could, then was worn out from walking, blah blah blah. I had three bad "firsts" in the subway in Rome. While I was trying to figure out how to get a ticket out of the machine I was approached by my first ever real life gypsy. Other than her ragged out clothes, stinky breath, messed up grill, and whiney attitude, she was a decent person. Well, maybe not decent, but she was a person. I'll give her that. She tried to explain the machine, but was really just distracting me and then wanted money for doing so after I told her to go away several times. The problem ended up being that my bill was too large. Unfortunately for me, I was in a place where asking people to make change was an insult. I got turned down by a couple locals and even a cashier at a book store. I forgot how I ended up getting the change, but I'm pretty sure I blacked out from frustration and killed someone. That's my other "first." My third "first", if I may, was getting on my first subway car. As it rolled up and stopped, I couldn't help but notice that all the original paint had been covered by horribly done graffiti so that it looked like a crash-up derby bus.

A couple of roommates from my hostel in Rome told me the great story of how they were late getting to their ferry in Croatia. They left one taxi on the way to the ferry because they were pretty sure the cabbie was getting ready to take them somewhere and kill them. So with their other taxi got them to the dock the boat was already taking off for Italy, but had only just left. Everyone on the boat saw them and started encouraging them on to run and jump to make it. So they did. They bolted down the dock and threw their bags on to it. Then they jumped a good meter onto the moving ferry. Everyone cheered. The end.

My action-packed Rome story is similar. At the top of the Spanish steps Colin and I found a Pub Crawl. Pay €15 for an hour of nonstop drinking and then they take you to a few pubs to drink and playing drinking games. Yay for binge drinking! Anyway, so after I had about 3 beers, 2 mixed drinks, and 3 cups of wine, they announced their first game of the night. About 10 guys lined shoulder to shoulder and we had a girl partner across from us. They shoved the can of beer up one pant leg and down the other, opened the can of beer, and whichever guy drank it first won. Long story short, I won. The guy next to me almost won, but instead of winning he puked and everyone saw. Haha. Then they took a picture of my partner and me and put us up on their web page along with hundreds of other untalented winners. See, pretty similar action-packed stories.

Rome was also where I learned that if you hesitate and try to let cars pass while you cross the street you may cause an accident. Everyone gets confused over if a pedestrian gives a vehicle the right-away and you end up playing Red light, Green light with them a few times. Its best to just walk and not look. At first, it felt weird; like putting your right foot on the clutch, but it worked every time.

The last thing I'll say about Rome is that they have the best fountains that I've ever seen, the people were beautiful, but they were probably the least helpful and most rude to me than any other place I have visited. Most of them were not rude, but I wouldn't consider them nice either. Oh, and the huge stylish sunglasses were EVERYWHERE and it kind of gave me the impression that Paris Hilton had been through there one too many times.

Leaving Rome, Colin and I opted to bite the bullet and get stuck in Genoa train station (on our way to Nice, France) so that we could stop off and see the by Pisa and see the tower for a couple hours. The tower was nice, but better was being part of the large number of people all pretending to hold up the tower while someone took their pic. Not my proudest moment, but it had to be done.

So there it was for the most part. Colin an I stay from 10pm to 5am sitting on a cold metal seat in the train station. The whole time the gypsies were trying to make sure their midget was comfortable, the same 20 second techno elevator music song played every 2 minutes, and stinky guy next to me kept falling asleep and leaning on me. Good night, Italy, and suck it easy.

Coup de coeur: Migration Information Source

2008-07-19T19:15:00.002-04:00

Thank you, Boyfriend for sending me this NYT article about the Migration Information Source, an online magazine produced by the Migration Policy Institute. I have a feeling the Source is going to be the inspiration for many posts in the future, but for now check out their impressive section on refugees, asylum seekers and forced migration in general. I don't think I need to tell you guys that this is a topic near and dear to my heart :)

As an American in Germany

2008-07-17T23:01:00.000-04:00

Prelude: Other than living the first few months of my life in Germany (my dad was stationed there at the time), really I've spent about 3 weeks there that I can actually remember. I can tell you right now that I feel like I've seen and experienced about 5% (at best) of what the country has to offer. I spent those three weeks in mainly Berlin and Munich during the summer of 2006.

I'm not even going to beat around the bush. The only real beer country that I had been to up to this point was Australia and I was hankering for some more yummy beer from the home of the biggest beer festival in the world. I ran into an early snag with my first beer tasting like a bitter Budweiser. I almost cried. I also noticed a lot of guys wearing tight jeans and jean jackets at the same time, so this wasn't a great start at all. I wasn't a happy American and my travel partner, Colin (not real name), wasn't happy to hear me bitch so much. So I don't count that as my first real beer or real memory of Germany. Oh, and the next day in Potsdam held another let down as I tried my first vendor bratwurst and it tasted like they just wrapped straight pig fat up into a sausage link. Off to a bad start.

A couple days later the true Germany emerged. We were waiting for our train from Berlin to Munich when we struck up a conversation with a local guy, Durk, who was about our age. Well, he was looking for the same train as us and it switched tracks, but no one gave us a warning. So we had two hours to kill before the next Munich train came. The 3 of us went the small park nearby and set up camp next to a girl reading her book in the middle of the lawn. She took us right in as friends. Durk bought the first round of beers from a vendor and we had our first taste of German yumminess. This was one of those surreal moments where you feel like the moment couldn't be set up any better. Sharing a great beer in public on a sunny day with two great people that you just met and will never see again; and you know you'll never forget the moment. After the third round in about an hour, we went up to catch our train. I personally was feeling quite nice after having a small breakfast smothered by all the tasty drink.

Durk stayed with Colin and me in the service car of the train. The car was a little wobbly and got more wobbly as we drank more, but it was great to just be on my first train and seeing the countryside of Germany. They have a lot of power generating windmills throughout the country. Fun fact: 10% of Germany's electric comes from wind power. These were the things I was thinking about while Colin and Durk talked a level of drunken politics that I couldn't handle. Durk eventually got off and we finished our ride down to Munich without a hitch.

We arrived in Munich at night and found our way to our first hostel. As soon as we turned around from the desk after checking in, there were some guys at the long picnic table wanting us to play cards. That's about how hard it is to meet people while traveling during the summer and staying in European hostels.

Cincinnati has flying pig statues in different colors and designs all over the city center. Louisville has its horses in the same fashion. DC of course has pandas, donkeys and elephants. Well, Munich has lions. And just so you know, after heading back from the Augusteiner beer hall, I rode the one dressed like a gesture. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Munich also has the beautiful Haufbrienhaus (Cincinnati has the only other one and it doesn't look as good, but is about as good of a time as you can have at any beer hall). I had always heard that the Haufbrienhaus was the beer hall of beer halls, but when I walked in on this Wednesday afternoon (apparently not prime time) I saw a grand restaurant with tall ceilings, a large courtyard in the center, a second story, and everything was covered in beautifully carved wood. Its not what I pictured a beer hall to be. Colin and I set up camp at a table in the court yard, ready to taste the world class beer. We also ordered the best bratwurst on the menu, the whitwurst (an albino brat). It melted in my mouth, literally. Beautiful. I chased it down with their dark dunkel beer and holly crap on a stick, it almost made me cry for a completely different reason than when I had my first German beer. It was great afternoon toped off with one of the Eastern Europeans, sitting next to us, puking right next to himself and just continuing the conversation as if nothing happened. The waiter had the "Did that just happen?" look on his face. Also, there were two ladies sitting on the other side of us that couldn't have been younger than 80 years old and they were running through their pints just as well as we were. Colin and I were so impressed that we went over there and got their number and showed up at their place later for a booty call and shuffle board... but not really.

When we were in Italy we ran into a group of German girls and I had a real enlightening conversation with one. She got upset after she found out that I had just got out of the Marine Corps and almost stopped talking to me completely until I reminded her of how mature that was and showed interest in how someone could be angry towards military members. She quickly went to Bush's Iraq War and how wrong it was and said that I agreed to it by volunteering to defend my country for any cause. I struck back quick and hard through the easiest and most honest route by telling her "If it wasn't for Americans volunteers you would be living in a Nazi regime along with a lot more of the world." Okay, this is when she did quit talking to me for a good 5 to 10 minutes and wouldn't even look at me. Maybe if I hadn't had a bottle of $2 wine it would have come out a little softer. When we started talking again is when I realized, well, she told me, that Germany as a whole still feels extremely guilty for the whole thing and doesn't want to be looked at as nazis. Up to this point it knew the war was over and nazi things were for the most part taken care of by the late 1940's. I never really pictured Germany as anything, but a nice place with good beer and great engineers. I had no idea how much of a consciousness they still have of it. Calling a German a Nazi seems almost like calling a black person a N$@*&^. I must have been in rare form that night because normally I would've thrown out a nazi joke and made a complete ass of myself. I've been described as "classy" when it comes to my word usage.

As an American in Niger

2008-07-15T23:19:00.000-04:00

I spent 14 months in Niger. Before getting sent over there I had the mindset that of all the regions of the world I did not want to go to, I REALLY didn't want to go to Africa. Its always just seemed like such a rough place to live. When I arrived in Niger I wasn't proven wrong in that aspect. However, what I took from there was something that changed me forever. I'm not trying to say that to be all dramatic like I'm writing the narration for The Wonder Years either.

The ride from the airport to my house was one that I'll never forget. The kids playing in the trash wearing rags as clothes, the children leading their blind grandparents up to our car at every stop light, the layer of dust covering the city, the blow dryer wind, the polio victims in tricycle wheelchairs, the smell that I can only describe as African, and the way all looked at my skin as opportunity and bewilderment. I was instantly culture shocked. My ignorant mind couldn't handle this upside-down place.

I have tons of stories here, but I'll cut it short and just tell a couple that impacted me the most. The first was when a few white American friends and I went to see a West African wrestling match during the Francophone games. There were people packed shoulder to shoulder on the bleachers as we walked along in front of them to try to find a seat. A police officer walked in front of us and motioned us to follow him into the seats so we followed. He then pointed to where we could sit, but there were kids sitting there. We were confused so we started to walk away and he pushed motioned for all of the kids to sit on the ground and told us to sit down. He was so proud that he got seats for the white people. We sat down for a good few minutes until the cop left and we had enough time to talk about how the crowd would and should beat our asses. Then we left and gave the kids their seats back.

That's the most extreme situation of how it is to be white and rich in a place of poor black people in Africa. It disgusted me most of the time. I didn't know how to deal with it when almost every time I got out of the car I was swarmed by locals from 5 to 50 years old calling me master and beginning for money. I still don't know how to deal with it. I noticed in the year I was there that the same poor kids were begging for money when I got there were still begging when I was leaving. The feeling that I can't help everyone and that I had to choose who I wanted to give money to and when always stumps me. Part of me says that they survived before I got here and will survive when I leave. Another part is highly aware of how unfair it is that I was born on the other side of the Atlantic so I don't have to worry day to day about whether I will have a meal. I've found out that giving money directly doesn't really help at all and the best way to help would be to put in time or put in money to an organization that helps the region gain more wealth.

Another time, a very good Peace Corps friend of mine took me to on a 1.5 hour walk away from the main road and off into the bush. We crosses a shallow lake and arrived at a village. She knew someone there, but when we showed up the whole village stopped and came to the meeting circle. They feed us their best food (rice and fish), which was actually really good, and chatted with us the best they could. In their culture, a guest is treated with utmost respect. I thought of how I was a millionaire compared to them and they were feeding me and very happy to do so. We all had some laughs and atmosphere was rich with our excitement and appreciation for each other. My Peace Corps friend told me as we were leaving that they would talk about us for years and brag to their other neighbors that they had some rich white people stop by.

I was beside myself when I thought of their sense of community and their style of social respects. To me, Europe and America have some stunning sights, but places like this have more impressive and intriguing cultures.

There were definitely things in their culture that I didn't like. They had the strongest “What will be, will be” attitude I had ever seen or heard about. These people could be in on their death bed and if you asked them how they were, they would say everything is good. I liked their positive attitude, but it's too much for me. Their thinking is that they can always be in worse shape and that they shouldn't forsake what Allah has given them. They shouldn't be greedy and ask for more. This whole way of thinking meant that it was hard for them to change their ways out of tradition so that they could better their lives. I have seen glimpses of this, but it was affirmed by many Peace Corps volunteers.

Niger is also 95% Muslim, which was also different for me. You would see two guys walking down the street holding hands because they were friends, but you would never see a man and woman walking or eating together. I was told that wives cost about an average of $250 and camels were usually about $350. Prayer call from a loud speaker started up about 5:30 a.m. everyday so I was glad that I could sleep like a dead bear in the winter. I felt slightly bad anytime I was eating a delicious egg sandwich when I knew the local guys that worked for us were fasting during Ramadan, a month of everyone gets a taste of the hardships of the poor. I didn't feel bad at all for the goats when they were slaughtered and their bodies hung up almost crucifixion style for Tabaski, a holiday about sharing a goat with your neighbors. Who knew that something so gruesome looking and horrible smelling could be so good for the community. Niger was wrapped in Islam and even though I saw a lot of great morals to the religion, I felt incredibly uncomfortable with things such as arranged marriages, extreme unequally of the sexes, and the minutely reminder of how they great it would be to leave this world be closer to Allah.

Finally, I'll say that the people were friendly and I felt safe the whole time I was there. Those poor boys that were on the corner where there from when I got there to when I left only because of the way the community took care of each other. If one person in the family had money and the rest didn't then the money got spread out so that each person would have a meal. I would say most families in America would envy the way they took care of each other in Nigerien families, but hey, we do have our nice houses and fancy cars. That was the root of why it was so difficult for me to adjust when coming back to America from Niger.

Immigration/acculturation

2008-07-15T02:20:00.000-04:00

Here's another article that I've been meaning to post for a while... And what a great argument for legalizing undocumented migrants: their very lack of legal status is the only thing preventing them from assimilating and becoming exactly the type of Americans the Lou Dobbses decry them for not being. So simple, and yet so brilliant.

