My time in Russia is now drawing to a close. On the one hand, it feels like I have just arrived, but on the other hand, it seems like ages since I set foot in America. In my next and final post, I will offer my reflections and thoughts on my time here, but for now, I want to discuss my final actions and closing activities.
My class has now finished up. I won’t know my grade until early September, but it seems that I did well, probably receiving around an A-. I was in Group 2; there were six groups ranging from absolute beginner (Group 0) to fluent (Group 5). I have only 1 year of experience; everyone else with one year tested into Group 1 (plus some people with two years’ experience). I was the only one one in my class with less than two years of Russian, and two of the ten people had taken Russian for three years. In spite of this, I was the top student in the class or close to it, including receiving the only A on the midterm. My Russian abilities have vastly expanded during this brief time here. Russian grammar is not particularly complex; by now I have essentially learned every major grammatical topic. The major job of learning which I am undertaking is the expansion of vocabulary and the promotion of active knowledge over passive knowledge, that is, learning to produce forms and sentences on the spot, rather than simply recognizing them. I learn around a dozen words daily on average; I reckon I have learned around 400 words in my time here and been exposed to hundreds more. This experience has been hugely helpful for my Russian abilities.
I have been spending this last week, in addition to seeing whatever sights there are left to see, trying to meet some more Russians. During my first weekend here, the program director said that Americans are like peaches and Russians are like coconuts. Peaches are soft and sweet on the outside, but inside is a hard pit that is difficult to break into. Likewise, Americans are kind and happy on the outside, glad to talk with strangers and always putting up the façade of a great life, but on the inside they can be hard to truly get to know. On the other hand, coconuts have a hard outer shell that is very difficult to get through and hides everything. Once you break through that shell, however, the inside is sweet and rewarding. Russians likewise are very difficult to get to know, but they are amazing once you get inside. This analogy has proven accurate. Unfortunately, as a foreigner with still limited Russian conversational skills, I have barely managed to break through the coconut with any of the people I have met. I hope in this last weekend to finally do as much.
My final organized activity was a toast given in Russian by all the students in the program to our professors. Unfortunately, my professor had to leave town and could not be there, but my class nonetheless took part and thanked our instructor for all she had done for us. It was great to see how everyone has learned.
I leave in just a couple days. I will have an overnight layover in Vienna. While I have limited time there, and I know no German beyond basic phrases, as someone strongly interested both in foreign culture and in classical music, I hope that my brief time there will be rewarding. After all, a lot of this study abroad is about becoming a citizen of the world.
Two blocks away from Zhongguanxinyuan, the student dorm building, there is a marvelous, very popular “baozi” restaurant called “Steamed Bun Restaurant.” Yes, I know the name isn’t very original, but that doesn’t seem to bother most customers. Every day, the restaurant is packed with locals and foreigners. This is because, in Beijing, this restaurant seems to have it all: clean eating environment, cheap prices, plenty of options.
Baozis are steamed buns filled with meat, vegetables or both. My favorite is pork and assorted vegetables. In China, most food is just distinguishable by meat or vegetable, so you really don’t know what you’re eating unless you ask. The fact that this restaurant has an English menu, advanced register technology that allows you to pay with your phone (specifically using WeChat or Alipay), sinks to wash your hands, and a large eating area makes this baozi restaurant second to none.
Because the restaurant was extremely busy, it was hard to maintain the waiter’s attention for more than several minutes, so asking him how to make the famous baozi was not an easy task. You need: classic Chinese bamboo steamer, large stock pot (to put the steamer inside) or a wok, flour, sourdough starter, and warm water. This is how you make the dough. After kneading the dough for several minutes, you make little balls and fill the inside with whatever you want. Their steamed pork and bamboo is the most popular option. Afterwards, you place the raw buns in the steamer and after around 20 minutes, you have some baozi! They serve the buns in the steamer.
I asked the waiter the historical significance of the food, but he didn’t really seem to know. He just said that it was a staple of Beijing, especially for breakfast.
Not being satisfied by the waiter’s lack of historical knowledge, I went online to research why baozi was so culturally and nationally important. The history of baozi dates back to 220-280 AD. One of the most notorious military strategists of time time, Zhuge Liang (181-234), was on an expedition to far South China when his army caught a plague. He invented baozi out of pork and beef shaped as a human head to offer as a sacrifice. Also, he used the food as nutrition to cure the soldiers’ plague.
