Culture Shock (Comedy of manners)

"In this country"

Spaniards (and some foreigners) think that the Spanish Administration, or Spain as a whole, even, is an inefficient country. They think our bureaucracy is the slowest in the world and our "funcionarios", the civil servants, spend their days taking coffee breaks. Nothing ever works well in Spain in the understanding of some people. I'm no patriot, but I think this is of course a mistake (there is inefficiency in Spain, sure, but no more than in other places), and I can give several first-hand accounts of American inefficacy (and one or two British ones too).

Today I read something surprising about England. There is a tax there that charges not what you own, not what you earn, but the value of the house where you live. Many (most) people rent their homes, so this is not a tax on property. I can't think of an unfairer tax. So, lately, people's pensions have grown much slowly than the prices of houses, which means that there are old people who cannot afford to pay council tax. and at least one person has gone to jail for not paying her taxes. Yes. Jail. Not for fraud, not for forgery, not for theft. Jail for not paying taxes.

I just find that amazingly culture-shocking. And what is even more culture-shocking is that Spaniards think we should look up to countries like the UK. Wow.

In Seville, time is elastic

I guess this also happens in other parts of Spain. I have only lived in Seville, so this applies to Seville.

Meeting friends does not happen at a certain hour. You just don’t say “five at such café”. The correct (yes, not "usual": correct) way of making arrangements is to make a half-hour bracket. “I’ll see you at seven to seven thirty”. “I can make it at six thirty to seven”. No one blinks. Spanish good manners say that unpunctuality starts ten to fifteen minutes after the appointed time, so if you said you’d be there at seven-to-seven thirty, no one can complain if you get to the place at 7.40. The fifteen-minute rule does not mean that Spaniards are unpunctual as a rule: people are as much or as little as everyone else in the rest of the world, but it is rude to give latecomers less than a fifteen-minute wait.

That means that when a group of people is going to meet in a public place, everyone who will arrive on their own will try to be there as late as possible without being rude, so that they will not have to be just waiting there, alone. I’m a reasonably punctual person; if I say I’ll meet you at “five to five thirty” you won’t see me there before 5:10. We only do this when meeting socially in situations where we don’t mind waiting. For example, if one friend and I are going out for dinner, we’ll be punctual because making someone else wait alone isn’t nice. The only remotely similar thing I’ve ever seen is the very relaxed attitude some Scottish people have when they go to pubs. I’ve gone out in groups in which some people, especially the men, said “we’ll be at the pub at four”, not expecting anyone else to say at what hour they’d be there. They got there early and got a table for the group, and didn’t care much how long they’d have to wait for the others.

Having said that, I don't think Spaniards are impunctual. In Scotland, Ireland, Spain and and the US I have met big communities of international people (mostly students). The only person I have ever met who made a point of strict punctuality was German.

Nickel and dimed

I bought Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America thinking that it would resemble essays such as Fast Food Nation or No Logo, but it turns out to be a personal account: the writer, Barbara Ehrenreich, took a succession of bad-paying jobs to see if it is possible to survive on them in the US. Surprise, surprise: it’s not. You can either buy food or pay rent, but not both.

My first reaction was that she was almost a century too late: George Orwell wrote a similar book, Down and Out in Paris and London, about his experiences when he was accidentally out of a job teaching English private lessons in Paris. So he worked as a cleaner in a fancy hotel’s restaurant kitchen, and then he had to live as a tramp in London for a few weeks. Highly recommended reading.

I have mixed feelings about the situation Nickel and Dimed describes, because at times I relate to it. I remember my summer as a counter assistant at a chip shop in Glasgow, on the minimum wage, my first attempt at being economically independent. I could afford rent in a shared flat, groceries and some luxuries like books, but I could not have afforded my own flat, paying a mortgage, or a baby, had I wanted to have them. At Cornell I lived on the local living wage; the difference between the living wage and the minimum wage is that minimum wage is arbitrarily fixed by the government and the living wage is an estimate of how much it costs to afford food, rent, health care, transportation and other necessities. Again, if I was in this country for more than a year I would resent the fact that I cannot afford luxuries like buying clothes without making a careful budget or buying a house, but the statistics that pepper the book suggest that Cornell University did quite a lot of math to ensure that I was at a very precise level of austere comfort.

