Tuesday, June 25, 2013

You are You and I am Me

Enough already. I can't take it anymore.

There are so many things that are challenging in the expat life: culture shock, homesickness, language barriers, clothes don't fit, lack of a good community. But the one thing that I hate, the gut wrenching, fire evoking, seeing red hate (and deal with far too often) is stereotyping. Prejudice, discrimination, whatever. It dips it's toes into all pools of mistrust and hate.

Being from a southern state in the US, I have battled against my share of stereotypes.
"Southerners are ignorant and uneducated. They're all flaming racists too."
Blood boiling I tell you.

If I believed every stereotype I'd ever heard then I would believe all Yankees hate all Southerners (we've already heard about them), Irish are drunks, Germans are Nazis, Australians are partiers and druggies, Afrikaners are racist, Americans are fat, loud, and arrogant, Zulus are violent, Mexicans are dirty, Asians are good at math, Brits are tea drinking snobs, Native Americans are drunk and lazy. The list could fill pages, books, and then libraries. Stereotyping actually causes my heart to ache with anger first and then grief. I know it's inevitable. It will happen. I know that wherever I go I will face ever increasing numbers of stereotypes, and be automatically judged just because of my nationality. The stereotypes are lined up against me. Battles will be fought to prove them inaccurate, and there will be moments of shame when they are proven to be true.

Imagine what our world would be like if we had never heard any of these stereotypes. We went in meeting new people with no preconceived notions or thoughts. A bit more peaceful I believe.

However, just because I know discrimination exists, always has and maybe always will, doesn't mean I won't do anything to fight in hopes of it's defeat. Ask any good friend of mine and they'll tell you that I'm judgmental. I judge people on their actions and their character. That's how I want to be evaluated, my character, and not by my accent or where I come from. I want to raise my children to believe in the goodness of people and the beauty of differences, to not fear what they don't understand. My hope for the future is strong, and it's strong because I believe it can be changed. It makes me unbelievably angry when Americans (my own people!) say, "oh yeah, I thought that all Southerners were really ignorant and racist." But few things make me feel as good as when they say, "until I met you."
So, when I tell people I'm from the States and their face sets as they start to politely put me in box of stereotypes and set notions, I can't wait to shatter it all.

And just because I never want to be too serious on such a weighty subject... enjoy.



People are much deeper than stereotypes. That's the first place our minds go. Then you get to know them and you hear their stories, and you say, 'I'd have never guessed.'
~Carson Kressley

Thursday, June 13, 2013

What the Wednesday on a Thursday: Nature Calls

In my travels I have become a connoisseur of bathrooms, or toilets, washrooms, the loo, whatever you may call them. If there is one place that you can learn to truly appreciate a good toilet, it's Asia. I've seen holes dug in the ground, squattys, toilets that smile at you ( who puts a smile on the lid?!), stalls that sing, toilet bowls you have to manually fill up with water and scoop provided once you've flushed, and bidets that I have no idea how to operate it comes with so many buttons. In Japan, almost every toilet I used had a machine mounted on the wall that would provide nature sounds to camouflage your...business.


Below is a step by step tutorial on how to successfully navigate the peculiarities of a Korean public bathroom, don't expect this in your hotel room or restaurant.
These pictures were taken in a bathroom on my university. I swear I was the only one in there. I'm not a creeper. I'm an informant (although that could be dangerous in America right now).

Step one: Grab your toilet paper. Most public bathrooms have a roll of TP mounted on the wall for everyone. This is especially common in small town bus terminals. It sucks when this thing is empty as well as the one on the 2nd floor...and the 3rd. This is why it is wise to always be packing. Your own toilet paper that is.



Step Two: Wave your hand in front of this magical little machine for some causal music. You know, the graduation song, Amazing Grace, God Save the Queen, or Beethoven's 5th Symphony. It is not relaxing to be doing your business when Beethoven is playing, let me tell you. However, the song last for approximately 10 seconds. I personally don't know any lady that can get into a stall and finish in that amount of time. Not a well planned out idea really.







 Step Three: Nature calls. No pictures are necessary here. Ew.





Step Four: Wash your hands. If you have hot water then Glory Be! you're lucky. Then you use...this soap. My parents read this blog, so I won't go into details about how exactly you get this soap on your hands. But if you use your imaginations (you dirty pervs) then you get the general idea. I always feel dirty when I'm manhandling using this...stuff.


Step Five: No paper towels?! "Shocking" said no one ever. No dryer?! Not surprised. If you do have access to a hand dryer then you'll probably have to plug it in yourself. Careful though you man or woman of safety. You've got wet hands there. The most common way of drying your hands? Shaking them. My kingdom for hot water and a hand dryer or paper towels. 


But don't judge every bathroom like the one you see here. Not all are created equal. I squeal with delight when I see toilet paper and hand dryers. When I travel around my expectations are low and my stash of TP is high.

Travel like a Boy Scout, people. 
Always be prepared.