Working Abroad & Immersion into Culture

This entry is kind of an appendix or a reflection of sorts to my previous entry. In my last entry I detailed the physical logistics and things that I saw and did whilst staying with my friend Craig in the Moravian area of the Czech Republic. I’ve told you about the experience from  a sight seeing perspective, but really, I think the important learnings and reflections that came from this trip were much wider, and they were the kind that I was able to really take away and use as a set of evidence,  set of information, in me trying to decide what the next stage of my life is going to involve.

I can still remember when Craig was making the decision to accept this job in the Czech Republic and we had a conversation discussing the various countries he might be able to get work in, the advantages and disadvantages of heading to a non-English speaking country. One of the things which he’d talked about was that appeal of going to a foreign country and being forced to learn speak the language, at least on a basic level. This is something that he has certainly done, and something that impresses me so, so much. Czech is not an easy language to learn, and he’s done it more or less independently.

Craig is a teacher. He teaches at a school where they teach in English – apparently this is a thing in Europe, I didn’t really know this before. Some schools in Australia offer ‘French Immersion’ which is where you study all your subjects in French, and so I suppose this is the closest equivalent. It makes sense – for someone in a non-English speaking country, if you can become fluent in English, then you will have more opportunities in life. English is the bridging language in Europe, German to a lesser extent, but most young Europeans study English. The prevalence of English in Europe is a separate issue, one which I also intend to blog about, so you can look out for that.

In so many ways, he embodies for me the ‘dream’ and I only wish that my academic background was one which leant itself toward the type of experience he’s been able to have. Teaching is, without a doubt, the best way to be able to see the world. There is a high demand in so many locations for people who are of English as a first language background for teaching roles, and not just ‘teaching English’ roles – actual classroom teaching. You’re then guaranteed holidays at different times of year which then allow you specified time to schedule trips. If I was to do a working holiday visa, the only way to get career relevant work is to apply for permanent roles. If I get permanent work, then getting time to travel is hard, unless you find some awesome employer who lets you take unpaid leave or long weekends as you desire.  

Without a doubt, as a budget traveller who travels the way I do, I’m not able to truly understand a country’s history, culture, people. I just barely skim the surface. I can make wider observations about ‘European’ culture because I have spent months of my life in ‘Europe’ but to take individual countries from within that? Impossible. The only way to develop this kind of understanding is to live somewhere.

There are obvious limitations to this experience though. In Craig’s world, he teaches at a school where there are a bunch of teachers from ‘western’ countries (Australia, New Zealand, USA etc) and they have bonded together as a social group, to be each others support network because they are going through similar experiences. Their ‘group’ does have some non-Native English speakers, but the core group of them are all English as a first language. One of the guys who Craig is friends with made the point to me that there is little incentive for them to learn Czech – they hang out together, they speak English together, they speak English all day at school. This is why it is the area of food and beverage ordering that they all first master. Craig told me that on his first night in the Czech Republic, he learnt how to order a beer. However beyond this, the ability to learn is difficult. Developing friendships, true connections, with locals is difficult, except for those in that immediate circle who are obviously fluent enough in English to teach math and science and history in it.

As Craig said to me, he can’t do more complicated things alone – perfect example was that recently he had to go to the dentist, and he had to take someone fluent in Czech and English with him. This was an off the cuff statement from him, but something which so incredibly resonated with me. It’s one thing to master basic conversational skills in a foreign language, but learning those obscure, technical things is something which is so much more difficult to master, especially as an adult.

More important than language though, is looking at culture. This is something I found myself thinking about more and more - this notion of whether you can ever truly assimilate to another culture. You can live in it and therefore come to understand it more than any backpacker passing through town will, but can you ever truly become a part of their world?  Even if you become fluent, you’re likely going to have an accent; and you’ve been raised in a country with different values, different approaches to life. It is while I am backpacking that I truly come to realise my ‘cultural’ nuisances, the things that make me ‘me’ that are a result not only of my individuality, but of my nationality. Often I find that I don’t fit into your stereotype of an Australian – if I’m talking to someone from France or The Netherlands and they make an assumption about Australians liking beer and the beach, for example. Maybe I don’t fit into those sorts of cultural ‘norms’. However if I was sitting around a table with an Aussie, a Canadian, an American, a Brit – the Aussie and I will ‘get’ each other on a deeper level. Is it growing up with Christmas in summer, with high taxes on alcohol? Is it just the fact that Australia is removed from so many global issues, geographically and culturally, so we have a more easygoing sense of freedom. I’m not sure.

