Overheard in...: A Party at the Institut Francais

The "Overheard In..." category for the blog recalls snippets of conversation I happened to stumble across that for some reason stand out as indicative of cultural differences, or cultural issues I'm trying to understand. (And all subtly prove that reality is stranger than fiction.)

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The Setting: A party following an Arab film festival at the Institut Francais in Kensington, London. Tons of Arabic fusion music playing, lots of people dancing (lots of women doing belly-dancing style stuff), no one taking themselves all too seriously. About 80 percent of the crowd were of middle-eastern origin. One of the coolest parties I've been to since moving to London. This conversation happened while I and some friends went to the balcony (where the smokers were) to get some fresh air. Or some smoky air, as it were.

The Characters (2): (1)A woman in her late twenties/early thirties, brown hair with blonde (bottle) highlights, curvy, wearing a long skirt and a top with Indian beadwork on it. She is smoking a cigarette. (2) Me.

The Scene:

Me: Did you get to see Persepolis? (This was the film before the party that I was dying to see, having adored the comics, but the film had been sold out.)

Her: Yes. It was great. I had bought the books years ago but never read them. (I notice she has a North American accent)

Me: Oh, they're such an easy read. You can read them in like half an hour, and they're great. Definitely read them.

Her: Are you American?

Me: Yes. You? (It's always a strange thing when someone asks you if you're American here. The question does not usually come across as a positive one. Usually feels a bit mixed, just in terms of gut level perception when the question comes at you.)

Her: Well, no, I'm Canadian but originally from Iran and Syria. But I lived in DC for a little while and did some graduate work there. My husband's American.

(Some small talk.)

Her: So who did you vote for in the primaries?

Me: Interesting you should ask. (I don't particularly want to answer her question.) You know the thing is, I'm actually excited about all three of the candidates that are left in the running.

Her: Really? How could you not support Obama?

Me: What do you mean?

Her: He's the one guy who takes a stand. He refuses to accept money from lobbyists. And he was against the Iraq war.

Me: Yes, but that was before he was in national office, so I suppose you have to take that with a bit of a grain of salt.

Her: No, it wasn't.

Me: I think it was.

Her: I'm positive. Besides, you know how they had the democrats abroad global primary-- and about 66 percent of the vote was for Obama. That's because Americans living abroad know how much America is hated these days. Think about it. If the US had a president with the name Barack Hussein Obama, they would love you guys in the third world again.

Me: Do you think that's why?

Her: Definitely. You know, I was living in DC at the time of 9/11. I don't know if many people know this but the defense department put out leaflets asking for creative ideas for how to deal with what had happened. I thought that was amazing. The basic thinking was-- it was career people with a certain kind of thinking who had made the policies thus far, so maybe some out of the box thinking would help. Out of the box thinking from the community, people outside the system. I thought that was amazing.

Me: You're right, I never did hear that.

Her: That's why you need someone like Obama, someone out of the box like that. I mean, my friends tell me I shouldn't interfere, it's not my country. But you have to know this. You have to know what this will mean for you guys.

Me: No, it's good, it's fine, I like hearing people's opinions on this kind of stuff.

Her: Well, I'm going to go inside and dance. Good luck with your decision.

Me: Yeah, nice to meet you. (She goes inside.)

Overheard in...: The Supermarket

The "Overheard In..." category for the blog recalls snippets of conversation I happened to stumble across that for some reason stand out as indicative of cultural differences, or cultural issues I'm trying to understand. (And all subtly prove that reality is stranger than fiction.)

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I found myself today in the same supermarket near my house where they'd given me a free low-energy lightbulb at checkout-- several months ago now, probably. I wrote about this topic in my last post. This blog entry probably only makes sense if you read the last one, as the conversation is about that giveaway.

The Setting: Waitrose supermarket, an upscale supermarket near where I live. Tea and coffee aisle.

The Characters: Two young women in their mid-twenties. One Australian, one North American. Very pretty girls-- one wearing fancy tight jeans with embroidered pockets, with blond hair, the other wearing boots and a short skirt and designer glasses.

