cultural comparisons – GW Blogs from Abroad

Paris Ten Years Later

AdminApril 19, 2015December 17, 2018

A couple weeks ago I traveled to Paris to visit my friend Lars, who is studying at the American University of Paris. It was actually to be my second time in the city, as I went with a student group in 2005 when I was 11 years old. 10 years later, I found myself touching down once again, this time alone on a crowded Ryanair flight.

I unfortunately don’t remember much about my first trip, but I do remember a general feeling of unease about the city itself. I had an amazing weekend, but traveling around full of déjà vu moments made me understand why preteen Tim was not in love with Paris. The city is remarkably enormous, and the average Parisian seems to spend most of their time on the metro. There was also less of an understanding and less patience by the locals for tourists and foreigners. This culture, the type where no one says “excuse me” when you bump into each other, contrasted US culture in many, many ways. It sort of made me appreciate where I came from. It definitely made me realize how big our world is and how, even in the Internet Age when many US customs have been adopted around the world, there are still many places where your social mores get thrown out the window for native ones.

Aside from my small gripes, the city was beautiful. I got to take in all the sites: Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, Champs Elysees, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and I even took an awesome photo on the top of the Eiffel Tower to replicate one I took ten years prior. I would be walking down the street and suddenly think, “Wow, I remember this. Our tour bus was parked right there.” The weather made Dublin look like the Arctic Circle, and I would not have been anywhere without my incredible tour guide and, more importantly, translator, Lars. I tried some delicious duck, ate too many baguettes and croissants to count, and even got to check out some 50,000 Euro watches at the Louis Vuitton store.

It really takes the experience of a contrasting culture and set of attitudes to realize that your own culture is not simply the norm. My amazing weekend in Paris proved this to me. Shout out to Lars for putting me up and showing me this large and beautiful city!

The Climb

AdminApril 14, 2015

A view of Paris from the top of the Arc de Triomphe

One thing all of my travels have had in common is an overabundance of old (sometimes ancient, sometimes medieval) stairs. Trips throughout Italy, Greece, Portugal, France and, of course, Spain, have all left me waking up the next morning with my calves aching and my quadriceps burning. All of these countries have incredible and unforgettable sights that are only accessible through, yep, you guessed it…stairs. St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, the Acropolis in Athens, the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, the Torre de Belém in Lisbon, or the hundreds of cathedrals and castles all over Spain (I’ve been to ones in Madrid, Barcelona, Segovia, Córdoba and Seville)—they’ve all got steep and tiny staircases.

FullSizeRender — Me, feeling victorious after a climb up a mountain in Santorini, Greece.

I laugh writing this because such a method of reaching a tourist destination is something I could never imagine being widespread in the U.S. We are a young country, with taller, and more modern buildings that almost always have elevator access. Imagine climbing your way up to the top of the Empire State building? Yea, didn’t think so! Blame it on our age, or blame it on our laziness—whichever the case, America doesn’t do stairs. But Europe, I can tell you, most certainly does.

My various and strenuous climbs all throughout Europe have ironically been some of the most memorable parts of my trips. When my friends and I sit and talk about the memories we’ve made, we almost always end up coming back to the time we were dripping with sweat as we finally reached the top of the Arc de Triomphe, the time we made friends with strangers through our common struggle up St. Peter’s Basilica, or the time I was so scared, that I couldn’t speak without stuttering the whole way down the steps of a Segovian castle. Because of these moments, we actually ended up appreciating the journey more than the actual view that we were climbing up to see. Here, I charter into dangerous waters by quoting the ever so insightful Miley Cyrus: “Ain't about how fast I get there, Ain't about what's waiting on the other side…It's the climb”

11130560_10205229639875146_1026386742_n — My friends and I at the top of a castle tower overlooking the city of Segovia, Spain.

All of those climbs have served as lessons for me, too. There were some pretty great moments when it was about the climb, and what was waiting on the other side. In fact, our journeys up just about a thousand steps are what made what was waiting for us at the top all the more worthwhile. To walk up the hill to the Acropolis and then stand in the presence of some of the most ancient and historical buildings in the world is a truly breathtaking experience—one worth every exerted breath on the hike up. I also learned how unhealthy Americans are, as a society. All of the cathedrals, castles and forts that I climbed, I climbed right alongside people who were three times my age, and maybe even more. Sometimes, they even seemed to be struggling less. For me, it was a true testament to the healthy lifestyle that most Europeans lead, and made me realized that I need to do more things like that once I get back home.

