culture

A Different Childhood

How many Twinkies have you eaten in your lifetime? I haven’t had one in about a millennium, but our kids have never had Twinkies. Or Ho Ho’s. Or Little Debbie snack cakes, Ding Dongs, etc. etc. They also are unfamiliar with Cool Whip, Velveeta, and Cheese Whiz.

This came to our attention last night at dinner, and it occurred to me that I was both wildly happy and a little nostalgic for them. It’s like they missed a little part of Americana because of their overseas childhood, where these things were never or rarely obtainable.

Truth be told, I try to avoid putting sugar and/or processed food into our kids as a general rule, but not having EVER eaten any of those things seem akin to never watching Sesame Street. Come to think of it . . .

Yeah, our kids had a different childhood. When I first lived overseas, I was determined that our kids were going to be American, gosh darn it! No third culture kids here. (The reality is, I was told, the second your kid stepped on a plane to live in another country, he became a third culture kid and there’s nothing you can do about it).

Our kids do probably have a greater grasp of American culture than the average TCK simply because where we lived and how we lived allowed us to be more exposed to it. But the fact is, they are different. There are things they don’t know, won’t understand, won’t love, things that don’t have any association with childhood for them. And that’s ok.

But I think I’ll still put a Twinkie in their Christmas stockings.

Continue ReadingA Different Childhood

Learning

The garbage disposal in my parents’ kitchen clogged two nights ago. This was inconvenient on a number of levels, such as: my parents were gone, my husband was gone, I am not good with tools, and oh yeah, after 13 years overseas I lack certain skills most people have gained by this point. In other words, I haven’t interacted with a garbage disposal since I was a teenager.

Spending most of my adult life outside of the States has left me strangely imbalanced in my abilities. Sure, I can help you bargain for something in Chinese and get the local price, but I did not know that potato peels shouldn’t go in a garbage disposal (but for the record, that wasn’t what caused the clogging). I may have mad chopstick skillz, but I don’t have a clue how to unclog a disposal, or when or how to call a plumber.

To make it more fun and challenging, one of the pipes below the bathroom simultaneously began dripping in the basement, and both dogs decided the moment needed to be punctuated by excessive barking. “This is exciting! It’s a big mess! You’re clueless!” I think is how it translated.

So I called some family friends, and was immediately cheered by their voices, especially the one that said, “Why don’t I come over and check on it?”

Half an hour, a messy kitchen floor and an unintentionally wet friend later (there was a lot of water trapped in there!) I had a working disposal again. Not only that, but I think if it happened again I might be able to fix it myself. We’re all going to pray it doesn’t come to that, but it encouraged me to think, “I might be sorely lacking in some basic adult skills for life in America, but they are not unlearnable.”

Which is good, because last night I got to practice, “What to do when your mini-fridge was set too cold and caused a can of soda to explode, bursting the door open.” Opportunities to be an adult abound!

Continue ReadingLearning

Our Weird Dog

I had hoped that having left China, we would have also left behind goofy conversations about our dog. What was I thinking? Of course we’ll have goofy conversations about our little foreign pup. We’ll just have them in English now!

Case in point – here’s the conversation I had this morning with a sweet little old lady while her dog jumped around like a maniac at her feet:

Woman: Oh look, you have two! What kind are they?

Me: Well, this one is a cocker spaniel, and this one is from China. We don’t know what she is. They didn’t even know over there.

Woman: China China?

Me: Yep. China. The country.

Woman (looking directly at Scout): I bet you have a story to tell about how you got here!

Me: Yes, a long, complicated and expensive tale. But she was only $9 to begin with so . . .

Woman (still speaking to Scout): DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?

Me, laughing: Yes, she does.

Woman: Did she come on an airplane?

Me: Uh . . . yep. She did.

Woman: Well, she’s beautiful! Have a blessed day!

Me: You too!

Ah yes. We have a weird dog. She goes well with our weird lives.

 

Continue ReadingOur Weird Dog

Reverse Culture Shock

Every good expat has heard of the dreaded Reverse Culture Shock. That’s where you go back to your home country and think, “This is weird! I don’t get it! I feel like an idiot!” and other unpleasant things like that.

I came back to the States fully expecting that at some point we would have this. I’ve had it before – those moments where I was paralyzed in the bread/toothpaste/deodorant aisle incapable of making a decision because there were so many choices. The awkward times when I hand the clerk my credit card and then am informed that I can (and should) do it myself. I still forget that, and for the record, I don’t like it.

This time I feel like all those potentially odd things that are different from Asia, to this point, don’t strike me as anything but quite pleasant. I like that there are lots of choices. I like that driving doesn’t feel like a test of my survival skills. I like that there is no one else on the streets in the morning when I exercise. I could get used to all these things.

But yesterday I hit my biggest moment of reverse culture shock. I went to IKEA.

I have never been to IKEA in America, only in Asia. So I was quite frankly weirded out by seeing prices in US dollars. It felt eerily empty. At no point did I feel like I was swimming against traffic. There wasn’t a single Asian person anywhere. I kept thinking, “Look at this – it’s all the same stuff. They brought it all from China.” (Yes, I realize this is not true). Actually, it felt like I was still in China and just happened to go to IKEA on Foreigner Day.

Megan’s cluing in to the reverse culture shock as well. In the bathroom the other day she said, “Mom, this toilet is really small. The toilets at Nonna and Babba’s are really small too. Wait – maybe ALL the toilets in America are small compared to China!” and continued on in this vein for awhile, supposing that people would think she was weird because she’s been using big toilets.

So we realize things are different, but so far we’re generally of the opinion that they’re good. I just don’t think I’ll go back to IKEA yet. That was weird.

Continue ReadingReverse Culture Shock

End of content

No more pages to load

Newer Posts