Belgian Warm Fuzzies

Education is a worldwide phenomenon yet the philosophy and approach to teaching, educating and disciplining children is as varied as the countries spanning the globe. Everyone thinks their approach, or the approach they are accustomed to, is the right one and anyone who doesn't abide by it is simply put, harming their children. But that obviously isn't the case since educational systems around the globe are putting out smart, educated and well adjusted students who haven't been permanently scarred by their experiences in school. Where you sit depends upon where you stand and when two cultures and philosophies collide, it isn't always pretty or comfortable.

We are in our second year of Sidney attending a Belgian school. We had done our homework prior to enrolling him and knew that the Belgian approach to education, even at the pre-school level, was different than American norms but we were accepting of that. (After all, we are visitors in their country so why should we expect them to follow American educational norms?). In fact, we even embraced the strict yet loving approach to teaching. Students are excepted to arrive at school ready to learn, formal education is supposed to enhance rather than serve as a substitute for learning at home and parents are expected to support teachers rather than be confrontational with them. Respect is expected all around between students and teachers, teachers and students, parents and teachers and teachers and parents. Sidney's Belgian school doesn't put out pleas for parent volunteers yet when our services are needed, we are notified as such. Rather than coddling students Belgians believe in the "band aid" approach of jumping right into a problem rather than letting students dwell on what might come next. Teacher's voices are occasionally raised, in a way that would never happen in American schools without dire consequences. The American in me does bristle at this on occasion. Communication isn't necessarily open and forthcoming but in our case much of that may be attributed to our lack of a solid understanding of the French language. Belgian madams certainly don't coddle their students (there aren't any special snowflakes in the classrooms) yet they are loving and obviously care for their students. This is evidenced by the warm greetings and farewells on the parts of both students and their madame each morning. So entering our second year of school I thought I had adjusted to the quirky--i.e. non-American--way of doing things. In fact I really liked it. Perhaps it is simply our situation but this school year is off to a much better start than last year. Sidney readily jumps out of bed each morning and looks forward to going to school. What more could a parent ask for?

But then things changed. Over the past couple of weeks Sidney has mentioned that one boy in his class is occasionally mean to him. When we asked what this meant he would explain that he liked to grab him by the neck and tug and poke at him. Naturally suspicious we asked Sidney what he was doing to antagonize this boy since any problems Sidney had during the last school year stemmed from him annoying other children. He defended himself and said was just sitting there. This conversation has been ongoing until earlier this week when Sidney calmly informed us that he no longer loved school and he wasn't going back. Further probing revealed that this boy was still up to his old tricks. This surprised me since the school had never mentioned any problems to me. Sidney wanted me to talk to his madame but only by telephone. Eventually he reluctantly agreed to go to school and let me talk to her in person. And this is what I did.

When I approached his madame she immediately knew what I was talking about (which made me feel better) and assured me that it was an ongoing problem with many kids and that they were working on it. She then marched the offending child over to me, introduced me as Sidney's mother and told him that I was angry that he was hurting my son. She told him that if he did it again she would then call his father. I was slightly taken aback but not really surprised, by this confrontational approach. She then told him to apologize to me which he refused to do other than giving me a cocky grin. Next Sidney was pulled into the mix and this boy was yet again told to not touch Sidney and Sidney was reminded to tell madame if he did. I jumped in and reminded Sidney that he was not to touch or do anything to this boy (since I'm still not one hundred percent convinced that my son is a completely innocent party in all of this). The two boys were then told to shake hands and while Sidney stuck out his hand to obey the other boy only did so under the madame's guidance. Only time will tell if this intervention will work.

But this story is just an antidote to some of the differences between the American, and in this case Belgian, approaches to education, learning and school discipline. I'm not sure I completely agree with the approach but who I am to complain or question? This is neither an American, American licensed nor American funded school. If I really don't like what is happening I am free to pull my son from the school at any time. I have no expectation of them changing their ways to appease me, or any other parent for that matter--that is not the Belgian way. (Besides, it seems as though at this school which is attended by students from all NATO countries, only the Americans regularly take issue with what goes on). Although there are uncomfortable moments, and honestly, in what school wouldn't there be, I think the entire Belgian school experience is really good for Sidney. So good, in fact, that we are seriously considering enrolling him in the Belgian elementary school next year instead of the expected American elementary school. Their curriculum is light years ahead of that at the American school and the French immersion alone is a valuable life long lesson. Is it a warm and fuzzy environment? Not really but then again, we don't live in a warm and fuzzy world.

