Cultural Differences

Often it's the little things that stand out as cultural differences. En route from the border the other day, we stopped for lunch at a little shack along the roadside. There was a trailer truck idling outside, so we figured the food would be good. It was, and the woman who cooked and served our meal was friendly. When I asked her for a chocolate milk, she poured me a tall glass of milk and handed me a jar of powdered cocoa so I could mix my own. But I didn't have a spoon, so I asked for one. I hadn't noticed the jar of small plastic spoons in the center of our table. She reached for the jar and accidentally dropped it. The jar shattered, spilling its contents on the dirt floor around and under my chair. As she bent to pick up the mess, she handed me one of the spoons from the floor. I shrugged mentally as I almost unconsciously noted this as a cultural difference. A waitress in the United States probably would have found a clean spoon somewhere to give me. As our Mexican waitress continued to reach under my chair to clean up the spill, I noticed that my personal space (as defined by my culture) was being invaded. And as I measured out the cocoa powder into my milk, I realized that this short spoon would never reach the bottom of the tall glass, and so I wouldn't be able to stir the milk thoroughly. Not a big deal, but I couldn't help thinking that a "real restaurant," the kind I am used to, would have suitable spoons. Meanwhile, the radio was turned up too loud for my taste, and when the trucker outside started playing his competing music at top volume, the cacophony was jarring to me. It didn't seem to bother anyone else.

Laurel and I have come to use the term "cultural abrasions" to describe these small cultural differences They are the little things that rub us the wrong way. Any one incident by itself is insignificant, but they add up to a sense of discomfiture. It is too easy to feel one's own culture is superior; that this waitress, this restaurant, this country called Mexico are all doing it wrong. It is an ongoing struggle to maintain an open mind and heart, but a struggle that is worth the effort. Through the process of accepting cultural differences as valid, I have the opportunity of examining my own values and priorities, and ultimately noticing the similarities we humans share.