I was trying to decide which European city to send one of my 11th grade Russian students who didn't have a designated place to go. As I alluded to a potential trip to Berlin, he immediately responded with a non-chalant, "I hate Germans."
Yeah, I know.
'Gasp!', you are thinking.
He had no idea how mean his statement was, how politically incorrect it was, how unfair it was, and how it meant that I was actually more inclined to send him to Berlin so he can confront his hatred.
However, he was 16 years old, from a wealthy and supposedly educated family, and was unabashedly stating his racism without any passion. I couldn't shame him into submission, and I couldn't even begin to get him to overcome it without understanding where it came from. But I knew that this was a moment of truth, and that I had in those few seconds of his attention, the most precious opportunity to insert some doubt into his mind. Let just a sliver of light shine through to his dungeon of racism. I did what I could, I reversed the roles, called up the concept of eternity, humankind, the arbitrariness of borders, the cycle of wars, and how they start…
Did I get through to him?
Only time will tell.
Tuesday 10 December 2013
Sunday 27 October 2013
becoming Italian
The other day, hubby told me that I am becoming too Italian.
Yeah, I know. What's that all about!
But to give some context, I was railing about the fact that I have so many colleagues who are presumptuous, demanding, arrogant, selfish, and many mask it under a veneer of do-gooding. I am tired of pretending they all have a point, that all their comments are worthy of a respectful reply, and in general just tired of dealing with the same ol' BS.
And that's when he said it, that I was becoming Italian and my tolerance for their excess individualism and subsequent incessant demands was running low.
I am slightly appalled at this, that my embracing Italian culture must somehow lead to a rejection or disdain of American culture. And by American, I mean my own.
Sigh.
Yeah, I know. What's that all about!
But to give some context, I was railing about the fact that I have so many colleagues who are presumptuous, demanding, arrogant, selfish, and many mask it under a veneer of do-gooding. I am tired of pretending they all have a point, that all their comments are worthy of a respectful reply, and in general just tired of dealing with the same ol' BS.
And that's when he said it, that I was becoming Italian and my tolerance for their excess individualism and subsequent incessant demands was running low.
I am slightly appalled at this, that my embracing Italian culture must somehow lead to a rejection or disdain of American culture. And by American, I mean my own.
Sigh.
Wednesday 31 October 2012
inferiority complex
Is what I think many Italians have with regard to North American culture.
It's kinda tragic actually.
Not to say that there aren't a billion and two things that are backward in this bureaucratic, slow, near-stagnant country, but to go and idealize all that is American, and disdain all that is Italian... That's just crazy-speak.
The most recent example, yesterday, talking about Halloween vs. Carnevale. Yesterday, as I was (kinda) complaining that there's no trick-or-treating in Italy, not in any way implying that the country is inferior, just simply that it's a fun thing for kids, that I loved it as a kid, and that I took Seb and Lucas to my work to the faculty kids' Halloween party in order to give them this part of my culture that I loved.
And I was shocked to hear them start dissing Carnevale saying it's a backward holiday, Medieval, that Italy is behind.
Yeah. Crazy, huh?
I know.
They are two sides of a similar currency - the coin being a very old religious festival that is made fun for children.
Why in goodness' name would Halloween and trick-or-treating, a priori, be more advanced than Carnevale?
It's kinda tragic actually.
Not to say that there aren't a billion and two things that are backward in this bureaucratic, slow, near-stagnant country, but to go and idealize all that is American, and disdain all that is Italian... That's just crazy-speak.
The most recent example, yesterday, talking about Halloween vs. Carnevale. Yesterday, as I was (kinda) complaining that there's no trick-or-treating in Italy, not in any way implying that the country is inferior, just simply that it's a fun thing for kids, that I loved it as a kid, and that I took Seb and Lucas to my work to the faculty kids' Halloween party in order to give them this part of my culture that I loved.
And I was shocked to hear them start dissing Carnevale saying it's a backward holiday, Medieval, that Italy is behind.
Yeah. Crazy, huh?
I know.
They are two sides of a similar currency - the coin being a very old religious festival that is made fun for children.
Why in goodness' name would Halloween and trick-or-treating, a priori, be more advanced than Carnevale?
Saturday 25 February 2012
unspoken social rules
I was talking to a colleague yesterday about her fascination and experience with Japanese culture. She studied the language in high school, subsequently did a semester abroad in Japan, then lived there for four years teaching English. She can read and write Japanese (no small task!), and understand Japanese movies, etc. Although she loved the culture, language, and her experience there, she said she is no longer as enchanted as she used to be. It's hard to live there, to integrate, to make friends. She mentioned that there were too many unspoken social rules.
True, Japanese culture has many rules that seem foreign to us Westerners, and the fact that they are cultural as opposed to official, linguistic, etc., probably make them seem less comprehensible. But I can definitely attest to the fact that every culture I've come into contact with for an extended period of time has its own set of unspoken rules by which to judge everyone, locals and foreigners alike. Most recently, in my 8 years in Italy, I have noticed a distinct difference in my interactions with Italians. Or rather, it might be better to say that I can now interact with Italians without feeling rebuffed, judged, looked at weirdly, or hurt. And I doubt it's because I've become more confident, but more because I've changed my expectations of them and our interactions. I no longer approach them with a Canadian attitude.