Bilingual babies

2008-07-14T10:36:00.000-04:00

Bilingualism and language acquisition has always been a fascination of mine, primarily because I was a bilingual baby myself. According to my parents (who would know) I spoke in a mix of French and English until age 2 or so, after which I realized that those were actually two separate languages. Since then I have maintained an equal level of fluency in each language (though there are quite a few topics that I can only discuss intelligently in one language). My brother, on the other hand is much stronger in French than in English, which no one in family has a good explanation for.
This intriguing article on Science Daily explains that children reared in bilingual homes learn language differently from monolingual babies. I'd heard that before, and in particular that bilingual children retained a much better ability to learn new languages in adulthood than do children raised with only one language. I've certainly experienced that to be the case. Which is why is baffles and saddens me when immigrant parents don't teach their native language to their kids, or when anyone claims that bilingual education is bad for children.

Working themselves to death

2008-07-13T13:39:00.003-04:00

Disturbing article in the WaPo today about Japanese salarymen who literally work themselves to death... I wish the article delved a bit deeper into the social pressures and expectations that lead to this kind of destructive behavior.

Four young Arabs on the road in America

2008-07-13T09:59:00.001-04:00

On the Road in America sounds like a terrific idea: four young Arabs, each from a different country, travel around the US in a quest to bridge the cultural gulf between the two cultures. Unfortunately, according to Campus Progress the effort falls flat, not because of the program's quality (full disclosure - I don't have cable and haven't seen it) but because of the inadequate distribution channel.

Because the program stars strictly voluntary participants and airs before elite audiences (even though the show is aimed at promoting broad understanding) the effect of its cable-projected lessons is significantly curtailed. A feel-good show in its truest sense, On the Road in America appeals most to those who need to hear its message the least... On the Road projects its predetermined and predictable outcome to those most likely to agree with its conclusions—while maintaining the suspicious classification of reality television. Sundance’s affluent suburban/urban viewers no doubt interact quite regularly with a diversity of individuals—in the office, at their alumni meetings, in urban cultural centers. To them, the idea that outside of culture, politics, and religion, we’re all the same comes as little surprise. Limited to an audience the network deems “independent-minded viewers seeking something different,” the show no doubt falls short of a goal to introduce previously unexposed individuals to a new way of thinking because it fails to reach the proper targets.

And yet, slews of international exchange programs (including the Fulbright and Truman programs) are based on the idea that if you can influence elites within a society, you can impact society as a whole. Hmmm...

Transatlantic love, then and now

2008-07-12T12:37:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about love lately (I'm in it), and I can't get enough of this Atlantic piece about love in the US written by a Frenchman... in 1938. And yet, so very much d'actualite.

An Iraqi journalist's first visit to the US

2008-07-12T12:33:00.002-04:00

From the NYT's Baghdad Bureau, Iraqi journalist Suadad al-Salhy comments on American hypocrisy, kindness, New York cosmopolitanism, and security screenings at the UN. Check out the comment section too - they range from the incisiveness to the offensively xenophobic.

Warrant issued for al-Bashir

2008-07-11T13:21:00.004-04:00

I recently spent a week in Shanghai, which was QUITE the...experience. I'm getting together my thoughts on that, and on the Jesse Jackson-Obama furor.

In the meantime, a bright spot in an otherwise horrific situation- thanks to the tireless efforts of prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo (I hope he wins a Nobel), the ICC is issuing an arrest warrant for Omar Hassan al-Bashir, president of Sudan. He will be charged with genocide and crimes against humanity. Nothing like following in the footsteps of Charles Taylor and Slobodan Milosevic.

A few months ago, I saw the documentary Darfur Now. And one quote in particular has stuck with me. Pablo Recalde, head of the World Food Program team in West Darfur, was talking about the risks his drivers take delivering food, and about why he's even there, thousands of miles away from his family*:

"It is my responsibility as a human being. Punto."

*forgive me if I misquoted, I tried to double check online, to no avail. But you get the gist.

NYT: An Interpreter Speaking up for Migrants

2008-07-11T11:57:00.003-04:00

This NYT article today provides a great example of the difficulties that migrant workers and other foreigners face when dealing with the US judicial system. Erik Camayd-Freixas is an experienced court interpreter who wrote a 14-page essay detailing
that the immigrant defendants whose words he translated, most of them villagers from Guatemala, did not fully understand the criminal charges they were facing or the rights most of them had waived... Most of the Guatemalans could not read or write, he said. Most did not understand that they were in criminal court.
“The questions they asked showed they did not understand what was going on,” Professor Camayd-Freixas said in the interview. “The great majority were under the impression they were there because of being illegal in the country, not because of Social Security fraud.”
One of the pillars of our legal system is the idea that individuals will be held responsible for their actions regardless of their knowledge of the law. And that makes complete sense: it would be too easy, otherwise, to claim that you didn't know something was against the law. There are exceptions, including for children, the mentally retarded, and the insane (which is a legal term, not a medical one). But what if your culture, your paradigm of reality prevents you from fully comprehending what's going on? I am not in any way equating cultural differences with insanity, mental handicap or immaturity, mind you. Nor do I have a ready answer to this important question.
In addition to the barriers of language, literacy, and ignorance of green cards, work permits, and social security numbers, many immigrants face tremendous cultural barriers to success in the legal system. Concepts that Americans (and other Westerners) take for granted are simply irrelevant, including the rule of law, the adversarial legal system, the concept of factual evidence, citizenship and residency permits... Those concepts only make sense if you have the benefit of thousands of years of Western cultural history, from Ancient Greece onward. The "Lou Dobbses" of the immigration debate focus on people's undocumented entry into the United States (eevn though most "illegals" entered legally but overstayed their visas), arguiing that "illegals" committed a "crime" and should therefore face the consequences, no matter how impractical it would be to deport millions of people or the nefarious impact this would have on our already fragile economy. Sancrosanct borders are not a universal feature, in fact I would argue that for most of its history, mankind has lived in blissful ignorance of national sovereignty. Millions of people live that way today, particularly in post-colonial Africa where international boundaries were largely determined by white men drinking scotch in a faraway foggy capital.

High fidelity

2008-07-11T01:57:00.001-04:00

Was I the only 20-something woman in America who thought Miranda was a complete idiot for moving out on Steve after he confessed to his one-night stand? Probably. There's a lot of anecdotal evidence (and a fair amount of actual research) showing that Americans are much more moralistic than Europeans, Latin Americans, or many other societies (setting aside ultra-religious societies like Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan) when it comes to extra-marital sex. most of the comparisons are between the US and Europe, in part because that tends to be the region Americans know best but more importantly because gender equality is roughly comparable on either side of the North Atlantic.
This New York Magazine article by Philip Weiss is a compellingly honest account of one man's struggle with monogamy. Some of the intercultural highlights:

When I decided to write about it, the novelist Frederic Tuten offered a warning
about the sanctity in which Americans hold monogamy in marriage. “You can go
against it in life, but don’t speak against it. It makes you a monster. Who speaks against it? And this creates a dichotomy, between what we live and what we profess.”

Apple pie, motherhood and monogamy: 3 core American values?

Braverman pointed out that American habits, even on the Upper East Side, have a
moralistic component. That affects men too. “I’m not a sociologist,” she cautioned. “But we have a history of puritanism as a very dominant sensibility in the United States. That’s not the dominant sensibility in France or Italy. My observation is that often when people are having an affair, they get very involved and they start questioning their attachment to the marriage, whichbecomes very threatening to the marriage’s survival. The husbands here don’t treat the affairs in the way we imagine Europeans treat their affairs.”

This passage explains particularly well, I think, how rapid cultural change in our society has left us searching for new models:

Susan Squire, the author of a forthcoming history of marriage called I Don’t, told me that marriage wasn’t made to handle all the sexual pressure we’re putting on it. For one thing, the average life span is far greater than it was 100 years ago; what is marriage to do with all that time? And in days gone by, marriage was a more formal institution whose purposes were breeding and family.
Squire says that cultural standards of morality have changed dramatically. In ancient aristocracies, rich men had courtesans for pleasure and concubines for quick sex. In the Victorian age, prostitution was far more open than it is today. America is a special case. By the early-twentieth century, she says, the combined impact of egalitarian ideals and the movies had burdened American marriage with a new responsibility: providing romantic love forever. Squire says that the first couples therapy began cropping up in the thirties, when people found their marriages weren’t measuring up to cultural expectations.
“Marriage isn’t the problem; it’s the best answer anyone’s come up with,” Squire says. “Men and women are equally oppressed by expectations. Expectations are ridiculously high now. Nobody expected you to find personal fulfillment and happiness in marriage. Marriage can be very satisfying, but it’s not going to be this heady romance for 40 years.” Marriage involves routine, and routine kills passion. “What does Bataille say?” Squire continues. “There is nothing erotic that is not transgressive. Marriage has many benefits and values, but eroticism is not one of them.”
A long and supportive marriage may be more valuable than a sexually faithful one, Squire says. “Why does society consider it more moral for you to break up a marriage, go through a divorce, disrupt your children’s lives maybe forever, just to be able to fuck someone with whom the fucking is going to get just as boring as it was with the first person before long?”

My perception of the French (or at least Parisian) attitude is just what Squire seems to advocate: the right thing to do, in most cases, is to stay together for the kids, the family, the social life, and yes, money, and eventually work it out to grow old together. I know several couples now in their 40s and 50s who have had aventures and rencontres over the years, but at the end of the day still very much want to be married to one another.
One man interviewed for the NY Mag article is Glyn Vincent, a New York writer on social and cultural matters who is half-French:

“Marriage is more of a formality; sex is not the most important thing,” he said. “From the time I was small, I was led to understand that people have affairs. C’est la vie. This is just going to happen. You’re not going to make a big deal out of it when it does happen. You shouldn’t be hurtful about it. You’re going to be discreet. Don’t shove it in people’s faces.” While Vincent sees young Americans experimenting with new norms—“fuck buddies,” friends with benefits, etc.—those innovations don’t seem to have rubbed off on their elders. New York divorces continue to involve sexual infidelity as a breaking point.
“When I make a comment about infidelity in social situations, there’s always a
little element of mistrust in people’s eyes,” he said. “I think we’re getting into a question of social stability. The male libido is considered a very dangerous and a potentially disruptive force in society. I think that’s why there are so many religious dictums and taboos around that. The idea that one is allowed multiple partners—this is something that has to be rigidly controlled.”

Not having any experience with long-term monogamy myself, I'm loath to make a definitive judgement on these issues. That said, as the child of a 17-year-long faithful (according to each of my parents, at least) but nevertheless very unhappy marriage, I'm reluctant to equate infidelity with automatic divorce. I guess the only point of view expresssed in the article that I can whole-heartily embrace is this one:

My sister Alice, a respectable suburban woman happily married for eons, says that she’s come to respect the fact that sexuality runs the gamut: Some people seem happy with a sexless marriage, while others aren’t built for monogamy. The only morality she hangs on to is how honest one person is with the other about their stuff going into a marriage.

More on the Albanian Kanun

2008-07-10T10:00:00.002-04:00

Intriguing NYT article this morning about Albanian men and boys forced to live as recluses because of blood feuds. According to the Kanun, the ancient Albanian code of conduct that i discussed in this post, if a member of family A kills a member of family B, family B has the right and is even honor-bound to avenge the death by killing any male member of family A. As a result, many men and boys are stuck indoors because they are likely to be killed if they venture outdoors, and must rely on their female relatives and on charity for subsistence. Being second-class citizens, women are exempt from blood feuds.
"Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth" - how radical the Judeo-Christian idea of turning the other cheek, and forgiving your enemies seems right now.

As an American in Australia

2008-07-07T22:53:00.004-04:00

If there was a far end of the earth, Australia would be it. No wonder the English shipped the bad boys and girls there (R.I.P Ned Kelly). That's what I remember thinking during the 15.5 hour straight shot from L.A. to Sydney. Coming from the States you get to fly straight through the center of the Pacific and over the equator. If we went down I would choose a gun over a raft. Even if they came for survivors with a sea plane it would take them at least 10 hours to get there. Yeah! I would take my own life before I would wade in the water for 10 hours. Do you know how pruney I would get? Oh, and both the sharks and possibility of sharks wouldn't be any fun either. After all of that flying, we landed in the Sydney Airport, which was my first amphibious airport. So as we were landing I saw water, water, water, then some water, ok more water (isn't there supposed to be land somewhere), water, WATER (50 meters), WATER (I mentally brace for impact), aaaaaand then I see land and hear the tires squeal almost a second later. "G'die and welcome ta Astralia."

There were some feelings that I got from Australia in the year that I lived there from day one till I left. One was that everyone from the Prime Minister (even if he is lame) to the 7 year old girl has a very similar relaxed and informal take on life; not in some backwards hillbilly way either. I just felt welcome to be as casual and comfortable as I could be in most situations; except in high end restaurant, for example. They had class too.

Secondly, their food seemed almost flavorless to me. I could order a beautiful looking chicken alfredo at a nice restaurant and it would feel like I was only smelling it from someone who had ordered the dish at the table next to me (you how you can taste smells sometimes?). Granted, I was coming from a land of excessive ingredients (especially salt), donuts, and McSugarFatBurgers, but even at the end of my assignment there I still didn't adjust to seeing more crust than cheese on my pizza. And then there was the matter of their insane love for beets. Beets on burgers? Whatever, you can keep it. Do your thing.