Until next time!

We set fire to the rain

AdminMarch 25, 2015December 14, 2018

By practiceyogadistrict

A friend from home asked me last week what my favorite thing that happened to me was that week. Here is how I answered her:

At 10:30pm I returned home from dinner out with friends at a restaurant in downtown Khon Kaen. A few minutes after I had stepped through the door, my roommate Kim strolls into the room. She had just returned from a ceremony where the first years in her faculty received their special faculty belt buckles for their uniforms. She immediately started changing out of her very formal uniform into her usual jeans and T-shirt, then asked me if I wanted to go get milk with her and her friends. First I was confused by what she meant by going to get ‘milk’ thinking maybe it was slang for beer or something. It’s not. She meant milk. Though it had been an extremely long day and I was neuwai maak (very tired), I decided to go.

I hopped on the back of her moto-sci (motorcycle), and we drove through the humid night to a very hipster café. It met all of my standards of what necessitates a cool café—raw brick walls, spiral staircase up to the second floor/loft, a comfy couch, random art, and a guitar. Turns out, asking someone to go to milk with you is the same as asking someone to go to coffee, except in Thailand many of the drinks that you order at a café are some form of sweet milk. Kim’s friend arrived shortly after we did. We had ordered one of the best Thai desserts, a crepe cake (layers of crepe and cream, ours had banana in it too). Kim proudly introduced me as her American roommate, and forced me to speak Thai to her friend, and forced her friend to speak English to me. I discovered halfway through our conversation that I was the first farrang (foreigner) he had ever spoken English with besides his farrang professors. What a separate world this is.

Around midnight as Kim and I were on our way home singing Beatles at the top of our lungs, Kim declared we were going to Karaoke. I thought maybe she meant we should go to Karaoke another night, but she meant right then. We pulled up to a building that looked a bit like a renovated motel with a bright sign that declared that we were at the karaoke ‘place’. I say place because I naturally was expecting a karaoke bar, the logical place to sing karaoke. But this was Thai-style karaoke. Any group of people, small or large, that wants to sing karaoke rents a room for an hour, equipped with the appropriate number of microphones, a large speaker, and a flat screen TV for the lyrics and background music video. There I was with my roommate, one room, two microphones, too much Adam Levine, a bit of Adele, for one full hour. It’s these sorts of small, slightly strange experiences that I hope to not forget when I return to the states.

A Fine Line Between Stoic and Social

AdminMarch 22, 2015December 14, 2018

By kaandle

While I'm sure there are many stereotypes of Americans in Germany - loud, in a rush, rude - two stand out above the rest. First and foremost, our desire for small talk and discomfort with silence are duly noted by the German population. They prefer stoic silence over meaningless conversation. "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" is unsuitable for elevator rides with strangers. However, with this being said it is important to note the U.S. sided stereotype - Germans are a hard and unsocial people - is very untrue. The value is on meaningful conversation. Quality over quantity kind of thing. Talking for talking's sake is uncommon, and quite honestly, refreshing. There is no need to fill silences and pauses to gather your thoughts before speaking aren't immediately filled with another comment to keep the conversation flowing.

The second is a bit more difficult to define. Throughout the past month, especially when traveling to other German cities like Dresden or Hamburg, the common response from a local after saying we're from the States is "why are you here?" This is not an inquiry about what we are studying or if it was the culture that enticed us. Instead it is a surprised statement with a hint of disdain. At the moment I am still uncertain if the surprise comes from an opinion that Americans are generally uninterested in Germany and therefore seeing people spend long periods of time within its borders is thought of as unusual or if they are utterly unaware of how interesting Germany can be.

Regardless of German expectations we are actively working past our cultural differences and misunderstandings. The group's native German friend group is finally expanding past host parents and student assistants! It may take a little stepping out of our comfort zones, but bridging the gap between German and U.S. customs is an exciting adventure.

Dance for the Love of You

AdminMarch 15, 2015December 14, 2018

By kaandle

One of my favorite things to do in Berlin is dance. The best part about this statement is that it has so much diverse potential. For instance, this past Thursday I ended up in one of the last standing dance halls from the 20s, Clärchens Ballhaus, which keeps its original decoration, serves delicious food, and has an hour before the floor opens to everyone where participants can learn the dance style of the night. It was truly a unique spot and I've already made a mental note to go back and give tango or salsa a try.