The way in which Australians interact, react to meeting new people, approach social scenarios and relationships – a lot of this is cultural, it is innate, it cannot be unlearned no matter how long you spend in a foreign country. This isn’t a bad thing – but it is a barrier which can prevent you from ever completely being able to fit in or completely understand other cultures.

This is all just me musing and reflecting from conversations with Craig, his friends, and other people I've talked to who have worked abroad. It isn't an experience I've yet to have - but one which I look forward to the opportunity to tackle, despite the limitations I've acknowledged.

Have you ever worked abroad? Have your own thoughts on the matter? I'd love to hear them in the comments below!

Culture shock and the superiority complex

One of the things that I have always struggled most with throughout my travels is wrapping my head around the different cultural standards of politeness and human courtesy. You expect things like architecture and food to be different; but it’s difficult understanding what the ‘unspoken’ social norms are in different countries. In particular, I find it interesting comparing the ways in which people interact, customer service, the way you treat people as you pass them on the street.

Even among my own country, you could say that I’m at the ‘higher’ end of the scale in terms of believing in courtesy, treating people as you want to be treated, all those sorts of lame notions. That might sound  little conceited, I don’t mean it in a conceited way. Some people would argue that I should be a little more selfish – that I can be a pushover. I suppose the flow through is that while I’m travelling, I retain those same sorts of values and when I feel as though someone is being disrespectful, I’ll take it rather personally. It is a part of the human condition that within any culture there are people who are ‘normal’ and some people who are slightly less respectful. It’s a personality thing. Any city with a busy public transportation system will have people rushing about who are more concerned about where they need to be than about the people around them.

However despite this understanding, I cannot help but find myself exhibiting a certain level of snobbery. I hear myself exclaim out loud something like, “Gosh people here are rude, this would never happen in Australia.” I hear it, I hear that my tone is filled with superiority, but I cannot help that this is how I feel.

I can remember in the Czech Republic in 2008 being extremely offended by someone who had their dog on the train (in itself, a cultural norm) allowing the dog to sit practically on my foot. In 2010 I told a customer service agent in the New York City Subway that there was no need to be rude when she gave me some attitude when I used my ticket incorrectly – perhaps the suitcase I was hauling might indicate that I was a tourist. This trip, at Victoria tube station in London when I was hauling my luggage along, someone came pushing past and nearly made me fall over – did I get a glance back, an apology, a helping hand? Not at all. I remember being on the train in France in 2008 and I was trying to lift my backpack up onto the racks above and I was having trouble. Many strong looking men passed through the aisle, squeezing around me, and not one stopped to offer to assist. These are all examples of scenarios that would cause me to be frustrated with the culture around me.

Perhaps though, it is the case not that the rest of the world is ‘disrespectful’ but rather that they are different. Perhaps I need to let go of this feeling of cultural superiority. People who travel often enjoy making cultural contrasts – I love the tiniest things, like that Morrisons grocery store here in Edinburgh has a cafe inside, or that you can buy ridiculously cheap and yummy sandwiches at Tesco, or that the cross walks in London will sometimes just be a free for all to cross when you can on major roads, with horns blasting from cars at pedestrians who don’t see a car is coming. It is quite conceivable that tourists who come to Australia possess their own superiority complex when it comes to things they encounter with Australian culture – perhaps when they see someone barefoot at the shops, or a simple gasp of shock horror at the price of alcohol.

I think also that culture shock is in many ways a manifestation of homesickness – it isn’t entirely about being bothered about things, but just that it is an outlet to direct the fact that you miss the comfort and familiarity of home. It isn’t that Australia is better, but just that I know what to expect, how to react, the best way to interact with people to get what you want. Even here in the UK, where we speak the same language, I feel like we don’t speak the same language. I have to consider how to phrase things, I can’t just glance at my coins and count them out quickly, I’ll be having a conversation with someone talking about their wee bearings and take twenty seconds to realise they’re talking about small children. It gets exhausting having to think about everything, and sometimes it’s just a small moment when I think how much easier things are at home.

Once I get into the flow of my travels, these things will worry me less. Sometimes, I think it’s easier to just accept that you are a tourist. I’m not a local, and I shouldn’t be expected to behave like one. If I try, then I think I just find myself being upset and disappointed with myself. I can do my best to adhere to cultural and respectful things – I’m not going to wander around a conservative city in a tank top, for example. But if I get confused about how the bus ticket system works then I would expect to receive certain level of courteous understanding from the people I’m interacting with. After all, the world is a nicer place when we treat others the way we wish to be treated – however maybe my standard of how I wish to be treated is out of place in the world! The ultimate conundrum.

