Tag Archives: culture

Culture shocked and lots of squiggly lines; Reasons I need to learn a new language.

I was checking onto my flight, mentally reducing the weight of my bag, and hoping it was under the weight limit. Since I had shoved the last few items in that morning, I figured it HAD to be over weight. I gave the ticket lady my passport and start through the pocket of my bag for the itinerary printout when I hear a mildly shocked “you’re kidding”. I stop the hunt for the paper and a million scenarios run through my mind. Is my bag that over weight? What if its my passport? Please don’t let there be something wrong with my passport. Maybe their computer is having trouble reading it. In the 1.5 seconds it takes for all of this to stream through my thoughts, she follows it up with ‘you have my name’. Tilting my head in genuine curiosity, all those scenarios disappear in a cartoon cloud of dust. We proceed to chitchat about how strange that I happened to end up in her line, when she looks back at my passport, then to me and starts to laugh. Tilting my head in question again, she clarifies ‘and we have the same birthday. Not the same year, but the same day and month’.

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Once on the plane to Japan, knowing very little of the native language and with big plans to travel and sight see, I start to question how prepared I was. It turns out though, I wasn’t the only one on the plane with the “let’s wing it” view of language. With a sparse plane, I had a row to myself. Forehead pressed to the plane window, sprawled across two seats, looking down on the turquoise water of what I told myself was an uncharted island, I had my playlist for traveling drifting me into a whole story of castaways on that island. My fantasy was interrupted by a quick tap on my shoulder. Venesa, an Aussie taking a few weeks of her school break to go visit Japan, was in the row directly behind me, and thought that I looked to be a bit adventurous, and wanted to see what I had plan for my excursions. An hour later she had taken photos of my tablet and notebooks on her iPhone, and we were discussing the Mayan ruins she visited. We bonded a bit over the fact that neither of us knew that much Japanese. I downloaded a number of programs, and have picked up the very basics to get around town. (Your standard Hi/Bye, Please/Thank you/Excuse me,) and thanks to Naomi, learned to count to ten. (I owe you one Naomi, since that will come in very handy when finding train platforms.)

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I had my first “crash course” today, going into the massive 7and i, (a 7eleven that rivals super Wal-Marts and is more like a 3+ story mall,) in search of food for the week and a notebook for my upcoming teacher training. It was somewhere in the rice isle that I started to panic. What was I doing!? I have no idea if that is a cooking sauce or a whole meal in the packet with the cartoon yellow rabbit smiling at me. And how do I find something that I know how to cook? I start to laugh (since really when I’m starting to have anxiety, what can you do about the situation but laugh it off,) and decide to put on my big-girl-adventurer pants and do what I can to find food, and pull it together and be willing to try something new. I decide on the minute noodles with the shrimp on the picture, and go in search of the other items on my list, agreeing to settle for the cultural equivalent. With the help of free WiFi and Google translate, I decided to stuff my pride and ask for help. The lady stocking shelves was very nice as I gesture to my phone with the translation of one of the items on my list, and am whisked off into the middle of the store. Once all my items had been gathered, I aim for the checkout. Turns out there are a lot of questions at a checkout counter that we take for granted when they are in our language. There was a question about getting a bag, and a surcharge for using a credit card. I can only hope that what I was understanding and agreeing to was what I thought it was.

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My second challenge was the notebook. This I was a little better prepared for, but had to wonder around the store none the less. Saying the equivalent of “excuse me, notebook, where?” while miming writing on my hand I was directed from one store to another, with one girl knowing enough English to help me out. Before long I was in the stationary store.
My adventures of the day were successes and I learned about a dozen more words. I have high hopes for this adventure.

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Update: I would like to recommend Byki Express for a free language learning program. If you need to learn it fast and be able to get the basics to get around, its the best program I’ve found.

Things You Wouldn’t Have Considered For Your Gap Year

Deep in the mountains of Colorado, nestled on the side of the range of 14-ers (14,000 ft above sea level mountains) known as the Collegiate peaks, named after the ivy league schools (Princeton, Harvard, ext.), is Buena Vista.

The town is rich in history, from the old brothel of Cock-eyed Liz, to the locals pronouncing the name wrong because a German woman settled the town, there is a lot to be offered in background.

In the winter the town slows. The misty chill leaves the night streets bare and during the day, skiing is the nearest thing to an activity that draws the out-of-towners. But in the summer, the town comes alive.

The town is situated along the Arkansas river, making it rich in rafting, kayaking and river surfing, and hosts FIBARK (First In Boating the Arkansas) a festival dedicated to river sports.

Summer camps situated on the outskirts of the valley bring youth from all over America, as well as all over the world, for work. High ropes courses, river sports, swimming, horseback riding, and archery are all apart of summer life of Buena Vista. And while the town is small, every one knows everyone else, and the one street light marks the center of town, the summer festivities are unlike any others.

Over the 4th of July weekend, a parade, craft fair in the park, and a light show (as fireworks were banned this year.) But the event that drew the valley to the small center of town, was the street dance.

Closing off a large portion of main street, your group classics like the Macarena and YMCA would prompt dancing, as well as the few country songs that led into line dances.  Families were dancing, the 20-somethings that were working the camps twirled and bounced their way around the street, which was dedicated the ‘dance-floor’. People walked by with icecream from the local restaurant that would give out gift certificates for the small competitions that took place throughout the event.

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(Contestants of the bubble blowing contest)

I had lived here for a couple years back in High School. First time in a public school and had a graduating class of 75, and football games were a town event. My summers were spent waitressing and helping out at one of the summer camps with some wonderful people I still keep in touch with. But tonight it hit me – If I weren’t from little ol’ “BV”, and I wanted to just find a fun summer place to work while making my way along the U.S.A., I would choose Buena Vista, no competition.

And all the while, spinning, twirling, bobbing and stomping, the community joined together on main street. The mountains in the backdrop, buildings from the 1800’s flanking you, good music and fresh air, I thought ‘I was so lucky.’

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(Swingin’ on the streets)

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(Raft guides that got dressed up for the event)