If you ever find your way over there and get invited to a barbeque you should definitely go because Aussies know how to have a good time on and create a fun atmosphere. However, if they try to tell you that they're grilling some burgers you should be prepared that they'll be cooking probably be cooking risoles, which are almost like big meatballs, and then they'll have a bun 5 times that size for to eat it with. I asked a trustworthy Aussie what the deal was with this and he pretty much just thought it wasn't a problem at all. I mean, its like eating a Vienna sausage in a regular hotdog bun. That's a huge deal to me. Maybe it's just me though. Their cereal aisles were made up of about 15 types of bran cereal, 7 types of corn flakes, and 1 type of cereal with taste. I think it was imported from the U.S. Best cereal country in the world. There are so many places that have never seen Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sad.

Another thing I couldn't get over while I was there was their well-groomed cities. They really took care of their communities. It was almost like they cared for their cities. This was something very weird to me as an American. I lived in the nation's capital, Canberra. I remember counting days before I would see a single piece of trash on the side of the road. Usually when I did see some trash it was from trash that had fallen out of a trash can that had been blown over by the wind or something. The city had trees everywhere and a few huge hills that you could walk to the top of and see over the place. I don't remember seeing one piece of ugly billboard or other ugly advertisement that ruins the look of so many American cities that would be beautiful otherwise. The odd thing was that it was designed by an American. Even other cities that I visited that were heavily populated (Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Gold Coast) were always well maintained and were visually impressive. Australians love their cars like Americans do, but haven't ruined their gorgeous cities by surrounding themselves with overbearing highways.

The last big thing I couldn't get over was how kindly everyone took to me when they heard my American accent. I felt like I could pretty easily blend in until I opened my mouth, and then everyone seemed much more interested. It wouldn't take them too long to get uninterested because of my lame conversational skills, but for that first moment I had them ever time. It would be the same as hearing some Aussie's accent in the States. Whatever they have to say is always more interesting; even if they are talking shit about how American football is weak because of all the pads and rugby is better (as if they are all just walking briskly around in sumo wrestling suits or something). There was always a big "myth" in the Marine Corps that Aussie chicks loved Americans and that all you had to do is talk to them and you were golden for the rest of the night. I was always pretty skeptical because I had never seen anything like it. I was basically wrong, and boy was I happy about it. I think I'm a perfect example of this true myth because I have an almost girly, timid approach to getting with girls and it still worked. Or something. I feel like I throw out a little too much info sometimes, but there is way too much funny in truth that I can't always resist; even if I am the butt of the joke. Honestly though, it was one of those things that might sound slutty to Americans, but from what I saw the girls were just very comfortable and open with having sex. They knew they enjoyed it and weren't ready to get married, so having the occasional fling wasn't as taboo as in the States. Basically, they had similar mindsets to guys and everyone was o.k. with it.

There are many different regions of the U.S. and I know that usually large cities have a larger crowd of more free thinking adults, which means there are more girls that are more open to casual sex. However, even if you compare the average college student at a club or bar in D.C. (population 581,000)to an Aussie girl at a club or bar in her capital of Canberra (population 327,000) the Aussie girl wins every time for openness toward showing interest in guys. To me, there are less games to be played with an Aussie girl.

In a single guy's world who isn't looking to settle down who is looking to me a girl for either dating or just a one night stand everything is very simple. You meet a girl and almost automatically know wether she meets your physical standards or not. All you would have to worry about then is wether or not she was interested in you and why. With Aussie girls this played out pretty easily for me through casual conversation. With American girls I have found that you have to show interest, but if you show too much then you have overstepped your boundaries. There is a game to be played with rules that must be abided by. They are more reserved with how they liked to be approached about sex unless they are the girl that went out with full intentions or they are older and just know what they want. With Aussie girls, I couldn't really find a game or rules other than don't be an asshole. The atmosphere in America is edgy and wound, while the atmosphere in Oz is laid back. The atmosphere comes into play with dating in these countries too.

I know that it seems that every country is known for its drinking, but Australia is my all around favorite so far. It has heaps of delicious beer, top notch white wine, and more great beer. They have a different take on alcoholism too. I was talking to an Aussie friend over there about how you could easily be considered an alcoholic if you went out to drink at a local pub 4 days a week. Not a raging alcoholic, but an alcoholic nonetheless. After a brief intermission to let him laugh it off, followed by a sigh of pity for me and my country, he began to tell me a story of an Aussie version of an alcoholic. It sounded like a joke as he explained to me how a regular at the very bar we were in used to polish off 8 pints a night at the very least. When the guy had the money he would easily make it 12 pints in a night. I expressed major concern for this guys health and Matty (guy telling the story) agreed that it was quite dangerous and mentioned that he did end up having problems. The guy hadn't been to the bar in a while he said. So, apparently, just after you are diagnosed with cirrhosis you are considered an alcoholic. To be fair, most Aussies I met were very responsible with their drinking, in my opinion, and were quick to get a taxi if they were drunk. Unless of course they were irresponsible.

Maybe this isn't the most interesting subject, but money was friggin' sweet. Well, their bills were anyway. They were vibrantly colored, a different color and size for each bill, and they had little, clear, and uniquely designed plastic windows in the corner of each bill. The coins on the other hand... Yeah, the coins were all fucked up. The $2 coin was the smallest, the 1 cent coin was made out of plastic, and 50 cent coin weight about 2 lbs and was the size of small plate. Literally, it was at least 2 inches in diameter. I always carried one on me for protection.

NGO Coordination

2008-07-07T08:08:00.001-04:00

I heard from a Canadian here with me the other day that Burkina Faso has 440 NGOs working here. 440! That sounded great to me at first because that means this country has to be getting a lot of help and should be improving in more ways than it can handle. Then I began to wonder how many successful ones where here in Burkina Faso.

My one Canadian friend is working for an NGO and his job is was so save a jam factory because it was going out of business. The only problem was that the company has no money and has no ingredients for which to make jam. There are almost not workers there because there is not work and no money and their storage is filled with onions. Why didn't they just give him a mud hut and ask him to make some fresh baked apple pies?

I've also heard of how an NGO came into Niger to start a trash collecting system, but completely left 3 months after the project was up and running. The system ended up failing and things went back the way they were. I'm sure the reports that were sent to the NGOs financier didn't include that fact.

I have to say that I'm all for NGOs. I can't even say that I know a whole lot about them to criticize them. I've never worked for one, but I have closely known people who have worked for and with them. Some of them sound like success, but I've heard more stories of failure. It always sounds like to me its taking a lot of effort for little results; like pouring water into a bucket with holes in it.

The thing that I do know is that with 440 NGO's in one region there should be some huge things going on. I mean, if you put 440 people together to solve a problem there should be some major progress. We are talking about organizations though. So there is enough for a large army of people trying to help this country out.

Lack of coordination has to be the culprit that is costing thousands of dollars and countless hours for little improvement. I know that I have to get more educated on the subject, but when I hear things like how one of the directors of one of the NGOs here will be stationed in Dakar, Senegal and overlooking the region as well, I think of how little action can be taken without a leader that knows what's going on in any situation.

Carly, a refugee's story

2008-07-06T06:59:00.000-04:00

Helping the displaced in North Kivu (DRC)

2008-07-05T06:58:00.000-04:00

New violence in Darfur

2008-07-04T06:54:00.000-04:00

Afghanistan's internally displaced

2008-07-03T06:50:00.002-04:00

Reaching out to Iraqi Refugees

2008-07-02T06:45:00.001-04:00

Experience Darfur

2008-07-01T06:45:00.000-04:00

Hands of Hope

2008-06-30T06:41:00.000-04:00

Give Refugees a Hand

2008-06-29T06:40:00.000-04:00

UNHCR video week

2008-06-28T06:35:00.000-04:00

I'm going on vacation today - weehee! Maruka and I are going to Bermuda, and we're very excited to report back about the cultural quirks of that little bit of the world. I'm especially excited because I know nothing about it - I know there's a triangle, and shorts, but that's about it.
So will I be blogging from the cruise ship? No. But there will still be new material on this blog thanks to blogger's many nifty features. Over the next week I'll be posting videos from the UNHCR You Tube channel. They're really well done, and as many of you know refugee issues are near and dear to my heart. Have a good week!

Albania's sworn virgins

2008-06-25T15:51:00.004-04:00

Fascinating article in the New York Times today about the Albanian "sworn virgin" tradition. According to Albanian custom, if the "patriarch" of a family dies without leaving a male heir, an unmarried (ie virginal) daughter or other relative can make an oath to remain a virgin for life and assume a male identity (though usually without changing her first name) and become the "man of the house," protecting and providing for the rest of the family. They live as men and are regarded as male by the rest of society, including other men.

The tradition of the sworn virgin can be traced to the Kanun of Leke Dukagjini, a code of conduct passed on orally among the clans of northern Albania for more than 500 years. Under the Kanun, the role of a woman is severely circumscribed: take care of children and maintain the home. While a woman’s life is worth half that of a man, a virgin’s value is the same: 12 oxen.

This is interesting on a number of levels. first, it implies (or so it seems to me) that women aren't inherently less capable than men since persons who are born women can fulfill male roles within society. Moreover, a woman doesn't lose her value until she becomes sexually active and a potential mother. This is different from other patriarchal models where virginity is valued because a woman becomes "ruined" by sex, and unfit for marriage to a different man, or where extramarital sex brings shame or dishonor onto her male relatives. This 2007 Washington Post article explains,

The idea that a woman would need to forsake love and live as a man to control her own fate seems primitive to modern eyes. But perhaps, in the context of a once-upon-a-time culture, a culture before feminism, it can be seen as progressive. The existence of sworn virgins reveals a cultural belief, however inchoate, that a biological woman can do all the work of a man.

Under this paradigm, biology may not be destiny but society is built around two completely separate gender roles. A person's gender role may usually be determined by biological sex, but that can be overridden by social imperatives.

Ask a Mexican about assimilation and symbolic ethnicity

2008-06-23T11:54:00.000-04:00

Multicultural NoVa

2008-06-22T10:15:00.001-04:00

Loving this WaPo article about how the Muslim and Latino communities in NoVa are banding together. It just warms my heart, especially given all the anti-immigrant rhetoric and xenophobia we hear these days. What a great example of the salad-bowl theory of American acculturation (as opposed to the melting pot, which assumes that new arrivals will adopt the culture of the dominant group, ie WASPs).

When personal and public values collide

2008-06-22T05:18:00.000-04:00

Decent people the world over do their best to live their values and work hard at their jobs while following the laws of the land. But what happens when any those three value systems conflict?
Feministe's Jill, in her post on anti-choice pharmacies sees it this way:

Yes, people absolutely do have a right to object to doing things they find immoral or wrong. And in places where people are legally compelled to be — school, for example
— the law should not force them to do things that violate their conscience. But when you voluntarily accept a job in a particular field, you need to be able to do your job. If you’re a pharmacist, that means you need to fill prescriptions — even if you don’t like the drugs people are taking. If you’re a Scientologist who believes, for example, that it’s wrong to use anti-depressants, and you feel so strongly about that belief that you cannot justify being a part of other peoples’ use of anti-depressants, don’t be a pharmacist. If you’re a member of Fred Phelps’ church and you think AIDS is God’s punishment for homosexuality, and in carrying out that punishment you don’t believe that any HIV-positive people should get medication, don’t be a pharmacist. If you’re a fundamentalist Christian who believes it’s wrong to use birth control, and your belief is that it’s also wrong to allow other people to use birth control, then don’t be a pharmacist.

Which I don't disagree with - that said, one could argue that the individual's right to be a pharmacist WHILE practicing his or her religion trumps the pharmacist's professional code of conduct. Being the agnostic child of American Catholicism and French laicite, I still side with Jill, though.

What about Ethiopian factory workers who want to wear their traditional long skirts and flowing scarves near conveyor belts? That does sound kind of dangerous - but mostly it seems to me that everyone involved (including the authors of the article and comments) is confusing Islam with Ethiopian tradition. Muslims of both sexes are enjoined to dress modestly, but there aren't any more descriptions of skirts, scarves, hijabs and burkas in the Koran than there are pictures of blue jeans and pantsuits in the Bible.

Importing labor from the former USSR

2008-06-21T12:38:00.002-04:00

Just a few weeks ago a guy in my Russian class was commenting that every lifeguard he'd talked to so far this summer was from one of the former Soviet republics - and here's proof! Only in the DC suburbs would you need to import workers from Russia to fill the quintessential teen summer job - don't kids work anymore? And for that matter, aren't there any other locals who would want those jobs?
Clearly, the answer is no, and I see two possible explanations, both of which could very well be true. The first is that there really is a labor shortage in this country (or at least a shortage of unskilled labor) - sorry Lou Dobbs. But even if that's true, why aren't those jobs being taken by the immigrants who are already there?
Like I mentioned earlier, in the American consciousness (or at least in Suburbia) lifeguards are supposed to be white teenagers or young adults. If the ones who are already in the community don't want those jobs, Russia, Moldova and Ukraine seem like great places to get them from. And $7 an hour plus housing seems like fortune to them, even if those wages are in increasingly worthless dollars. This is just a theory though, would love to hear others' thoughts on that.

Americana - prom

2008-06-21T11:40:00.002-04:00

This NYT article about senior prom at the International High School in Brooklyn just warmed my heart. I especially love that the girls watched movies to figure out what prom is. What a great acculturation story!

Nigerian moves to the US, becomes black

2008-06-20T16:37:00.001-04:00

Excerpt from a great WaPo article by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie:

I was annoyed the first time an African American man called me "sister." It was in a Brooklyn store, and I had recently arrived from Nigeria, a country where, thanks to the mosquitoes that kept British colonizers from settling, my skin color did not determine my identity, did not limit my dreams or my confidence. And so, although I grew up reading books about the baffling places where black people were treated badly for being black, race remained an exotic abstraction: It was Kunta Kinte.

Until that day in Brooklyn. To be called "sister" was to be black, and blackness was the very bottom of America's pecking order. I did not want to be black.

Angelina Jolie for UNHCR - World Refugee Day

2008-06-20T11:06:00.003-04:00

World Refugee Day

2008-06-20T10:51:00.003-04:00

In honor of World Refugee Day, rather than posting I am linking to some of the refugee assistance and advocacy community's best blogs and news stories.

