Cross-cultural ruminations
It has been several days since I posted to the blog, so I have some catching up to do. On Wednesday I completed a five-day workshop on curriculum and teaching for postsecondary education teachers. Each day the experience left me exhilarated but exhausted, and too brain-dead to write much. I had all I could do to keep up with the preparations for each day.
Will start here, though with some reflections on the cross-cultural nature of my experience here. Just a glimpse of what is becoming a major focus for me.
Today in the hotel, there were large groups for both breakfast and dinner. Perhaps the same group but I am not sure. The hotel also seems like it is full of people. Noisy and raucous like. A bunch of them were sort of standing around and waiting for a while after lunch in the hotel lobby. I noticed, after coming out of the restaurant at lunch, that the wait staff was sweeping up the floor. The floor of the lobby was littered with dozens of toothpicks and other trash. I also noticed several toothpicks on the way up the stairs.
Then I wondered more about this behavior. Many people I have seen on the street seem to throw or drop trash onto the sidewalks where they stand, or into the street. But then I see women (and some men, but far fewer) sweeping large sections of the sidewalk, even sections that are dirt, in preparation for the day. And every morning the gutters in the street seem relatively clear and free of trash. I would know because that is where I run!
This morning, on my way back from my run, I heard and then noticed drums and cymbals coming from one of the small street cafes already open (Many of them are open at 5:00 or even earlier!). I thought, what is with that guy making all that racket at this time of the morning? It was perhaps 5:45 or so. Then I was reading in my new book by Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss, and he was talking about Shamans and the music they hear. I wondered about Shamans and Vietnamese cultures. Perhaps this is a tradition that is meaningful and important to Vietnamese culture. To me it sounded like a lot of noise, especially for that hour of the morning, and even above the normal din of traffic. Another example of how little I really know or understand of what surrounds me on a daily basis here.
I was working in the hotel lobby this morning for a couple hours, while they cleaned my room, and to give myself a change of scenery. At that time, I made an entry into my research journal about not really knowing the humanness of the Vietnamese I am surrounded by, like the wait staff in the hotel, the participants in the workshop I had just concluded on Wednesday, or the people I run into on the street each morning on my daily runs. The language seems like a barrier to that. Many of them who don’t speak English seem like people wearing masks or costumes, actors in a play that I am watching from a distance. I can’t seem to be able to relate to very many of them on what feels like a human level. Shortly after I wrote that, one of staff in the hotel brought me three bananas on a dish, then a hot cup of water, took my cup away and cleaned it so I could put fresh coffee in it. Then when I came back with a packet of coffee, they put more water into my cup and wiped up the table. I hadn’t asked for or indicated I wanted anything in particular. Kind of spooky, really. As if, at some level, they had read my mind.
Now I wonder if I am using the language issue as a self-protective mechanism, a kind of excuse for not doing the work I need to do to connect with them. How can you relate with and to others without a common language? This morning I learned that acts of kindness and thoughtfulness are great places to begin. Like the little kids on the backs of bicycles or motorbikes, who always seem to turn and wave as they glide past on their way to school, or wherever it is they are going.
Will start here, though with some reflections on the cross-cultural nature of my experience here. Just a glimpse of what is becoming a major focus for me.
Today in the hotel, there were large groups for both breakfast and dinner. Perhaps the same group but I am not sure. The hotel also seems like it is full of people. Noisy and raucous like. A bunch of them were sort of standing around and waiting for a while after lunch in the hotel lobby. I noticed, after coming out of the restaurant at lunch, that the wait staff was sweeping up the floor. The floor of the lobby was littered with dozens of toothpicks and other trash. I also noticed several toothpicks on the way up the stairs.
Then I wondered more about this behavior. Many people I have seen on the street seem to throw or drop trash onto the sidewalks where they stand, or into the street. But then I see women (and some men, but far fewer) sweeping large sections of the sidewalk, even sections that are dirt, in preparation for the day. And every morning the gutters in the street seem relatively clear and free of trash. I would know because that is where I run!
This morning, on my way back from my run, I heard and then noticed drums and cymbals coming from one of the small street cafes already open (Many of them are open at 5:00 or even earlier!). I thought, what is with that guy making all that racket at this time of the morning? It was perhaps 5:45 or so. Then I was reading in my new book by Joseph Campbell, Pathways to Bliss, and he was talking about Shamans and the music they hear. I wondered about Shamans and Vietnamese cultures. Perhaps this is a tradition that is meaningful and important to Vietnamese culture. To me it sounded like a lot of noise, especially for that hour of the morning, and even above the normal din of traffic. Another example of how little I really know or understand of what surrounds me on a daily basis here.
I was working in the hotel lobby this morning for a couple hours, while they cleaned my room, and to give myself a change of scenery. At that time, I made an entry into my research journal about not really knowing the humanness of the Vietnamese I am surrounded by, like the wait staff in the hotel, the participants in the workshop I had just concluded on Wednesday, or the people I run into on the street each morning on my daily runs. The language seems like a barrier to that. Many of them who don’t speak English seem like people wearing masks or costumes, actors in a play that I am watching from a distance. I can’t seem to be able to relate to very many of them on what feels like a human level. Shortly after I wrote that, one of staff in the hotel brought me three bananas on a dish, then a hot cup of water, took my cup away and cleaned it so I could put fresh coffee in it. Then when I came back with a packet of coffee, they put more water into my cup and wiped up the table. I hadn’t asked for or indicated I wanted anything in particular. Kind of spooky, really. As if, at some level, they had read my mind.
Now I wonder if I am using the language issue as a self-protective mechanism, a kind of excuse for not doing the work I need to do to connect with them. How can you relate with and to others without a common language? This morning I learned that acts of kindness and thoughtfulness are great places to begin. Like the little kids on the backs of bicycles or motorbikes, who always seem to turn and wave as they glide past on their way to school, or wherever it is they are going.
posted by John at 10:17 PM
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