I will never forget a conversation I had with an Italian-Canadian-American colleague who was among the most mature and "in gamba" people I'd ever met, let alone for someone only 25 years old. She said that she had very different relationships with her Italian friends than with her American frieds. That Italians shirked deep conversations, that they bonded over time and the sharing of mundane experiences, that to show you liked someone, it was best to indulge them with your superficial ruminations in a friendly way. She deeply loved the friends she grew up with, but that her conversations were always a little vapid, and that that was okay. They still knew how to have a good time.
Now there is one thing I am terrible at, and that is chit chat, small talk, conversations void of any depth, or discussions about the weather. I get tongue-tied, stutter, react slowly, and can't follow the humor. I never know how to reply. BUT, funny thing, is that I am getting better at having these conversations with ITALIANS! Yes, I am starting to cultivate the perfect comeback for most comments about the rain, the humidity, how early it is, the state of the roads, how sick people are or not, the length of the season, the prices of fruits and vegetables, the latest terrible car accident or flood, blablabla.
Don't get me wrong: I do NOT have any close Italian friends, but for once, I have many Italian women in my cell phone contact list, I have the occasional play-date, the mothers at the pre-school are (genuinely) friendly with me, the teachers too. I consider myself an amateur now of the subtle unspoken rules of Italian culture. It's taken only 8 years. Maybe by the time I retire, I will join the packs of little old Italian ladies waiting for the supermarket to open, dismaying at how wayward today's youth are and how much more expensive the cantaloup is compared to when I was young!
True, Japanese culture has many rules that seem foreign to us Westerners, and the fact that they are cultural as opposed to official, linguistic, etc., probably make them seem less comprehensible. But I can definitely attest to the fact that every culture I've come into contact with for an extended period of time has its own set of unspoken rules by which to judge everyone, locals and foreigners alike. Most recently, in my 8 years in Italy, I have noticed a distinct difference in my interactions with Italians. Or rather, it might be better to say that I can now interact with Italians without feeling rebuffed, judged, looked at weirdly, or hurt. And I doubt it's because I've become more confident, but more because I've changed my expectations of them and our interactions. I no longer approach them with a Canadian attitude.
I will never forget a conversation I had with an Italian-Canadian-American colleague who was among the most mature and "in gamba" people I'd ever met, let alone for someone only 25 years old. She said that she had very different relationships with her Italian friends than with her American frieds. That Italians shirked deep conversations, that they bonded over time and the sharing of mundane experiences, that to show you liked someone, it was best to indulge them with your superficial ruminations in a friendly way. She deeply loved the friends she grew up with, but that her conversations were always a little vapid, and that that was okay. They still knew how to have a good time.
Now there is one thing I am terrible at, and that is chit chat, small talk, conversations void of any depth, or discussions about the weather. I get tongue-tied, stutter, react slowly, and can't follow the humor. I never know how to reply. BUT, funny thing, is that I am getting better at having these conversations with ITALIANS! Yes, I am starting to cultivate the perfect comeback for most comments about the rain, the humidity, how early it is, the state of the roads, how sick people are or not, the length of the season, the prices of fruits and vegetables, the latest terrible car accident or flood, blablabla.
Don't get me wrong: I do NOT have any close Italian friends, but for once, I have many Italian women in my cell phone contact list, I have the occasional play-date, the mothers at the pre-school are (genuinely) friendly with me, the teachers too. I consider myself an amateur now of the subtle unspoken rules of Italian culture. It's taken only 8 years. Maybe by the time I retire, I will join the packs of little old Italian ladies waiting for the supermarket to open, dismaying at how wayward today's youth are and how much more expensive the cantaloup is compared to when I was young!
Thursday 23 February 2012
capital of Canada
A good American friend who is smart, has a master's degree, is well-travelled, from Boston, 35 years old, has studied two foreign languages, today at the lunch table had no clue what the capital of Canada is.
WTF?!??!?!
Every other American at the table, except for one, could not answer either.
WTF?!?!?!?!?
I don't presume to think that people the world over should know our obscure capital, but a well-educated American who lives just across the border???? COME ON PEOPLE!!!
WTF?!??!?!
Every other American at the table, except for one, could not answer either.
WTF?!?!?!?!?
I don't presume to think that people the world over should know our obscure capital, but a well-educated American who lives just across the border???? COME ON PEOPLE!!!
tax talk
Do expats have to pay tax on income earned abroad?
Million-dollar question indeed.
In the US, apparently yes, you have to file your taxes no matter what. The first 90,000 earned abroad are tax-free, but you have to file no matter what. American colleagues at dinner today were debating on how NOT to pay, blablabla. I know that in Canada I have to pay tax on income earned abroad. And I am terrified about being audited and told I owe a bunch of money in arrears.