I can definitely see why baozi is so integral to Chinese culture. It plays a huge role in everyday life and brings people not only from all over China, but all over the world together.
Outside one of the city’s most bustling tourist attractions, El Mercat de Boqueria, hanging a sign painted in English “Tourist invasion, GO HOME”. The strategic placement in a side street directly off of Las Ramblas, the most congested area of the city
All over the city are smaller stickers in many different languages, primarily catalan, Spanish, and english that proclaim “tourism kills the city”. I first noticed this message hanging outside of Park Guell and then found it posted all over the metro stops, telephone polls, and outside other landmark attractions.
At first this sentiment really offended me. Although the majority of the natives that I came in contact with were nothing but friendly, you could definitely feel that some had grown tired of the more ignorant tourists and branded all that looked american into this category.
Even so, how could the cities largest source of income for their economy be “killing the city”. In fact it seemed that tourism was making the city thrive, it’s what put Barcelona on the map after the 1992 olympics and is giving income and jobs to so many when other parts of Spain are majorly struggling.
However after I examined this issue a bit more deeply I realized what a double edged sword tourism really is. When you have millions of people who are looking to consume a culture, get an “authentic” experience, it forces the people of Barcelona to market and sell their culture, their history, their art, their food and in turn cheapen it. When every restaurant, show, tourist shop etc, is boasting an “authentic Spanish experience” to simply sell to foreigners, it looses all authenticity.
Something that troubled me was tourists’ misunderstanding of what Spain is as a whole. Spain, historically has been separated into different kingdoms in different regions that have developed distinct foods, cultures, festivals, and even languages. When you come to a city in Spain you are experiencing the culture of the particular city or region of Spain, a true singular Spanish identity and culture really doesn’t exist. However, because so many people are ignorant to this history, in Barcelona there were endless advertisements for flamenco shows (a tradition that matriculates from Andalusia and is seldom practiced in Catalunya), pincho bars (food that is native to Pais Vasco region of Spain), and “Spain’s best paella” (a recipe that was invented in Alicante in the province of Valencia).
This anti-tourist sentiment comes from the citizens of Barcelona constantly seeing their cultured being cheapened, simplified, and sold, and mixed with the traditions of other regions of Spain (remember Catalunyans are very proud people and the purity of their culture is something very important to them). They see their most famed landmarks, the works of Gaudí, being overrun by tourists and in turn being worn down by all of the foot traffic through them. They have increased traffic, heightened prices for restaurants and shops and more. Although many people come to genuinely learn, many tourists are on vacation and are using their time in Barcelona to relax, entertain them for a week, then return to their home, breeding a sentiment that the culture is meant to serve their leisure, but is altogether inferior.
Barcelona also gets an incredible amount of American students studying abroad during the entire year. It is a shame to say that the general stereotype of these students in that they come simply to party, not to learn and speak Spanish. So even this more engaged role of student has been relegated to the same level as tourist.
During my time in Barcelona, however, I have truly tried my best in my own small way to fight this sentiment with a genuine interest and engagement in culture and language. I spoke Spanish whenever possible, I asked questions about culture, I avoided negative comparison to American culture, I ate foods that I might not have liked without complaint, and I inquired to my host mother and teachers about this anti-tourism movement to better understand the perspective of the natives (this is really no large feat, just expected behaviors of a respectful human being that are often forgotten). This experience has made me rethink how I travel, how I interact with a culture, and how I practice a language.
There are two ramen shops near ICU’s back door. I have heard lots of good feedbacks from my friends and they say the waiter in one of them looks very handsome. So, this week I urged my friends to accompany me to the two shops. I have heard long before that Japanese people are fond of ramen, but I never know that there are so many different kinds of ramen. The rules of eating the the flavor of the soup varies a lot from place to place and ramen thus becomes both a national and local pride.
The two restaurants near our university opens right beside each other. While I was wondering how badly the competition would be, my friends who is a “ramen professional” told me that these two shops specialize in different kinds of ramen. One is Musashi flavor and the other is Hakata flavor. Musashi is the town where ICU is located and the ramen in this shop has lighter soup. Hakata is a town in Kyushu and the ramen there is famous for its rich soup made by cooking pork bones for a long time.
The Musashi ramen shop is very popular among locals and ICU students, but when I first tried the ramen, I was shocked by how salty it was. Actually, the waiter asked me if I want a bowl of rice in company with the ramen and I refused thinking it was weird to eat to main dishes at once. Later I asked my friend and she told me that this kind of ramen is meant to eat with rice so that I would not felt so salty. The waiter also told me that after finishing the noodles, people often pour ramen soup into rice to add flavor to it. The ramen soup here had miso soup added in.