Speak To Me

Graduation season is upon us and with it comes the long string of commencement speeches. Speakers are often high profile; politicians, actors or activists; all bringing with them inspiring messages encouraging graduates to go out and take on the world. Although I have no memory of what was actually said, I remember my college speaker being the late Ann Richards,  the former Texas governor who lost her reelection bid to George W. Bush. I'm sure her words were powerful but in all honesty, after the ceremony was over I doubt I gave them another thought.

Speakers are selected in a variety of ways; perhaps through a democratic process by the student body, faculty, or administration but most often based upon their individual achievements and success in their chosen field. As leaders in their fields in the past they may have made controversial statements or issued directives or have political leanings that some people don't necessarily agree with. But strong and inspiring leaders are just that; they are leaders who make hard decisions that move us forward, for better or for worse, as they deem best. If the intent of a commencement address is to inspire and urge young adults to take risks and be strong leaders, you want such strong and outspoken people giving the speech. Or so you would think......

The most popular commencement speakers are often in high demand, requiring them to be selected months, if not years in advance of the actual graduate date. But in the past few weeks I've been hearing about speakers bowing out due to student protests or invitations to speak being rescinded at the last minute by colleges and universities because the student body no longer wants to support or hear the message. First there was a rescinded invitation from Brandeis University for human rights activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali to receive an honorary degree after she made anti-Islamic statements. Then there was former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice's withdrawal from speaking at Rutgers University's graduation after faculty and students protested her role in implementing George Bush's foreign policy. And perhaps most surprisingly (to me) of all was the withdrawal of International Monetary Fund (IMF) Chief Christine Lagarde from speaking at the Smith College commencement after students criticized IMF policies for furthering "imperialist and patriarchal systems that oppress and abuse women worldwide." But the controversy around commencement speakers isn't new. Last year invitations were rescinded for speaking out against gay rights (Ben Carson, Johns Hopkins University) and for supporting them (John Corvino, Providence College). And again, the policies of the Bush administration caused another speaker (Robert Zoellick, Swarthmore College) to not speak.

By protesting Rice's appearance Rutgers students are missing out on an opportunity to hear a powerful female leader share her words of wisdom. The same holds true for Lagarde and every other speaker whose engagement was cancelled. These protests only represent a single point of view. One needs to ask why the speaker was invited in the first place. Surely there are members of the student body who agree with some or all of the controversial policies. Where is their right to hear what these speakers were going to say? But more importantly, in focusing on the politics and policies Rice, Lagarde and other implemented or supported rather than the knowledge, experience, and insight these speakers would have shared, graduates are missing out on one of life's biggest lessons: whether we like it or not, we are living and working in a diverse environment. And that means hearing viewpoints we might not necessarily agree with and thinking about how these different views have shaped the world we live in. Colleges and universities are often considered to be bubbles from the outside world. But the rest of the world isn't as sheltered and neatly packaged. So on the eve of entering that big bad world, what message is being sent by sheltering these young adults from hearing a viewpoint they might disagree with? If nothing else, that varying opinion could fire up a new generation to take on the world.

An American Diet

Belgian "fast food" : the rotisserie chicken truck
that makes regular appearances at all of the
local markets

I love food and one of the things I love about Belgium is the variety of interesting foods that are available to me. Belgians love their food; eating is an experience and this is reflected in the quality of the food around us. The importance of food is taught to children from birth and this is reflected in everything from school lunches to leisurely family meals. The local grocery stores and community markets are overflowing with food from all over the world. And as an American military family living in Belgium we have even more options when it comes to buying food since we also have access to the military commissary. Perhaps it is because I most recently lived in a country with limited food options (under no conceivable imagination were we food deprived, rather variety and our choices were simply limited) so some days when I think about it my choices simply overwhelm me. I know I am lucky in this respect.

When we first arrived here I was excited at the prospect of being able to shop at the commissary again. After all, the products were the familiar ones from home and familiarity breeds comfort. Or so I thought. But after shopping in European grocery stores and open air markets for a few years, even those offering less than stellar varieties of items, I found myself being underwhelmed by what I found. Produce, much of it having been imported to the United States before making its way to Belgium, looked old, lackluster, and unappetizing. And the "American" food that I thought I had been longing for? They weren't there. Instead the commissary shelves were filled with brightly colored American branded convenience foods that did little to whet my appetite. If I wanted anything from Old El Paso, Nabisco or any flavor so sports drink imaginable I would have been in luck. But I didn't. I was disappointed to say the least but quickly realized that the familiar products I had been longing for were actually the ones that I bought off of the shelves at Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, and the like and not your mainstream American grocery store. But then I took a step back and really started to explore the local stores (or "shopping on the economy" in military speak) and loved what I found.

