My sister-in-law Rebecca called me the other day. She said, "I read your post about your upcoming trip to France, and I just have to ask, did you book your trip through a British company?" I answered that yes, as a matter of fact, we did. "I thought so," she said. What a strange question. But it turns out that having lived in England for a few years now, all the cautions, warnings, and exhortations to have the proper equipment resonated with her experience of living with the British.
I've lived overseas, Japan to be exact, and dealt with culture shock. I went on tennis trips or skiing trips with Japanese friends and watched them go out and buy brand-new, top-of-the-line equipment and clothes for the outing. Never mind that they have never skied before, and probably never will again. It's a matter of appearance and pride. We went bowling, and everyone brought their own bowling shoes. Although, frankly, I can get on board with that one. I don't care how much disinfectant they spray in rented bowling shoes, the thought of all those feet sharing the same shoes kind of squicks me out. But tennis and skiing? Those are expensive sports, yet everyone would show up looking snazzy, while I arrived in my fraying t-shirt and taped up tennis racket. I expected cultural differences, however, when comparing the American lifestyle to an Asian one.
I didn't even consider that there might be some cultural differences that were embedded in our trip instructions. They were written in English weren't they, with an occasional extra colourful "u"? And not technical electronic instructions English, just plain, understandable English. I simply assumed if they said beware of snakes and bring your walking poles that we were in for some serious encounters with wildlife and steep slopes.
Rebecca encouraged me to rethink this assumption. Example number one: From time to time Rebecca likes to visit Scotland, a four-hour drive from where she lives. And yet whenever she makes plans to go, her friends ask her where she's staying along the way and are horrified when she says she plans to make the drive in one day. I know I married into a family who thinks nothing of taking a "weekend trip" to Yellowstone (16 hours one way), and David's uncle used to bring a pee bottle on long family car trips so he wouldn't have to stop every six hours for a restroom break, but even I have to shake my head at the assumption that a four-hour drive to Scotland requires an overnight stay halfway there. Heck, I know people that make the three-hour commute to San Francisco every day for work.
Example number two: Rebecca joined an outdoor club so she could do outdoorsy things. The club was planning on taking a kayak trip and told her she needed to take a four-week certification course so she could go. Having been an avid kayaker when she lived in L.A., she told them she didn't need to take the course. They weren't comfortable with that assertion and didn't want to give her the kayak because she didn't have the safety certification in hand. I believe some words along the lines of, "If I can kayak in the ocean, I can certainly kayak in this lazy river. Now hand over the damn kayak," were uttered. And once again, people were left shaking their heads at the irresponsibility of Americans.
Example number three: It is not uncommon for Rebecca to see people strolling around her town, walking poles in hand with nary a hill in sight. In fact, she was following such a person at the very moment she was talking to me on the phone.
This overly cautious, extremely safety-oriented approach is a far cry from the intrepid can-do spirit that infuses most Americans. Far from needing an overnight stay to break up a four-hour trip, pioneers were making the trek across our continent with nothing but a covered wagon and some oxen. If the going got tough, they jettisoned whatever wasn't needed, whether it was furniture or Aunt Mildred. They made do with what they had, and if food got scarce, oh, well, Uncle Donner was looking a little sickly, wasn't he?
So while I'm glad I've been walking often to get ready for this trip, I'm not quite as anxious as before. I'll bring the sunscreen, but leave the crampons and pitons. I'll bring the sturdy walking shoes, but leave the walking poles. And I'll seriously revise down the estimated walking time. I come from hardy immigrant stock. What's a little walk through the mountains?
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