The Scene:
Australian girl: Have you used your lightbulb yet?

North American girl: No. (beat) Have you?

Australian girl: No. Well, I haven't needed to, really.

North American girl: Yeah, me too. I suppose I'll eventually need a lightbulb in the bathroom, so maybe I'll use it there.

Australian girl: (nodding). Yeah.

North American girl: Oh, remind me I need to buy toilet paper.

Australian girl: Sure. Do you think you should replace the bulb, even if it's not burned out? I mean to save energy and all. (pause) I mean, would you waste the old lightbulb which is still perfectly good?

North American girl: (Shrugs.) Dunno, really. I think you do what you want with these things.

Australian: Yeah. Okay. (pauses, as if thinking through... I of course, watching, impute my own feelings of guilty conscience on her, which are probably not there, or at least I'll never know.)

(silence-- somewhat long-- at least a few seconds.).

North American girl: So do you think they'll like it if we make quiche?

(They turn the corner and I lose the conversation. I make a mental note to self: it's not only me thinking through all this stuff, not knowing quite how to handle it. Thank goodness.)

Polish Jokes, Lightbulbs, and Planet Earth

I have to admit that, like many people, it was only recently that I woke up to the importance of global warming.

Before that, environmentalism was always someone else's issue. Something I was sympathetic towards, but in a vague kind of way. I recycled, poorly. I argued with my parents about their recycling habits (because, hey, what good is having parents if you can't act like a self-righteous teenager with them, even when you're a full-fledged adult?). But that was about the extent of it. I figured that there were good people who already cared about saving the environment. And I thought I should let them do that while I focused on my own issues-- human rights, democracy, that kind of stuff.

Like many people, I woke up one day about a year and a half ago, following a hurricane and a brilliant documentary, and found that somehow, suddenly, everyone seemed to finally admit that global warming was a real problem. My mom had suddenly bought a Prius. Because, she told me, it was the right thing to do. (The right thing to do!) Green websites were sprouting up like, um... weeds. Like everyone else, I too started to really pay attention.

But I realize now that my awakening of a year and a half ago was only half-baked. Because-- and here's the zinger-- I didn't change my behavior. Not a bit. Okay, maybe I spent more time talking with others about the issue. But I didn't even take the time to recycle more carefully than I had been doing before.

When I moved to London last year, I suddenly found myself surrounded by an incredibly environmentally aware group of people. Partly it was just the network I was dealing with. These were professionals and activists who focused on international poverty issues-- and as they were already tremendously conscientious about global issues, they were likely to be far more sympathetic to those related to the environment as well.

But it wasn't completely selection bias. While America has older and more developed environmental NGO networks, there are ways that environmentalism has worked its way into everyday life here that it hadn't in the US (at least by the time I'd left). For example, I went into a large supermarket chain to get my groceries a few months back. When I checked out, I noticed that in addition to giving me a "bag-for-life" (a very thick bag I could reuse indefinitely), they also threw an energy-saver lifebulb in my sack.

"That's not mine," I said to the check-out guy, confused. "It's a freebie," he replied. A promotion, obviously, but this stuff is in your face here in a way I'd not encountered before.


Or in the office of the non-profit where I worked downtown, there were constant reminders to be aware. The lightswitches for example.


Or the garbage area, which even had composting, despite some logistical challenges in that regard (and everyone in the building knew to take out the orange peels from the compost because they did something bad to its chemical make-up.).

Or the tub for "washing-up" with reminders on a sign above about saving water by washing things in batches rather than under a running faucet. (The tub is ubiquitous, it seems, in British households.).

Mind you, I've also been chided quite a few times, gently and not so gently, for my behavior. I stayed with a wonderfully generous (and very environmentally conscientious) woman my first few weeks here. One day, when coming back from dumping our recycling in the bin for the apartment complex, she came back with a furrowed brow on her face. "Paula," she said (and I could tell she was searching for the right words), "You haven't really gotten the hang of recycling yet, have you?" And she proceeded to explain that if I didn't wash my yogurt pots before putting them in the recycling, the food residue would basically contaminate the whole lot.

