Ignorants Abroad

Years ago, I was a student in Jerusalem and was practicing the organ in the balcony at a local Christian church.

It was winter and we were approaching the Christmas season.

As I was playing, a gentleman came in and walked up and down the aisle. I stopped my playing and greeted him. Turns out he was a visiting pastor (denomination will reamain unnamed) from Texas in the USA.

During the course of our  brief conversation, he looked up at me and said,

Say, little lady, perhaps you know where I can get some shepherds clothes. Do you?

"Excuse me?", I said.

"Shepherd's clothes. I'm lookin' fer some shepherd's clothes. You know — the kind that JEE-sus wore…"

Trying not to laugh, I looked down at him and said.

"Well, sir. Shepherds in these parts haven't worn those types of garments for many, many years. Most shepherds today wear blue jeans and plaid flannel shirts in the winter."

"Well," he said, "Ah need some shepherd's clothes so that Ah can use them when preachin' to my congregation."

I politely suggested that, since he was on a typical tour and was heading to Egypt after the Holy Land, he might look in some of the Cairo local markets for a galibyeh.

He left rather disappointed that he didn't get a lead on "shepherd's clothes". I was disappointed that he seemed not to understand that biblical clothes are not available in local Holy Land shopping streets.

He had a lot to learn. And I laughed to myself thinking of him in "shepherd's clothes" as he gave a sermon.

Image via Wikipedia

I used to work in undergrad admissions at an Ivy League University and did some international admissions as part of my job. Budgets being what they were in those days, I didn't travel overseas to recruit, but I did travel to Canada to visit schools, recruit students and meet with alumni.

My first time to Montreal had me flying into the city one evening after dark. I neglected to brush up on my rusty French before going, arrogantly assuming I'd be able to cope just fine. I rented a car at the airport, got some directions from the nice young woman at the counter, and set off.

If any of you have ever driven into Montreal from the airport, you will know how confusing the roads can be under the best of circumstances. As I came up to my first spaghetti junction, it suddenly dawned on me that ALL THE SIGNS WERE IN FRENCH — AND I HAD NO MAP.

Uh-oh.

Still, I had my trusty directions, so off I shot in what I was sure was the right direction. I seemed to be driving for some time and started to wonder where the city was. Then I happened to look out the window towards my left and saw what sure looked like the lights of a major city some distance away, and NOT in the direction I was heading. Hmmmm. Still, I was following my directions, wasn't I?

Then I saw the sign:

PONT AUX ETATS-UNIS

My French may have been rusty, but I could read that — and sure enough, I had driven all the way south to the border with Vermont! I came into the big toll plaza for the bridge — nowhere to turn around — went up to a toll booth and told the nice man how stupid I had been, and couldn't I just turn around?

"Malhereusement, mademoiselle" he said sadly, shaking his head (whether in sympathy or complete disbelief at the stupidity of this particular American, I couldn't tell). "You must pay the toll and go across to Vermont. There you may turn around and come back into Quebec!"

Good thing I still had my passport ready!

Neiel Payne has written an interesting article for SideRoad.com titled "Dining Etiquette: An Overview of Cross Cultural Dining Ettiquette".

In it he covers some basic dining etiquette for countries such as Germany, Japan, Turkey, USA and the general Middle East.

Do you know how to act at the dining table?

I was returning to the USA from a business trip in the United Kingdom. I boarded my flight at London's Gatwick airport and found my seat.

I discovered that I was completely surrounded by a group of college students (from an institution/program that will remain unnamed) who were obviously returning home from a study abroad experience in England.

I turned to the two young ladies seated next to me and asked them how they had enjoyed their time in Britain.

The first young lady immediately answered,

"Oh, we didn't have the time to go to Britain on this trip."

The other young lady promptly nudged her and whispered in her ear — undoubtedly letting her know that England is usually considered a part of Britain.

The first young lady started to stammer a clarification. Of what, I'm not sure.

At that point, I put my earphones on for the rest of the flight.

I had just landed in France on a flight from the U.S. and, as usual, headed straight for a currency exchange office before heading into Paris.

Ahead of me in line were three women — one grandmother, one mother and a young daughter. When they got to the window, I heard them briefly debate whether to exchange any dollars for Euros.

The mother said,

"Oh, I'm sure the stores in Paris will take dollars."

I quickly interrupted their conversation and assured her while that Parisian retailerswould probably happily honor her credit cards, it was unlikely that they would accept American dollars and she'd better change money now to be prepared for expenses over the next few days.

She was surprised, but thankful.

The irony was that, after the exchange, I looked down at their luggage — and one of them was clearly labeled "CREW".  Made me wonder where the heck that crew member had traveled…

Image by routemaster_fan via Flickr

Two young men went out for a night of drinking on the south side of the Thames. Walking home, they decided to swim across the river, rather than use one of the many bridges built to help people get across the Thames while remaining dry and clothed.

They stripped down to undies and left all of their belongings (cell phones, wallets, etc) with their clothes on the bridge. A police patrol boat came along and fished them out, taking them back to their clothes.

