Through the Culture Glass: America from Afar

Almost a year ago I left The United States without a concrete notion of what exactly I was looking for, but sustained by a strong will to simply go. I wasn't unhappy, I wasn't uncomfortable, but the life I lived that year was always supposed to be temporary.  There was something kinetic within me that I did not want to ignore.
There were many summer nights in 2014 that I sat on the stark landscape of the school roof in Taiwan and questioned my choice in leaving. But, while I wondered what I was missing in Indiana, I understood that wondering about Taiwan would have cut me much deeper.
Like any year abroad, I've lived through a multitude of lessons (but probably only absorbed a collection of them) and have amassed ideas, values, and opinions from people as well as places. What I didn't expect, though, was to learn so much about my own sentiments toward my home country. I didn't expect to unveil a deep, raw affection for a culture I thought was lacking acceptable amounts of authenticity. And I didn't expect to unearth a buried yearning for its repose. But I did. Among several other discoveries, too.

1. American culture is a fairly ego-centric culture. Now, before anyone gets up in arms, I have met more compassionate individuals than selfish, and I believe they can be found in abundance.  I'm not speaking of individuals. Our culture teaches and preaches independence, pride, and going your own way, all of which are valuable traits. But they breed an overall attitude of self-importance that conflicts with watchful accommodation of other people, groups, and entities. Taiwan abounds with familial and neighborly acquiescence, and actions towards others reveal a selfless dynamic originating from a desire to keep a person's reputation unsullied.  I'm not convinced I could live that way, but it's opened my eyes to the notion that we are the culture we consume, and that America's places a high premium on "self."

2. "Honesty" in the United States is a funny thing. This elusive virtue increasingly contains more gray areas in today's society.  I didn't need to leave America to know that. What I did learn from the placement of a Taiwanese lens over my face, however, was how subjective honesty is--not only to individuals, but within a people. If you're an American it's rude to call someone "large," or "fat," or "big." In Taiwan, it is simply a fact. It's not cruel or snarky, it simply remains an observation on someone's size, just as "thin," or "skinny," or "small" are all facts of measurement and not compliments. Taiwan owns some funny quirks in regards to honesty, too. Commenting on someone's recently dyed hair should always involve the adjectives "lighter" or "darker," not any hint of color. (Yes, I learned that one from personal experience.) So, honesty isn't really any less funny in Taiwan, but I never considered it a funny thing in America before now. Realizing first hand that it exists as a product of cultural practices and values proved eye-opening.

3. There is SO much to do in the USA. Popular ideology tells us that being "touristy" is frowned upon. This philosophy undoubtedly stems from valid reasoning and trying to suppress the overbearing tourist, but if being a long-term, light-treading tourist has taught me anything it's that getting out and seeing where you live is a great joy of life.  I used to believe exploration involved far away destinations and exotic places, and it can, but there remain vast amounts of my own home I have yet to experience.  I'm eager to return and discover corners of my home that I have yet to be acquainted with, and to augment my appreciation for the open spaces and hidden--or well-known--gems of the United States. Because there are an almost infinite amount between the coasts.

4. I love America. America is my home. I want to make one thing clear--I never hated America. I've always loved in it in some capacity, but living so completely separate from it for so long sheered away layers of disenchantment and exposed just how deep America is embedded in me. There exists a comfort within the boundaries of your home culture that I have yet to replicate in any other location. I've learned that culture is as cohesive and far-reaching as a water molecule.  It unites easily and leaves nothing untouched, and while the challenge of living with-out the confines of convention will always be worthwhile, I will welcome the ease and peace waiting for me when my plane touches down in New York in a few short weeks. I am an American, and no amount of wanderlust, not curiosity will ever change that.

That being said, this past year has seen Taiwan become my temporary home. I've earned a plethora of gray hairs here, enjoyed the unwavering friendship of too many kind souls, and grasped enough important knowledge about myself to dub it anything less than a benign home that my heart will miss. The children I had the privilege of teaching--whom I have come to regard simply as "my kids"-- are tiny lights that I will feel the absence of most keenly.  They will continue on in my memory as extraordinary examples of goodness, innocence, and mischief.

Coming home will be a transition, as it always is, but one that has already been rendered a bit easier by the attainment of an appealing new job, and choosing to return to a familiar place, with familiar faces (that I find myself more excited to see each passing day).  I've been admonished to prepare for a healthy dose of reverse-culture shock, but I'm having a hard time envisioning an arduous adjustment period to a concept so familiar to me. I will concede, however, that I didn't arrive in Taiwan expecting to learn about America.  So, perhaps it will only be during periods of reflection in America that I discover just how irrevocably a year in Taiwan changed me.

