The trip to Italy was a first for me in two ways: it was my first time in the country and my first time joining a study abroad program. Another way of looking at it is that as fun as it was, I was working. A part of me felt “on” most of the time. Thus, in my free time I did not really want to go too far or be out of reach in case I needed to address something. I loved the trip, learned a lot, and would definitely do it again either to Italy or to another country. It is a great program. Students knock out two classes in 18 days. The time abroad serves as research for their assignments—all which are due at the end of the summer term.
I have been abroad before by myself or with my family either for conferences or others. Sometimes for longer than a week. Each time I encounter the same feeling about Americans. For most, Americans are seen as entitled by a large number of countries abroad. Is it a prejudice? Probably. Is it true? Sometimes. Does it affect our day to day interactions? Certainly. I will refer to these interactions as cold boiled eggs.
One of my favorite things to eat is eggs: boiled, fried, and scrambled. I could eat more than two each time. I like them fresh, hot, and nicely made. I do not like cold eggs (from the fridge) in any way, shape, or form. I cringe at them and find them hard to eat. Guess what? Every breakfast I had except in Venice and Verona, the eggs were cold.
My first few breakfasts found me in disbelief that the eggs were cold. I mean, who eats cold eggs?? Apparently Italians do and some Americans. My colleague chuckled at my reactions.
At first I thought the eggs were cold because I was late to breakfast. I got up earlier only to find them cold again. Sometimes there was a very slight and faded sense of warmth evaporated by sitting on the breakfast bar. It was like a dream that vanished. Cold eggs became what I ate in the mornings in spite of my distaste for them.
I did not have to eat the eggs cold, that is true. But if I wanted eggs, they would be eaten cold. Simply put, I had to adjust and hold on to the hope that I would have hot eggs again. Was my hope silly? You might think it was. After all, the probability of me eating hot eggs sometime soon was pretty high, right? However; in the thick of it, all I have is what is there in front of me. My inner self had to negotiate my expectations and what I was used to do in contrast with what was in front of me.
Cold boiled eggs became the metaphor for cultural nuances. Nuances are the unspoken beliefs we carry and inform our behavior. Each time I ate the cold eggs my nuances had to be negotiated. With each bite… there was a negotiation.
Growing up as an American citizen in a US territory exposed me to the cultural nuances of both sides. On one side I had my country’s culture, which had cultural roots and identity in a completely different set of values when we were taken by the US. Then I had the American cultural nuances which, in many ways, rules over ours. Overnight our country had to quickly navigate and adapt to a new system, a new language, new beliefs, and new nuances. This context afforded me however, a broader view of two cultures in tension and how each side saw each other. Thus, I am familiar with the sense of Americans being seen as entitled.
The clashing of cultural nuances happens all the time. We talk about it constantly. Yet, we keep failing at it. We travel and even when we are not trying we carry expectations and nuances that come in conflict with our host country. Some of us deal with grace. Some of us are not as gracious.
I ate the cold eggs because it became clear to me that asking them to make me hot eggs would not be productive. In fact, it would be an unnecessary discomfort. It was not menu a la carte. It was a buffet. In that context, asking for hot eggs would have been seen as an entitlement, and rightly so. I had to adapt.
During the trip we visited different towns. Some of these towns were more used to tourists than others. Some of the hotels more modern than others. And some of the staff more used to dealing with tourists than others. We might as well yell we are tourists. It shows in everything we did. Our impatience waiting in the sun (yes, it was hot but Italians wait in the sun all the time), our impatience with our “short walks”— okay that was mostly me but still, our impatience with the lack of air conditioning, and the list can go on. While it is true that some of these are legitimate reasons to say something, the way we say that something and what we expect from it are three different things.
In differences of opinions, Americans want to go to the bottom of it and quickly. Other cultures however, engage in a conversation time discussion to get there, whatever the bottom might be. For instance, asking for a refund as the first option in a negotiation would probably be met with a wall even if it is warranted. It just does not work that way for others. In a way one has to let them think that the solution we want is their idea.
An Italian Indian street vendor and I got in a little squabble. (For the record, I much prefer street vendors to big name stores. My colleague thinks it is because my grandpa used to sell clothes from the trunk of his car). This vendor would not accept credit cards even though he had the machine there. I had cash but not enough for what was in the bag. So, I said either I come back with cash or take x item out of the bag. A whole back and forth ensued abut paying half credit and half cash. I refused over and over. This would be an appropriate moment to say that Italians are not afraid to be intensely expressive about their disappointments. But neither am I. We raised our voices a little and he let me go with the merchandise though I insisted that he kept it. Was he still making a buck? Absolutely. Does it bother me that he let me walk away with it because he was still making a buck? Not at all. Our nuances however, took a little beating there. I sincerely wanted to come back with the full amount and I was in no hurry. But our language differences held us back from reaching an understanding.
In a country that is over saturated with tourists, it is almost expected that the threshold for nuance tolerance might run a bit thin at times. It was not cold boiled eggs all the time. The majority of the trip I met several people, waiters, concierges, the breakfast ladies in Venice, and even Luca our guide, who were amazing, simply amazing. Not to mention my after lunch double espressos that were delish.
We might not be able to completely solve the clashes of our cultural nuances. But we can certainly learn to make them smoother.
Below is the video of my finished sketchbook and right after shots of the pages that are new. Enjoy!