Other friends have had long arguments with me about my flying habits (which are mostly for work, but still pretty heavy).

And the thing is, I'm ashamed to say, even after all of this bombardment, my behavior still hasn't changed as much as it probably should have. I suppose I turn off power switches more often than I used to. I do wash the yogurt pots now before I put them in the recycling bin. (Ahem. Usually.). I have cloth bags for when I go to the grocery store, but honestly, I forget them far more times than I'd like to admit. I didn't have a car to begin with... but much more importantly (and definitely most confusing-- I'm going to dedicate a whole blog entry later to this issue), I haven't stopped flying.

Partly it's my frustration at what seems to be an overemphasis on individual solutions-- and our lack of willingness to tackle the bigger political questions at stake with climate change. But let's face it. That's not an excuse for my own laziness.

So where do Polish jokes fit in to this?

Growing up, my brother and I used to tell each other a whole series of them, which inevitably began with a line like, "How many Poles does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" They were never actually funny, but we amused ourselves with the thought that they should be funny, maybe, to someone, somewhere. And they were terribly politically incorrect, and in poor taste, but since we are technically mostly of Polish descent, we thought we had a free ticket to tell them.

Recently, though, I've been thinking we should invent a line of jokes along the same lines about human behavior more generally, and how ridiculously difficult it is to get people to change, even when they know it's the right thing to do. Particularly when they know it's the right thing to do.

Because the immediate impetus for my writing this post is a simple, depressing fact. I'm here, sitting at my desk, and that free energy saver lightbulb they gave me at the grocery store, over a month ago, is sitting right beside me, next to my laptop. Still in its box. Not screwed in.

How many (people of Polish descent, like me!) does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

How many times do people have to learn about an issue before they actually take action?

I don't know the punchline, but I'd venture it goes something like: A hell of a lot. An awful, painful, crazy, ridiculous hell of a lot.


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Postscript: After writing the post, I did, finally, screw in the lightbulb. It took about 2.5 seconds in total.

Proof Positive of Global Warming

This I received in a chain email from my colleagues in Hartlepool, where I stayed last night. (Apologies for my silence over the past week-- have been up around the NE of England doing tons of archival work and interviews for my research. So a quick post and much more substantive stuff coming...)

Overheard in...: A Train

The "Overheard In..." category for the blog recalls snippets of conversation I happened to stumble across that for some reason stand out as indicative of cultural differences, or cultural issues I'm trying to understand. (And all subtly prove that reality is stranger than fiction.)

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The Setting: Early Saturday evening, on a fairly crowded train from Brighton to London.

The Characters (4): A crowd of friends-- British, late twenties/early thirties, dressed up to to go out in London for the evening. Two males and one female. (Didn’t get the best look at them as they were behind me, but all fairly attractive, professional looking types). And then me. We’re all passing time on the train.

The Scene:

(I picked this up in mid-conversation.)

Guy 1: ...So there she was in the computer store and she had a short skirt on and underneath this sort of …con*trap*-tion… so that she could tie up the laptop under her skirt.

Girl: Really?

Guy 1: Yes, indeed. But luckily the guards caught her before she got out and managed to stop her.

Guy 2: Can you imagine? She must have had to have put the laptop under lengthwise… because if it were width-wise…

Guy 1: Right. What would the guard say? “Um, is that a laptop under there or are you just happy to see me?”

(Briefest pause, then firing back and forth in quick succession.)

Guy 2: Right. Or better yet, if the computer were Siemens… “Excuse me, but have you got Siemens there between your legs?”

(all laughing.)

Guy 3: No, no, no. The best is, “What the Dell is going on down there?" (laughing, then repeats it.) “What the Dell is going on down there?” That’s what the headline would have been if The Sun had gotten hold of the story—and that would have been just brilliant!

(more chuckling and the conversation dies down into other subjects I can’t hear. I'm on the other side of the train, smiling, and wondering how on earth people come up with stuff like that...)