Besides eating itself, the process of eating ramen is also very interesting. We needed to buy the ticket for the dish choices we want and give the ticket to waiters before we go to our seat. Besides tables for two and four, there were also single seats at the bar. For privacy the bar had curtains that break up each seat. I saw many people wearing business suits came and eat quietly and leave. The whole process was very quick, private and quiet. This made me recall the ramen shops I saw in subway stations. Many shops did not have even one seat and all people ate ramen standing, orderly and quietly. From small things such as eating ramen, I could also feel the uniqueness of Japanese culture. This sense of delicacy in details and mutual respect must be cultivated since young.
Originally, I planned to write a single post regarding all the differences I’ve noticed between living in Tokyo and living in America; however, that post became rather long, so I decided to split it into two parts. If you read the title, you have probably already deduced that I’ll be talking about transportation as well as fashion and beauty standards in this post. There is a lot to talk about in regards to those two topics, but I’ll avoid rambling on too long about all the minor nuances I’ve experienced and hit on the major points.
Transportation
There are two big ideas I want to talk about regarding transportation in Tokyo: Public Transportation and Private Transportation
Public Transport
A map of the JR train lines in Tokyo. This is easy to read, right?
I can’t speak for all of America, but back in Houston, Texas, public transportation really isn’t an amenity we value. There is no subway. The train system is so limited it’s basically useless unless you’re in the center of the city. Bus routes are also fairly limited in comparison to other cities. Essentially, if you want to get around Houston, you need a car. That is the primary mode of transportation. Tokyo’s public transportation system, however, is incredibly complex, efficient, and affordable. I’ve touched on this a bit in my first post, but now I plan to go a little more into detail.
Cars and trucks passing through Shibuya crossing
Roads in Tokyo aren’t just large, glorified sidewalks, though in certain areas they’re certainly treated that way. You can navigate Tokyo by car or taxi, but you would be in the extreme minority. The train lines are more widely used and, in my opinion, affordable. In many cases, it’s also much faster to navigate the city by train, and finding parking in the narrow, cramped side streets of Tokyo is a bit of a challenge even when you do get to where you’re going. To put things into context, I’ll give an example based on my travels in Tokyo. My friends and I decided to visit Asakusa on the day of a fireworks festival. Traveling from the station nearest to ICU to Asakusa station costs 560 yen (about five dollars) for a 52 minute train ride. It would take 55 minutes to and hour and 40 minutes by car. More often than not, google maps won’t even bother recommending the car routes and will direct you straight to the train and subway lines.
Another interesting difference is that in America, we build what we want in our cities and then adjust the transportation systems to get there. However, in Tokyo the major shopping areas and services tend to gather and build themselves up around already established train stations.
Private Transport
No, not everyone gets a Kart and Mario costume
As you distance yourself from central Tokyo and the more populated areas cars and accessible streets become more common. The first big point regarding road travel is that in Japan you drive on the left side of the road and cars are built accordingly. This isn’t all too remarkable. You adjust fairly quickly to the difference, though I didn’t have to drive during my stay. What’s more interesting, in my opinion, is how narrow the roads are and how the vehicles are built in response.
Mitaka City. Notice the wide crosswalks and how far back the cars have to stop.
Because of the limited space available in the Tokyo area, everything is cramped together for the most part. Side roads tend to only accommodate a single car, and in less populated areas the main roads are two lanes. Two, very narrow lanes. When stopping at intersections, the space between the intersection itself and where cars stop is significantly larger than what is standard in America. This is due to the fact that the turns on the roads are very sharp. Watching buses navigate the narrow pathways is pretty impressive.
A delivery car for 7 eleven
In order to navigate the aforementioned narrow streets Japanese cars are more compact than American models, and many of them are box shaped. A large SUV or truck wouldn’t be able to handle the sharp turns and would more than likely end up scraping against cars on the other side of the road. As for the box shapes, I’m really not sure what the reason is behind that. Seems to be a popular design choice, but the box cars don’t really perform significantly better than the rounder counterparts. Motorcycles are a tad more common further from central Tokyo than they are in the US, but cars are the primary mode of transportation on the roads.
That said, road travel is the least common way to get around. You’ll typically see more folks getting around on bicycles or on foot if their destination isn’t too far from home. From what I’ve seen, a good, reliable bike is a better investment than a car.