Simultaneously, you can walk down any street, duck into a cellar bar or club and see people bobbing around to whatever DJ/live band/solo act is performing that night. And while the style and location of your dancing may change, the really wonderful thing about the people dancing in Berlin, the thing I would love to see in the US when my time here is done, is people dancing entirely for themselves. No one is hindered by what the people around them might think or if what they do is "sexy". Dancing is mostly a solitary act. Think of how you dance when you're alone in your room blasting music or when you catch yourself mindlessly moving along to a beat - it's what wants to come out - how your body naturally wants to move. This is how Berliners dance and it's awesome. Going to a dance venue is just as fun for dancing as it is for people watching.

Now let's quickly talk about clothing. I am a person that loves to be comfortable. Seriously - ask anyone. I have a Stitch (as in Lilo and...) onesie that can best be described as a blanket that never falls off and I would wear that thing out every night if my housemates would let me. (Don't worry, it's made its way into public regardless). But since that's not usually an option, I really love a night where I can wear jeans with a big ol' sweater for a night in the town. In DC that may not fly everywhere you go, but here in Berlin I've yet to enter an establishment and feel underdressed. Like dance for yourself, it's dress for yourself. Maybe this can find its way to the States, but if not I fully intend on doing it anyway.

Suitcase School

AdminMarch 6, 2015December 14, 2018

By kennatim

As an American studying abroad in Ireland, I have experienced a lot of familiar things. I did not care to take the leap into complete going to a completely different cultural like studying in Thailand or Cameroon. I live on a very average college campus here in Dublin, stay a short bus ride from an international city, have spent way too much time at a Burger King in that city, and otherwise enjoy most of the average amenities I have back home. Everywhere you look, you see American culture having its influence. My friends and I even enjoyed burgers at an Old Glory themed restaurant named “Captain America’s.”

The trip has not been without cultural differences, though. My trips to the supermarket sadly recognizing no brand names, cars on the other side of the road, heavy accents, and ever-calculating conversion rates all act as my hourly reminders that I am in a foreign country.

One of the biggest and most obvious cultural differences, especially coming from GW, has been that almost all Irish students travel home each weekend. Dublin City University is a pretty traditional university in a suburban area close to a city, with on-campus accommodation, a gym, convenience store, etc. DCU, unlike GW, looks a lot like that college campus from movies and TV shows I used to think of as a kid. But on Friday afternoons, be careful on your way to the bus stop or else you might get trampled by the mobs of Irish students armed with carry-on luggage evacuating to almost every county in Ireland to spend their weekend.

Although I only live 3 hours from GW, going home for the weekend, especially each weekend, is such a foreign concept to me. Weekends are for relaxing, hanging with friends, and spending Sunday night in the library. At each university in Ireland, students go out to bars during the week, find a little bit of time to study, and spend Friday to Sunday with family at home and often at a part-time job in their home counties.

When you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. On a small island of only five million people, your hometown network is prioritized. Your primary school friends can often become your friends for life, as you may move back to your county after school. For example, my roommate lives in County Kilkenny, less than two hours from Dublin. He returns each weekend to tend to his family’s farm, spend time with his family and friends, and work at a local SuperValu supermarket. When I explained how rare it is for an average GW student to go back home so frequently, he was dumbfounded.

I guess in a country approximately the size of Indiana with a decent public transportation system, this should be expected. If I was from Indiana and went to school there, I would probably visit home more frequently, too. But walking around campus on a weekend, with every store closed and an eerie quiet about the whole grounds, it is hard to not remark at how different it is that it seems EVERY student is home EVERY weekend.

This life of the typical Irish student, to me, has its positives and negatives. While I would love to spend more time with my family, I cherish my GW weekends hanging out and doing homework with my friends. You can be sure that I would not want to spend any more time on the Megabus. I am eager, though, to experience more differences in the life of a DCU student for my short time here. And I will definitely continue to enjoy my quiet weekends on campus.

A Healthy Drinking Culture

AdminFebruary 14, 2015December 14, 2018

By jdippel529

One custom I wish the U.S. would adopt from Spain is its relationship with alcohol. The most surprising thing about traveling to one of the party capitals of the world was being taught how to drink responsibly. In Madrid, I have been introduced to a drinking culture in which young adults view alcohol in an entirely different manner than back at home.

