The integration challenge

We all know there's some animosity in America toward immigrants, in some cases even toward legal ones. Some of that negativity, it seems, stems from some immigrants' resistance to culturally integrate. It's not uncommon for them to gather in pockets and seek out the familiar - Latin music, German food, Asian markets, etc. Some Americans are bothered by that; some aren't.

Here's where I admit that, at times, I'm just like those immigrants when I'm overseas.

Sometimes, there's nothing worse than being the minority. In Costa Rica, I hated being the only white person on the bus or the only foreigner in the supermarket. Locals often assumed I couldn't speak Spanish (I can). The constant cat calls (a Hispanic cultural quirk that I just can't get used to) drove me crazy. So when I was feeling especially alien-like, I sought the familiar. Speaking English was strangely comforting. Eating the closest thing to American food made me feel closer to home. Country music soothed my unease.

Being a two-week tourist doesn't count. A foreigner's discomfort lies in the daily grind of public transportation, routine purchases, bank visits, etc. Those are the true test. During my first stint in Spain and my semester in Costa Rica, I failed those tests many times (I remember a particularly awkward incident at a Costa Rican grocery store when I simply could not, for the life of me, understand the cashier's explanation that people sell back empty glass bottles). Sometimes I had a hard time figuring out how much I owed the bus driver. After each uncomfortable encounter, I curled up into a ball, clinging to the American subculture around me. (Don't get me wrong here, people. I loved Costa Rica.)

I'm going to try my best to do things differently this time around. So, here's to integration. Here's to keeping a smile when I want to cry. Here's to reaching out to the chronic bus starer. Here's to watching Spanish television and drinking local wine - even though I hate wine.

Buenas tardes, Teresa