Tag Archives: cultural difference

The American Dream from an Englishman’s POV

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Saturday night, I went out for dinner with the Mather’s and the Mather’s dad. The Mather’s are friends of ours who got married last summer.

After two bottles of wine, we got to talking about the health reform bill, America versus England, immigration, etc. It comes up quite often in conversations over here, but I always glean something different from the conversations, especially when there is an older generation around to put their two cents in…or even their two pence.

It was the father’s interpretation of the “American dream” that I found the most fascinating. To him, the American dream represented an immigrant who came to the United States, and despite the fact that our government doesn’t dish out free health care (well, at least it didn’t), free welfare, disability, etc. – immigrants still fight for a place in our economic and social ladder. The question would be – why? Why does this dream that doesn’t give you anything for free still entice someone to fight, to strain and to yearn to be a part of it? It got us debating the idea that’s behind it, and this fact, and this fact alone still keeps the American dream as the most coveted of them all – opportunity.

It’s the idea that through the stress, turmoil and back-breaking work, one has the ability to come from nothing and work his way up to gain everything. Foreigners still want to become an American citizen, despite not getting free in return. And, although I wholeheartedly believe that the health care reform is the way forward, you can’t help but wonder what type of “new immigrant” this will bring to our country.

In England, the father said between bites of his sausage, immigrants fight to come into the UK so they can become complacent, get free money from the dole, and steal from the National Health System. Now, I’m sure this is a wide, sweeping generalization and doesn’t in any way reflect the range of immigrants coming into England, but you have to wonder why so many English people believe this to be true. Do people want to come here simply to get a free ride? I know this topic brings heated arguments to the table whenever brought up, but it is just something I find fascinating to think about.

In America, we pride ourselves on being a self-sufficient nation. People are so angry with the health care because they are afraid of what this means to that self-sufficiency they work hard to keep. Since living in this country, I have become even more proud of that characteristic most of us hold. I see that we don’t expect anything from anyone else, and when we want things done, we get them done. Service is impeccable, and we’re a well-oiled machine always striving for more. I get frustrated with the placated dullness here. (But overjoyed at the simple, niceties and caring that comes from this.)

Since I’ve lived here, I’ve also become sad about this characteristic of Americans as well. It’s a double-edged sword because as independent as we like to think we are, we are a lonely, depressed and selfish nation. We aren’t forgiving to our workers – we expect them to work full time with two weeks break. We don’t offer much in return, but expect the world. We look down on people who might put their families over their job, mothers who stay at home, or friends who don’t have any aspirations to better themselves financially. Our first question when we meet someone is, “So, what do you do?” Not, “So, how was your day?”

I love it and I hate it about me. It’s who I am though.

There will be repercussions – good and bad – to this health care reform, and let’s hope there will be a future generation who never knew what it was like to have a brother in law declare bankruptcy over a broken jaw, or a family member who had to dish out $3,000 a month because he got cancer, or a mother who you’re worried about falling ill because she isn’t covered.

Yes, the future generation may end up taking it for granted like many in England do simply because they don’t know any different…and we may end up getting some waifs and strays who want to take advantage of our health care…but to me, that’s better than letting our hardworking citizens die.

Will our entire nation begin to harbor different characteristics than the one it was built on because of this bill? Or, is that too much weight to put on one simple delegation?

The Boy on the Bus

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Blocking my face with the bus stop stand from the swift wind caused by the oncoming traffic and the winter weather, I almost missed the little boy standing with his arm outstretched in his tiny business suit. He approached the advancing bus with such ferver that I thought I would have to jump out to save him from getting decapitated. Luckily, he was more adept than I was at that age, and stood resolutely and confidently with one arm up waving down the bus driver. The bus dutifully stopped in front of him, and opened its doors.

This boy was so curious with his tense shoulders and direct, no-nonsense stance. He was like a new breed of eight year old who I could have easily mistook for a 38 year old. But once I boarded the bus, I promptly forgot about him as I fumbled for my change and tried to remember which coins were worth what amount amongst the millions of British silver and copper in my pocket. Once I finally dumped what I had on the driver’s lap and let him deal with it, and the passengers behind me did their best English grumble and tut-tut, I headed to the upstairs level. Double decker’s are the best.

