Syd and I were talking the other day, and she said to me,
“the more I travel, and sit in cafés or go through airports or walk through
parks, the more I realize we’re all just people. We’re all a little bit weird,
and we’re all just people.”
It’s true. No matter where you go, you will always find
people holding hands, there will always be moms pushing strollers and kids
playing tag, there will always be guys hitting on girls in bars, or vice versa.
There will always be people eating, old couples sitting down on a bench simply
happy to be alive.
So often, I hear Americans say, “Oh my god, the French are
so rude,” or “Italian men are so aggressive!” But my first thought is, “Have
you been to New York?” or “Have you been to a frat party?” There will always be
some cities where people are harder around the edges, where smiles don’t flow
as easily as they do in places like the American South. I grew up in New
England – when people smile at you on the street you run away. And yes, maybe
in some terms Italian men get very excited about American girls, but I’ve never
felt as accosted as by a fraternity brother after one too many rounds on the
ruit table.
There’s nothing like a language barrier to help emphasize
the fact that we are all just in this life together. When you have to struggle to communicate, to act things out
with your hands or even your whole body, when you are able to laugh at yourself
in your foolishness and celebrate with the other person when you both finally
get your point across – it’s one of the greatest feelings of accomplishment.
And nothing unites different people like laughter.
The point is, the more that I interact with different
cultures, and the more that I learn new differences, the more I realize that
there really aren’t any. I think
that living abroad has really given me a gift in helping me realize this. We’re all just people trying to live
from one day to the next, and there’s no room for fear or ignorance.
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