Fashion and Beauty
There are three big differences I noticed in regards to beauty standards between Japan and America: dental cosmetics, what’s attractive, and general fashion.
Dental Cosmetics
There is actually a surgery to make your teeth crooked called yaeba. Women get this “semi-vampire” look as a fashion statement.
I’m not entirely sure that’s the right phrase for the topic at hand, but I what I wanted to briefly talk about is the importance of corrective procedures like braces. In Japan having white teeth is more important than having straight teeth. This is a sort of minor difference in the grand scheme of things, but I found it really interesting when my teacher explained it in class. Especially because getting braces is almost a right of passage in America. It’s really common to see boys and girls alike with crooked teeth. Some younger Japanese women actually consider some crooked teeth cute. Again, it’s a very small thing, but it’s different enough to be interesting.
What’s Attractive
For this section I can only really comment about women’s beauty standards, because that was all I paid attention to. That said, there are very noticeable differences between what is considered an ideal woman in Japan and America. I would say that we Americans value three things: breasts, curves, and butts. Most of our clothes are tight fitting or low cut to accent these features. The hour glass figure is what we aspire to. Girls often lament over the size of their chest or glutes. However, in Japan this is not at all the case. I would say that if there is any feature that is idealized in Japan it is probably a woman’s legs. Girls don’t show nearly as much skin in Japan, but wearing shorts or skirts that flash some leg is completely acceptable.
On top of that, the ideal silhouette is inherently different. I mentioned before that Americans aspire to the hourglass silhouette. However, in my opinion, Japanese fashion doesn’t accent any silhouette at all. Clothes are generally baggy and formless. Japanese women are thinner than most American women, their breasts are significantly smaller, and they don’t really have posteriors to write home about. Sorry if I’m being rude or crude, but these are my honest opinions. I think this difference in body types is what leads to the emphasis on legs and the lack of form fitting clothing.
General Fashion
Most people probably think this is common attire around Tokyo
I think that whenever someone says “Tokyo fashion” you instantly think of the more colorful and abstract fashion common among young people in Harajuku. Or maybe they think of something that’s bold but a bit a tad more mundane like the picture to the right. However, this really isn’t the case. It’s true that a few younger women wear outfits like this regularly, but most women don’t. Tokyo fashion ended up being much more subdued than I anticipated.
The biggest difference between expectation and reality is that bright colors aren’t at all common in Tokyo fashion. You’re much more likely to see even young girls sporting pastels rather than neon colors. White, cream, and pastels were the most common colors I saw. This is distinct from American fashion for two reasons. One being that we tend to favor bolder shades like jewel tones and the occasional neon, but we also use vibrant prints. In America you’d be hard pressed to find someone wearing a t-shirt with no design on it. There’s usually some wording, a picture, or a pattern somewhere on the shirt that catches the eye. In Japan, solid prints are the go to style. Mundane Tokyo fashion seems to use color blocking to spice up an outfit rather than using zany and interesting prints. Case in point: Uniqlo.
A dress I bought at Uniqlo. The design is unusually busy by Uniqlo standards.
Uniqlo is easily the most common clothing store I’ve run across in Tokyo. I have not been to a single section of the city where a Uniqlo wasn’t within walking distance from the station. You really can’t escape them, to be honest. When I first walked into a Uniqlo, I was very excited to see what common Japanese fashion would be, but my first impressions were somewhat poor. By American standards Uniqlo is, quite honestly, drab, dowdy, and uninspired. Solid prints as far as the eye can see. Very few shorts, but oodles of full length, business-like pants.
I could keep describing more minor differences, but the coloring and lack of prints are the most immediately noticeable differences. If I kept on going, this post would become much too long of a read, so I’ll cut it off here.
Next Time
The next post will be part two of America vs Japan where I’ll talk about food and mundane parts of everyday life. Until next time!
To start off I want to apologize for the long gap between post as time has been hard to come by. That being said here it is.
During my time in Japan, as one would expect, I was constantly shocked by the cultural differences between the U.S and Japan. Though there are dozens to choose from, the culture regarding trash had to have been the most surprising. Here in America, Hawaii included, it isn’t out of the norm to see trash littering the roads and public spaces. Wherever I go, I could expect to find some form of trash, but in Japan, the opposite maybe true. During my stay in Hakodate, despite traveling to nearly every subdivision, I was shocked to find that the streets were regularly pristine or at the very least free of all trash. On top of that, one could walk miles through Hakodate and never find a trash can. “How do they do it?”, I asked myself and after a particularly surprising event I got my answer.