Yes, with my rudimentary knowledge of French shopping in the local Carrefour or the village markets takes longer and has resulted, on more than one occasion, with my coming home with the wrong item, but what I do bring home just tastes so much better. Items that are supposed to be fresh are just that. Meats aren't pre-frozen, thawed and shrink wrapped in plastic, vegetables were harvested from the fields that morning. And when it comes to canned or boxed items the grocery store is filled with international foods and speciality items that one can only find in places like Whole Foods or Trader Joe's in the United States. With the assistance of Google Translate I realize that the canned items are free of so many of the preservatives and added sugars that are pervasive in many American brands. Here, these items are common place and because they aren't considered to be gourmet, they are relatively inexpensive. In a single aisle in my local Carrefour I can find imported items from Greece, Turkey, Poland and Africa plus Germany, Italy, Great Britain and France. And if I can't find it in the store I am sure to be able to locate it in one of the stalls at the outdoor market. When I think about it, I don't think I've ever not been able to find what I was looking for. Shopping, and eating, here is a true foodie's dream. And shopping at the commissary? Frankly I am a bit embarrassed by how poorly Americans seem to eat (since the food on the shelf is obviously being purchased I can only assume that it is being eaten) and no longer shop there on a regular basis. And the small section of "American" food at Carrefour? I avoid that too......

So all of this makes me wonder: do Americans really eat that poorly? I think many do but I'm not really sure why. Real foods often cost more that processed, prepackaged ones so economics does play a role in diets. In many inner city urban environments, fresh fruits and vegetables are harder to find making canned items that have long shelf lives more attractive. But what about the more affluent suburbs where grocery stores and fresh produce are readily available? Are Americans so busy that they can't take the time to cook a balanced and healthy dinner? Are consuming the food colorings, artificial flavors and preservatives that accompany so many pre-packaged foods worth the convenience of just opening a can and heating it in the microwave? Is there simply not a demand for high quality "real" foods? I find that a bit hard to believe but I'm not sure what else can explain it. In Europe, these real foods seem to be more the norm. Europe is after all, the birthplace of the Slow Food Movement. That isn't to say that Europeans don't eat processed foods; they do. They also eat their share of convenience foods but many times this convenience food is real food that is ready to eat. A stroll through the Sunday market in Mons reveals just this. Complete, ready cooked meats, pastas, and other dinners sit alongside their fresh and raw counterparts giving patrons the choice of how they want to buy their food. And if the packed market is any indication (it is always crowded whenever we visit), Belgians demand this quality. And I find myself demanding this quality as well.

Seasonal produce being sold at an open air market

All is not lost, or at least that is what I need to believe. People around the globe, the United States included, do care about food and the meals their families eat. It really is all a mindset and a reflection of what we are used to as a society. Change, whether positive or negative, doesn't happen over night so changing the way we eat and think about food is an ongoing work in progress. But where do we stand today? I think a recent article in the United Kingdom's Daily Mail says it best. The article made me pause and think and I hope it will do the same for you.

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss

The chocolate version

One? Two? Three? Perhaps none? Right? Left? Right then left? Left then right then back to left? Which scenario is correct? I think one of the most difficult customs for Americans living overseas, particularly in Europe, to adjust to is the practice of kissing friends and even acquaintances when greeting them. (In most cases) I'm not talking about lip to lip engagements but rather air kisses on one's cheek or cheeks.

When we were attending attache school before our first overseas move we spent quite a bit of time talking about kissing as a cultural form of greeting for both women and men alike. Because it simply isn't the cultural norm for most Americans, especially those in uniform, we actually spent time practicing our kissing greetings. I think this came easier for the women in our group as the majority of the men looked physically uncomfortable with the entire exercise. But again, I believe that this discomfort is a product of machismo American culture where a firm handshake and perhaps a slap on the back is more of the norm, since Europeans, both in and out of uniform, seem to be so much more comfortable with the notion.