The eight year old had taken my favorite seat right in front of the window, so I grabbed my second favorite row in front of the stairs and stared out the window. The bus took off, Bristol passed me by and my mind wandered. A rumbling of paper turned my attention back to the boy. I watched him as he unfolded the paper, carefully fluffing out the pages as I saw hundreds of other commuters do five times his age. I still didn’t know how to correctly fluff the pages of a newspaper, and I certainly wouldn’t attempt such a thing on a bus of all things. People would laugh, children would cry, and I’d probably get a paper cut.

I got off before the boy did, but he was still reading his paper. I couldn’t get him off my mind, so I told Jock about this strange, abnormal android of a child. Jock laughed, and said, “Yeah, we learn to read the papers at a young age. I remember reading it at his age.” When I asked him about traveling on a bus by himself at that young stage of life, he replied that children don’t have school buses, so they have to learn to ride public transportation. I am still baffled at this when I think back to my days on the school bus, chanting nursery rhymes, making up songs and blowing spit bubbles – for that, was as far as I got to reading a newspaper. (Unless my mom kindly tore out the comics for me – Brenda Starr was my fave!)

Another cultural difference identified.

(Sidenote: I was a little concerned that he may have been reading the Sun newspaper, in which case he would have had full frontal in his face right on page 3. Still don’t understand how the British see nothing wrong with having breasts in their newspapers – but then again, that’s just my Puritan roots coming through….Luckily, it wasn’t the Sun.)

Representative of the USA

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I re-read a few of my emails from when I lived in Paris in 2004 – just before Bush was re-elected. There were many emails surrounding the topic of Bush, since the French were so adamantly against him being in office, but this entry reminded me of a sort of duty that I, and other expats, have to represent America (if I may be so bold.). (Thank you, Charlie, for keeping them all safe.) I came across this particular entry:

I had a guy at a party Friday night ask me if it was true that Americans thought that we were the only country that existed.  I explained that for many people that is true, that Americans can be very egocentric, etc.  He said that he had a very bad taste in his mouth from Americans because they didn’t seem to know about anything, and that he heard this and that about us, and how can that be possible if we are such a dominant country in the world.

I tried to explain that many Americans have never been outside of the country, but we’re also not as fortunate to have many other countries surrounding us as in Europe.  We continued talking about the differences, and he was a little surprised at my knowledge of his culture and history.  He brought up the fact that Americans helped the French at the end of WWII, and that is a big reason he doesn’t understand our lack of compassion in the world at this point of time.

He asked me why I would want to come to France to study if I was already located in the most powerful country in the world.  I could only say that I didn’t really know, but there was something wonderful I felt when thinking about France and its people, and that’s why I was here to find out why I wanted to be here.

I was very humbled by the way he asked me questions and was really concerned about learning why he would hear such things about Americans.  It just made me think how important it is when going to another country to represent  your country well.  Had I been rude or loud and ignored what he had to say without listening, he would have continued to think that no wonder Americans have the reputation they have.

As the conversation was coming to an end, he looked at me and said…”You have saved a French man from thinking ill of your country.  I will now think differently about Americans.”  I felt at the time like I was in some amazing back to school special on different cultures mingling.

I ask myself this often. Do I have a duty to represent our country well, or is that too big of a task to put on myself? In the end, people are going to think what they think about me, and perhaps I can only be the best person I can be. That bodes the same for living life even if I were in the USA, doesn’t it?

Signs I am still American

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In honor (first sign! lack of ‘u’ in word) of Thanksgiving, I would like to make some observations as to why I am still very very American, and proud of it, despite having lived in the motherland for almost a year.