Approximately five weeks into the program, my host family decided that we should drive about 45 minutes north from our home to attend a festival at a park called Onuma (O- Big/Great, Numa-pond). There I had my first experience at a lively Japanese Summer festival filled with food vendors serving everything from Octopus legs, yakitori and frozen strawberries with condensed milk. It was amazing and to finish the night off there was a beautiful firework show. Despite all that however, two thoughts stuck in my mind more so than any of that delicious food did and they were “Where are the trashcans?” and “Wow, this place is spotless”.
After devouring my delicious festival food, I was stuck with the conundrum of what to do with my trash but despite searching for over half an hour, I could not find a single trash can at the festival with at least 1,000 people. Upon returning to my host family however, I learned that in Japan there really aren’t very many trashcans at festivals, instead, most Japanese people simply pack their trash up and bring it home to dispose of it. At first I was in disbelief but as the festival ended and the hordes of people packed up to return home, I was met with a park that looked just as good as the time I had been there previously. It truly was a sight to be seen. But then I finalized realized why that was possible. On the way back to the car, a man ahead of us dropped a little piece of paper, not thinking much of it, I was just about to walk past it when I heard my 6 year old host brother cry out “まま、ゴミはだめだよ” (Mama, Trash is bad). Then without any hesitation, he preceded to pick up the trash and put it in our family’s trash bag. Needless to say, I was shocked but most of all impressed.
Returning to our house, I brought it up with my host mom who explained to me that from a young age, Japanese kids are taught that trash is bad and that if you are going to make trash you need to be responsible for it too. Though I would say that the same lesson is taught here in the U.S, we don’t seem to take it as seriously and in that respect I think we have a lot to learn from the Japanese and their Trash Culture.
On a final note, to stress how rare trashcans are in Hakodate, here is a picture I felt obligated to take at a different festival of me and one of the only trashcans I have ever seen in Hakodate.
Almost all of architecture throughout history has been an effort to create something from the hands of man, that stands in stark contrast against the nature around it, that is separate from the elements and the earth. Buildings are meant to be strong and permanent, to withstand time and guard against the elements. In my Spanish Art and Architecture class we detailed ancient stone dwellings found in the Iberian Peninsula, the short stout romanic architecture of the middle ages, gothic architecture meant to be tall and ornate, divine rather than worldly. Although all of the movements were distinct they followed this same paradigm that building is to be in contrast to nature.
That is why Antoni Gaudí’s modernism was so revolutionary. It was a completely different conception of what architecture should be. Gaudí said “originally consists of returning to the origin”. He took all of his inspiration from nature and therefore his building were meant to be a part of this nature, rather than an opposition to it. In the age directly following the industrial revolution, this was so radical and so different from the utilitarian factories, gray skyscrapers, and other architectural trends of his era. In his houses, churches, parks, and palaces, he uses curved lines, stained glass, abstract forms that recall animals and plants, bright colors along with earthy tones, and a special mosaic technique called trencadis, in Catalan, where he takes mosaic tiles, breaks them into pieces and reassembles then in a much less manufactured manner.
Looking at Gaudís modernist building, especially La Sagrada Familia, was the first time that I had considered that a building, rather than serving a utilitarian purpose, can actually be a giant, livable sculpture, a perfect piece of art, with every detail having a specific, premeditated meaning. On the nativity facade of La Sagrada Familia, every carving into the stone serves a specific purpose in telling a story of the Bible. In the interior he uses columns to appear as a forest within the church and created a complicated buttressing system that used branches to direct all weight down through these large trunks. The details of the stain glass windows make allusions to holy sites throughout Catalunya and Spain, and the numbers and patterns that he uses throughout are all of a holy origin. It is truly a work of pure genius (of course this is no radical or original statement, but the popular conclusion)
In learning about the history of art and architecture in the Iberian peninsula and then actively exploring these famous sites throughout Catalunya I have developed a much greater understanding and appreciation of this artform. I have developed an incredible vocabulary to talk about art and describe artistic trends, which I otherwise would have likely never learned. Being able to discuss and explore the life and philosophy of Antoni Gaudí through one of his mother tongues has been an experience that will truly bring one back to the origins.
In Paris, you’re striding to catch your metro, or strolling Jardin des Tuileries, when you’re approached by a man. He asks you the hour, or
Connaissez-vous où est la Rue des Grands Boulevards?
then offers his 06. Turn this one down. He’s probably done the same thing to twelve other sheilas.