World Refugee Day: Where are the world's hidden refugees?

Picture these iconic refugee images - an African woman, holding a child, gazing stoically into the camera against a backdrop of huts and tents in a barren landscape. A long line of people, men, women, and children - again, usually African - on the move with all their worldly possessions on their heads and their backs. An emaciated African child being examined in a clinic by a Western doctor or nurse in a vest with a red cross emblem.

Message by UN High Commissioner for Refugees António Guterres to mark World Refugee Day, 2008

World Refugee Day: In a new exhibition, refugee children photograph their own lives

World Refugee Day: Confronting the Iraq Refugee Crisis

Today nearly five million Iraqis--20% of the population--are displaced. About half of them have fled the country and live as refugees throughout the Middle East, while the rest are displaced within Iraq. Most fled their homes because they felt unsafe; those who worked for the U.S. as translators or drivers fled after they were attacked as collaborators. Most refugees and internally displaced lack access to employment, education and medical care; they are facing shortages of food and money.

World Refugee Day: Reflections from Chad

This Friday, June 20, is World Refugee Day. It is a day to recognize the struggle of some 12 million refugees worldwide who have been forced out of their homes and homelands by fear, conflict, and persecution. It is also an opportunity for many of us to try to appreciate just what it means to have a safe place to go home to, and to remember that no conflict happens in isolation. Insecurity anywhere threatens peace everywhere.

Corporate America vs. the environment

2008-06-18T17:00:00.000-04:00

I've recently become a fan of the NYT Shifting Careers blog, and this post in particular (as well as the comments to it) reminded me of a number of things that have been on my mind for a while.
First of all, too many people working in the business world forget that are many kinds of work environments, and that those of us working outside of the corporate world are just as “professional” as they. The type of dress that William et al. advocate (full-on suits for all, and year-round pantyhose for women) is simply not appropriate in many work settings, including schools, non-profits, hospitals, etc. A few weeks ago I was reading an article about the new college graduates entering the workforce. Among other things the survey revealed that on average, members of the class of 2008 expect to earn $48,000 a year in their first job. I laughed and commented that that seemed unrealistic, but my friends (business majors all) thought that was perfectly reasonable - until I pointed out that not everyone is a business major, and not everyone works in the DC/NOVA area. Salaries here, along with the cost of living, are much higher than in many parts of the country. Meanwhile, it seems to me - and I may well be biased here - that 20-somethings working in non-business industries (non-profits, government, education, health care, etc) are well aware that our workplace cultures are not universal and that there are trade-offs involved. One type of organizational culture isn't inherently superior to any other, it's about each worker finding the kind of place that values the same things that the worker him- or herself does.
The other thought I had is that the idea that suits, pantyhose and other weather-inappropriate attire should be worn throughout the summer because AC makes it tolerable is very near-sighted in terms of the environmental damage caused by extreme climate-control. If you’re cold, put on a sweater, and if you’re warm, open the window and wear linen pants. But instead, our instinct seems to be to modify the environment to suit our dress code. Personally I don't see the logic behind expecting professionals in London, New York, DC, Miami and Hong Kong to all dress the same. There are some universal standars - "cover your parts" comes to mind - but requiring pantyhose or suit jackets in the summer in DC is just cruel. In many cultures people aim to live in harmony with nature rather than seeking to control it... just an idea.

Kristof on rape

2008-06-16T00:50:00.002-04:00

Thank you, Nick Kristof for your column yesterday about rape as a weapon of war. The one thing missing from Kristof's column and the comments page on his blog is a thorough analysis of the motives behind mass rape. And for good reason: there is no way to conduct a scientific study (with focus groups and all) of guerilla rapists in the Congo. Additionally, the normal response to such evil acts is to condemn the evildoers along with their crimes, not to look them deep in the eyes and ask, how do you feel? why did that seem like a good idea? what's in it for you?
The scariest thing to me about deep evil is that those who commit it are usually convinced that they're doing the right thing - Hitler, Stalin, Mao and gang certainly did, and had a substantial body of literature (to use the term loosely) to back them up. I wonder, what set of beliefs, norms and values - ie, what culture - could make mass rape seem like the right thing to do?
The importance of misogyny can't be understated here - in cultures where women are seen as "less" than men in almost every way, violence against women is a way of life. And if you see your own wife as a piece of property or chattel that you can work, beat or rape as you please, it would follow quite logically that raping and mutilating another man's woman would be akin to painting a graffiti on someone else's house or keying his car.
In any war it's important to keep up your own troops' morale while demoralizing the enemy as much as possible. Raping and pillaging are pillars of that tactic, and if women are seen as property, abusing and destroying them is akin to burning down a house, poisoning a well or gutting a goat. In societies where a family's honor is linked to the sexual purity of its women, as is the case in much of the Muslim world, this is all the more devastating to the men. It's in large part for that reason that male-on-male rape is becoming more common in conflicts around the world.
The existence of a myth that sex with a virgin cures AIDS is well-documented. It's impossible to know how much that factors into the horrors in the DRC, but it's plausible that that would be a factor. I haven't seen The Greatest Silence yet - still working up the courage to watch it - but I remember reading a quote from one of the self-confessed rapists interviewed. The quote said something about how having sex with lots of women was a crucial component of a very powerful magic that brings men strength and courage in battle. Think "eating human flesh will make me invincible," a la Idi Amin, but with rape instead. There is very little literature on this topic, but it's certainly something I would like to learn more about. Finally, it's likely that a number of these soldiers/guerrillas fighters are drugged up - that seldom leads to restraint or humanity.
Before someone accuses me of excessive cultural relativism let me make something clear - rape, torture, mutilation and murder are always wrong. It is always wrong to take complete control over another person and use him or her as an object. But condemning an act or a way of thinking doesn't mean that we shouldn't try to understand the motivations behind the Other's acts.

Sex with Aunt Flo

2008-06-15T12:43:00.003-04:00

I wanted to alert everyone to this very interesting discussion on Aysha's blog about Islam, polygamy, and sex during a woman's period. This is actually a topic that's come up several times recently in conversations with my friends, and the opinions ranged from "it's better during my period" to "it's gross and ain't happening." The most frequent response was "I'm fine with it, but if the guy is grossed out I understand," which I interpret as leaving one's partner free to decline sex for any reason, at any time. I think that's a bare minimum threshold for an honest and respectful relationship.
What I find more interesting (and, as a feminist, more disturbing) is the near-universal link between the female reproductive functions and dirtiness. I don't dispute that menses or childbirth are messy, but why the negative connotations and prohibitions against visiting religious sites, having sex, praying, or interacting with men? There are all sorts of norms like that in Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Native American and surely other traditions. If the reasoning is that women need rest and to be exempt from other obligations during the "womanly times," that's one thing - and I wish American society would respect that more and that lengthy maternity leave was more common. But there's a big difference between giving women the right to rest and to be left alone and prohibiting them from engaging in their lives and communities. It's the difference between an egalitarian society where women are free to determine their needs and how to meet them and a patriarchal ones where women are precious chattel under the benevolent protection of men.

Character flaws

2008-06-15T10:31:00.002-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I was half-watching the Russia-Greece match (Euro Cup 2008 is going on) and realized that the players' names were in Roman script - and only Roman script. That makes complete sense in the context of an international event, where the refs and spectators are much more likely to be Roman-script readers. But still, you'd think they would have put the players' names in their own scripts somewhere on the jersey.

Communication

2008-06-14T15:53:00.000-04:00

Often, American conversations tend to be a search for information. Americans ask a lot of questions, and they are very direct. Their replies to questions may seem abrupt. They are not cautious about their intent or meaning. For example, if the answer to a request is no, generally Americans will simply reply “No.” They may add a brief explanation as to why they are declining the request, but no does mean no. The answer of no does not mean that it is time to start negotiating. Such a direct answer is done without any sign of embarrassment. It is simply communicating a piece of information.

In the past few days I've been startled by people not taking "no" for an answer - requests for help or information, invitations to parties, one person even refused to accept (from my point of view) that no, I don't have cable.

What Can I Talk About?
One might expect that, in an environment where directness is valued in communication, all topics are appropriate for conversation. That is not really true. Some topics that are generally discussed with acquaintances or those one does not know well:
• The weather
• One’s commuting experience and cars
• Classes and jobs
• Sports
• Music, movies
• Fashion, shopping, and clothes

Topics not to discuss unless you know the people well:
• Money, how much one earns
• Family
• Religion

I would add politics and sex to that list. ESPECIALLY sex - in a town like DC (and with an election around the corner) I don't see how you can avoid politics altogether, but sex is a big taboo in American society. My American friend Jim traveled to France with me last year and was shocked (and slightly horrified) by how freely my relatives discuss sex - though not so much their own sex lives as their theories about the sex lives of celebrities, President Sarkozy and each other. Meanwhile, discussions of money and salary are completely taboo in France. There is a strong sense of shame attached to having money - but that'll be for another day.

Another area that can be confusing is humor. Americans often use humor to make their points or to diffuse uncomfortable situations. Humor frequently relies on shared experiences and understandings that a newcomer may lack. That may lead to misunderstandings. This difficulty exists for Americans, too. They may not understand humor that is clear to you. For example, the subtle British style of humor is often puzzling to Americans. If you think of humor as another form of language, you can relax and realize that, over time, you too will speak this language and share the amusing moments.

I was talking about that with a British acquaintance of mine - she was telling me how much she hates the American version of "The Office," which I think is hilarious. I, on the other hand am amused by the British version but don't find it nearly as funny as she does. In the US puns are seen as a childish form of humor, whereas in France they are considered very witty and one of the highest forms of humor. Asterix et Obelix Mission Cleopatre is a terrific example of French punny humor at its finest. In addition to word plays it's full of clins d'oeil (winks), or a tongue-in-cheek historical or cultural allusion.

As an American in Vietnam

2008-06-14T09:50:00.006-04:00

To begin with, I remember noticing how the roads had no lines and how no one really looked where they were going or at whom they were cutting off, but somehow no one was dying. If that were to happen in the states I'm pretty sure we would all kill each other. Road rage would end America. The horn was just a way to let the person know that they were about to get hit. No one got angry about it; they were actually thankful. Either way, they never looked back. They just turned away from the sound of the horn. If there was more traffic leaving the city (for example) then that side of the road just got bigger and the other side got skinnier. There were not lights at a busy four way intersection. When a side was tired of waiting, they just all teamed up and inched into the intersection to pinch off the flow of traffic, so that they could go.

I remember this vividly because my toes were literally curled the whole ride from the airport to the house. I was white-knuckling the oh-shit handle too. The Heineken I was given didn't relax me at all. I later learned that people actually did get hurt from these methods pretty frequently and occasionally died. That happens everywhere though. Plus, 90% of these people were on scooters, so that equals more pain during collisions.

I had to go to work early the next morning and on the way I saw communism at its best. I'm not kidding. I was loving the fact that everybody and their brother and mother was outside in the parks exercising. The parks were full of people doing odd calisthenics and the sidewalks were full of runners. The whole city wakes up for exercising at 0530 and then goes to work. Hey, I put up with exactly that every day in the Marine Corps and only didn't like it because I couldn't exercise the way I wanted. At least it got me up and got my blood flowing so I could enjoy the day. Hangover days were bad though.

Back on the subject: I was talking to the driver (who was a local) about how everyone there viewed Americans. He told me that they were viewed pretty much the same as most Westerners who traveled there. The newer generations had no real resentment for the war, which they actually call "the American War." The older ones did though. He told me that he thinks that every American hears the word "Vietnam" and thinks "War." I told him that unfortunately he was right.

The place just had a fun feel to it. I went out one night and had a blast with locals and Americans alike. I didn't really take too kindly to finding out that the guy at the Techno club who offered me a couple clove cigarettes was hitting on me. Yeah, no more clove cigs for me, thanks. I met a British cat at that same club who was backpacking through the country. He said he was staying in a hotel and eating three meals a day for about $12 total. He also said that he really enjoyed the people there too. That's about all I remember because he split into two people and starting moving around a bit, so it was hard to focus on him. I think the clover cigarette guy roofy-ed me.

As an American in Vietnam

2008-06-14T09:50:00.003-04:00

I just read an article in The Economist the other day about how Vietnam was growing like a little dandelion out of the Asian poo hole that it used to be. Hey, that's The Economist's words, not mine (actually, the magazine was much more PC). When I read the article I was like "Hell yeah! You go Vietnam." I mean, call me a veteran-hating, communist bastard all you want, but I seriously became infatuated with Vietnam for the 4 days I visited Hanoi. One reason is that it was my first developing country that I ever visited and it just shocked me. I could understand how the lawlessness and poverty of it all could seem so natural and comforting. No, I don't mean that it comforts me to see poverty and lawlessness. I'm talking about how poor people in these cultures aren't freak shows. It is just accepted that poverty is a part of life, so they live with it on a more natural level than people from rich countries. As far as lawlessness, for example, every time I am in a place where seeing a cop is about as common as a seeing a black unicorn, I always feel just as safe as in a country where cops seem to be at every bakery.

Back on the subject: I was talking to the driver (who was a local) about how everyone there viewed Americans. he told me that they were viewed pretty much the same as most Westerners who traveled there. The newer generations had no real resentment for the war. The older ones did though. He told me that he thinks that every American hears the word "Vietnam" and thinks "War." I told him that unfortunately he was right.

The place just had a fun feel to it. I went out one night and had a blast with locals and Americans alike. I didn't really take to kindly to finding out that the guy at the Techno club who offered me a couple clove cigarettes was hitting on me. Yeah, no more clove cigs for me, thanks. I met a British cat at that same club that was backpacking through the country. He said he was staying in a hotel and eating three meals a day for about $12 per day. He also said that he really enjoyed the people there too. That's about all I remember because he split into two people and starting moving around a bit, so it was hard to focus on him. I think the clover cigarette guy roofy-ed me.