I mean I currently pay around 10% tax in Switzerland, and in Canada, it is something like 45%. If I have to pay 35% of my income for the past 4 or 5 years, I am S*C*R*E*W*E*D. All I can hope for is that what a Canadian nurse who works here is true: the first 75,000 are tax-free.
What is crazy, is that I have not been able to find an accountant or tax lawyer in Montreal who can tell me what to do.
AHHH!
Million-dollar question indeed.
In the US, apparently yes, you have to file your taxes no matter what. The first 90,000 earned abroad are tax-free, but you have to file no matter what. American colleagues at dinner today were debating on how NOT to pay, blablabla. I know that in Canada I have to pay tax on income earned abroad. And I am terrified about being audited and told I owe a bunch of money in arrears.
I mean I currently pay around 10% tax in Switzerland, and in Canada, it is something like 45%. If I have to pay 35% of my income for the past 4 or 5 years, I am S*C*R*E*W*E*D. All I can hope for is that what a Canadian nurse who works here is true: the first 75,000 are tax-free.
What is crazy, is that I have not been able to find an accountant or tax lawyer in Montreal who can tell me what to do.
AHHH!
Wednesday 25 January 2012
Woes and joys of being an expat
My life is one big expat story. I was raised in the English community of a French-speaking province, by a single, Peruvian, Spanish-speaking mother. But my father is Anglo-saxon Canadian from an old-school English family, and who is a die-hard francophile whose new life is completely Francophone (his children, his job, his neighborhood, his friends, etc.).
Never felt really Canadian, because no matter how patriotic I could ever be, I am from Québec. (i.e., that special, special, special place in Canada, that when discussed, must always lead to some kind of disclaimer or post-script).
Never felt really Québecois, because I studied at private English schools and grew up living in English neighborhoods (i.e., even after I became bilingual, my accent wasn't right, my CV was too snooty, my choice of current neighborhood, my general optimism and goodwill, made me the spoiled, rich little Anglo who had it easy, etc.).
Never felt really Anglo, because I grew up in a South American home (i.e., Christmas was celebrated on the 24th, we danced at parties, we HAD parties, old-fashioned ideas about male/female roles/relationships, we went to Peru for every Christmas or Spring Break, etc.).
Never felt really South American, because inevitably, I had Canadian values and habits (i.e., I was punctual, sincere, honest, took people at their word, hated make-up, found soft drugs harmless and pre-marital sex a pre-requisite to any long-lasting relationship, etc.).
For years, my search for a sense of belonging/community/identity was closely tied to my self-esteem, even though I was mostly unaware of this deep need. I hated the feeling of always having to explain myself. Not know where a particular expression I used came from (is it an American thing? a Canadian thing? a Québec thing? an ignorance thing?). Not being able to keep up with pop culture in any country or language. Of having to explain myself, my name, my linguistic ability, or not. Nowadays, people still think I was lucky.
To make things worse, now I am an expat. I married an Italian (who, btw, is blond, doesn't like soccer, is not attached to his mother, who cooks, cleans, and is generally a kind, sensitive, generous man).
Yup. I live in northern Italy. But I work in Italian Switzerland. At an American School. But I don't teach.
Yup. So I am starting a blog. The craziness that is my life and what goes through my head has to go somewhere, right? I am the living antithesis of a stereotype.
Enjoy!
Never felt really Canadian, because no matter how patriotic I could ever be, I am from Québec. (i.e., that special, special, special place in Canada, that when discussed, must always lead to some kind of disclaimer or post-script).
Never felt really Québecois, because I studied at private English schools and grew up living in English neighborhoods (i.e., even after I became bilingual, my accent wasn't right, my CV was too snooty, my choice of current neighborhood, my general optimism and goodwill, made me the spoiled, rich little Anglo who had it easy, etc.).
Never felt really Anglo, because I grew up in a South American home (i.e., Christmas was celebrated on the 24th, we danced at parties, we HAD parties, old-fashioned ideas about male/female roles/relationships, we went to Peru for every Christmas or Spring Break, etc.).
Never felt really South American, because inevitably, I had Canadian values and habits (i.e., I was punctual, sincere, honest, took people at their word, hated make-up, found soft drugs harmless and pre-marital sex a pre-requisite to any long-lasting relationship, etc.).
For years, my search for a sense of belonging/community/identity was closely tied to my self-esteem, even though I was mostly unaware of this deep need. I hated the feeling of always having to explain myself. Not know where a particular expression I used came from (is it an American thing? a Canadian thing? a Québec thing? an ignorance thing?). Not being able to keep up with pop culture in any country or language. Of having to explain myself, my name, my linguistic ability, or not. Nowadays, people still think I was lucky.
To make things worse, now I am an expat. I married an Italian (who, btw, is blond, doesn't like soccer, is not attached to his mother, who cooks, cleans, and is generally a kind, sensitive, generous man).
Yup. I live in northern Italy. But I work in Italian Switzerland. At an American School. But I don't teach.
Yup. So I am starting a blog. The craziness that is my life and what goes through my head has to go somewhere, right? I am the living antithesis of a stereotype.
Enjoy!
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