Or you’re at Sacre Coeur, and you see a boy lay a bordeaux colored scarf next to a girl reading a book. You see a surprised expression become over her face, and that she hurries to another shaded tree. Maybe turn this one down, too.
Better yet, you go to a language exchange group in the heart of Paris. You meet a caravan of new people! People who are interested in learning English and experiencing a new culture. He’s there, mildly charmed by your American accent (mildly friends, mildly) and your blog. After all, you’re cute and foreign. So, he suggests that you get together that weekend, to chat and grab a drink.
Veux-tu prendre un verre?
You RDV at some Metro Station, though you swore you would never meet a bloke at the Metro Station. He takes you to a museum, or maybe a park or the swimming pool, rock climbing or the outdoor markets. You love the outdoor markets. Then, you walk along the Seine and settle at a cozy but overcrowded cafe. You talk about books and movies, even though you hate movies, because you find it disagreeable to sit still. But in general, you find they are creative, The French Boys.
In the evening, he takes you to the théâtre, or a comedy show. The show is in English, or has to do with the United States. He wants to share your culture with you, but little does he know that all you want to do is learn French. You can see an English movie in the States, yo. But that is of little importance, and you have a grand time anyway.
After the show, you take a Vespa tour of Paris by night. You eventually have a ridiculously late European dinner. It is near 21h00 when you finally open a menu at his favorite galettes de Bretagne restaurant. Or, he might suggest that you cook something together, and you feast on duck, warm chèvre salad, chocolate cake, and matcha tea. It was probably you, who introduced the matcha tea.
At the end of the evening, he walks you home. He asks you every few minutes if you are able to walk in your heels. The chivalry is there, but like, you’re fine, dude. Chill. When you are finally in front of your door, the door to your tiny, un-airconditioned, over-populated Parisian flat, he kisses you goodnight. You close the door behind you, thinking you have a new standard for a good kiss. Because in France, every kiss, is a French kiss.
Every day when I walk to Qasid in the morning, two cats follow along with me for most of the way, asking me for pets and attention. These cats have become my good friends here in Jordan and I will miss them when I leave in a few weeks. There are many such cats living in the nooks of Amman, and they are generally a tough lot that are used to surviving independently. Jordanians may leave food and water out for them, but cats in this country hardly enjoy the privileged status that they enjoy in a place like Turkey. The cats, much like the citizens of Amman, have to fend for themselves.
The cat friends I have made here have given me cause to think about the nature of Jordanian society. For it is not uncommon for one to see homeless and impoverished individuals sitting quietly on streets and on bridges, sometimes attempting to sell a couple of vegetables or junk jewelry in little stalls. Cab drivers here will often attempt to charge foreigners double or triple fares and houses can fall down due to being built with inferior cement. Like the cats living amongst them, it often feels like Jordanians from a lower socioeconomic status are competing for scraps.
Every society in the world has to deal with the challenge of poverty. I have seen homeless men shouting at pedestrians in Harvard Square and know what it means to struggle with money in both the West and Indonesia. But in Amman I found that it is different, for here the gaps between rich and poor is imprinted in the very colours of the city.
For the majority of Amman, where the cats and the cab drivers live, the primary colour is brown. The sands and dust of the desert have taken hold, and most plants that grow are either weeds or twiggy bushes and trees. The stores are crowded, the clothes simple and the buildings are for the most part simple grey concrete blocks.
But there is a slim quarter of Amman that is different. The primary colour is green, with well-groomed parks and plants marking the places between western chains like Zara and the Body Shop, with malls that could easily be mistaken for any of the malls in mid-western America. And it is in here, in these strange slices of North America, that one can find the King and the rest of the Jordanian elite.
American society is deeply flawed, but there is a powerful national myth in the country that one can ‘pull oneself up by one’s bootstraps’ and go ‘from rags to riches’ somehow. Even if this myth does not often stand up to scrutiny, the driving force behind it is meant to motivate citizens to strive for their own betterment. And I wonder, here in Jordan, where that same motivation can come from? When the city itself is painted in such colours as to vividly display the King living in an entirely different sphere of existence to the common man. And unless one is a child of King Abdullah, those are heights that the citizens cannot even conceivably reach and, indeed, it is impossible for a citizen to even so much as enter the green space the family has cultivated without direct permission from the government.