Technology withdrawals and the modern backpacker

I have three main items of technology with me this trip. Firstly is my netbook – which is now two years old and honestly has seen better days. It still runs though and the size is perfect for me as a traveller – people told me, even two years ago – that I should get a tablet but when I am a writer/blogger, I need a normal keyboard! Secondly is my iTouch, predominantly for music on previous occasions but I’m finding having it connected to whatever wi-fi source around has been wonderful. I have a mobile phone with me, mostly for emergencies/basic texting to my mum. It was supposed to be able to connect to the web but it isn’t working and I’ve decided that maybe the universe has decided to look after me and make it impossible to rack up data charges!

Since arriving in the UK, I’ve hardly used my phone. It’s expensive to use, even having bought an international SIM card, so it really isn’t practical to be used as I would in my normal life. I don’t miss my mobile phone for its regular phone technology. There isn’t anyone who I text regularly or speak to on the phone. What I do miss it for is the on-the-go access to the internet. This is for two reasons – both social media and general internet access.

I didn’t even realise that I was as dependant upon social media as I am. Over the last six months in my 'normal' life, I’ve found myself increasingly using my mobile phone to access my Twitter and Facebook, to quickly check in, see what is going on, without having to completely log in via a PC.  Not having that now makes me feel almost like I’m quitting smoking or some other habit – I’m eating more lollies/sweets/candies (depending on your dialect of English) because my hands need something to do! While travelling, it feels even more necessary to be able to keep in touch via social media. That craving to see what people are up to. There isn’t a huge amount of normalcy and I think for me, social media is almost like a security blanket. It was really hard while in London, especially when surrounded by three friends who could so easily pop online as they desired to quickly Tweet, Facebook and check their feeds. I quite genuinely felt jittery at points from the withdrawal.

Even general access on-the-go is something I miss – if I get lost and don’t have a map of that part of town, or want to look up the closest location of a particular store. You might say ‘just ask someone!’ but I’m a quiet traveller – prefer to work it out myself than ask for guidance. Think like a man who is lost on the road and refuses to pull over and ask for directions. Modern life is all about convenience – being able to jump on Google and find out anything that you may desire, and being able to do this from anywhere. To an extent, this takes away the spontaneity of travel. It’s no different to people who do the Lonely Planet Tour of any city or town – checking off all the landmarks and restaurants. However one could argue that modern technology makes certain mundane research elements simpler which allows for more time to enjoy the wonderful things of travel.

Don’t get me wrong – you read right, I have my iTouch and Netbook with me. From here where I leave my 'holiday' and depart my friends house in Edinburgh, I will only book into hostels that have free wi-fi unless there is no such option available. I’ve found myself pulling out my iTouch in public, outside Starbucks and fast food outlets, trying to snap up a snippet of wi-fi to allow me to quickly scroll down my feed and see if anything may have changed in the last two hours. I’m writing this entry in Edinburgh, where I have wi-fi in my friends house, and I have flicked back to Google Chrome at least twice to take a glance, ‘Just in case.’

I tell myself that this is a learning experience – to teach me to be more resourceful, to spend less time relying on the internet and to live in the real world instead. Maybe this time things will be different, but I remember in both ’08 and ’10, returning back to ‘real life’ after my travelling simply thrust me further into the world of internet technology. In a strange, ironic way, the curiosity of the traveller is congruent with the internet – the traveller wants to explore the world, and the internet and other modern conveniences make the world an easier, more accessible place. I think the key is finding the balance – when you’re spending too much time reading websites about the markets and museums and food and culture that is just outside your hostel door to actually experience any of it, then it’s time to acknowledge that the addiction has taken a step too far.

Transitioning from vacation mode into traveller mode

I’ve been in the UK for six nights now. I think I’ve placed myself into this precariously dangerous place because I had to overcome all the butterflies prior to leaving Australia, and I’ve arrived to experience the epitome of vacation mode. I don’t feel like I’ve embarked upon my backpacking journey. I feel like I’m on a vacation. I spent five nights in London with a friend who came down from Scotland to visit me, met up with a couple of other friends, and now I’ve gone back to Edinburgh and I’m here staying with the creature comforts of home for just over a week. I almost feel as though I could just go back to Australia after my time here and say that I’ve enjoyed a lovely vacation.