Yeah, I think I'm just going to end with that.

Time

2008-06-13T03:51:00.001-04:00

Although time is simply an idea—an intellectual concept—people talk about time as if it is a commodity. People view time as something that can be saved, spent, used wisely, or wasted. Americans not only speak of time as something tangible but, more importantly, they believe it is scarce. It is considered a valuable but limited resource. “Time is money!” One hears people wishing aloud that they could just add a few hours to the day or another day to each week. Then they could get everything done. “There’s never enough time,” they complain!
- Guide to American Life

Contrast that with the Middle Eastern concept of Insh'Allah:

In šaʾ Allāh (إن شاء الله) is an Arabic term evoked by Arabic, Persian, and Urdu speakers to indicate hope for an aforementioned event to occur in the future. The phrase translates into English as "God willing" or "If it is God's will", sometimes spoken as DV, the Latin abbreviation for Deo volente.

The term is also related to another Arabic term, Mā šāʾ Allāh (ما شاء الله), which means "God has willed it".

This word is often used to indicate a desire to do something that you wish may occur. This also provides God's blessing on what you are about to do. For example, if you want to do something, in particular if you know that it is very hard to achieve, you invoke God's blessing before it occurs or before you set out to do it. In Judaism, B'ezrat Hashem (בעזרת השם), "With God's Help," and Im Yirtze Hashem (אם ירצה השם), "If God wishes it," are used for the same reason.

Usage of Insha'Allah derives from Islamic scripture, Surat Al Kahf (18):24 : "And never say of anything, 'I shall do such and such thing tomorrow. Except (with the saying): 'If God wills!' And remember your lord when you forget..."

In this great piece, Cullen Murphy discusses the term and how the US Army is adopting the concept as a result of the Iraq war:

When worlds collide, the sparks are sometimes linguistic. Not long ago, in a Q and A on the Web site of The New York Times, an Iraqi translator was asked to explain the points of difference he saw between his own people and the Americans he encountered in Iraq. He brought up the Arabic phrase "inshallah." The Americans, he said, "have respect for time"; Iraqis, in contrast, "use the word inshallah, which means `if God wishes,' to postpone things."

It may be that this point of difference won’t be a distinction much longer. An American colonel in Iraq, writing to The Washington Post’s Thomas E. Ricks, recently observed: "The phrase ‘inshallah,’ or ‘God willing,’ has permeated all ranks of the Army. When you talk to U.S. soldiers about the possible success of ‘the surge,’ you’d be surprised how many responded with ‘inshallah.’” The phrase seems to have permeated all ranks of the diplomatic corps, too: Zalmay Khalilzad, when he was the U.S. ambassador to Iraq, once stated at a press conference, “Inshallah, Iraq will succeed.
- The American Scholar

Americans have a strong sense of agency over the world around them, from our schedules to our careers to creating a new world order. Careful planning and hard work can conquer all, even if love can't. This NYT article is the perfect example of that - two American couples decide that if their sex lives aren't working for them, they're going to have to work for their sex lives.

That they thought a sex marathon would reinvigorate their marriages might say as much about the American penchant for exercise and goal-setting as it does about the state of romance.

I couldn't agree more. I'll have to write later about American-style exercise vs. general physical activity. Insh'Allah.

As an American in Okinawa

2008-06-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

As an American in Okinawa, Japan

When I think of the people from each country that I have lived in or visited I find myself thinking that they are extremely nice to me. They go out of their way to make this foreigner feel comfortable. Well, the people in Okinawa, Japan are by far the most genuinely nice that I've met. They are nice in a different way than any other cultures engage others. They take intense pride in being kind to others. From my point of view I was wondering if they wanted if they wanted a tip or something after doing a good deed. I was just taken aback quite a bit while I was there. As far as ever leaving a tip for them, say, at a restaurant, forget it. They take that as an extreme insult and cut your arm off with a katana! They're that nice. I'm serious.

One such story takes place on the day that I was leaving. The fact that I was in a busy airport and they weren't going to ever see me again is what makes this story so shocking to me. I got my ticket from Naha, Okinawa to Tokyo and then L.A., but that was it. The desk clerk told me I would have to have get the rest of my tickets when I landed in the crazy LAX airport. I wasn't too happy about that because I was still new at flying by myself and LAX is the size of Disneyland, only instead of a princesses, clowns, and some roller coasters rides it has gypsies, con artists, and buses that try to run you down. I said "Whatev" and went through to catch my flight. After I took my seat and the doors were about to close, a stewardess found me in my seat and handed me the tickets all the way home to Louisville, Kentucky. The only thing I think that could have happened is that they saw the disappointment on my face when they originally said they I would have to get the rest of the tickets in LAX. Wow! What? I was dumbfounded. Up till that point, all I saw from any airport staff was some everyday kindness with the attitude of processing people in and out.

I have to throw in the fact that I was one of thousands of U.S. Marines occupying the island, as Marines have since WWII. The Okinawans have dealt with the good, bad, and the ugly of us over the 6 decades that we were there. The whole time I was there I was only directly shunned once. That was the time I was kicked out as soon as I entered a photo shop right outside of Camp Hansen. The man gingerly came out of the back room and got meaner than a hippo on her period when he saw that it was an American. It was scary. I later found out that he had problems with Marines getting stupid in his store and supposedly he was close to one of the young girls who was raped on the island a couple years earlier.

Dating was very difficult for me there. For one, I just don't have game. For two, I was 19 years old and it seemed like every girl I met at a club looked 18, but was actually 28 (even after a year I could never guess a girl's age there, so I went around assuming everyone was 10 years older than what I thought). For three, how do you read someone who has almost no expression on their face most of the time and rarely ever looks you in the eye? I will say though, that they still showed utmost kindness even while being awkwardly approached by an insecure skinny round-eyed boy. Kudos to them. Luckily for me there was a naval and an air force base on the island with equally insecure round-eye girls.

Food there took a little getting used to because it was... you know... healthy. If I wanted to cheat and go to the JapDonald's then I was going to pay $3 for a hamburger almost as small as a White Castle. It was a benefit in disguise. These Okinawans live the longest of anyone in the world for a reason. They live healthy; especially the older generation, which is a pretty old generation. I saw or heard of so many people over the century mark or close to it. The wouldn't hesitate to tell you that its not good for you to smoke or eat McShit. They said Wendy's was cool to eat though (not really, but I gotta give props to the fresh patty place I love). Most of them were still practicing some form of martial arts or yoga. Just being around them made me feel like I knew absolutely nothing about how life should be lived. Oh, and I keep calling them Okinawans instead of Japanese because they are about as Japanese as Hawaiians are American. Okinawans might be Japanese, but they have a separate set of traditions and culture.

Overall, I would say that Okinawans would love to have their whole island back, but I only saw a couple instances of rudeness towards us Americans while I was there. The air there was made up of pride, respect, and peace. This was in a place where people were stacked on top of each other, it was ok to pee outside (if you were drunk outside of a bar), they served saké from a jar with an entire dead snake in it, they have sweet potato ice cream, and there is a spectacular banana show (that you must see).

All joking aside, this is one place that I wish I could have appreciated more while I was there and I would recommend anyone to go. I'm basing this off of the fact that the people make the place.

SAYONARA

Introduction to American Life

2008-06-12T03:23:00.001-04:00

My first reaction upon finding this booklet for international students was intellectual delight - what a great ressource for other visitors and immigrants! Funded by the State Department and written by NAFSA - Association of International Educators (no idea how they figure that acronym), it has sections on time, communication, status and hierarchy, the rule of law, regional diversity in the US, and relationships with family and friends. My second reaction was more an aha! moment - way to be a low-context culture, USA!
Americans like to have as much information as possible upfront. We like how-to guides, instructions manuals, detailed contracts with plans for every conceivable contingency, agendas, menus, and syllabi. We like to know ahead of time what's going to happen, and the transfer of information needs to be very explicit (as opposed to reliant on people picking up on social cues).

Guess I hit a nerve... or was that the Potomac?

2008-06-11T23:23:00.003-04:00

When I blogged about some of the factors that lead 20-somethings to choose living in the District or in NOVA, I thought I was just adding an interculturalist perspective to a pretty well-established fact - that people do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons, including deciding where to live based on what kind of environment feels "right." In turn, those feelings can be based on cultural preferences formed in childhood that can be difficult to break. I've lived in apartments for most of my life, and to this day I intensely dislike being alone in a single-family home, especially at night, and even more so if there's a thunderstorm. I also know lots of people who cannot bring themselves to think of an apartment or condo as a real home, because a real home to them is a single-family home with a yard and a driveway. There's nothing wrong with either perspective, in fact it adds to the richness of life.
So why are so many people commenting on that, and primarily arguing for why their residential choice is the best, more rational one? I'm sure the mention on DCBlogs had something to do with it, but I doubt that's the whole story. It's a very concrete topic, for one. Additionally, intercultural studies as an academic discipline tends to make a lot of people uncomfortable. Political correctness is all about what unites us, whereas interculturalism by necessity looks at the less-obvious things that divide us. For that reason it's tempting to sweep it all under the rug - if you ignore it long enough, maybe it will go away! But talking about differences is the only way to reach across them. So keep on commenting and challenging us to refine our arguments, just keep it polite. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

American Culture

2008-06-11T01:29:00.000-04:00

Whenever I do a training about intercultural communication, there are always a few people who introduce themselves as "American... whatever that means," or "I'm American... so I guess I don't really have a culture." Likewise, one of the most common critiques of the US that I hear from Europeans is that "there's no culture in America." In French that comes out as "les americains n'ont pas de culture," which is very similar in meaning to "les americains ne sont pas cultives" - which in the French context (and especially among the Parisian bourgeoisie) means that Americans don't know and appreciate the same things as the French upper classes (who as everyone knows have a monopoly on taste and refinement - c'est evident!)

It's a common adage in the IC world that you don't really understand your own culture until you step out of it and into another one. That said, I've found that training materials intended for immigrants or other newcomers can be a great resource for someone interested in understanding his own culture more thoroughly. I spend a lot of time reading and thinking about idiosyncracies of French and American cultures, and I find that this increased self-awareness helps me be more effective in all of my interpersonal relationships. As a bicultural person all of my interactions necessarily have an intercultural dimension (especially considering the company I keep!).

Over the coming weeks I plan to look at various aspects of American culture from the interculturalist perspective - if anyone has specific questions please leave those as a comment to this post... stay tuned!

Hymen reconstruction debacle grips France

2008-06-10T19:31:00.003-04:00

Gynecologists report that in the past few years, more Muslim women are asking for certificates of virginity to provide proof to others. That in turn has created a demand among cosmetic surgeons for hymen replacements, which, if done properly, they say, will not be detected and will produce tell-tale vaginal bleeding on the wedding night. The service is widely advertised on the Internet; medical tourism packages are available to countries like Tunisia where it is less expensive.
- NYT

And even more baffling...

The groom, an engineer, applied for an annulment because his bride, a student nurse, had lied to him about her virginity. Under the French civil code, an annulment can be granted “if there was a mistake about the person or the essential qualities of the person”. The judge declared the marriage void since it was “founded on a lie about her virginity”, which the bride acknowledged, and this constituted an “essential quality” in the eyes of both parties. The bride did not contest the annulment.
- The Economist

1) Women should have the right to pay for whatever ridiculous surgeries they want
2) Women should not be pressured into having ridiculous surgeries
3) Since it's well-established that all sorts of things can lead to the hymen rupturing, why is the presumption that a hymen-less woman isn't a virgin?
4) What's so great about virginity, anyway? Thanks to birth control and paternity tests, men don't have to worry so much about being duped into raising kids who aren't their own. And fears of STDs go both ways. If anything women should be more concerned, given the number of STIs that don't have any symptoms in men but can really mess up a woman's reproductive system.
5) In the case of the woman whose fiance's conservative Moroccan family wants their family friend to examine her, isn't that a form of assault? You better believe that no one looks at my lady parts without a good medical or romantic reason. And there's no way I'd marry anyone who tells me otherwise.
6) If you can't trust a woman to tell you the truth about her virginity and need so much proof, how can you trust her to be your wife? Or, why marry someone you don't trust?
7) Thats a LOT of money to pay for something whose sole purpose is to be examined once or twice and then broken. Kind of like a Jewish bride buying a fine crystal glass just to have the groom stomp on it.

So what does French public opinion have to say? That the husband in the Lille case was too young (23) to be taken seriously, that his virginity fetish was a throw-back to the Middle Ages (regardless of his religion), and that doctors and judges who go along with this sort of thing are complicit to the oppression of women. I don't disagree with Halimi on any of those points, a priori, but I think there's probably more nuance to be found. I'd love to see articles written from either the husband or the wife's perspective, rather than from the perspective of a detached observer.

His & Hers - Nature or Nurture?

2008-06-10T16:26:00.002-04:00

I've never been married nor lived with anyone, but I definitely agree with the generalizations about heterosexual relationships described in this NYT article. Both the data and anecdotal evidence from my coworkers, mentors and other couples I know strongly support the idea that women do the brunt of the housework, men make more money (and if they don't, they wish they did), she wants to talk more and he wants sex (I'm guessing a bit on those last two). Even when both partners say they want an egalitarian relationship, more often than not it just doesn't happen, and I think it boils down to deep-rooted expectations of who little boys and girls should grow up to be. As theoretically egalitarian as I am, I expect myself to cook and keep house well, and my guy friends tell me that they expect themselves to earn enough to support their eventual wife and kids - whether or not your partner actually expects that of you. There's also an element of "gee-wouldn't-it-be-nice if I could afford to stay home with the (theoretical) baby for a year or two", or "if the brilliant, talented woman I marry also happens to be a gourmet chef with Penelope Cruz's looks."
it's good to know that it isn't necessarily biologically-based. It's also reassuring that in my experience marriages get more egalitarian with each generation. My parents' marriage was more egalitarian than either of my sets of grandparents', and I'm much more comfortable with the idea of an egalitarian relationship than my parents are. For example, my dad thinks I should clean my apartment more thoroughly to get in the habit before I have a mother-in-law (who will judge mu suitability as a wife and mother based on that), and my mom thinks it's improper to call boys on the telephone - apparently that's "brassy". Oh and if anyone who speaks "Mom" can tell me what "brassy" means, that would be great.

in defense of the city

2008-06-10T09:38:00.005-04:00

I'd like to go back and address some things from this earlier post-

First of all, I hate driving or walking in NoVa. There is no rhyme or reason to the streets, you just have to know what goes where. In defense of Virgina however, it's like that in most cities- including my hometown in North Carolina, and in suburban Maryland, where I grew up.