The motivating power of a national mythology can be invigorating. Young people from every walk of life need to have something to aspire towards. Without that, it becomes more and more difficult for a society to improve itself. With a very deep gap of socio-economic conditions, I cannot help but feel that the ordinary Jordanians are essentially forced to live like the cats that accompany me to school. No matter how much they strive in school or in business or in their chosen field, one cannot rise above a select few who are able to take refuge from the reality in the blissful ignorance of the opulent malls of Amman.
It is this thought in particular that makes me grateful that Suharto (the notorious ex-President of Indonesia who was deposed from his seat by the people in 1998) resigned and my home country of Indonesia is now free of its ‘king’, and that I need to fear no such ceiling as I continue to forge my own life and destiny in North America.
The Color is Brown: A crowded corner of Salt City, a suburb of Amman.A Heaven for the Few: A resort in the Dead Sea where the riches of Amman usually spend their weekend with the family. A dinner for one in this place costs 25 JOD (36 USD), a number that cannot be reached by ordinary Jordanians.A Western Luxury: City Mall is one of the most luxurious malls in Amman where you can find anything from H&M to Armani, minus any local brand. Upper-middle class Jordanians come to such places to shop and dine almost everyday.Al-Dajjaj Kentucky: One thing about the upper-middle class Jordanians is that they love American fast food chains so much. You will not find local food in any mall’s food court (save for fast food shawarma chain). But you will easily find any American fast food chain that you like. From McD to Subway, they’re all there.The Cat of Amman I: As this cat, people who work in the unskilled industries in Amman are forced to stay in their place. A janitor, for example, would need to sit in the restroom area during her/his work shift all the time because he/she needs to clean the restroom every time a person used it.The Cats of Amman II
Ask any well-traveled person (or even Google!) about differences to expect when you go abroad, and virtually all of them will mention something about food. The way that food is prepared, served, and enjoyed varies widely among countries, and often even cities, and often offers a window to deeper cultural beliefs or identities. While I could logically understand this before traveling abroad, my time is China has truly revealed how food customs are a part of my identity, as well as how they offer an opportunity to observe Chinese culture. Here are five things I’ve learned about food culture in China:
1. Convenience. It seems that, in America, food is prepared and provided in such a way that it can get from the store or your plate to your stomach as quickly as possible. American utensils are designed to shovel in large amounts of food at once (I distinctly remember being disturbed when I visited an American frozen yogurt chain and was handed a shovel-shaped spoon to use to enjoy my cup of yogurt). Fish and meat are sold and served de-boned the vast majority of the time, but that is not the case in China. Food in America is available 24/7 – even in small American towns, you can find a place to buy food at virtually any time of day or night. I was certainly surprised to find that, unlike Notre Dame’s dining halls that are open all day from 0700-2130, Peking University’s dining halls are only open for two-hour periods during each meal time.
Of course Beijing has it’s share of fast food (as well as an extensive fast food delivery system), but looking at the culture as a whole, the Chinese pay a lot of attention to the flavors, preparation, and presentation of their food, not simply how filling it is or how quickly it can be eaten. Chinese people often take their time buying ingredients and preparing their meals by hand, in contrast to the ready-made, frozen, and canned meals and ingredients that are found throughout American supermarkets. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my Mom’s casseroles, but is dumping and mixing together the contents of several cans in a large dish and plopping it in the oven for an hour really a homemade meal? I think that this concept of American convenience vs. Chinese careful preparation can be clearly illustrated in hot pot, a very popular and traditional Chinese dining experience. When you go to have hot pot, you simply have a boiling pot of broth in the center of the table and are given different types of raw meat and veggies to share with others at your table. You cook the food slowly, one thing at a time, enjoying conversation and allowing yourself to eat slowly, one small plate at a time, enjoying the process of not just eating but also preparing your food. I do appreciate the convenience and ease of food in America, but there’s something more to the experience when you take your time and are forced to eat bite by bite.
2. Regional cuisine differences. Just as in America we have a variety of regional cuisine, from the fried chicken and apple pie of the South to the fresh seafood dishes of the Northeast, different regions in China also have distinct differences and types of food. However, in China, these variations are even more extreme – if you took a dinner spread from two different Chinese provinces, you might not even be able to guess that they came from the same country! Northern Chinese food (including Beijing food), is known to be saltier, simpler, and contain less vegetables and instead more grains (like rice or bread) as the staple food. I learned to love the steamed buns and mantou in the Peking University dining halls every day – while in America rolls are rarely served without a dipping sauce or accompanying dish, I came to enjoy the fluffiness and slightly sweet taste of the steamed dough. Another of my favorite dishes I ate in Beijing was the traditional Peking duck – can you really visit Beijing without downing this specialty? In general, Chinese people seem willing to try nearly any dish, and while I couldn’t bring myself to ear a few specialties like crispy scorpion found at street vendors, I was lucky to be able to try so many different dishes while in China!