The Thames; London, UK

However that isn’t what I have to do – I have to leave here and get myself into the space of being resourceful, looking after myself, not having a friend to talk to, the barriers of not speaking the same language. The back of my brain remembers why I decided to embark upon this adventure but as I sit here with clear wi-fi signal, drinking coffee and with Loose Women on in the background, it all seems pretty far away.

I did my best to keep my brain in backpacker mode in London – it would’ve been easy to have sat back, played dumb and allowed my friends from the UK to figure out where we were and where we were going. But I made sure that I always knew where we were going, didn’t just follow them onto the tube mindlessly. I kept my budget in mind – advocating the purchase of simple sandwich dinners and filling up on the hostel breakfast. And I’ve told myself that regardless of how cold it is here in Scotland, I’m not allowed to just cower on my friend’s couch and play online and watch movies.

There’s a comfort that comes with my current trip and the people who I have around the world to experience these same comforts with, even just for a couple of days at a time along the way. Just as I’m starting to feel homesick and crave familiarity, I’ll be able to see someone I know. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – I think that even while budget backpacking, it’s important to take time out from that lifestyle, to give yourself time to just relax and enjoy creature comforts. When I first went travelling in 2008, this for me was manifested by seeing a film in Budapest when I was too exhausted to keep walking around, going to every Disney store I encountered, spending a week in Nice where I wrote for 75% of the time. 2010 was more alike to this trip, with smatterings of meeting up with friends.  But I think the danger isn’t so much in taking time out – but it is in getting into the right mindframe when the time out is over. I can see myself wanting to spend my time in Lisbon hanging around the hostel rather than exploring the city, for example.

However once I leave my friend’s place here in Scotland, I need to get my mind in the right place. Make the most of the experience – it isn’t so much that it is ‘once in a lifetime’ but just that I can lay in bed on Facebook any old time. If I don’t see within a half hour of her posting it that my friend I went to high school with is at the movies, it won’t be the end of the world. A disconnect from my former life, temporarily, doesn’t mean a permanent disconnection. Anyone who really cares about me will make sure that they contact me personally with any update on them or their life, rather than just posting it generally on Facebook or Twitter.

And if all else fails, a glance of my quickly depleting bank balance every now and again should help to keep me aware of why I'm here and the need to seize the moment!

Bats fluttering in my tummy

Twelve hours from now, I'll be on a plane headed to Sydney. From there, I'll have over 24 hours spent travelling and in airports - with about four hours in Sydney, then a flight to Singapore, about three hours in Singapore, and then the longest flight heading onto London, United Kingdom. I've done this before - well not this exactly, it'll be a first for me, flying west from Australia - but the concept of getting on a plane and going somewhere foreign isn't new to me. I can't quite remember if I was this nervous last time, or the time before. I'm sure I had butterflies, but what I have today are giant bats flapping about.

I think I'm feeling the pressure because this trip is attached to a soul searching purpose. To make decisions about my future, about whether there is possibility of taking a new career direction, whether this is a way of life or an awesome hobby for me. But I can't say this is a part of my bout of nerves at the moment. I can't pinpoint it exactly, what is at the root.

Tonight, I find myself fluffing around. I sat examining a blue Sharpie pondering if I needed to undo my already packed luggage to add the Sharpie, if there might be an occasion where I'll need it. I've packed and repacked my carry-on luggage. I've stress eaten - something I've done a lot of over the last two weeks, in fact I've put on two kilograms which I'd worked so, so hard to work off. It's like I'm passed the point of being productive, I'm too jittery to read or watch a movie. In the process of writing this entry so far, I've stood up no less than five times to pace around the room.

I just know that all that I can do is take it one step at a time. I'm focused on the flight - getting through the goodbyes with my parents, dealing with the airport, maneuvering my luggage, surviving the flights, getting through customs. Once I emerge at Heathrow with my pack and my stamp of approval and they've let me through with my goodies - I'll focus on getting to the hostel. It's all that I can do. I get two weeks of 'easy' - the UK is easy. Hanging with mates is easy. Staying with a friend is easy. I think when I'm getting on that plane going across the water to a country where they don't speak English - then things will be even more real, and the bats will morph into something else altogether - pterodactyls, maybe?

I don't know if I can handle the pterodactyls. Maybe I'm not cut out for this big life. Maybe I'm really just meant to live quietly, simply.

Or maybe, it is this very fear which is helping me to grow, without even knowing it.