ZAPATOS AT THE DOOR PLEASE
8:19 AM La Americana 0 Comments Category : Culture , Sambal , southeast asia
Nervous about letting
people into my world with the start of this blog in August, my husband, Luis,
told me a wise thing: “Mel, you’re going to learn more about other people
writing this blog than they will about you.”
I didn’t know exactly
what he meant until I started receiving responses from not only friends, but
acquaintances. They have shared their own stories, both funny and touching.
Some are highly personal. Many, especially those who are here from other
countries, have told me they cried. Not my intention, but I am happy something
resonated that deeply.
As a result, old
friendships have been rekindled and new ones have begun.
To that end, last
Saturday night Luis and I packed all three of the kids in the car to go eat
dinner at the home of someone I knew only professionally before the launch of
my blog, though since then we have become friends.
She and her husband are
from Southeast Asia, a place I have never explored.
If I had not been
surrounded by swirling young children I would have read a bit about their part
of the world, their culture, traditions and if there’s anything completely off
limits, just as I would before traveling to a foreign country. But my head
spinning, that didn’t happen and I was going to have to wing it, though I was
confronted with my lack of knowledge when I swung by Fresh Market to pick up a
gift for them. Do they drink wine? Is that in poor taste to take? I know she
likes coffee. Dark chocolate is a natural partner so I took a chance and grabbed
an organic, espresso blend and a good-looking European sweet. Later, at the
suggestion of Luis, did pair a nice red wine from the house and a bowl of black
beans he had just cooked, which I know she enjoys.
Just before taking off to
meet them I got an email:
Thought it's good to let
you know we remove our shoes in the house, and shamelessly ask all our guests
to do the same, so you can come mentally prepared. I promise no other
"special" cultural behavior:))
My first thought, vain as
it may be: thank god I had just gotten a pedicure and bought brand new socks
for the kids that day.
Secondly, I welcomed an
evening of the unexpected and shared the news with my crew, to which my
six-year-old scrunched his face and said in typical dramatic flair, “Whaaaat?”
I explained that people
do different things in different parts of the world. Bringing it to his level,
this keeps dirt and worms and mud out of the house, I said, so you stay
healthy.
“OK, Mommy, but it’s
kinda funny.”
When we arrived, I saw a
row of shoes lined vertically along the wall just outside the front door and
could see a sweet, young face peering at us from the living room window.
The door opened and the
family of four welcomed us in. I grew up in a group of bear huggers and Cubans
are highly affectionate, typically dousing people with kisses upon entering and
leaving a home. I didn’t know what we were supposed to do, but their warmth
shines and I hugged them both, though I only offered a simple 'hi' to two shy,
little ones who hid behind their dad’s legs.
As I turned the corner,
an older woman appeared and was introduced as the grandmother who was visiting
from Asia for a few months.
I felt a slight wave of
panic as I didn’t know how to greet her. Do I hug her, shake hands or simply
nod? Instincts told me it was the latter and so I think I awkwardly just said
hello, though I’m not even sure. When my nerves get the best of me I forget everything.
Moving on and into the
house we were put at ease immediately. In a nice gesture, Cuban music was
playing, charcuterie, salsa and chips were on the table and a bottle of
red wine was already open. Phew! I comfortably handed our gifts off to them.
It was quickly apparent
that we all had more in common than not. We laughed – a lot – touching on the
very topic I wrote about last with loads of stories about language mishaps,
misunderstandings and funny nicknames bestowed on them as they tried to take on
a new culture since their arrival nearly 20 years ago.
The conversation later
moved to Southeast Asia, its languages in the house versus on the street, the
way people bargain at outdoor markets, the complexity of getting visas for
visiting relatives, Green Cards and the tug and pull of whether or not to
become a U.S. citizen. I sat quietly as Luis and our new friends discussed what
that means not only logistically, but emotionally. Everyone born here should be
privy to such a conversation.
All the while the kids
played beautifully, scooting and screaming around the house while we ate
delicious Ecuadorian-inspired seafood stew, a cauliflower dish with turmeric
and cumin and Sambal, a spicy chili pepper-based blend, which was the lone salute
to Southeast Asia at the table. I was proud of our little Marcos for
trying the new plates, even if he defaulted to black beans and rice by the end.
Luis whispered to me at
some point that they’re so much like us, including the grandmother, who reminded us of Luis’ mom. Her energy, her stature, something about her seemed so
familiar. So that would probably explain why at evening’s close I walked into the
kitchen and let reservations go, giving her a big hug and thank you. It’s also
why, I suspect, Luis had not thought twice about gently touching her head while
telling a story about how respectful Cubans are toward 'gray hair.'
It wasn’t until the next
day that I emailed our hostess, thanked her for such a good time and asked if
we had done any irrevocable damage to her mom.
Turns out the hugs were
not the most appropriate, as someone her age typically nods from a healthy
distance. Overall, people in that part of the world are not very touchy-feely, my
friend told me, though it’s not uncommon for younger generations to shake hands today.
I sat at the computer,
hand over mouth, horrified, even though she said her mother was not offended.
But what about the affectionate story telling by Luis?
“LOL!” she wrote. She did
not see that, but wished she had. I cringed, laughed, hoped and prayed, in just
that order, that her mother was able to take it all in stride.
And then she made a good
point:
“I think you’ll find
people behave differently when interacting with another culture, no? Did you
find yourself kissing people a couple of times on the cheek in Europe while not
doing it here in the United States?”
Yes and yes.
And as for the shoes at the
door, I wanted to educate myself, too. Historically, I found, Asian life was
centered around the floor, from sleeping to eating. Today, this is not the
case, but the tradition continues, not only making a case for cleanliness, but for
holiness. To trample through a Buddhist or Hindu temple would be disrespectful,
as feet aren’t holy. Amen to that. We should all take our shoes off.
Beyond that, she told me
that the tradition is so deeply engrained in her family that they
couldn’t manage any other way. They don’t eat or cook near the floor, but it’s common
for them to sit and hang there. As a result, you will see them both physically cringe with
when they see shoes on interior floors, carpets, beds or sofas.
Obviously,
I should have read this before visiting their home.
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