3. Food as community. In many ways, food is tied to the way Chinese people interact with one another – in fact, a common greeting in China is “吃了吗？”, which literally translates to “Have you eaten?”. The culture surrounding food and going out to eat in China is markedly different than that in America. I often felt uncomfortable going to restaurants and even cafes alone – eating in China is an extremely communal activity. When you go out to a restaurant, you never order one dish for yourself – rather, you order many dishes and share them by spinning the large lazy susan in the middle of every table. People serve food to one another, take little bits at a time, and don’t mind eating food that other people’s chopsticks have touched. There is also certain etiquette when you go out to eat – the host can never run out of food (that’s considered very embarrassing) so they often over-order; the way in which people are seated around the table is carefully considered based on honor/social standing; you are expected to “fight” over who pays the bill. Food and the way in which it is eaten is certainly a cornerstone of Chinese culture.
4. American Chinese food and Chinese American food. America really oversimplifies Chinese food – that General Tso’s chicken and lo mein you like to order from the Chinese place down the street probably doesn’t have many dishes you would actually find in China, and if it does, they are probably “Americanized” – extra oil or salt, extra sauce, fewer vegetables, etc. China has a vast array of American fast food, including McDonald’s, KFC, and Starbucks (the menus are often different from the American versions to appeal more to the Chinese customer). In addition to the fast food, China also has a huge delivery service network – using apps, you can order anything from a McDonald’s burger to a Uniqlo t-shirt and have it delivered to you. When I ordered my first McDonald’s delivery, I joked to my friends that Beijing was “out-American-ing” us! In addition to the fast food, Beijing did also have some pretty good Western restaurants (my friends and I went to one for the Fourth of July and ate burgers, salad, baked beans, coleslaw, and strawberry shortcake!), but generally speaking the authentic ones are few and far between. While I was impressed with the number of American restaurants in Beijing, I think it’s safe to say that both America and China oversimplify the other’s foods.
5. The importance of comfort food. After just a couple of weeks in Beijing, all I wanted was a home-made American comfort food like a plate of mac n cheese or lasagna, or a bowl of my mom’s turkey chowder. I missed even simpler American staple foods like grilled chicken and vegetables, flavored with familiar spices and rubs. More than that, I missed staple foods that I know how to mix and match – for example, in America, I know which foods are healthy and which to put on my plate to make a complete and balanced meal, but among all of the unfamiliar dishes and spices in China, I had a hard time knowing how things were cooked, what I would like, what would give me energy, etc. I missed American food enough at the beginning that I walked for 50 minutes to Walmart (granted, this could have been made easier by using the subways, but I hadn’t figured them out yet) just to buy some peanut butter and jelly! As I continued to try new Chinese foods, I found some things that I really liked; some of my favorite food experiences in Beijing were drinking warm soymilk, slightly less sweet than American soymilk, with breakfast in the morning (replacing coffee); yogurt bottles that could be found at nearly every street vendor (in Beijing, yogurt is extremely popular, but instead of eating it with a spoon yogurt is consumed through a straw!); and baozi, which is essentially China’s “fast food” – small steamed buns filled with different types of meats and vegetables. There was a baozi store about a 5-minute walk from my dorm that I frequented weekly; the service was fast, and you could buy 6 baozi for less than 2 U.S. dollars!
Visiting China certainly gave me an appreciation for the unique and varied cuisine of the country, as well as made me appreciate the food customs and dishes that are ingrained in me as an American. Now I sometimes find myself craving authentic Chinese food instead of American food – just one more reason that I will need to go back to China again one day!
Or you’re at Sacre Coeur, and you see a boy lay a bordeaux colored scarf next to a girl reading a book. You see a surprised expression become over her face, and that she hurries to another shaded tree. Maybe turn this one down, too.
In the evening, he takes you to the théâtre, or a comedy show. The show is in English, or has to do with the United States. He wants to share your culture with you, but little does he know that all you want to do is learn French. You can see an English movie in the States, yo. But that is of little importance, and you have a grand time anyway.