I cannot stop comparing the situation on the book with the Spanish one. We are better off in Spain because in Europe, minimum wages are a little bit closer to a living wage. Public transport is generally better. Child care is more affordable. There are national health systems, which is more than you can say about the parody of a democracy Americans have. Now the problems: rents in Spain are insanely high because the only people really willing to live in a rented place are students, so landlords are used to charge by the room. That means that you can forget about renting a house or flat for one person or family. Buying a house? For a couple of young professionals, paying the mortgage can easily swallow up one complete salary, and I’m taking long-term mortgages, of about 25 years. Babies? Until about five years ago when immigrants started to come in masse, Spain had the lowest natality rate in the world. The way Spaniards deal with low salaries and overpriced housing is by living with their parents until they find a job that pays enough to leave. It’s not the best solution but it’s the only one we’ve found.

Hurricane March 11th

I take back some of what I said yesterday. Conservative governments not always behave the same way in a national emergency.

I apologise for not giving any sources. Yesterday's news said that the security forces that forcing people in New Orleans to evacuate, and keeping control of the refugee camps, are also in charge of detecting illegal immigrants in order to kick them out of the country.

Very soon after the terrorist attack in Madrid's trains on March 11th, 2004, the Spanish government had the only humanitarian gesture that I know of in their eight years in power. All the illegal immigrants in the trains that had been injured or dead, and their closest relatives in the country including unmarried couples, were automatically made legal residents.

Once again the American government has lost a chance of doing something kind. Why am I culture-shocked... but not at all surprised?

Hurricane Prestige

I didn't want to talk about politics but I can't resist the temptation any more. I think the paralellisms between Hurricane Katrina and the Prestige disaster are an interesting lesson.

Everyone knew that New Orleans was by the sea AND below sea level. The possibility of complete disaster was there since 2001 (my source is in Spanish). When disaster does happen, it gives a two-day warning, but even so, evacuation is anarchic. The president is on holidays, then he goes to the other end of the country to meet millionaries, then he goes back home, and only a few days later, after half a hundred people are confirmed dead, he goes to look at the mess from the distance. His subordinate in charge of managing national emergencies is a useless idiot with zero experience in the field, and had been fired from his last job. The Vicepresident is nowhere to be seen. When well-known "liberals" get involved in rescue efforts, their intentions are questioned as "a publicity stunt". And the country asks for foreign help. Fucking Hell. The richest country in the world has the nerve of asking my government for help!?

Now let's look at the Prestige. The Prestige was ship who happened to have one single layer of metal between the sea and a few thousand tons of oil, which means one teensy leak and you're doomed. The Prestige had an accident at a distance from the Spanish shore that would have made it advisable to get it even closer, so that it ended up in a harbour and destroyed one beach. With the boat in the middle of the ocean, the currents would have sent oil everywhere. In fact, the oil reached all of Spain's northern coast all the way to France. A similar accident in the same area of the country ten years before should have meant that there was an emergency plan to avoid the same thing happen allover again, right? Yeah, right.

The day the Prestige started to leak, the regional president had gone hunting with the minister responsible of doing something about the ship. When it became clear that this was a major emergency, the Spanish president was having fun in Rome with his friend Berlusconi. Basically, both the region's government and the national one, both Conservatives, said that there wasn't a crisis, that the oil would be picked from the sea easily quickly and easily, and two weeks later, when it was obvious that it wasn't so, and the ship was still leaking out oil in the middle of the ocean, in a mad exercise of doublethink the president accused the population of being "alarmists". The guy appointed by the national government to solve the crisis after the accident had already taken place was a businessman in the proccess of being chosen president of a system of satelite/cable televisions (it is always good for a goverment to have friends in the media, oh yes). The Prestige eventually sank down to the sea bottom, but not all of the oil came out. One day, the sea water will finish corroding it and the remaining hundreds of tons of oil will drift into the Galician coast. I don't know if taking it out before that time is technically possible; it was technically possible to drag the boat ashore when the captain asked for help, but he didn't get any.

Maybe I see similarities because I want to see them; to me the moral is that you better pray there aren't any major natural disasters on the years you have a Conservative government.

American and patriotic

I wonder what the average citizen of the United States would think if they knew that in Spain, “American” is a bad thing to be. Oh, don’t get me wrong, we don’t have anything against people born in that country. There is plain old American-in-origin and there is the negative American-in-style.

So if we say that something is “very American”, especially something to do with entertainment, we mean that it is simplistic, even cheesy, and extremely commercial. “Very American” food is too sweet or too rich or too much or all three at the same time. Something “American” is always over the top. A fake. That does not mean we believe that all things American-in-origin are like that.

Something similar goes for patriot. Spaniards are not patriots (noun), ever. Even though the word exists, we don’t use it. Some people are patriotic (adjective), but again, that’s a bad thing to be. I would use it only ironically. You just don’t make a display of being proud of your country, although being proud of your region, which corresponds roughly with American states, is normally OK.