A single kiss

And just because you are comfortable kiss cheek to cheek kiss greetings doesn't mean you will always get it right. I actually find the whole practice rather sophisticated yet I found myself in more than one uncomfortable head knocking situation where we couldn't coordinate whether it was right then left or left then right. (This proved to be most problematic when standing in receiving lines where I encountered a variety of guests from different cultures and backgrounds). In southeastern Europe, including the Balkans, if felt as though cheek kissing was common practice amongst everyone, young and old, male to male, male to female, and female to female. Whether meeting in one's home or a public place, cheek kissing was a regular sight. It was rare to be walking down the street in Tirana, especially in front of a cafe, and not get caught up in a human traffic jam because everyone was stopping and cheek kissing one another in greeting. And the number of kisses, one, two, or three varied as well. Two became my standard practice going from right to left but after a few mishaps I learned to always be ready for whatever direction and number was thrown my way. Now if I was being greeted by someone from another part of Europe, all bets were off since until I got to know someone better, I never knew what or how many would come my way. Over time I learned that both Romanian and Polish men greeted women with three kisses to the cheek followed by one on the top of the right hand. Who knew?

Now here in Belgium the rules are different from the southern part of the Continent. Whereas triple kisses are exchanged in the Flemish region, here in Wallonia the standard appears to be a single cheek kiss amongst friends. Again, I learned the hard way after being the perpetrator of a double cheek kiss which took the recipient by surprise (and this was after she had initiated the greeting). Apparently it is also less common here for men to kiss men. At least that is what I've been told and in thinking about it I have yet to see it actually happen. Instead hearty handshakes followed by a brisk slap on the back seem to be more of the norm between both young and old men.

So when is a kiss just a kiss? And how many is the correct number? And to whom? I guess it depends upon where you are and where you are coming from.

And a totally different type of KISS

Avash, Avash

Avash, avash. It was a phrase we both heard and used regularly in Albania. Loosely translated it means "slowly" or "little by little". As in "Sidney, slow down." Or "in good time, don't rush things". I used to joke that it was simply a way of explaining Albanian time; meaning things would happen when they happened and they shouldn't and couldn't be rushed. As someone who tends to operate on full-speed-ahead mode, it took me awhile to learn to accept the inevitable; i.e. things would happen when they happened and not a moment sooner. They could not or would not be rushed. But eventually I like to think I did accept this way of doing business. Or at least I thought I did because upon moving to Belgium, I've discovered a whole new meaning to "avash, avash" and I can't say I'm crazy about it.

We had been warned that things can take awhile in Belgium; phone and Internet service can take weeks to be set up while the simple act of registering your car and receiving your Belgian license plates can take even longer. But, we had also been told that since we had transferred here during the off season, things would move along faster than usual. We spent most of our first business day in Belgium taking numbers and standing in line waiting to get things accomplished. But in reality, by the end of the day we had yet to accomplish anything. Instead we had shuffled from one office to another only to find out that we had the wrong paperwork, were missing necessary information, or that desks were simply empty with their occupants no where to be found. On our second day we accomplished a bit more but learned two important pieces of information; first, Belgian lunch hours were not to be interfered with. At one office we were sternly told that the lunch break began promptly at 13.00 but if we showed up five minutes before then we would be sent away. Second, none of the above tasks we had been trying to accomplish could be completed until we had a permanent address (i.e. we had a signed lease and house to move into). If only someone had told us this from the get go but apparently passing along that information wasn't in anyone's job description. Needless to say, our first couple of days were truly frustrating and it was during this time that I recalled the "avash, avash" phrase. So I changed my mindset. On our third day I only set one goal for myself and low and behold, I achieved it. Never mind that it had really taken three days to do so but it finally happened. Perhaps we were making progress? And the next day? After viewing four prospective houses on our house hunt in one day I felt as though we were on a roll. But then my Belgian reality came crashing back and our progress slowed considerably.

This past week, our second full one in Belgium, has been more of the same. It has been two steps forward and one step back. We finally have our hands on the correct paperwork and an office isn't open for another two days. We arrive at a scheduled appointment only to find a walk in client already there monopolizing the only clerk's time. For the third time we were told that no one really knows where our household goods shipped three weeks ago from Albania are but they will "get back to us when they know something". Obtaining a simple signature on a document becomes anything but. Despite having an appointment (which I'm beginning to realize is simply a term that makes Americans feel good), it took days to receive it.