When they got there, a nice homeless man was guarding their belongings. They were so grateful that they offered to bring the homeless man back to their flat for a bath, meal and a nice place to sleep.

The police, who didn't arrest them for swimming in the Thames or indecent exposure, warned them that it wasn't a good idea to bring the homeless man home with them. But they wanted to say thank you and brought him back anyway.

They enjoyed a lovely evening, eating, talking, laughing. The homeless man was very interesting and educated. They all turned in, the homeless guy sleeping on the couch.

When the two boys awoke hungover late the next day, they discovered their entire apartment had been stripped, not to mention their cell phones and wallets.

Of course, this could've ended even worse, but luckily the boys were not physically harmed.

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I was on my first trip abroad and was visiting a kibbutz in Israel. As we sat down for the evening meal, I began a pleasant converstion with the woman next to me. She had an accent from the British Isles — or so I thought. So I cordially asked her

"Where are you from in England?"

She looked at me firmly and said,

"I'm from Scotland, not England."

I was truly embarassed as I immediately understood that Scots are not to be confused with the English. I've never made that mistake again. These days, I simply ask

"Where are you from in the Commonwealth?"

which seems to cover just about any necessary countries and accents that have a relationship to the Brits.

Our program in Paris offers as one of its many "perks", something marketed under "Personalized Airport Pick Ups". In fact, these are stalwart interns who go to the airport on an appointed day and wave a poster in front of Customs/Immigration, then trundle the students into a shuttle bus and bring them to the doorstep of their appointed lodgings.

Several of our students elect to "live on their own in an apartment". I always advise anyone who asks to do that if they understand that these apartments are reserved for students having previous experience in living alone and maintaining the property. (But hardly anyone ever asks…..). Anyway, in today's mail, I found a copy of correspondence with a worried mother.

"Will you provide a pick up in central Paris, rather than an Airport Pick Up?"

The program writes back:

"Not really, we have 90+ students arriving on the same day in the same airport. Is she intending to arrive by train from another European city?"

"No, we are taking her over two weeks ahead of time to become acquainted with Paris, and our hotel is rather far from your office there. I don't feel comfortable with her taking a taxi on her own in a strange city."

This was an actual letter received:

To the Grade Apeal Comitee,

My name is Jane Doe, and I participated in the Study Abroad program in Italy. I would like to inform you that I was extremelly surprised by my grade in Level 3 Italian language, B, and I would like that you guys reevaluated my grade. First, During the whole program, I was within the top students in the class, being the one of the best in communication skills as well as in grammar. My grades were also the highest in the class, and in Level 4 I had the A that I was expecting and with a high A avarage, which shows that I did well. I was extremely disapointed twice with [local school name], because this is the second mistake they have commited with my grades. When I was still in Italy, they didn't place me in the level I should be in, along with another student, who was also an excellent student. My professors in Level 3 was Nxxx if you need any information about my preformance in the class.

Sincerally,

Jane Doe

We simply can't make up stuff like this. 'Nuf said.

Image via Wikipedia

Does anyone else want to scream every time you read study abroad essays? Good grief. There's not an original bone in most of these student's bodies.

I had one student come to my office to get input on his essay before submitting it with his application for a study abroad scholarship.

It was the same generic crap you read every day.

So I say,

"Anybody could have written this. What can you say about your desire to study abroad that will stand out a bit? Why is study abroad so important to you?"

He looked at me, looked back at the essay, looked at me, looked back at the essay…this went on for some time.

Then he says,

"Whaddya mean?"

Image via Wikipedia

I used to work in undergrad admissions at an Ivy League University and did some international admissions as part of my job. Budgets being what they were in those days, I didn't travel overseas to recruit, but I did travel to Canada to visit schools, recruit students and meet with alumni.

My first time to Montreal had me flying into the city one evening after dark. I neglected to brush up on my rusty French before going, arrogantly assuming I'd be able to cope just fine. I rented a car at the airport, got some directions from the nice young woman at the counter, and set off.

If any of you have ever driven into Montreal from the airport, you will know how confusing the roads can be under the best of circumstances. As I came up to my first spaghetti junction, it suddenly dawned on me that ALL THE SIGNS WERE IN FRENCH — AND I HAD NO MAP.

Uh-oh.

Still, I had my trusty directions, so off I shot in what I was sure was the right direction. I seemed to be driving for some time and started to wonder where the city was. Then I happened to look out the window towards my left and saw what sure looked like the lights of a major city some distance away, and NOT in the direction I was heading. Hmmmm. Still, I was following my directions, wasn't I?

Then I saw the sign:

PONT AUX ETATS-UNIS

My French may have been rusty, but I could read that — and sure enough, I had driven all the way south to the border with Vermont! I came into the big toll plaza for the bridge — nowhere to turn around — went up to a toll booth and told the nice man how stupid I had been, and couldn't I just turn around?

"Malhereusement, mademoiselle" he said sadly, shaking his head (whether in sympathy or complete disbelief at the stupidity of this particular American, I couldn't tell). "You must pay the toll and go across to Vermont. There you may turn around and come back into Quebec!"

Good thing I still had my passport ready!