My first drink in this city was only hours after I touched down in Spain, and here’s the real kicker: it was with my program director and advisors. Our first dinner as a group included a couple glasses of red wine, or “vino tinto” as they call it here. I guess because I’m not yet 21, the idea of having a drink with my superiors was a bit odd. But then, I realized that even back in D.C., having a drink with your professors at 21 would be considered slightly inappropriate, all due to the dark cloud surrounding young adults and drinking in the United States.

Back home, young adults aren’t trusted with alcohol. They are viewed as binge-drinkers and partygoers who just can’t handle their liquor. At the age of 18, they are trusted to go to war for their country, but not to enjoy a glass of beer. I find this completely ridiculous. I honestly believe that the negative stigma surrounding alcohol in the U.S. is exactly what pressures most kids to indulge in it as much as they can, whenever they can. In Spain, as I have quickly learned, things are completely different.

Since Spanish nightlife lasts well into the morning (it’s not rare to stay out until the metro reopens at 6am), people in Spain don’t feel the need to rush and “get drunk.” Clubs and bars don’t go into full swing until after 1am, anyway. What’s even more important is that alcohol is almost always accompanied with food. Drinks and tapas are a staple for a night out in Madrid (and probably why more people are able to handle their liquor). Long story short: In Madrid, drinking is just an excuse to spend time with your friends and family, and enjoy good food and music. It’s a social and casual event, not some marathon or competition. I think that young adults in the U.S. would be wise to take a hint from this Spanish way of life.

Too Confused to Even Walk

AdminFebruary 12, 2015December 14, 2018

By kennatim

I have committed cultural faux pas after faux pas in a little less than two weeks here. There are probably plenty more that no one ever brought to my attention as well. Between assuming pedestrian right-of-way at intersections, misunderstanding of tipping etiquette, and too many misunderstandings of the Irish accent to count, I have basically accepted the role of the ultimate foreigner. My most glaring faux pas, and one that I continue to misunderstand, involves walking in malls, sidewalks, and just about anywhere with foot traffic.

I have slowly come to a conclusion that Irish people have no protocol when it comes to which side to walk on almost anywhere. I am speaking about things like stairs, mall hallways, school hallways, and sidewalks. In the U.S., there is a pretty clear understanding that we drive on the right side of the road and walk on the right side of the sidewalk. As an avid runner for years, this protocol is something I have always held near and dear. Seeing someone walking on the left or opening the left door in a set of double doors in the U.S. left me thinking they were either foreign or just plain rude.

When I arrived in Ireland, I was quick to realize that the right side was not the side to walk on. Obviously cars drive on the left here, so it makes sense. It has been a tough habit to break. More than once I have found myself walking in the city centre on the wrong side and veering through a crowd to make myself at least seem a little like a local. I have accidentally held doors for many when realizing I was going out the wrong one. I could not seem more like a foreigner even when wearing my trademark backwards hat, which I was told by my Irish roommates is not something Irish students do at all.

After getting the hang of walking on the left, I realized something. The locals seem to not have come to a full agreement on this matter. I feel the need to hold a large town meeting or referendum (the latter which the country seems to be very fond of) so we can all agree on what side to walk on. In my experiences so far, cars have agreed to stay to the left almost 100% of the time (at least I hope they will). But I have had a decent-sized minority in the city centre, on campus, and in the mall walk to the right. I have developed a pretty good eye for foreigners versus locals, and most appear to be locals. When I considered this notion, I realized even the doors and revolving doors were not set up in a uniform way to address which to exit from. This leads to awkward run-ins and general difficulty.

The most egregious of the run-ins occurred yesterday. I was walking and chatting with my friends on campus on the left side of a walk in the center of campus. A woman came forward going the way that my American friends and I were all used to. She headed directly towards me. Although she was on the right side, I did not think much of it and slid a little to my right to help her pass. At that instance, she moved to her left, leaving us facing one another. I slid left as she instantaneously matched my move. And again. Finally, we figured this pedestrian conundrum out somehow and went about our days. My friends said the painfully awkward exchange looked like we were about to give each other a hug.

Aside from this sidewalk confusion, my only other major complaint is still the lack of pretzels in the grocery stores. So based on these small problems, I am doing just fine. For my friends in America, cherish your continuity in sidewalk etiquette. And send pretzels.