Remember, we are transferring here during the slow season. So I can only imagine how slowly things must move during the busy summer transfer season when most of Europe is "on holiday". I guess I should just appreciate the relative speed by which we have accomplished things so far. And if no one else is in a hurry or worried about deadlines, then I'm (going to try) not to worry either.

Avash, avash.

The Need To Know??

The (US) naval aviation family suffered another tragedy this past week when a helicopter on a training mission crashed off of the coast of Virginia Beach, VA killing two sailors and injuring two others while one sailor remains missing at sea.  Although my husband no longer flies, as the wife of a naval aviator my heart misses a beat anytime I hear of a flying mishap.  My heart immediately breaks and I am left wondering not only about the fate of the pilots and aircrew but about their families--wives, girlfriends, and children who kissed their loved ones goodbye that morning having made plans to see them when they return from their mission.  Only sometimes they don't.  When our loved ones deploy to war zones we know something could go wrong and they might not return. It is a nagging little voice that we push to the back of our minds and try to silence for those long months they are away.  But leaving the house in the morning to go to the "office"; worrying about the what ifs on a day in and day out basis is just too much to bear.  But the reality is, that in recent years, aviation training exercises have accounted for more mishaps and fatalities than flying in a combat zone.  This is simply the reality of naval aviation and one of the things that makes the community such a strong family.

But this post isn't about it the dangers of naval aviation; rather it is about the public and the media's intrusive push into what should be private tragedies.  Last night the wife of the missing pilot issued a press release after her husband's name had been leaked by several news outlets.  Upon hearing this I was both saddened and angered.  The Navy had been providing regular updates to the public about the crash and the status of the investigation all while keeping the names of those involved out of the press.  This is standard practice in order for the Navy to have time to appropriately notify family members and afford them some semblance of privacy during difficult times.  That is all the public needed to know.  I understand--to a certain extent--that the public deserves and wants to know what has happened with their taxpayer funded military. However, the actual names of those involved should have no significance to those outside of the immediate "family" so what purpose does prematurely releasing the missing officer's name serve?

Yet I have seen this happen time and time again whenever a tragedy occurs.  I am all for the freedom of the press but when does that freedom cross the line to infringing upon a private citizen's rights?  Do we, as a society, have such a morbid curiosity that we feel the need to know every single detail of these incidents? I'm not talking about celebrities and people who make their living being front page news; if they have earned their money and stardom from their every action being highlighted in the likes of People magazine, then let their lives continue to be public fodder.  I'm talking about the private citizens, men and women who have volunteered their service to their country, who are simply going about doing their jobs when tragedy strikes. Especially during difficult times the last thing a family member should have to deal with is a too inquisitive reporter feeding the public's morbid curiosity.  Why not let a family grieve in private then speak publicly (if they wish) on their own terms?  Where is this well earned respect that our military families deserve?  That is what I need to know.

Who Are We? Who Am I?

Identity is a complex concept. There are both physical and emotional qualities that help form one's identity and they are all as different as each of us. Physical characteristics are often personal and unique to individuals;  descriptions such as your height, eye and hair color help shape your identity as do demographics of age and gender. Your role in your own family and community also contributes to how you identify yourself. Parent, brother or sister, friend, spouse, neighbor, employee; they are all a part of shaping who you are.  Personal qualities and beliefs shape your emotional identity.  For many, race, ethnicity, and religion are vitally important and play a leading role in defining one's identity.  For others, it may be a conscious lack there of that defines it for them.  The list just goes on.

I've been thinking about my own personal identity since I returned from my recent trip to Poland.  The combination of my own Polish heritage and physically being in the heart of Europe that was destroyed, dismantled, and then rebuilt during and after World War II forced me to really think about how one's own, and my own identity are formed.  I'm one half Polish.  My Polish ancestors immigrated to the United States shortly after the first World War.  In my younger years we ate my grandmother's Polish cooking, listened to the occasional Polka, and heard her re-tell family stories from the old country and reminisce about her own memories of growing up in a Polish-American household in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Despite my grandmother's brief brush with entering the nunnery, Catholicism, or any religion for that matter, played a non-existent role in my upbringing.   The other part of my heritage is a combination of a little bit of everything.  The family tree for that side of my family includes Pilgrims, dead presidents, and lots of Maritime Canadian ancestry but no strong ethnic identity to speak of. I don't  have any childhood memories of particular traditions or stories being shared from that side of my family.  All of this brings me to my own identity.   Who am I and how do I identify myself? I guess I'm an ethnic mutt but how exactly does this shape who I am?  This question brings me back to my recent ponderings about identity.

