It wasn't as shocking to return to America as I thought it'd be. I'd never visited the Los Angeles area before, and I'm surprised by how much the smaller towns outside of the city remind me of my little southern hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia.
Charlottesville itself is not as rural as many southern towns, in part due to the presence of the University of Virginia. The city actually hosts a mindset that greatly differs from the majority of the South. And walking among Redondo Beach's array of stores and restaurants—T.J. Maxx, Denny, and Hollywood Video to name a few—recalls an America that I once experienced in Charlottesville, a place that embodied many of the American stereotypes in its habits and methods as much as its physical location.
In this small beach town outside of LA, people I don't know wave hello to me, and drivers encourage me to cross the street even though the traffic lights indicate otherwise. This preference given to non-4-wheel driving creatures, I am certainly not used to. They'll also chirp good morning when you exit the grocery store and hold a massive pet close by, smiling while gripping the leash tightly, so that you may pass without the concern of that Rottweiler's potential desire to maim you.
The ways in which I experienced Thai politeness were the following: take you to someone who speaks English if they couldn't, escort you to the kitchen of their restaurant if they weren't sure what you wanted for dinner, give you a few Baht more rather than less if they didn't have exact change. I don't see these gestures as of greater or lesser value than the ones I mentioned above, yet I also have difficulty imagining them occurring to a non-English speaking person in America. Regarding pedestrians, Thai and other Southeast Asian drivers are prone to striking them not because they are unkind but because the hierarchy of traffic differs.
A greater cultural difference that has taken longer for me to process because of the greater disparity it shows between America and Southeast Asia is the magnitude of America's wealth. Wealth doesn't simply refer to income level or to available products at shopping malls, but is ingrained in the behavioral patterns, conversations, expectations, and personality of America. From clean intact sidewalks, to hand sanitizer dispensers for use the customs line of the Los Angeles airport, to neon signs politely warning cars of potholes, to manicured rose bushes in gridlock patterns before a house with an actual white picket fence, to the lack of dogs with swollen nipples roaming the streets. The money floats through the electric wiring of telephone poles, the lush lawns watered daily by gardeners, and the organic peppers at the international market down the street.
When I return to New York, I'm sure the feelings of shock will continue and may even increase exponentially. I can't anticipate my reaction or if facing these shocks will be a positive or negative experience. Rather, I'm trying to view this period of culture shock objectively and to recoil from placing judgement. Like a true Buddhist, my desire is to observe each experience as it arrives, breathe throughout, appreciate its nature, and watch it pass as the next one arrives.
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You can read Victoria's earlier post from Vietnam here. It wasn't as shocking to return to America as I thought it'd be. I'd never visited the Los Angeles area before, and I'm surprised by how much the smaller towns outside of the city remind me of my little southern hometown of Charlottesville, Virginia.
Charlottesville itself is not as rural as many southern towns, in part due to the presence of the University of Virginia. The city actually hosts a mindset that greatly differs from the majority of the South. And walking among Redondo Beach's array of stores and restaurants—T.J. Maxx, Denny, and Hollywood Video to name a few—recalls an America that I once experienced in Charlottesville, a place that embodied many of the American stereotypes in its habits and methods as much as its physical location.
In this small beach town outside of LA, people I don't know wave hello to me, and drivers encourage me to cross the street even though the traffic lights indicate otherwise. This preference given to non-4-wheel driving creatures, I am certainly not used to. They'll also chirp good morning when you exit the grocery store and hold a massive pet close by, smiling while gripping the leash tightly, so that you may pass without the concern of that Rottweiler's potential desire to maim you.
The ways in which I experienced Thai politeness were the following: take you to someone who speaks English if they couldn't, escort you to the kitchen of their restaurant if they weren't sure what you wanted for dinner, give you a few Baht more rather than less if they didn't have exact change. I don't see these gestures as of greater or lesser value than the ones I mentioned above, yet I also have difficulty imagining them occurring to a non-English speaking person in America. Regarding pedestrians, Thai and other Southeast Asian drivers are prone to striking them not because they are unkind but because the hierarchy of traffic differs.
A greater cultural difference that has taken longer for me to process because of the greater disparity it shows between America and Southeast Asia is the magnitude of America's wealth. Wealth doesn't simply refer to income level or to available products at shopping malls, but is ingrained in the behavioral patterns, conversations, expectations, and personality of America. From clean intact sidewalks, to hand sanitizer dispensers for use the customs line of the Los Angeles airport, to neon signs politely warning cars of potholes, to manicured rose bushes in gridlock patterns before a house with an actual white picket fence, to the lack of dogs with swollen nipples roaming the streets. The money floats through the electric wiring of telephone poles, the lush lawns watered daily by gardeners, and the organic peppers at the international market down the street.
When I return to New York, I'm sure the feelings of shock will continue and may even increase exponentially. I can't anticipate my reaction or if facing these shocks will be a positive or negative experience. Rather, I'm trying to view this period of culture shock objectively and to recoil from placing judgement. Like a true Buddhist, my desire is to observe each experience as it arrives, breathe throughout, appreciate its nature, and watch it pass as the next one arrives.
***
You can read Victoria's earlier post from Vietnam here. 
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