  • *I do not consider it rude to ask someone why they are “double fisting” at a party. They are simply holding two glasses of alcohol to me. Apparently, not to the British…I’m sure you can guess what they might think that means.
  • *I still refuse to say “Ta” when saying Thank You. I still refuse to say “Cheers” when saying Thank You. “Cheers” is when you raise your glass to another’s. Perhaps to another person who is double fisting it.
  • *A flan pan to me is something my Grandma Lopez would mold her delicious Cuban flan in. Not a pie pan. A pie pan is where you cook a dessert. The number of days wasted looking for a 9″ pie pan could have been better used otherwise.
  • *I have no clue what 5 grams means, nor do I 15 degrees Celsius. I like that Americans are the only ones who even understand our own type of measurement – Fahrenheit, cups, tablespoons, lbs…it all sounds like bright sunshine to me.
  • *I still strode down the grocery aisles and department stores expecting to find Thanksgiving decorations, despite being in another country that does not celebrate the holiday. That’s how arrogant I am.
  • *I say that I like a girl’s “boo” as in; I approve of her boyfriend, and I expect her to understand with no explanation. I don’t expect to be corrected on my pronunciation. “Boo? No, isn’t it beau, love?” Where is my Urban Dictionary when I need it?
  • *I floss my teeth every morning. When I put “floss” in my phone for predictive text, it didn’t even have “floss” as an option. “Flops” was all I got.
  • *I still cringe every time I hear someone say “I’m going to use the toilet.” I will always think “Ladies Room” sounds much classier.
  • *I get offended when someone says waffles and pancakes should only be eaten as desserts. BREAKFAST!! I eat them for BREAKFAST! And, I don’t care if I’m a fat American. That’s how we do.
  • *I get even more offended when my first lady is morphed into looking like a monkey. That is NOT funny.
  • *I don’t, nor will I ever, consider men in drag funny.
  • *My accent is probably stronger, not softer, than when I first got here. Damn, I’m stubborn, huh?

On another note, you’ll all be pleased to know the dinner party is coming along smashingly. No sweaty armpits just yet. Thanks to my lovely mother who called and gave me a few pointers. She gave me this article in Parade Magazine as well. It completely solves my problem of awkward moments where I ask people what they are thankful for – I’ve instead, created a Giving Thanks bowl with silver beads I found at Wilkinson’s. My sign reads:

At any point this evening, when you feel grateful for someone or something in your life, take a bead and place it in the bowl. The gratitude is not spoken, but shared with others by your action.

Pictures to follow! Hope everyone else has a wonderful Thanksgiving with people you love.

M.A.L.

The NHS Dentist – my breaking point?

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Just got back from an emergency visit with an NHS dentist. Called last night, they got me in this morning. Brilliant!

No big deal. I was eating dinner, noticed a jagged edge in the back of my mouth, went to the mirror, and there it was glaring back at me – the mean old half tooth. I’m not sure where half the tooth went either. I’m wondering if that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach last night has anything to do with it….

To be honest. Crying was not an option on the way back from the dentist. But I almost did it. The tears almost came out.

The dentist was nice enough, the wait was hardly anything to complain about, the facilities were clean, the pain was minimal. It was just one of those moments when I realized… I’m not in Kansas anymore…or Cali for that matter….or any U.S. state.

It was missing that cushy dentist feel I’m used to. The nice greetings. The talk about your day. The questions about how half your molar fell off. You know, things that make you feel human. Not just a number.

There are many many places in America where I felt like a number. The MVA. Customs. School Cafeteria.

But, somehow, the dentist was one of those places in the states where I could be assured I would be inundated with bad jokes, slightly annoying (but now meaningful) questions, and very nice receptionists. And, I knew I would get a bib, a nice woman slopping up my drool, and new magazines. Yes, magazines! They didn’t even have freaking magazines!!

Was this seriously my breaking point?

Perhaps I am being too picky. After all, it only cost me £16 to get a temporary filling. (Unlike health care, dental care is not entirely free in the United Kingdom.) I didn’t need any prior insurance to walk into the clinic,and they did take me the next morning. She treated me, didn’t worry about any human interaction, and that saved her time and energy to treat more people in need of emergency services.

I totally get it.

I just don’t like it. Ok? Am I entitled to accept that it’s something I’m not used to, something that is different, but still say outright – I just don’t like it!!!?

And, I was afraid I would need a crown. If that was the case, it would have cost £250.

My dental insurance in the states cost me $25 a month, and with a deductible of $10, that would have been all a crown would have cost me. In the end, I probably end up paying a lot more over time in the states.

And, I don’t say our system is better at all. On the contrary, I think usually it sucks big time. After all, no insurance = no care. Not a big thinker that one.

But, boy what I would give right now for the elevator music in the waiting room, a television to watch the news, or a free toothbrush at the end of my visit.