As for suburbia- it never ceases to amaze me when I travel how anti-suburb I've become. On a business trip to Atlanta, I think I ended up with reverse claustrophobia (agoraphobia?) because everything is SO spread out. There's no density, you have to drive everywhere- it's just insane. I can't imagine living like that. Walking and taking public transportation force you to become more involved and have a greater stake in your community- after all, you're constantly interacting with your neighbors. You learn who belongs, and who's a new face. And you meet far more people than you would sitting in traffic on I-66.

In terms of safety, I'd like to make the argument that walking and taking public transportation can make you more safe than driving. In walking around my neighborhood, I've gotten to know what things are supposed to be like- the homeless man always hangs out in front of Starbucks on 13th and U, the mom and her kid that are always on the 8:25 54 bus downtown, the lovely Italian gentleman who always hangs out in front of his restaurant, welcoming people in, the girls double-dutching in the street that live two doors down, the other group house on the end of the block, etc. It's much easier for me to spot things that are out of the ordinary, because I have a good sense of who comes and goes and the rhythms of my neighborhood that I would if my walk home consisted of a five second jaunt from my car to my door. In my jaunts around my neighborhood, I've even gotten to know my local police officer. I guarantee that wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for my wanderings (granted, that might say something about effective neighborhood policing, but that's for another time). I have several friends in the neighborhood- I run into them walking to work or to dinner or to the gym. Being in a car all the time doesn't facilitate that sort of interaction.

Now, I'm not slamming car culture....well, maybe I am. Here, in the greater DC area, it's not necessary. It hurts far more than it helps. Many of the things that people complain about in DC would go a long way towards being fixed if people took more of an active interest in their neighborhoods, instead of merely viewing them as some place to park a car and sleep at night.

The safety issue brings up something else for me- as it gets warmer, I find myself being catcalled a LOT more. It's irritating and upsets me because I know if I wear a skirt or a cute dress (hell, or gym shorts and a tank top), whistles, stopped cars, and all that other crap will ensue. It's enough to make me want to change clothes before I walk out of my door sometimes. At the same time, it's my neighborhood, and I flat-out refuse to be made to feel uncomfortable in it. In much the same way that a few ill-mannered assholes won't make me change my clothes, I'd like to think I won't let them drive me to isolate myself in a car either.

I've been in DC proper for almost six years (and another six in PG County). In that time, I've lived in AU Park, Cleveland Park, Eastern Market, and the Southwest Waterfront. I can honestly say this is my current neighborhood is the best place I've lived so far.

And for what it's worth, I live on the green line :)

On stuff people like

2008-06-10T09:27:00.000-04:00

So, I know I'm a little late to get on the "Stuff White People Like" etc. bandwagon (speaking of which - it really should be called "Stuff Yuppies Like" but whatev) - but I have to admit I'm really fascinated by those sites (I think my favorite might be Stuff Korean Moms Like). There's a fine, fine line between culturally useful generalization and negative stereotyping, and in a lot of ways these sites are really toeing the line. Nevertheless, I think identifying artifacts and customs that are typical of a certain group can be a useful (and entertaining!) window into that culture or subculture's norms and values.
If you scroll down this page, the right-hand sidebar now features a blog roll dedicated to Stuff People Like - if there are other similar sites out there that I'm missing, please send them my way!

As an aside - thanks for the mention, DCBlog!

"What you need" vs. "what you can get"

2008-06-09T12:50:00.000-04:00

When my dad came to visit last April we spent a lot of time talking about culture, and especially about French and American cultures, and where I fit on that spectrum. An interculturalist himself, Papa has always been a champion of my right to be as bicultural as I damn well please.
Anyway, one of the big themes we discovered was the French preference for "what you need" and the American tendency to go for "what you can get." Concretely, that means that the average Frenchman will "settle" (from an American perspective) for the simplest apartment, car or gadget that will fulfill his basic needs. Anything more "ne sert a rien" (serves no purpose). Meanwhile, his American counterpart will add on as many options as he can delude himself into thinking he can afford, sacrificing his credit rating, free time, and family life in the process (at least that's how Jean-Pierre over in Frogland would see it).
Take the example of automobiles. Americans are more likely to buy newer, larger vehicles with many more options than Europeans (and certainly than a Frog). Meanwhile, the Dacia Logan, which Renault initially intended for emerging markets, is one of the most popular cars in France even as its winning over India, Russia, China and Mexico.

The city life vs. suburbia

2008-06-08T08:09:00.003-04:00

At dinner last night KT and I were talking about the cultural gulf between Suburbians and city people. In the DC area especially there is a clear distinction between the District people and NoVa folks, and what is especially interesting to me is the rhetoric of fear on both sides. Take my friend Lo, for example. Lo is a nice Midwestern girl who moved to DC for college and never really looked back. For the past two years she's been living in a run down converted 1-bedroom in Eastern Market with two roommates. Lo walks to her job near Capitol Hill, takes the metro and buses when she ventures further than that, and knows the bartenders at most of the neighborhood pubs and dive bars around DC. On the rare occasions when she ventures over to Virginia, she'll tell anyone who will listen that NoVa is scary - the manicured lawns, picture-perfect yuppiness a mask that surely must hide a far more sinister truth. In the District things might not always be pretty, but they're honest, and real.
And then there's Christy. Christy is from a Northern New Jersey suburb, and six years after moving to DC she holds on to that frame of reference as the kind of community where everyone should live, or at least want to live.
These days she lives in Arlington, in a luxurious high-rise with a private swimming pool, a parking garage, and all the amenities you can imagine. She lives two blocks away from the metro station, but drives everywhere both for convenience and because she is very safety-conscious. As a single woman coming home alone, she doesn't feel comfortable outside the protective shell of her car. She comes into the District to socialize at high-end restaurants and clubs and knows exactly whom to email to get onto the guest lists for the hottest parties. Her RA in college once told her that the Green Line was unsafe, and she would never tempt fate by venturing into Columbia Heights. Why subject yourself to the dirtiness of the city when everything is so much nicer in NoVa? It'll be interesting to see what Christy and others like her do when Tyson's Corner eventually becomes more urbanized.
I'm trying to be as objective as possible as I write this, but I have to admit that I'm with Lo on this one. I live in Midcity, that newly-designated buffer zone between Dupont and Logan Circle, largely because when I moved in three years ago it was the best I could afford and as 20-year-old living alone for the first time, I was much more concerned with safety than I am now - or rather, the past three years have ingrained in me an appreciation for the glorious grit of less gentrified neighborhoods like Eastern Market, Columbia Heights, Capitol Hill or NoMa (which I hear is "the next next next U street," whatever that means).
So what is it about the city that feels so right to me? For one thing, my frame of reference is Bourg-la-Reine, a comparatively sleepy suburb of Paris which looks more like residential parts of DC than anything else. It would feel wrong to not have sidewalks overflowing with people of all ages, occupations and colors, and to have anything but my feet and maybe my bike be my main mode of transportation. By age 12 I had the routes and schedules of most of my area's bus lines memorized, and at 13 my friends and I would take the subway into town to picnic in the Jardin du Luxembourg. As a sidenote, I don't get the uproar about letting a 9-year-old ride the subway alone - my parents did similar things to me and considered it a safety exercice.
A major reason people choose to live in Suburbia is that cheaper real estate means you can afford a bigger place. Until I was 14 my parents, brother and I lived in a 1,000 sq ft (100 m2), three-bedroom apartment and it never occurred to me that this could be considered small. Today I live in a 400 sq ft (40 m2) studio with my cat - which I consider perfectly adequate, my Kentucky relatives think is tiny, and my father thinks is huge. Go figure. A French developer would have made two studios out of this space, and young French singles would stand in line to rent them... which actually makes me think of another Froggie vs. Yankee difference - "what you need" vs. "what you can get." But that's for another time.

Islamic finance making headway in the US

2008-06-05T02:24:00.000-04:00

I'd be interested to hear whether it is the charging of interest or paying interest that is theologically haraam. In Medieval Europe the Church frowned upon moneylenders (cf. The New Testament), and this is actually how so many Jewish families (cf. The Rothschilds) became involved in banking.

Imagine no countries

2008-06-04T00:32:00.003-04:00

The restrictionist message is brutally simple — that illegal immigrants deserve no rights, mercy or hope. It refuses to recognize that illegality is not an identity; it is a status that can be mended by making reparations and resuming a lawful life.
- The New York Times, June 3rd, 2008

Borders and nationalities are socio-political constructs; they have no more basis in reality nor legitimacy than the dehumanizing ideologies of race that have allowed the haves to subjugate the have-nots throughout human history. At its worst, this way of thinking led Man to his darkest hours by justifying mass atrocities like the decimation of Native Americans, slavery, the Holocaust, and the Rwandan genocide. Gold stars in Nazi Germany, special pink birth certificates in the Dominican Republic, the Burmese junta's reluctance to allow Western aid workers into the Irawaddy Delta, and American immigration policy all serve to isolate the us from the them, to deny our shared humanity in service of the political and economic interests of those in power.
The US government and American mainstream culture is quick to cry wolf in defense of state sovereignty when it's convenient, forgetting about the times when it was in our interest to ignore it: the Mexican-American War then, the invasion of Iraq now.

RIP, Irena Sendler - and a tribute to my grandparents

2008-06-03T00:25:00.000-04:00

Like many social workers in pre-war Poland, Mrs Sendler belonged to the Socialist Party: not for its political ideology, but because it combined compassion with dislike of money-worship.
- The Economist, May 24th, 2008

I think this sentence encapsulates the soul of European socialism. Though my American-educated, Cartesian mind believes in the logic of market economics and free trade, my heart is true to its French roots. My grandparents worshiped two institutions with equal degrees of veneration: the Public School and the Catholic Church, and instilled in their children (and later, my cousins and me) the sacrosanct values of education and compassion.

우리 어머니~~our mother

2008-06-02T22:07:00.002-04:00

A blog that answers the age-old important question: What would it be like to have a Korean mother?

http://stuffkoreanmomslike.blogspot.com/

I have many entries in the pipeline. Coming soon!

As an American in Ougadougou

2008-06-02T12:41:00.001-04:00

General consensus, without beating around the bush, I feel like I am viewed as nice person with lots of money to most people in Ouagadougou. However, in this case, if the word "viewed" was a country (if I may) then it would be Canada: peaceful and loved by all. I should change the word "viewed" to a more targeted and edgy country such as, well, America. I feel like I walk around with a huge, red, flashing, neon light above my noggin. Sometimes I don't want to leave my apartment because of it. I wouldn't take to being famous very well. If I were Britney Spears, who has it 100x worse than I do, I would probably end up like, um... like Michael Jackson I guess. Either that or fake my death like Tupac.

After talking to a few locals and just walking around and getting a feel for the people, I feel like they genuinely like me. Money aside, they are mostly just intrigued by me. America is the melting pot, but this place is pretty much all one race. Even living back home in the east end of Louisville, KY (predominately white), if I see a brotha or sista walking down the street they stick out to me. In cities like D.C., I couldn't even tell you who is white, black, latino, or M.I.B. agents. Race is less apparent because of the constant mixture of people. Living here gives you a feeling like you don't belong, but you are welcome to stay. Here's an example that everyone can relate to: Imagine you were back in your gangster days (some of you OG's out there don't have to imagine. Do you? 'cause you're still a G), and you walk through Crip territory wearing a Chicago Bulls Jersey with matching red shorts, a Red Sox hat, and you're blushing. As you pimp-limp from corner to corner you can feel all eyes on you. You're on the wrong side of the orchard and everyone knows it. You accidentally bump into someone and the world stops turning because you see them reach into their pocket. Unexpectedly, they all laugh, comment on the new silly color in their neighborhood, ask if you're lost or need help, and then give you a slice of a mango. I can't really explain the feeling any better than that.

I was telling my buddy Moses last night how I felt like I stood out so much and I thought it was because of my skin and money. He pretty much confirmed it and added that some people call him boss because he rides a scooter and they only have a bicycle to ride, donkey cart, or maybe ride nothing. Can you picture a person riding nothing? No. You can't. Because you can't see nothing.

Congo told me that he was a big fan of Americans over Europeans and especially French. Definitely not grinning ear to ear from my flag-waving pride, I asked him him why? First, he talked about how the French were difficult and lazy. He said Americans were easier to get along with. I told him how the nicest people that I met in my Eurotrip were french, but they definitely are not known to be workaholics. Second, he told me that he loved the idea of the freedom to work as much as you want, creating as much wealth as you wanted. This also comes from a guy whose career goal is to work six 12-hour days for the rest of his life.

The down side is that I do get the occasional guy mean-mugging me. I haven't figured that out yet, so I chalk it up to too much Haterade for those guys. Also, its a given that with the bartering system in place here that the salesman/saleslady will hike the price up sometimes up to 8 times the amount the item should be sold. Also, most don't mind selling it too me even though they know its a p.o.s.

In closing, living like a mini-Britney Spears is kinda nice. I haven't shown my crotch though because I haven't lost my mind or class, yet. Oh, and its a good feeling to be an American in Ouagadougou.

OUT

I Should Have Been Stabbed or Something. Right?

