Traveling outside of one's culture involves more than sight-seeing; it involves learning. When I travel, I often have moments of self-awareness about myself and my American culture. Some of those moments are funny. Others are enriching. Some are just plain humbling. All of them are valuable. On this trip, my realizations have had a theme: my American culture is all about me.
For example, when Mark and I eat supper at a restaurant, we expect the waiters to smile and be engaging. It's a cultural norm that we bring to the table as Americans. We like service that treats us like life is all about us. We want to feel special, like we're at the top of the priority list for "our" waiter or waitress. And why not? After all, we're paying for it.
The other night, we went to supper at Dona Salta, one of the most talked about places (and most expensive places) to eat in Salta, Argentina. The warm Spanish ambiance is fantastic, and the food is amazing (think hot lentil stew with chunks of steak and a bizillion seasonings, where you're stuffed, but can't stop piling it in), but the service wasn't as awesome as the food. The staff seemed grumpy. We didn't get that Olive Garden welcome, "Are we celebrating anything special tonight?"
There was no "OMG, you're so special. Life is totally about you, the center of the universe." We were seated in a noisy isle, next to another couple who was having a private conversation and was noticeably irritated that someone had been seated just a foot away from their table. The waiter was rushed and didn't smile. I realized that we had expectations that the staff would be warm and engaging, for my benefit, for my dining experience. But that's not the culture here. I have to adapt my expectations. Supper would not be all about me. And that's okay. I'm shifting my thoughts to align with the philosophy that I believe very strongly in: equality. I'm no more important than you, and you're no more important than me.
I want to love others and care about their needs in equal measure to my own... which is why I bought a clay bowl in Cafeyette. As a backpacker, the last thing I needed was a clay bowl to carry around, but life isn't just about me and what I need. The guy selling it needed lunch. He was hungry, and I had an ability to alleviate his suffering. On this trip, Mark and I are making it a point to balance our own needs with the needs of others, not just for someone else's benefit, but also for our own.
Mark 12:30-31
For example, when Mark and I eat supper at a restaurant, we expect the waiters to smile and be engaging. It's a cultural norm that we bring to the table as Americans. We like service that treats us like life is all about us. We want to feel special, like we're at the top of the priority list for "our" waiter or waitress. And why not? After all, we're paying for it.
The other night, we went to supper at Dona Salta, one of the most talked about places (and most expensive places) to eat in Salta, Argentina. The warm Spanish ambiance is fantastic, and the food is amazing (think hot lentil stew with chunks of steak and a bizillion seasonings, where you're stuffed, but can't stop piling it in), but the service wasn't as awesome as the food. The staff seemed grumpy. We didn't get that Olive Garden welcome, "Are we celebrating anything special tonight?"
There was no "OMG, you're so special. Life is totally about you, the center of the universe." We were seated in a noisy isle, next to another couple who was having a private conversation and was noticeably irritated that someone had been seated just a foot away from their table. The waiter was rushed and didn't smile. I realized that we had expectations that the staff would be warm and engaging, for my benefit, for my dining experience. But that's not the culture here. I have to adapt my expectations. Supper would not be all about me. And that's okay. I'm shifting my thoughts to align with the philosophy that I believe very strongly in: equality. I'm no more important than you, and you're no more important than me.
I want to love others and care about their needs in equal measure to my own... which is why I bought a clay bowl in Cafeyette. As a backpacker, the last thing I needed was a clay bowl to carry around, but life isn't just about me and what I need. The guy selling it needed lunch. He was hungry, and I had an ability to alleviate his suffering. On this trip, Mark and I are making it a point to balance our own needs with the needs of others, not just for someone else's benefit, but also for our own.
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