Life in Eden

When I was little I'd hear my parents reference distinct times in their lives, "back when I lived in..." "growing up I would..." "When I first moved to..." All these introductory phrases symbolized the specific, exclusionary chunks of time they separated their lives into.  And always, I couldn't wait for the day when I could sound as sophisticated and refer to clumps of months and years with similar phrases and that spark of fond remembrance.
I realized yesterday that I can do that now. And I do do it now. I've crossed into the usage of adult reminiscence without realizing it.  The child within me smiled at reaching her so-far-off goal, but the adult (yes, friends, it does exist) softly demanded that I address the bittersweetness of my realization: having different epochs in my life not only means I've been afforded an array of experiences, but I have taken leave of many places and people.  
"This too shall pass" has become my mantra through difficult trials, and a warning reminder during the blissful days. I believe that all good things come to an end. That sounds pessimistic. But it's true,  just as true as the fact that all difficulties pass.  And that is not to say that a new happiness and other hardships will not repeatedly appear, because they will, but circumstances in this transitory world have a habit of fleeing more than they do sticking around. Perhaps much of that reputation exists because of human choices, selfishness, and pride, but that's a tangent I'll devote another post to. (Probably not, but I could devote an entire post to it). 
Repeating that phrase to myself, however, never quite prepares me for the departing drives, or flights, or trains, during which I have ample time to reflect on my most recent past. The drive from Utah to Indiana a little over a year ago was quite wrenching; thankfully the drive from Indiana to Connecticut this week was less so, but still afforded me an excess of pensive moments. 
I thought about the lovely owners of a small, but bustling, breakfast and lunch joint that took a chance on a girl who's only bargaining chip was, "I just feel like I need to be here." I thought about the addition of a second job and the time and energy it ate up, but also the knowledge it came to impart.  I thought about coworkers who became--in both the worst and best senses of the word--family. I thought about late night talks and unrequited feelings and frustration. I pondered the difficulty of upholding my beliefs and the inner battle to adequately feed a famished and ravenous testimony. I remembered laughing fits and dance moves and good conversation. I thought of my personal downfalls and my quiet triumphs, and about sincere declarations of respect that touched me deeply. I dwelt upon midnight forays into bars and letting my walls down with a water glass in hand; I dwelt on where I fit in and with whom, and where I did not. (Those thoughts, as a practicing Mormon, have always surprised me. In an unexpectedly good way.)
I wrestled with of all these things and felt many, many emotions. But ultimately I felt gratitude, a great deal of gratitude.  Gratitude for the divine guidance that led me to people I will always care about, gratitude for those people and their outstanding caliber, and gratitude for growth.
Indiana was not what I expected, and I'm not sure I can say that it was what I needed, either, without projecting that all of my choices were the best ones possible--because they weren't. But that's the amazing thing about Heavenly Father, He took my flawed choices and turned them into experiences and circumstances that I could draw knowledge and wisdom from, and with that I do agree. I have left Indiana holding more knowledge than I entered with, and I'm satisfied with that take-away because I believe it was divinely steered. 
I don't know if I'm done with Indiana yet. (Three weeks ago I didn't know I'd be in Taiwan at the end of the month...so, honestly, how realistic can it be that I would know where I'll end up in six months?) But I will always associate it with my Rosie's family, and my Roadhouse crew, and the unforeseen friends who turned out to be the silver lining in what was a challenging year.  And my loving dad with whom I got to live out another year--which family circumstance bamboozled us of over half a decade ago.
I am beyond excited to set out on my newest adventure, I know it will be challenging, and fun, and filled with growth. I shall take it on with a smile as I tell people stories of "back when I lived in Indiana...", and one day I know I will perpetuate my Asian teaching experience with another smile as I explain to my family of "when I first moved to Taiwan..."

"Each person grows not only by her own talents and development of her inner beliefs,

 but also by what she receives from the persons around her."

 --Iris Haberli

Enjoy your fries with that.

My current profession isn't impressive; it is not glamorous, and it is not always fun--it's not even really my profession. I like to think I haven't discovered that yet, simply because I'd like to be so passionate about what I do that it's contagious, and I am not that passionate about setting plates of food in front of hungry people. Waitressing can often suck the energy out of me, it sucks the good mood from my bones, and it sure sucks up my time. I've come home tonight, more exhausted, more beat down, and more melancholy than I have in a while. Plates went out wrong, fries were cold, and my status as a woman seemingly demoted to that of a servant. But it happens. It's all part of the business, just as screw-ups and mishaps and bruised pride are all a part of life. And amidst all the shortcomings of the night I find myself softly declaring that I'm grateful for my waitressing jobs, because it's not all bad. Not by a long shot. 

