Failures in Cultural Integration
(A topic from the book.)
My 4-inch platform sandals were cute and somewhat practical in America, with our cleanly paved sidewalks and parking lots and car transportation culture. But in China, with its broken tiles, ripped up sidewalks and walking culture? Still cute, but wildly impractical. (Below, a typical sidewalk in my part of the Chinese woods.) I wore them anyway.
'Cultural integration' is one of the phrases you hear often in the Peace Corps; a large part of our pre-arrival weekend meeting involved telling us if we didn't successfully culturally integrate into our country of service, we were going to be a failure as a volunteer at best, and at worst, dead in the street. (No, not kidding. Now you know why I was so stressed out that weekend.)
V. and I were making our way home from an evening downtown, he in his appropriate footwear and me in my platform sandals. I hadn't walked in shoes like these for several months and about every 50 feet, I weeble-wobbled. Each time, V. grabbed me to keep me from falling over. We were talking about cultural integration as we walked and he observed, "I always have one foot out the door, I really haven't committed myself to being here, but you: I think you've integrated here in a really wonderful way." Right on cue, I fell over into him. "Well, except for your shoes*."
He was right, though. If I were completely culturally committed to China, I would have worn practical, reasonable footwear. I couldn't bring myself to do that; my shoes were the very American part of me, and I clung to them, impractical as they were. I couldn't completely integrate. I did make it 23 months before spraining my ankle due to my impractical footwear, though, a pretty good record. (And when I did, he brought me fresh mangoes and groceries without ever once saying "I told you so.")
*V. actually had pretty high tolerance for my AGB ('Absurd Girl Behavior'). Once, I was separating my eyelashes with a straight pin when he walked in. He watched for a few moments. "If you stab yourself in the eye with that needle, I'm not taking you the ER." Fair enough. (But he totally would have.)
My 4-inch platform sandals were cute and somewhat practical in America, with our cleanly paved sidewalks and parking lots and car transportation culture. But in China, with its broken tiles, ripped up sidewalks and walking culture? Still cute, but wildly impractical. (Below, a typical sidewalk in my part of the Chinese woods.) I wore them anyway.
'Cultural integration' is one of the phrases you hear often in the Peace Corps; a large part of our pre-arrival weekend meeting involved telling us if we didn't successfully culturally integrate into our country of service, we were going to be a failure as a volunteer at best, and at worst, dead in the street. (No, not kidding. Now you know why I was so stressed out that weekend.)
V. and I were making our way home from an evening downtown, he in his appropriate footwear and me in my platform sandals. I hadn't walked in shoes like these for several months and about every 50 feet, I weeble-wobbled. Each time, V. grabbed me to keep me from falling over. We were talking about cultural integration as we walked and he observed, "I always have one foot out the door, I really haven't committed myself to being here, but you: I think you've integrated here in a really wonderful way." Right on cue, I fell over into him. "Well, except for your shoes*."
He was right, though. If I were completely culturally committed to China, I would have worn practical, reasonable footwear. I couldn't bring myself to do that; my shoes were the very American part of me, and I clung to them, impractical as they were. I couldn't completely integrate. I did make it 23 months before spraining my ankle due to my impractical footwear, though, a pretty good record. (And when I did, he brought me fresh mangoes and groceries without ever once saying "I told you so.")
*V. actually had pretty high tolerance for my AGB ('Absurd Girl Behavior'). Once, I was separating my eyelashes with a straight pin when he walked in. He watched for a few moments. "If you stab yourself in the eye with that needle, I'm not taking you the ER." Fair enough. (But he totally would have.)
Comments
So it's like the expression "When in Rome"? I have 2 homes one here in the UK and one in the States, it's funny how I act, dress and sound slightly different in the 2 different countries.
Occasionally I'll play up that I'm a Brit when I'm in AZ, but I find it easier to try and blend in.
I used to do the pin/separating eyelash trick until I saw one of my girls do it and it freaked me out!!!
BBS, I don't care what anyone says, it is THE best way to separate eyelashes. Scary looking, but effective!
Micah, well, I had a head start on American culture. It took me about a year in China. I'm guessing a year here too...six more months. Then I'll really be able to compare. I'll let you know!
Y, wise words!
Still love your stories from China, I find them fascinating!
MMM. Mangoes. Totally worth a sprained ankle ;-)
Mangoes from India are the bomb. Couldn't get enough of them in China.