When I look around Europe I see forty-five plus countries of various sizes, populations, and ethnicities.  If you look at maps of Europe throughout the years you will see that the borders of countries and empires shifted with war, conquests, and time.  All it took was a slight shifting of a border and residents of one country could suddenly find themselves as citizens of another.  But in many respects geographic borders and boundaries are arbitrary.  Does living on one side of a border give you a different identity than living on the other side of the line? A border shift doesn't change ethnicity but it can suddenly make you an ethnic (insert any nationality here) living in a different country. And that can definitely shape how you and others identify you. 

The country of Kosovo is a prime, modern day example of this.  Kosovo, Albania's neighbor to the east, is ethnically split between Serbs and Albanians yet because of the the geographic borders that define the country residents are technically Kosovars. The border between Kosovo and Serbia is still considered hostile territory to many while the border between Kosovo and Albania feels like a mere inconvenience with even the border crossings being fluid.  Living on the Kosovo side of the border and being a Kosovar (and carrying a Kosovar passport) brings with it different entitlements than living across the border in Albania and carrying an Albanian passport.  Yet many Kosovo residents identify as being Albanian.  So what does this all mean?

All this really makes me think.  Physical identity is fairly easy to label since so much of it is defined by traits and characteristics that are beyond our control.  But is emotional identity nothing more than a label either self imposed or imposed by others?  Does it matter how one identifies them self or how others identify them?  Does one's self identity matter more than how others identify you?  Perhaps it is really the later than matters the most.  Or does it?  For me, this is definitely something to continue to ponder.....

A Typical American

Typical:  Combining or exhibiting the essential characteristics of a group; conforming to a type. ***  But what does this really mean?  I know what is considered typical for me--my daily routine, the way I dress, my thoughts, what I eat-- but I seriously doubt that they are the same for the next person.  Typical may be easy to define for an individual or perhaps even a nuclear family (but not always since after all we are all individuals), but how about a slightly larger group?  Depending upon its composition there are likely to be as many versions of typical as there are people. Expand this into an even larger group, say a city, state or an entire country, and it is a much more complex situation.  Earlier this week in a rare moment of television viewing I saw an AFN infomercial talking about an exchange program between U.S. Army soldiers stationed in Japan and Japanese teenagers whose lives had been disrupted by the Tohoku earthquake and subsequent tsunami and the nuclear meltdown at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.  The whole premise of the exchange program was to provide Japanese teenagers with the opportunity to spend time with a "typical" American family.  This sounds good but are these host families really your typical American family?  And for that matter, what does a typical American family look like?  In a country as diverse as ours how do we begin to identify and define what a typical American anything looks like?

Fueled by television and the movies the popular perception of a typical American family has changed over time. From the idyllic Leave It To Beaver of the 1950s to the 1980's The Cosby Show and Growing Pains and then today's Modern Family and Parenthood the idea of what a typical American family looks like has changed with the times.  There was a time when two parents with their 2.5 children living in the suburbs and dad commuting into the city with mom managing the home front all day was believed to be what the typical family looked like.  That might have been a typical snapshot of suburbia but what about the rest of the country?  What about families living in the inner city or rural areas?  In reality the differences between urban and rural, middle-class and living on the edge, married, single or something in between, and children or no children are just too much to compare.  Throw in ethnic background, education level, religion, native language and general geographic area and there really isn't a typical American family.  I look around my own American community here at the Embassy and there is so much diversity amongst us that collectively we are a hodge-podge of America.  For every health nut we have someone else whose main form of nourishment is junk food, for every church goer there is someone whose idea of going to church is touring one on vacation.  The comparisons go on.  But even then do we really represent typical America? Perhaps being a typical American actually means being atypical in nature. Perhaps being a hodge-podge is being American? After all, we are the world's melting pot.

Now back to the typical American military family living in Japan.  With less than two percent of the U.S. population serving in the Armed Forces, I would argue that this family is not representative of America's families.  Within this two percent segment of the American population there is an unimaginable amount of diversity.  The families participating in this exchange program might be typical of other U.S. Army soldiers stationed in Japan (or not) but that is where the similarities with the rest of America probably end.  That is OK; just don't go making statements about typical Americans.  If you do, I will challenge you as to what that really means.