I could sit here and write to you a list of conditions that those dining out should meet, as well as a list of condemnable atrocities I have witnessed. But I've resolved to make this less about what my job lacks and more about what it possesses, because as I sat at table 123, running sanitizer over my menus and filling salt shakers, I thought of what this year of serving in a restaurant has offered me. 

                     Everyday I get to meet a plethora of new people. I get to interact with, share a smile with, and assist those who sit at my tables and it may sound silly, but I like that. I like meeting new people, even if I am merely a means to an end: food. There is a responsibility attached to the knowledge that I can influence a couple's date night, or a family's celebration, and don't we all like to feel a little responsibility? It makes us feel important.

                      It actually is fairly lucrative. Despite the sometimes inconceivable sum that a misguided bill-payer will pass off as a tip, I've made great money.  There are great tips, and there are terrible tips, and each often come along with great stories, but most tips are simply average. But average, when all accumulated, can certainly pay the bills. And on the occasions when I've taken the time to figure out an hourly wage from my wad of tips, I learn that--for an hourly, part-time job--I'm not doing half bad.

                     Stories. Boy, do I have stories. Perhaps this can coincide with meeting new people, but I always come away from a serving shift with at least one story to tell. So many types of people enter eating establishments that it's impossible not to encounter a couple nut jobs, a few entitled snobs, a hilarious comedian, or even a kindred spirit. The possibilities are endless, and therefore so are the stories and the memories. 

                     I've learned that more people are genuinely kind and friendly than aren't, and most do not understand the extra stresses they cause when they ask for obscene an amount of change, or when they order multiple drinks instead of one.  I like to think that I've learned the value of patience not only in a time-oriented sense, but in a personality and people kind of sense as well. In any job you must deal with the personalities of your co-workers, but only in the restaurant business must you deal with a personality and an appetite simultaneously, and it is not always pretty. 

In hindsight, I've had worse days. I've had days where my best lines, my fastest pace, and my every effort didn't turn out to be enough. But I've also had days where my jokes provoked a laugh, my poise and speed knocked a couple extra bucks my way,  my efforts resulted in conversation, and I was ultimately rewarded because of my hard work.  More often than not, I've dealt with a mixture of each scenario during a shift. The ebb and flow of these opposites constantly reminds me of the fleetingness of all emotions, of all circumstances, and of all occurrences. The sting of that bad tip will go away, just as the all money you made during a shift will inevitably slip through your hands, too. The lady who barked at you to refill her drink will walk out the front door in half an hour never to be seen by you again, and that glass you broke in your haste will be replaced by an identical one tomorrow.

So, to the passive aggressive woman who left me a short novel on the back her receipt this evening: Thank you. Thank you for explaining the reasoning behind your poor tip rather than simply leaving an unacceptable percentage and walking out (even if I could have fixed all your complaints had you simply voiced them as they occurred).  And to the four teenage gentlemen who pleasantly surprised me with their wit, kind manners, and humble generosity, thank you for reminding me that not all are as fault-finding as my dear pen-scratching lady a few tables over. 

Ultimately, each day is a coin toss for who will sit at my tables, who I will rub shoulders with, and how well we'll get along.  Some will be good, some will be bad, and each have the potential to be famously memorable or infamously memorable. Sometimes I will earn my tip, other times it will be a flat rate, handed to me regardless of my performance.  But always, it will be my attitude that sustains me, and I will seek to make it a good one.

Day 8: Favorite Color

I love colors. 
I love them so much, in fact, that I do not have a favorite one--I just can't choose. It changes on an [almost] daily basis. 
So, I thought a picture of my color-changing snowflakes would be appropriate. (Thanks Aunt Beth!!) I love that they are as fickle as I am in their choice of color; I could probably stare at them for hours.
I'm drawn to colorful things. Even the pens aisle at Staples reels me in effortlessly.
It's such a simple thing, really, but the presence of color in my life makes me happy. Don't get me wrong, I love 'I Love Lucy' reruns, and The Andy Griffith Show can only be watched in black and white--the absence of color in those situations is purely acceptable, required even. But I'm so grateful we don't see like that.
And I'm grateful that I'm surrounded by colors.
I'm grateful that I can paint my nails crazy colors (regardless of the fact that lasts only two days)
I'm grateful for my snowflakes.
I'm grateful for colorful flowers.
I'm grateful that colors add dimension and vibrancy to ordinary things in life.
I'm grateful that there are myriad shades of different colors.
I'm grateful for COLOR. 