Where’s the craic?

AdminFebruary 11, 2015December 14, 2018

By sjm510

One thing that’ll surprise you about Dublin is everyone is talking about “crack”. Where to get the good “crack”, was last night good “crack”, etc. But, don’t worry, the Irish are not talking about cocaine. Rather, they are saying the word craic, which is Gaelic for having a good time or having a laugh.

Fun-loving, happy people may be the best way to describe Dubliners. Everyone is eager to help with directions, recommend the best sights to see, and of course, have some good craic.

Just the very first night, my friends and I went to a restaurant called the Hairy Lemon, which sounds really awful but actually has really good, authentic Irish food. But what stuck with me most about this restaurant was the waiter. He could tell it was our first night in Dublin and gave us lots of recommendations of good places to go, warned my friend whose purse was hanging off the chair about pick-pockets, and explained the unique décor of the restaurant. It was primarily American memorabilia given to him by the many people who had come through the restaurant and not only had great conversations with him, but once home, had kept in touch and sent him keepsakes to add to the wall.

Recently, I travelled with some friends to Cork to kiss the Blarney stone, bestowing anyone who kisses it with eloquent speech for seven years. The bus drive was 3 hours long and no exaggeration, our bus driver sang and chatted with us literally the entire time. Upon learning he and my friend both shared the last name of Cooney, he declared her his cousin and swapped contact information, telling her to keep in touch. All night long after that trip my friends and I sang songs like Molly Malone and Whiskey in the Jar through the streets of Ireland.

It’s refreshing to be exposed to such an open, welcoming environment. In the U.S., we tend to be a little more reserved; you’ll see more people avoiding eye contact on the street and keeping conversation with strangers to a minimum. Not that there aren’t friendly people everywhere, but the Irish sure stand out. Ireland is amazing, but it’s the people you encounter, all constantly in search of some good craic, that make it so much more.

Music. Musique. Musica

AdminDecember 22, 2014December 14, 2018

By bevvy2212

This week's topic is on music.

Before coming to France, I was somewhat aware of how big electro/ house music is in Europe. I myself am not a big fan of the dubstep and mindless head-nodding to the beats, so I was quite dubious about European club music when I first came to France. To me, the beats all sound monotonous and I often get tired of it very soon and end up sulking in a corner. So I asked my French friends why they like the dubstep so much and their answer was quite, unconventional. I'm not sure if this is all-inclusive for the general feelings toward dubstep but they told me that since school is generally very stressful these days, the monotonous dubstep beats somewhat numb the mind after a while and it's kind of relaxing, to just let loose and nod along. I found this explanation so fascinating because I always thought of dubstep as noises, not music. But this actually brought me new perspective on viewing dubstep, which segways into the next topic that I'm going to discuss.

One of the most popular musicians in France is Stromae. (He is actually from Belgium, but most people automatically assume he's French.) His song "Alors on danse" (which translates to "so one dances")became a huge hit in the US and from first glance, I, like many other americans, thought this was just a normal dance song and since it's in French and I didn't pay much attention to the lyrics. But one time I actually paid attention to the lyrics and it's actually quite dark and pessimistic. I read more into Stromae and his songs are in general quite representative of the current generation of European youth. "When we say money we say spending. When we say forever, it means divorce. When we say family, we say grief, because misfortune never comes alone. So we go out and forget our problems. So we dance." Referring back to what my French friends were saying about numbing themselves with dubstep, the current European generation is facing a slumping economy so they are under a lot of stress. The youth unemployment rate in France is roughly 24% and in countries such as Spain where the economies were really hard hit by the crisis in 2012, youth unemployment rate reached to almost 50%, which is a ghastly prospect. Stomae's songs, albeit catchy, all have deeper meanings underneath, which I found fascinating because most songs these days have mindless lyrics talking about unrequitted love and insignificant things but having songs that have meaningful lyrics and catchy at the same time.

It's interesting to see how music across the world varies. When I was in Peru this past summer, they played a lot of latin/bachata/cha cha music (which I absolutely loved but couldn't really dance to). I loved how everyone there can dance, not just girls. The guys actually got really good moves and every time when I ask the boys at the school that I taught at if they like to dance, they always responded with "oh yeah I love dancing" and then start busting out moves on the play ground. Whereas guys dancing in the US is kind of perceived as feminine, it's very normal and popular there in Latin America, which I really liked.