There we were, newly married, living thousands of miles from either of our homes, in Durham, NC where he was in medical school. My husband was from Texas, and I was from
North Shore of Chicago. We came from two different cultures ourselves, and now were together in a new one. It turned out to be culture shock on top of culture shock as we adjusted to each other, and to cosmopolitan student body at Duke Medical School. CULTURE IS LEARNED
Culture is something we learn. It isn’t related to race or ethnicity, religion or anything else, but it pulls from all those groups, and, especially if we’ve only lived in one place, moved only in one social group, and/or haven’t been exposed to other cultures, we tend to think of our own culture as sacred. However, so does other person!
As we move into an exciting new world of global interaction, there are going to be culture clashes. Let’s continue looking at this through my Thanksgiving Tale.
THE PLAYERS
The first Thanksgiving came around and friends from New England invited us over along with 6 other couples. Guests included a man from Dominican Republic married to a woman from Spain; a couple from Missouri; a New York man married to a woman from Brazil; two French Canadians from Quebec; and two Australians who were not medical students, but neighborhood friends. Religions represented were Protestant, Catholic and Jewish. And, I should add, it included men and women.
As friends do, we all talked among ourselves both before event, during and after. A lot of it had to do with figuring out what was going on with all these nationalities represented. We split into factions about what was “right” and what was “wrong,” often changing sides with different issues.
TIME & COMMUNICATION
“Why noon?” my husband asked. “When are we eating?” My husband liked everything organized with no surprises. I was more flexible, but willing to dive in and explore, so I called hostess. “It’s buffet,” she said. I fished around for more information, like when were we expected to leave, and could I bring anything, hoping she’d reveal menu. Her answers were typically New England, short and terse.
“You didn’t find out anything?” my husband asked, when I returned empty-handed.
“She didn’t volunteer anything,” I said. “I did best I could.”
“Why didn’t you just ask her questions outright?” he said.
“Because that’s rude,” I said.
“You’re too polite,” he replied.
“Then next time you call,” I said.
“That’s woman’s job,” he replied.
We and Missourians arrived at noon:11, which was our cultural dictate; a few minutes late to allow host and hostess to make last minute adjustments, but no more than 15. The French Canadians and Australians arrived about 30 minutes later. The couples that included a Latino arrived an hour or two after noon.
“How rude,” said New Yorker. “How are we supposed to be able to plan? What do you do when you invite Gonzalvos over?”
“Relax,” said Australians. “We’ve all got kids. Things happen.”
The French Canadians spoke to each other in French, obviously disliking tardiness, then smiled and told us, “Isn’t this a wonderful Thanksgiving,” avoiding dissension.
The Latinos didn’t appear to notice their wandering in was anything out of ordinary They were busy hugging everyone and having a good time!
How we treat time varies greatly among cultures. We had had our cocktail hour by time Latinos arrived, and were ready to eat, but felt they should have time for a drink and some chatting also. It was an awkward moment. Somewhere also there was a football game involved, timing of which got messed up.
“Don’t worry about football game,” said Dominican. “This is Thanksgiving.”