I pity all those Americans going on study programs in Spain and getting the third degree on American foreign policy from everyone they meet. Someone should tell them this sort of thing before they cross the ocean.

An enlightened young soul

This is not exactly a case of comedy of manners, but I can’t resist the temptation to tell it.

There are fashion trends in the area that I live, that identify kids that are dangerous or want to appear to be so. Some time ago, “cani” (pronounce just like canny) just meant “a particular way of being tacky”; right now, a small group of people dressing as “canis” might beat up a stranger or set fire to a car for a laugh.

The other day, my cousin-and-friend Irene was waiting for the bus and she was approached by a little juvenile nightmare who couldn’t be more than ten. It doesn’t matter, knives don’t ask how old the owner is. Picture her trying to look the other way, and the little one asks her, “where are you going?”

“I’m going to work”

“Oh. I´m going to the swimming-pool”.

End of the small talk. A couple days later, they meet again, and the boy seems very happy to see her.

“Hi!”

“Hi”.

“Are you going to work again?”

“Sure”.

Big smile. “I see. Look, I don’t think I want to grow up, grown-ups are always going to work, they never take the bus to the swimming-pool”.

Swimwear

Yesterday, after a couple of hours of wrestling through Spanish small-town traffic, I went to the beach. What I like best about the beach is people-watching. The one I went to is just outside the city of Cádiz, so there are more people from town on a day off than tourists, and everyone behaves as if they were in their living-room. Plenty of mobile phone conversations, the juicy gossip that you'd normally whisper amplified for the benefit of the neighbours. And everyone happily walking about in their underwear.

A month ago I went with some friends to Lake Owasco, and I was the only one out of four women with a bikini. Of course! I don't even own any one-piece swimsuits. One of my friends said, "In Europe the fashion police arrests people who wear one-pieces". A little bit exaggerated, but nearly true. Yesterday, all women except the very obese or pathologically shy were happily showing off tanned bellies.

The most surprising thing was not the absence of one-pieces in this family-oriented beach. What I would like to know is, why all the little girls, babies even, wear bikinis while so many women go topless?

Babies are great

The Spanish writer Antonio Muñoz Molina often tells that during his first trip to New York, he was having dinner with American friends at a posh restaurant and one of those children that can’t sit still, so they run from table to table, went straight to him. In a perfectly natural impulse, Muñoz Molina ruffled the wee boy’s hair. That caused a bit of a riot in the restaurant, the indignant mother of the child went to drag him back and the American friends of the writer told him NEVER to do something like that again. Rule One: do not touch American kids in case you’re mistaken for a kidnapper or something worse. I saw that rule being very true in Washington DC, but not in Ithaca.

Saving for that type of anomaly, I think there is an universal law that says that it is perfectly fine to talk to strangers under any circumstances if they have babies. Babies are a social magnet (hence the myth that men taking care of children are sexy: they seem more approachable). Like this one, see. I was using my laptop in a place with a wireless connection and plenty of children’s toys and here comes a woman with a toddler. Toddler’s age: old enough to walk without help, but not much older. Ten minutes later, the mother and I where talking about the baby’s age, her nationality, her husband’s job, the baby’s bilingualism…

Are you lonely and want to make friends? Borrow a baby and take it wherever you go!

Theatres in good health

Some time ago, I complained here because the most important theatre in my town looked old and neglected. I´m happy to say that in the time I have been away from Seville, the theatre has been painted and cleaned, and it looks great. It was about time!

The role of organised religion in Universities, both sides of the Atlantic.

The Spanish Constitution says that we don’t have an official religion but that the government may take measures to acknowledge the social importance of individual religions (read the Spanish original of the 16 article here). That is a lot more lax, and also a lot easier to interpret, than the American First Amendment, but in practice it means that the Catholic church is present in public life in a degree that many people find unacceptable. Since we are still a very homogeneous country racially and culturally, it is normally understood that the only alternative to Catholicism is laicism or atheism. Since religion is still present in the national school system, kids in school choose either Religion (meaning Catholicism) or a secular alternative. People elected for public office have a choice: swearing on the Bible or promising on the Constitution. One of these days there might be other books or religious objects on that table next to the other two books, but that will not happen soon. Not before a decade, is my guess.

That is why there is an office at Seville University, in the same building as my department, with a sign that says: “Department of Religious Assistance to the University Community”. Guess what? According to that sign, “religious” only means Catholic. It makes me itchy, sore and angry to pass by that door knowing that we have such a shortage of classrooms and that the biggest of the two cafés in the building closed down three years ago to make room for professors’ offices. And what’s worse: after having worked at that building for nine years, I haven’t seen them organise any activity apart from daily mass at lunchtime. I have no idea of what else they do, and people who don’t study in the Humanities building don’t know this office exists.

