Cultural Adaptation

There are some mighty interesting things about adjusting to life in another culture. Some changes you choose, some you work your way into, and some are—well…thrust upon you! Today I experienced a little bit of all of the above and thoroughly enjoyed it all.

One of the friends I recently met invited me to go with him to his family’s house in the south part of the city. He told me where to meet him, but of course I didn’t have any idea where the place was, so I got out the map and began the hunt. After about 30 min of trying to figure out how to get there on all the squirrely one-way streets I had a plan and was on my way. What I didn’t realize was that the place I was meeting him was nowhere near his house! Apparently he was trying to help me out by giving me a landmark.

So now we have a small problem: his plan had been to ride on the motorcycle with me and tell me where to turn, etc. However, I’ve only been driving this motorbike for a few weeks and haven’t ever driven with anyone else on it. That may seem like a small thing, but trust me—EVERYTHING is different when the weight is doubled. I’ve learned that the key to motorcycle riding is “steer with your rear.” You can turn the front wheel all you want, but if you don’t shift your weight with your rear you can’t turn correctly. So it’s not just double the weight, it’s “live weight” that doesn’t always react the same way you do! There was also another problem…he assumed not only that he could ride with me, but that I would have a helmet for him. He assured me that it didn’t matter because lots of people ride without one here, but I assured him that since it was the law we weren’t going anywhere until he had a helmet.

After thinking through options we decided to buy a cheap small helmet that I could just store under the seat for future riders. We eventually found one, and it was time for the big test—driving in crazy traffic with a passenger on a motorcycle I’m still learning to drive. I do still have some sense about me though, so I suggested that he drive and I ride on the back.

After lots of twists and turns he points out his house to me, but tells me that we’re actually going to his uncle’s house. We go up the mountain quite a ways and eventually arrive at the place. The house was incredible! It wasn’t fancy or expensive, but incredibly comfortable—the way I remember my grandmother’s house feeling. They apparently also run a nursery of sorts because there is a good bit of land in back and it’s all covered with plantings in small containers. There is also a small “pond” (more like a big concrete tub) for raising fish and a bamboo hut on either side. One of these huts contains tons of books that my friend tells me are part of the “library.” Apparently his uncle runs a free “school” for area kids who can’t afford the fees for regular school. They come to his house for lessons, etc. Today only one student showed up (not unusual) but my friend proceeds to tutor her in English while I answer the barrage of friendly questions that the extended family wants to ask the foreigner.

As we get ready to leave I realize that this more remote area is probably the best place for me to learn to drive with someone else riding, and the adventure continues. Fortunately my first passenger is small and slim so I don’t have too much trouble getting used to the weight.

As we come into the suburb where his parents live, we decide to stop and get some lunch at a local restaurant. It’s basically an a la carte buffet, so we start trying to decide what to get. Much of the food I’ve had before and enjoyed, but since my friend really wanted me to eat at this particular place I told him to choose for me. “Well I really like this one, but you don’t want it.” After some coaxing and explaining that I really did want to try it if he thought it was good, he told me what it was—cow brains. I’m looking at the stuff thinking that must just be what they call it because of the shape. It looks nothing like brain. Either way, I decide to try it (along with some more normal food). Turns out it really is cow brain—it was just encased in a batter of sorts that was fried on the outside. The batter was incredibly good, and it took me a while to realize that I still hadn’t gotten to the brain yet. Trust me though, when I arrived I knew it! The brain was about the consistency of cream cheese, and though the flavor really wasn’t bad at all I can’t say that I’ll be rushing back for more.

So we leave the restaurant and stop by his parents’ house for him to change clothes. It’s starting to sprinkle but I’ve got to be back for a get-together with everyone from my language school so we go on. Not too far down the road it comes a downpour and we’re forced to pull over and wait for the rain to at least slack off some. For the next hour or so we are sitting under a tarp at a roadside stall chatting about any number of things. Once the downpour slows to a drizzle, we go on our way. Aside from being late for the party I’m feeling pretty good about all this. I mean I’ve conquered cow brains and learning to drive a motorcycle with a passenger—not to mention the good time I’ve had getting to know my friend better and having the opportunity to talk with him some. Apparently the lessons aren’t quite over though.

After I dropped my friend off at the place he was meeting his other friends I start trying to make my way back to the language school for the party. Traffic is even more crazy that usual because of the rain, so I decide I’ll see if I can find an alternate route. I soon discovered that the alternate route may have had less traffic, but the real problem with both streets was the water. It’s coming down the hill in a torrent and flooding the street to nearly a foot deep. I laugh to myself as I remember seeing waterfalls that have less water than this, but I’m already nearly an hour late for the party and there’s nowhere else I can go but up the hill. The good news is that considering I’ve now driven the motorcycle in traffic, with a passenger on the back, AND through a flood I think it’s safe to say I’ve earned my stripes!

I did eventually make it to the party, and no one seemed to think much about it. It’s cultural to be late, and when it rains sometimes people don’t come at all. I had to smile a bit though, seeing as how that was only one of many cultural adaptations I made today!