*** According to The Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

The Culture of Zosia

My earlier post about culture clashes got me thinking about my own "culture" and where I am coming from.  I'm not talking about geography and familial status; rather I've been contemplating what are the values that I hold near and dear to me. What are the important traits I try to encompass and like to see in the people I am close to? And how to I react when my values are called into question or challenged by someone whose views differ from mine? I'd like to think that I am always accepting of other people's views but deep down, I know that many times I'm not.  Sometimes I am able to look the other way but other times I just can't.  On the same hand, I know there are times when I must compromise on my own values because of others.  Obviously it isn't always a clear and easy decision.  Sometimes I am able to easily move on but other times the issues nag at my conscience long after they should have dissipated.  Perhaps it is these lingering issues that are the ones that must mean the most to me.  

So how do I identify myself?  I'm a mother and military spouse (and a Navy spouse at that, because in my opinion, it does make a difference), but I'm also an individual whose fundamental identity was shaped long before I acquired these two other identifiers. With this primary identity comes my core values that shape not only how I live my life but also how I view the world around me.  Again, its not good or bad it is just what it is.  But after a lot of reflection, here's my list of what makes me tick:

• Above all other things, I believe that respect is the most important value someone can demonstrate.  This includes respect for ones elders and people in positions of authority but I also believe that everyone deserves to be treated with respect.  After all, what does anyone have to gain from being rude?  Being respectful of others was important to me long before I became a Navy spouse but its importance has been driven home to me even more so in recent years.  The military structure works because of respect.  You don't always have to agree with or even like people in your chain of command but you must respect them.  And in the Navy, perhaps more so than in other branches, respect is conferred on spouses because of their husband or wife's official rank. This means that while I might not like Glenn's commanding officer's spouse, I must show her the same level of respect that Glenn bestows upon his boss and vice versa.  Like it or not, it when the chain of command in all aspects is respected, it works.  When it isn't havoc is likely to eventually ensue.

• Having manners never goes out of style. In today's casual lifestyle, the traditional courtesies of R.S.V.P.ing instead of just showing up, bringing a hostess gift rather than arriving at the door empty handed, and promptly writing thank you notes often falls by the wayside.  Call me old school but I believe that these things are still important.  I recognize that many people don't abide by these standards but as both a regular hostess and guest, I always do my best to model this behavior that even my grandmother would be proud of.  And as a continuation of practicing good manners, dressing appropriately is a must.  If you are invited to a pool party dress for a pool party but please don't wear the bathing suit and flip flops to a formal reception.

• Be on time.  (Honestly, I struggle with this one more often than I like to admit).  Whether for a business meeting, a get together with friends, or work related dinner, punctuality is important.  Lufthansa isn't going to hold the plane for you so why should you expect others to do the same?  As a hostess I'm not sure which irks me more, arriving so late that the food has turned cold or arriving so early that I'm still in the final throes of preparation when you ring the bell.  Both are just wrong and can only be compounded by not submitting a R.S.V.P. in the first place.  The start time isn't a mere suggestion, its the requirement.

• I am a person of my word.  When I agree to do something I see it through regardless of how arduous or unpleasant it might become.  Whether it be jobs, friendships, or simply agreeing to volunteer my time, if I say I'll do it, I'm going to do it until the end.   Many times the best of intentions go awry but that isn't a reason to back out of a commitment.  Take a moment to think about how it feels to be left hanging when everyone cancels or doesn't show. Is it fair?

• Call it like it is and be honest.  It may turn some people off but I completely believe in being forthright.  I'm not talking about intentionally hurting someone's feelings but I'm never going to fake it for the sake of making someone feel better.  If someone asks me for an honest opinion, they are going to get it.  If I see a problem, I'm going to pursue a resolution on my own rather than looking the other way or asking someone else to act on my behalf.  I believe that as adults we need to act responsibly and I try my best to be the good neighbor, friend, or co-worker. 

• I am open minded.  One only has to look at a list of my Facebook friends, all but a handful of whom I know personally, to see how diverse my friendships are.  On any given day my Facebook page will simultaneously display comments supporting and denying gay rights or friends advocating for bans on handguns along side campaigns for arming every school teacher with their own personal weapon.  During the recent presidential campaign,  postings from Romney supporters were sandwiched between those from Obama and Ron Paul volunteers.  Do I agree with everything I read?  Absolutely not, but I can respect where each person is coming from.  I firmly believe that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, regardless of how far it may differ from my own.  Besides I've learned a lot about the world from all of my Facebook friends.

