America through Travelers’ Eyes

“How do you say this?” my Chinese co-worker Oscar said while miming himself haphazardly putting on ChapStick.

“ChapStick?” I said, feeling a little confused as I stood near the counter at the Pioneer Grill, waiting for customers during a lull at work.

“OK! How do you say this?” he said while miming himself eating rapidly with chopsticks.

“Chooopsticks,” I said, getting his drift.

“Ohhhhhhhhh!” he said excitedly. “The other day someone ask me for ChapStick. I thought they said chopsticks, so I hand them my chopsticks I carry with me, and they did not want them,” he said.

I cracked up. And so did he.

“Thank you sooo much for your help Sherri!!!”

I love working with internationals. It always makes me see my language and culture in a new light.

The other day I had a family from France who I served pancakes with maple syrup, and omelets with white toast. The three children spoke English better than most other French kids I had met. I asked the parents why their English was so good. They said it was because they watch T.V. in English.

“Great! What’s your favorite T.V. show?” I asked the kids.

“Zee Simpsons!” each child declared in a lilting French accent.

What a way to learn English.

Yesterday I had an adorable elderly British lady sit in my bay. She had soup for her meal and asked for ice cream for dessert. When I brought her her one scoop of strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone she almost fell out her spinning chair.

“Dear me!! Why everything is double the size here in America compared to England! How can I eat all this?! This is horrible!” she said.

I didn’t think having an extra-large ice cream cone could be that bad. But then we got to talking about how Americans waste so much food that could help so many countries. Right next to her an older couple had ordered two sandwiches, two massive platters of chili fries and onion rings, and huckleberry pie a la mode for just the two of them.

“But you all did help us in the War and send us food, so at least you all are generous,” she said while elegantly licking her strawberry ice cream.

I served a family of four from England four meals in a row during their stay. We had some lovely conversations. The 14-year-old son couldn’t get over how great America is: expansive, beautiful, different in each part of the country, delicious food, and cheap shopping.

“England is rubbish. I want to study in America and live here one day,” he said, his eyes glowing with delight as he took another bite of his chili dog.

Kiwis from New Zealand tell me how much the Grand Teton National Park reminds them of NZ. They feel like they get a taste of home while they are here.

I agree, and rave about how the first time I came here I felt like I was back in New Zealand driving on the vast, endless two lane roads through the mountains again. One Kiwi was so happy to hear me laud NZ he gave me a Silver Fern pin he carried with him to show his pride for the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team.

I had an Italian couple that for their drinks had half a cup of coffee and a hot cocoa with whip cream. I told them how much I miss Italian cappuccinos. They shared my woes, and said they are forced to drink Starbucks because that is the only coffee around, but mainly drink hot cocoas with whip cream in America because it is better than drinking bad coffee.

Japanese, Indians, Israelis, Germans, Thais, Brazilians the list goes on and on. Who knew I would get to visit with the world and see my country through their eyes while working in Wyoming.

Patty’s coming!

Dom says he doesn’t really miss Thailand. Well, maybe he does miss egg noodle pork soup from street vendors a lot, but other than that, he loves America, and is adjusting fine. No big deal.

Although he apparently doesn’t miss Thailand much (but I would say there is a bigger hole in his heart for his homeland than his tough guy persona lets on), he definitely misses his family.

The past year and a half whenever we go to a new town, or go shopping at a fun store, or eat at a cool restaurant, Dom always says, “We have to bring my mom here! She would love it.”

And tomorrow night his mom will arrive from Thailand, and we will take her jet-lagged self to our long list of places!

His mom came back with us for a few weeks when we first moved back to America. Although she speaks only a few words of English, she enjoyed my family—and the shopping—so much, she wanted to come back a second time.

She will be here for two weeks–about the same amount of time Dom has spent hard-core cleaning our family’s home in preparation for her visit, much to my busy and hard-working mom and dad’s delight.

While she is here she will experience her first Christmas American-style. As we have mentioned before, in Thailand, Christmas is basically an event the Bangkok malls put on to bring in more shoppers. Around October, the fake trees as tall as a seven storey building go up outside the front of malls, and of course there are others inside full of gold, and red balls. They have white reindeer with red bows around the mall’s fountains and green wreaths around the front of stores.

But most Thais are Buddhists, so of course they don’t celebrate Christmas as a Christian would, yet they do enjoy the decorations.

While I was putting up the manger scene in her room, setting lil Jesus in his straw bed, and putting the donkeys and sheep around him, I wondered what she would think. “Why is there a little fake baby in a barn in my room?”

Well, we will let you know what she thinks of that, and Handel’s Messiah, the Olive Garden, the $1.50 theater, Plato’s Closet, Christmas town McAdenville, Charleston, S.C., Boone, uptown Charlotte, Christmas parties, the Billy Grahma Library, baking Christmas cookies, shopping, shopping, shopping, and of course, Christmas morning.

We are counting down the hours to give his little, fun mom, who my parents call Patty since it’s easier to say than her Thai name, a huge hug at the airport, and eagerly carry her suitcases full of the two-page list of things Dom wanted from Thailand (no, he doesn’t miss Thailand much :).