2008-05-28T16:07:00.002-04:00

Remember a time when you were walking down a dimly lit side street on your way home from work or a friends house. Even if you were stumbling out of a bar at 2 a.m., you'd only be slightly afraid if you were dodging cars in the middle of a busy intersection and you might only be slightly spooked as the gust of the car unsettled your toupee. You would just say "Shit, it's drafty in the middle of these intersections, I need to be over there on that there sidewalk." And you would laugh about it later. Or at least I would. Then you would start your long staggering drunk walk home. Drunk or sober. Somewhere familiar or foreign. The thought of being surrounded by darkness while walking home alone is just plain spooky. However, this story is about me, not you, so if you throw in the facts that I have only been in Ouagadougou for 2 weeks, 85% unsure of where I was in the city, in sandals, and speak French at a 2-year-old's level (2 year old parrot that is), it was an adventure of a walk home.

Now, let me start at the beginning. The French Canadian, we'll call him Billy (good French Canadian name), I met a few days ago invited me over for his house warming party. "Tits" I exclaimed to myself. "I'm meeting people left and right here." After I explained to him through SMS that I didn't know how to tell him where I lived (I still don't know my street's name) and didn't have the slightest clue where Budomogo 849 was located, he told me to just meet him at a well know restaurant, Chez Simon, to make it easier. So I was off to hail my first Burkinabe taxi. Oh, and something else useful to know about almost all people in Ouagadougou is that most of them aren't familiar with neighborhood street names. That's why I didn't just tell a taxi to take me there to Billy's house, versus meeting them at Chez Simon.

Hailing a cab wasn't too hard even where I live outside of the city's center in the dark. Explaining to him how to get there... well I had to call up Billy and after a 5 minute discussion he figured out the area of the restaurant. I mean, this is a well known restaurant people, and this "taxi driver" didn't know how to get me there!

Before I even sat in the cab to take off, I seemed to have noticed what must have been a smudge on the passenger side windshield. No wait, that's no smudge, that's a huge fucking busted part of the windshield that looked like he had hit a deer. It was taped up with cardboard and lots and lots of scotch tape. You see, because scotch tape is more see through. Perfect for repairing windshields. The thing is though, there are no deer around these here parts. There are donkeys and people on the roadways, and that's it. On the car ride there, through charades and baby French, I learned from the cabbie that he was from Cote D'Ivoire and that the windshield was cracked from a passenger's head hitting the windshield. I think he said it happened a couple weekends ago and he looked a little annoyed about the whole thing. So, as I was trying to calmly, but secretly franticly, put on my seat belt, I saw that there was no clip. He must have seen the concern all over my face and assured me that it was all good and we would be safe. So I just puckered up my asshole and listened to him talk him about how crazy the motor scooters (motos) drove around here and how cars were much safer. As he said that, a moto drove past all James-Bond-chase-scene-like and he said "See?" Of course I had to look out his side of the not cracked part of the windshield to see it. Also, apparently in Cote D'Ivoire they drive much safer than here.

You know how it seemed like I was pissed off and amazed that the guy didn't know how to get to this "famous" restaurant? Well, as we were driving down the main strip through the city looking for it, I noticed a place that I had eaten at a week before... then, you guessed it, I saw the sign that read 'Chez Simon.' In my defense, the sign was facing the street and I had walked in from the side before, so shut up. The cabbie doubled the price for me, thanks buddy, and I strolled into the club, cool as a cat from south central gettin' ready to rep America and the KY to my new Canadian counterparts... but not really. I always come off as casual to everyone.

I met about 8 canucks, forgot their names, talked for a few minutes, got a good vibe from the group, and we went for another taxi ride to Billy's new house. This taxi had a better interior than my 2000 Civic back home though, so no story here. We just chatted. I had to throw out there that I hated G. Bush so my approval rating with them would improve. It worked. One of them told me about how she was watching Deal or No Deal and she heard that Georgey-poo made a funny little joke-ster about "Yeah, I have to get ratings somewhere." hahaha. Ass. Anyway, it was the lowest ratings that Deal or No Deal ever had. What an ass. Oh yeah, this whole time I was supposed to be paying attention to where I was going.

We got dropped off a Billy's casa and had more good conversation. Like how the Canadian dollar is stronger than the American dollar now. Yeah, I know. What's the world coming to? No offense Canadians everywhere. I love you all. Also, I found out that there are elephants to be seen here in their National Forest and that I won't be able to go with my new friends because I'm working this weekend. Lame.

(I'm drinking peanuts out of a jar right now. Peanuts are about a dollar per pound over here. Sweet!)

After the house warming party, a very nice lady (whose name eludes me because it was too French for me to remember) took me to the main road so I could catch a taxi. "Merci, au revoir." Now here's where the night starts to get hairy. And not cute-cuddly-baby-donkey hairy. More like scary-Harry-Caray hairy. Not a taxi in site. So I start strolling down the road in the direction that I think might be the vicinity of my house. The main road is paved and lit up with street lights, but neighborhoods off to the side are mostly dark with the exception of the random fluorescent shop lights. Looking down those dirt neighborhood roads was like looking into the abyss - if some abysses had random shop lights. Also, these roads were lined with closed shops, and eight foot tall barrier walls of stucco and concrete. Nevertheless, I walked a quarter of a kilometer and saw an intersection that looked like it might head to where I thought I should go. I didn't see a taxi the whole time so I figured that I was ready for an adventure and should try it. The one thing that I did know was that I was on Charles De Gaulle Avenue and I knew that I needed to go west-ish from there. So I started tramping west into the neighborhood onto the slightly busy dirt road. I felt comfort in the islands of light that dotted the road. I knew if I walked west-ish I would eventually hit another paved road and it might even be the one that leads to my apartment.

Then, as always in life, I came to a place where it was very apparent that my next choice would alter the rest of... my life? Well, it didn't feel that dramatic, but even though I was miles from home, didn't know where I was, in the dark, and couldn't ask for directions home even if I did speak French, I knew I was going to get home. This decision maker was a dirt road round-a-bout with dilapidated tires stacked on each other for the center piece. It looked familiar, but I thought "Naw. Naw. Naw. That can't be the one I saw a couple days ago." I was pretty sure I wasn't going to back my next choice on hoping that there was only one pile of tires used as a round-a-bout in Ouagadougou. They "recycle" everything except plastic bags around here. So I looked down each road: (left) It was semi-dark, semi-safe-ish looking, and unfamiliar. (straight) Give me an AK-47 before I go down that bitch. No lights. (right) "Ooo la la," shiney lights, people, and cars. Yeah, I went right.

I walked to the road paved road, everything getting brighter as I did so, and actually recognized the place. It was Charles De Gaulle Ave. again, but at a place where I knew how to get home. The problem was that I knew it was a good 40 minute+ walk. The time was 23:40. I had to go to work at 5:00. Even though my sandals are amazing, but I've never seen one that could take an hour and a half straight of walking. It also could've been that I paid 80 cents for them 3 years ago. They were starting to cut into my feet so I wanted to take a short cut to get home. Following CDG Ave, I would've gone northwest then taken a left and gone southwest to get home. So common sense told me that if I just walked west through the dark dirt roads then I would get home or be damn close; all the while cutting 20 minutes out of my walk time. Adventurous and slightly frustrated, I told myself that it was an idea. So I turned away from the lights and civilization and headed back in to Funland; The "left" direction that I walked away from when I took the right at the tires.

I'll skip to the end of the story with this paragraph so that I can end the story by drawing back to the beginning, which happens to be the middle. Got it. Good. I ended up walking to a "T" in the road, took a left when I should've gone right and ended up back on Charles De Gualle Ave. where I first got out of the very nice lady's car. It was about a quarter past midnight and I was back at square one and not so eager for adventure anymore. I was sweating, confused, frustrated, hailing a cab, and laughing at/with myself. So I was laughing with myself laughing at myself, which means there were three of me at that point.

The good news was that I was finally heading in the right direction. The bad news was that I didn't know it. I hailed a cab, finally, and the driver told me that I was walking in the wrong direction and that he wasn't going to do his damn job and take me that way (no, I wasn't bitter at all). So after crossing the road again and walking down the wrong direction, which at this point was right to me, I felt like the world was spinning. Yeah right, as if the world spins, I know, but that's what it felt like. I was actually in pretty high spirits though. The kind of high spirits that a dog has 2 seconds after you scold him, put him in his cage, and offer him a treat because you feel bad. The other good news is that a guy on a moto stopped and asked if I was lost (remember that all my "conversations" with people are what I interpret because I don't speak freaky deaky French, yet) and I told him where I lived and that I would give him a dollar if he could take me there. He said he would and that I was walking the wrong way and we would have to turn around first. I hoped on the back of his moto and we flipped a bitch. I soon found out that this guy knew what was up and the taxi driver was a Class A jerk. The guy, Issah, dropped me off and I gave him 2 bucks. I could tell that he didn't want to take it and he probably would have done it for 50 cents, but only for gas purposes. He didn't want to make money off of me. I think I insulted him a little, but I "Merci beaucoup"-ed him and tried to tell him that it meant a lot to me.

Back to the thought that inspired this story, I walked alone in the dark a lot that night. More than I should have probably; especially, considering how I was completely lost. I know people who would worry about me and think I did it out of stupidity or ignorance, but the whole time I felt like I did it out of intelligence and awareness; walking alone that is, not the whole directional mistake thing. Plus, I think I love my life more than anyone else does, so I wouldn't want to put it in unneeded danger.

There is a very friendly and positive vibe in this part of the globe. Don't get me wrong, I know crime happens here in Ouaga. Even though it happens mainly in certain parts city, I know that it can happen in the neighborhood I walked through too. The atmosphere here doesn't carry tension in most parts of this place and there is a sense of community that one could only understand by experiencing it. I can say that it's one of my favorite things about here and in Niamey, Niger where I used to live. I appreciate a good mixture of community and individuality. During my walk down the dark roads people were never too far away; hanging out at a shop, eating, or working at a shop. There are a lot of shops in these neighborhoods. I had a lot of people saying good evening and a couple people asking if I needed any help. During one of the darkest spots in the road I passed a lady carrying her baby with her and we were basically the only ones around. As I passed her I smiled and said "Bonsoir." She smiled and said "Bonsoir." Not a touch of awkwardness or fear.

Oh, also, that road that I could've taken that I said I would want an AK-47 to go down because it was so dark... yeah, it was the road that would've come out about 5 minutes from my house.

LA FIN

The secret of eating for pleasure

2008-05-28T00:55:00.000-04:00

Despite its title, French women don't get fat isn't a diet book. Quite the contrary. And even though it has recipes, it's not a cook book, either. It's part memoir, part cultural expose, but mostly it's a bicultural woman's manifesto on making the rituals and traditions of her culture work with the world in which she has chosen to live.
The French attitude toward food is only one manifestation of a rich, fairly homogenous culture that evolved over hundreds of years. When you're a country for that long, you have lots of time to figure out the perfect combination of physical labor, fruits, vegetables, proteins and other nutrients to produce healthy people in a given environment. In contrast, the US is a such a hodge podge of uprooted cultures, we've lost the balance that our more settled ancestors cultivated over the course of history. It is probably impossible to undervalue the impact of the automobile on this fragile caloric balance; French people and other pedestrians (including New Yorkers and many Washingtonians) can eat richer foods because we're on our feet all day long.
One of Mireille's most important precepts is that cooking and eating should be an everyday celebration. The French are universally shocked that so many Americans don't know how to cook, or if they do, think of it as an elaborate, difficult process reserved for special occasions. In France, the transformation of ingredients into tasty meals is just as much a part of daily routine as brushing our teeth or checking the mail. For example, just the other day Boyfriend seemed slightly amazed by my ability to whip up an omelette aux herbes de Provence et fromage in less than 10 minutes, and other friends are shocked by my complete lack of interest in following recipes (i call them cheat sheets or just"inspiration"). Conversely, I'm always amused by people's insistence on measuring the four quarts of water in which pasta will be boiled and the exact two tablespoons of butter to be added to the Mac'n'Cheese. I'm a big believer in eyeballing .
Mireille and I both agree on our least favorite American cultural value - the persistent Puritan belief that anything that feels good is sinful. In France, we frequently enjoin one another to fais-toi plaisir - give yourself some pleasure and find delight in the small things in life. It's all about cultivating not the guilty pleasure but the ritual treat - for exampple, my father eats two squares of dark chocolate every night before bed. I've adapted the concept to my American life: I always have my Monday night mid-class dinner from the McDonald's dollar menu (small fry, four chicken nuggets, and a McChicken sandwich) to the initial shock and now great amusement of my classmates and my professor.
We French believe in pleasure but also in moderation, which is easier for us to maintain because we know this this isn't our last chance to eat cake or do whatever it is that brings us joy. A fe months ago a friend of mine was utterly shocked that i could have three bites of cake, or one drag off a cigarette and be satisfied.
Speaking of which, my one fault with this book is that it omits the controversial fact that French women are much more likely to satiate their oral fixations by smoking than by overeating - both are bad for you, no doubt, but in France it's more socially acceptable to smoke than to overeat, whereas it's the opposite in the States. I only have anecdotal evidence to support this, but I am convinced that many overweight Americans would be trim smokers if they lived in a cultural context where that was acceptable. To the French mind, the American division between Smokers and Non-Smokers is pretty artificial - to most French people, especially the young, smoking is an activity, not an innate characteristic. You can be an occasional smoker just as you can be an occasional eater of red meat.
Nevertheless, un grand merci to Mireille for putting her experience into words.

Greetings From Ouagadougou

2008-05-27T12:59:00.003-04:00

Greets from Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. Hey everybody, since I don't have a decent way to get internet right now, and since I've been here for a while, I'm sending this out to kinda recap what's been going on here with me.