• Outside of my own home, I abstain from heated discussions regarding topics like religion and politics.  If someone feels so strongly about an issue it is doubtful that even my most persuasive argument would change their mind.  I certainly have strong opinions about many issues regarding both religion and politics but I learned a long time ago that pushing the issue was more apt to turn my friends into enemies and not change anything than it was to create a convert to my way of thinking.  So I keep an open, if slightly bemused at times, mind and sit back and listen to the debates.  Often I learn something but rarely am I persuaded.  (If in doubt about this theory, see the above bullet point regarding being open minded).

So for better or worse, this is what makes me tick.  Ignore this post if you disagree, "like" it if it is right up your alley, or turn a blind eye if you are indifferent.  I'm being honest with myself and my readers and at the end of the day, that is what matters the most to me.

Culture Clash

Clash:  To come into conflict.  Synonyms:  Collide, conflict, discord.

Culture:  The customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a race, religious, or social group.  Synonyms:  couth, civilization, refinement.**

Living overseas I find myself experiencing a culture clash of sorts on a daily basis.  It seeps into my world in both expected and unexpected ways and smacks me in the face when I least expect it.  Yes, I expect a difference in cultures between Albanians and the ex-pats living in Albania and even the further clash between each nationality of ex-pats residing here (or anywhere for that matter).  Just as there is a difference between Americans---geographic location, education level, or socio-economic status are just a few of the many influences that shape our individual views of the world around us---the same is true for Albanians or any other nationality for that matter.  These differences of opinion are what make us unique and in my opinion, make us interesting.  How boring would life be if we all thought, acted and reacted the same way to issues as they arose?  But it is these very differences of opinion that often causes the culture clashes I have been pondering.

From an outsiders perspective, many people probably look at the Americans working at our Embassy as being a homogeneous lot.  (These are probably many of the same people who think that everyone in America is rich and all of America is like Hollywood since that is, after all, what they see in the movies).  On a more realistic note, reasoning might predict that since we all work for the same government and speak the party line that we therefore must all agree.  Right?  Wrong.  We may all come to work each day under the auspices of being employees of the U.S. government, but we are all individuals.  Everything from our work ethics and religious values to personal beliefs, educational backgrounds and pre-conceptions of others may differ in as many ways as there are employees.  Because we are individuals, try as we may, it is impossible to check our personal beliefs and values at the door just because we enter our office.  And I believe that having these differing opinions helps us all do our jobs better.

Just as all of America is not Hollywood and not all Americans are rich, all U.S. government employees are not the same.  We may work for different agencies within our Federal government but the differences are much deeper.  Some of us may even work for the same three lettered executive branch agency as our neighbor or cube mate but our views on life and even our jobs may differ as well.   For example, the Department of Defense (DOD), the three lettered agency I am the most familiar with, is not the homogeneous behemoth of an organization many people think it is.  More than once I've had people tell me that all the military does (or should do) is build bombs, shoot guns, and blow things up and that everyone who is in the military wants to go to war.  Umm....not so; consider for a moment who would actually be fighting these wars we apparently all crave.  Each military branch--Navy, Marines, Army, and Air Force--all has their own missions, values, and subcultures.  What is culturally acceptable in one branch might be looked down upon in another.  Rank lines that are blurry in one branch are razor sharp in another while the responsibilities delegated to each soldier and sailor may vary depending upon their unit.  It isn't so much a debate as to whether this is right or wrong, rather it is just the way it is.  After all, who are we to call into question whether one organization's culture is or isn't acceptable?  This is an example of a single federal agency so just imagine the issues and debates that arise when you throw multiple agencies into the conversation.  And sometimes these very debates unknowingly (?) bring a cultural clash to a head.

A clash of cultures doesn't have to be all bad.  Rather, it can serve as an important opportunity for learning.  Before you react to something that moves you--whether in a positive or a negative way-- stop and think.  Consider where the person is coming from and what might be driving their actions and statements.  Perhaps it is their personal values, the culture of their organization, or a combination of the two that is driving their response.  These differing viewpoints might bring an important new perspective to the discussion or they may reconfirm your original opinion.  It isn't so much an issue about right versus wrong; it is about keeping an open mind and accepting individual cultures for what they are.  And after all, if we are a society where individuality is so valued, we must embrace all of the cultural differences that accompany it.


** As defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary online.