"The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love color the most."

~John Ruskin  

Day 7 (kind of): Funny Things

Yes, it has been several months since I began this endeavor.  No, I did not live up to the declaration that I would post something I'm grateful for everyday. 
 I'm turning over a new leaf, now.

These pictures make me grateful for several things: 

      ONE, that I had my camera out at this choice moment.

      TWO, that my roommate had the guts to give her boyfriend a purple-nurple.

      and THREE, that they still make me laugh--every. time.

Side-splitting laughter is my favorite, and if you can make me laugh- I mean REALLY laugh-then I'll hang around you forever.  Fortunately for my friends (or unfortunately...that's up for debate...), it's not too hard to accomplish. 

The old adage, "laughter is the best medicine," is one that I believe whole-heartedly.  Nothing can change a mood or lighten a burden quite like a laugh can, and as a wise woman who spoke at BYU once said, "If you can laugh at it, you can live with it." Laughter, especially when shared with someone else, morphs into a unifying force that can conquer the troubles heaped upon us; laughter isn't only a bodily action, but a facilitator of attitude change.

So, I am so grateful for the funny moments in my life that ground me, and bring me back to reality when I  blow circumstances out of proportion. 

 I'm grateful for the attitude boost they provide, and the perspective they offer during hard times.

But most of all, I'm grateful for the people that provide such funny moments for me, intentional or not.  They have no idea how much strength I derive from them.

 

Day 6: Books

I've always loved books.
I've always loved the smell of books, and the calming effect it seems to have on me. (Go smell one before you judge me, please)
I've always loved getting lost in a story and escaping for a little while.
But since coming to college books have taken on a new meaning and played a different role in my life.  Not only are college books expensive, but the material they teach seems to suck time and stamp out all possibility of me reading the books I, myself, choose.  I don't read for fun as often as I used to, or as often as I would like anymore, and perhaps that has increased my gratitude for books and novels and authors who painstakingly and diligently sit down to write them--gosh knows I never could. 
It may sound silly, but books have gotten me through some rough patches in my life.  They've allowed me to outrun, whether for good or for bad, my own problems, if only for a short amount of time, and let me exist in a different world.
So, thank you, books.
I do still enjoy reading my textbooks most of the time--particularly since I'm taking more classes for my major this semester--they provide great insights and tidbits of info that I love finding out about.  BUT I'll always love the tales and escapades more (and biographies...I've recently discovered my fondness of them).

"FEW THINGS LEAVE A DEEPER MARK ON A READER THAN THE FIRST BOOK THAT FINDS ITS WAY INTO HIS HEART.  THOSE FIRST IMAGES, THE ECHO OF THE WORDS WE THINK WE HAVE LEFT BEHIND, ACCOMPANY US THROUGH OUR LIVES AND SCULPT A PLACE IN OUR MEMORY, TO WHICH, SOONER OR LATER-NO MATTER HOW MANY BOOKS WE READ, HOW MANY WORLDS WE DISCOVER, OR HOW MUCH WE LEARN OR FORGET-WE WILL RETURN."

-CARLOS RUIZ ZAFON

Day 5: The Morning Sky

I've always loved mornings, but let's get something straight before I go any further: I'm really not a morning person.  I really only ever get up "early" when I must, and when given the opportunity, I'll usually always sleep in.  I just WISH I was a morning person.  
I don't know what it is about the morning, maybe it's the promise of 24 more hours to do and be whatever you want in, maybe it's the notion that you can make that day exactly what you want to, but something about the morning sky reflects that, for me.
The sun shines a little differently in the morning, as if its trying to infuse the hope of the day into the very objects it shines upon. So, along with my gratitude towards the morning sky and the hope it brings, I'm going to make a resolution--get up earlier. See that morning sky that I love so much more often.
The sky alight with the morning sun is exhilarating and a bit inspiring--it seems to breathe life into my lungs, and to motivate me to be active and verb-like during the day, alerting me of the possibilities each hour can hold, and the feeling of accomplishment that could be my companion once the sun sets.
Too often I think that I do not have enough time in my day, until that one day when I do manage to get up early. I realize the productiveness that seems to shadow me through the morning hours is a great gift when compared to the small price of rolling out of my warm bed a bit sooner than desired.
So here's to the morning and the sky that keeps watch overhead--it is a natural beauty I will never tire of viewing.