Getting here we actually had a lay-over in Niamey, which was a treat. Some lady used up to vomit bags (I've never actually seen anyone use even one before) while we were landing because it was about 80 degrees in the cabin while we were still 10,000 feet up. Plus, there was some turbulence. Then we landed hopped on over to Ouaga and upon landing everything looked and smelled very similar to my old home in Niamey. Also, stepping off the plane there was that all too familiar/tramatic welcoming blast from the hair-dryer that is the Sahel wind. The people of the plane queued up outside the "terminal" so that we could shuffle in the high-ceilinged two car garage ("terminal") to get our visa's filled out and shot cards checked. I was hoping the whole time that nothing would go wrong because I don't think my three words of french would get me out of any sticky situations. And the two Americants that were with me were just as useless as I was. All went well with the luggage, although my guitar was M.I.A. for a little while. Some nice fellas fought over who would help my two new co-workers and I pull our luggage to the car. Our boss (good guy) and driver (who laughs histericly every time we say Peanut Butter. Crazy guy.) met us and drove us to our new apartments.

The road home was smooth for most part. There is a pretty damn decent paved road system with a very buzzing downtown here. I was surprised. People everywhere. We narrowly missed about 7 people on the way home. It seems like most people have a scooter, which I can't have because of company policy (damn it), and the rest bike it. Although I did see a ridiculously misplaced Escalade.

I would say the city itself is a good size that you could safely bike around to get to most places. Its just that things get much further away in 100+ temperatures. The second day I got here it got above 110. And coincidently I was talking to some really cool Peace Corps volunteers last night who said it was a mild summer. And so you know what I told them? "Pshaw!" That's what I told them. Oh, and back to the bike thing. It seems like the couple times I've seen somebody get hit by a scooter or car its been a woman biker with a baby on her back. Fortunately though, its a light hit that doesn't even hurt the bike...much. The bikers always look a little annoyed, but I wouldn't even call it pissed off. They are such tough people. For instance, they can work construction for 6 hours in the heat and for lunch they'll grab a couple-hands-full of peanuts and be good to go for the next 6 hours of work. I myself eat half a pizza in the AC and 4 or 5 hours later I have to eat the other half because I'm hungry again. Well, to give myself some credit, I did burn off some calories that day with all of the fly swatting and it was only a 10 inch thin crust. Thin crust I say!

My apartment is nice. Some of you know the African style with the painted concrete walls inside, tile floors, high ceilings, stuco-ed on the outside, and very curvy stylish bars on the windows. Those of you who don't know, well, its kinda like how I just described. I have a nice little kitchen, which apparently is used for preparing food. I mean, I'm just use to preparing food by adding already prepared food (thanks mom, and previous cooks!) to a microwave. Actually, I have a sweet microwave here too, but buying already prepared food here is few and far between. And when you do find it, it ain't cheap. I can't wait to send out some pics to some of you guys, who haven't seen a developing country, to show you the meat market. Actually it would almost be worth flying back and emailing it while I peer in from a window so that I could see some gagging. But I would only do that if they were scratch-n-sniff because the sight is only 1/3 of the true intensity (what with the flies, bits of fat, and goat balls). The smell is retched. Heinous even. But damn if it ain't some good steak. I just need to learn the science of marination (and no Jason Dewayne, not that type of marination).

It so hard for me to friggin organize my writing. I just noticed that I start out my paragraphs with one topic and two sentences later I get on a tangent and that's how I end it. Well, until I figure it out, please bare with me.

If you can't tell, I'm really enjoying life here. I've only been here for a 11 days and it feels like I've been here for a month. My main worry right now, as I write this unconnected to the internet so that I can just shoot it off when I find some hotel with wifi, is getting the internet in my apt. Things work real slow around here so you have to be extremely proactive. Luckily my boss is so, so I just go the telephone line hooked into my apt. Now i just need the modem and wire and connection service thingy. Another worry is how many hours of Heroes I have left. And other movies and stuff too, but mainly Heros. I guess most of the world has to deal with that probably. Times are hard these days. Also, I don't have mailing privileges and I think it'll stay that way. I have everything I need here and I'll just bring back African goodies when I fly back in a year.

Lets see. Night life here is actually pretty sweet. I went out last weekend on thursday night with Congo (speaks good english) and he showed me his favorite club downtown. It was very nice, even by states standards. Drinks were about the same cost as American clubs. I was just scoping the scene so Congo and I mainly just talked at the bar and had a couple drinks. Most of the night we were playing "How's the Hook?" It's and challenging and potentially dangerous game that takes strong will, strong brains, a chilly heart, balls of a goat, and occasionally some nun-chucks. One fine fact, that may or may not be accurate (Its fact to me), is that 95% of all hookers her have AIDS. That's a 1:20 chance of not getting AIDS if copulation would take place with one. In Vegas, they have a saying these odds: "Play a different game." In early May in Kentucky they say "You could win more money getting wasted in the infield and hanging around the hippee folk." Well, no, they don't really say that, but I just did, and I'm from KY, so there.

Now, its not a question of wether or not I would chance it even if it was 19:20 odds of not getting a disease. The way of the hook is not my style. Does absolutely nothing for my ego. I would feel like a 54 year old crusty Frenchman who's living here to be put up on a money petistal. I played the game for entertainment because I heard there were many whores here, but I couldn't see any in the club. Little did I know, they were all around. Dressed very nice. Congo pointed them out to me, which told me he knew the game, but even he was confused with some. Differences that I saw were that the "ladies of the night" were a bit more flashy. In other words, looks more clean and dressed up than the regular girls. But the reason I could even compete with Congo in this game was because if were bold and upfront, or tried to get you to buy a drink for them, they were obviously bad. Anyone could tell that. So lots would stare, give me the eye, or just approach. One of them was named Mary (i think), but she asked me to call her Hot Cakes. I can't make this up. Others though, I like to call them Ninja Hooks, would slyly sip on a drink at the bar and text on their phone. Sneaky. I don't know what Congo said to one of those, but he found out that she was one. He was even unsure about that one. Then there was the girl, Marium, who just danced by herself all night. I was fairy just by the time I made my decision about her, but I voted hook. Who dances by their self all night, not talking or looking at anyone? Congo said "No." He called her over with a hand motion and she didn't come. I was like, "Damn." She would've ran if she was hook.

He later talked to her and got her number and Adam, Congo, Marium, and I ate lunch the next day. I bought Congo and Marium lunch, and the next day Congo texted me that she said she had fallen in love with me. When only communicated thru sherades. The lunch started out awkward as I expected. Marium was pretty shy and could speak about as much english as I can french, but I got out of her that she was from Niamey and half Fulani/half Hausa tribe.

So that was kinda cool. Also, the green "M" tattooed between her eyes and her afro under her arms were cool, but not really.

We were there for a while waiting for our food and during that time many awkward silences were had. One silence was broken by a guy with a rack of cigarettes and cell phone cards coming up to the table and motioning for me to buy something. Rather than scissor kick is ass for being so rude, I realized that the man was just trying to make a buck in a place where there weren't too many bucks to be made. I shooed him off in the nicest way possible. Another bought of sherades. Another silence. Another guy selling things. This went on a couple times before I saw the next guy walking up. I looked to see where the man was coming from and saw that their was a line of people standing at one of the entrances to the cafe. All with things to sell Adam and I. So I spoke in a loud volume, with a nice tone, "Merci." and waved my hand to shoo the whole line away. Probably the reason I'm going so into depth with this right now is that I know that after a while things like this will be just a natural way to me and it will be hard to notice it all. Things like when we were finished with our meal and had mere scraps left on our plate, a kid in his late teens came up and took our plates for us and for a second I thought he was just the waiter finally doing his job. Instead he was there to munch on the scraps.

My neighbors are all really kind. Actually, every one here is very very kind and complain about very very little. I'm not saying that they are just kind to me because they know I have money. There is a whole atmosphere of it here. I see it from one person to the other. Not just towards me. Adam lives next to a bar (and by "next to" I mean he can walk about 7ft outside of his front door and get a beer through the back window of the bar) and we've become very good friends with the head honcho, Kareem. Real cool, laid back kinda guy. And you know what, I just thought of this, but I just found out that he is Muslim the other night (after we offered him a beer, and he turned it down because of his faith) and he's the head guy at this bar. Weird. Anyway, Kareem treats us well because we give him business like no otha, but also he'll not only show us where to get bread, eggs, and phone cards, he'll actually drive out and get them for us. Ok, you know what, bad example because we give him business so people go way out of their way here if you give them business. Adam's next door neighbor Ramatou, she just hangs out with us even though she knows little english, needs no money, is leaving to go back to home town hours away from here, and never hints at asking for anything. My neighbor right now is Kevin and the ladies at the Manicure/Pedicure shop. They're nice and at least one of them has a kid, Rodrick. He's like 5 and extremely rambunctious. His crew is always rolling like 7 deep. Like Bebe's Kids or something. And if I shake one of their hands, they all want their hands shook. Cute kids, and they listen well too. Like, today they just all ran in my front gate and were having a blast, but after a few seconds I motioned for them to get out because I couldn't see them all and they stop what they were doing right then and skidadled. Of course, then they would sneak behind me while I was talking and hide behind the gate until I caught them.

To anyone who bared through all of that reading, hats off to you. If you liked it, I have a book coming out in the fall... but not really. I hope this found everyone in good health. I'll send pics and what not. I just found out that I'm getting the internet tomorrow (copyright May 22nd). Take care of yourselves and I hope to hear from you all sooner or later.

Ronnie

And sexism, too!

2008-05-23T01:05:00.000-04:00

Lest I be accused of being politically biased, props to the Washington Post for their article about the sexist attacks against Senator Clinton. The craziest thing to me is that the primary is supposed to be between democrats - if I didn't know better, I'd think that this primary was a referendum between sexists and racists.

Racism alive and well in heartland

2008-05-22T14:19:00.000-04:00

Ugh. I'm so disturbed by this article that it's taken me over a week to post about it. I don't ever want to hear that white people don't have it easier than everybody else. I wish you godspeed, Senator Obama.

A real American

2008-05-18T00:23:00.003-04:00

I've been reading a lot about cultural values related to sex, love and marriage lately, and in the middle of this somewhat puzzling article in The Atlantic I found this delightful paragraph:

Even though she was born in Belgium and schooled in Israel, and speaks eight languages, she is fundamentally, deeply American—indeed, announcing that you speak eight languages is a deeply American thing to do. (As I write, I am living in Crete, where half the people who wash floors in hotels speak eight languages and don’t tell you.) Perel is American in both the best sense and the worst in which Europeans use the term: She is American in her can-do conviction that people will live happily ever after. She is American also in her self-promotion (“My husband is the director of the International Trauma Studies Program at Columbia University … My parents were survivors of Nazi concentration camps,” she tells us, as though this bore on her thesis). She is American, finally, in her unquestioning assumption that we should work like hell on our sex lives.

Still not sure what to make of the article itself, but that paragraph is spot-on.

Mr. Darcy, the universal value

2008-05-17T00:32:00.003-04:00

I've been struggling to write about the NYT's companion article to the one I blogged about last week, about love in Saudi Arabia. The first article had me thinking about how different our cultures are. The second is making me think about how similar we are. The young women in the article are in their late teens and are either in high school or studying at university. When I was that age I attended an all-girls high school (something my French relatives thought was the summit of American religious fundamentalism), and was just as confused and puzzled by the male species as they seem to be. Of course, I did interact with boys on a regular basis at my part-time job, and even though I didn't really date I did attend several dances escorted by a series of nervous, slightly awkward young men. I, too, spent a lot of time in groups of girls, giggling and watching movies like Titanic, Pride and Prejudice, and a whole slew of unremarkable romantic comedies starring Cameron Diaz or Kate Hudson. Unlike the Saudi girls, though, everything in my culture, from Hollywood to my mother's exhortations to "put on some make-up and smile, for crying out loud," told me to get out there, meet guys, date them, and have marathon phone conversations with my girlfriends about these boys and the strange things they did.

Years later, female friendships are still the most important relationships in my life, even as I follow my society's cultural expectation that I will "put myself out there" and continue my quest for Mr. Right. I have to say, having been on more bad first dates than I care to admit, the thought has occurred to me that it would be nice to get some help from Mom and Dad. How can I be expected to both find guys to date AND evaluate them for suitability? That's an awful lot of work. I do have a full-time job, you know.

It occurs to me that in the States at least (and I think this is starting to spread to Europe as well) online dating sites like Match.com, J-date, e-harmony, etc. are filling the void left by the yentas and Mrs. Bennetts of yore, with the added benefit that the website won't harp on you b/c you rejected a perfectly nice Jewish doctor (or whatever your mother's ideal man happens to be) in favor of a starving artist who gives you butterflies. Personally I would gladly pay the subscription to the matchmaking service just to avoid the maternal recriminations.

I am glad, though, to have the final say in the evaluation of these suitors (with input from the Dating Committee, of course). That said, I've been thinking a lot about Lori Gottlieb's article in The Atlantic, in which she argues that American women need to be less picky about men if they want to get married at all. Her primary audience is 30-something women, but even as a 20-something I see truth in her argument that

what makes for a good marriage isn’t necessarily what makes for a good romantic relationship. Once you’re married, it’s not about whom you want to go on vacation with; it’s about whom you want to run a household with. Marriage isn’t a passion-fest; it’s more like a partnership formed to run a very small, mundane, and often boring nonprofit business. And I mean this in a good way.

Certainly I've learned that what makes a guy attractive for bar-flirting and number-getting (and drunken poor life decisions) doesn't make for a good romantic relationship. It's not that there aren't good people to be met in bars (after all, you're there), it's that the qualities needed to shine on the bar scene do not make a knight (or maiden) in shining armor.

As different as my life is from those of the Saudi girls and women interviewed, there are some universal truths out there:

Shaden sighed, deeply. “When Darcy comes to Elizabeth and says ‘I love you’ — that’s exactly the kind of love I want.”

After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. ;-)