In my year in Aberdeen, I saw that the Chaplaincy was different. The University chaplain belonged to the Church of Scotland (I think) but there were several multi-purpose rooms, there were services for different denominations and it worked as a referral service too. Nice. And here at Cornell there is the Annabel Taylor Building. I could not believe my eyes when I saw what was going on. About fifteen different religions, sharing a building, each one with one or more chaplains. On Sundays there is a mad rush as each Christian denomination takes turns to use the chapel; the building houses other activities on other days of the week, including AA meetings and zen meditation. And everyone seems to get on well.

When I told my brother about it, he said Spaniards should see that sort of thing to stop thinking our culture is the centre of the universe; and those are big words coming from my favourite atheist. Seeing the difference between the universities of Aberdeen, Cornell and Seville, and the very different roles religion has in them, I am even more convinced that the Office for Religious Assistance should be dissolved and make room for more useful things. A new café, for example. I wouldn't mind being the Dean to do so, heh heh.

(Titular de la Gaceta Universitaria, año 2015: El SARUS cierra para dejar espacio al nuevo bar de Filología. Obispo de turno: “La Decana ha declarado la guerra al bienestar espiritual de sus alumnos”.)

Traffic

This is a perfect example of the attitude towards traffic regulations in the small towns of Southern Spain. It happened to me yesterday just as I tell it, I swear it’s true.

I ask a small group of old women for directions.

ME: Can you tell me the way to F Street?
Old Woman 1: You have to turn right, and then….
Me: (seeing the Must Turn Left sign): I can’t turn to the right.
Old Woman 1: But you have to, if you want to go to F Street!
Me: Have you seen the sign?
Old Woman 1: But everyone ignores that sign!
Old Woman 2 to Old Woman 1: Yeah, but she (meaning me) is new in town.

Movies on heroism, both sides of the Atlantic.

I have just seen an Irish short film on Sonnie Murphy, an Irish athlete from the early 20th century. He died young, but inspired other Irish men to practise long-distance running. The movie made evident a point in which American and British-style filmmaking are different.

Everyone loves a story of personal achievement. We all love to see Scrooge reformed, the underdog vindicated, or the Ugly Duckling transformed. In American-style movies, the achiever is some sort of Chosen One. I’m thinking of Jerry Maguire, Shine, Good Will Hunting, Finding Rochester, Save the Last Dance. Sometimes there is a godlike figure, a mentor. Sometimes there is a blindly worshipping wife/girlfriend (mind you, no blindly worshipping boyfriend or husband, ever). What is always clear is that the protagonist has to fight alone against The System, against society, although the same people that scorned him will quickly become his fans as soon as it is clear that he is A Winner. The Chosen One transcends earthly limitations. The alternative is failure, being labelled as A Loser (booo, baaaad).

The British-style movie is a bit different. In it, the protagonist will have community support; the fight is partly against The System and partly against the protagonist’s own limitations. I’m thinking of The Commitments, The Van, Brassed Off, Billy Elliot (only to an extent), Little Voice, and superhero movies. The British-style achievement movie will include a scene in which the whole community sides with the hero in making some sort of collective effort to help him (for example, collecting money so that s/he can go to a far away competition). And someone will always tell the hero, “we need you to do this so that we feel special, so that we have a reason to be excited”. The hero’s community transcends mediocrity through him. The alternative is not being a loser: it is boredom, predictability. Eventual success is irrelevant; the important thing is to have tried.

Some British movies are done in the American mould. Bend It Like Beckham is one: the protagonist is a Chosen One, in need to fight against The System symbolised by her parents, who give in when she proves to be a star. Billy Elliot is halfway between the two schools: Billy is The Chosen One, even from birth, and he has to fight against the system, symbolised by his family, ad there is a mentor-figure, but his success is important for the community that eventually gives him support, and the problem is not Success vs. Failure, but the satisfaction of following one's true calling vs. apathy. Neither model is superior to the other (they are like all formulas: good if used skilfully) but I think moviegoers benefit from the existence of as many ways as possible of constructing stories.

Whatever you do, don't mention the "P" word

The Deconstructionist critic Barbara Johnson has the theory of “the difference within”. She suggests that when Group A assigns characteristics to a Group B as defines itself as different to it, as it happens in racism or sexism, Group A is trying to exorcise its own fears about not being always coherent and unchangeable. Unable to accept “the difference within”, Group A constructs “the difference with”. That is how stereotypes are born; for example, if a society wants to see itself as controlling over its feelings, calm, responsible and hardworking, it tries to see itself in the mirror on another culture to which the opposite features can be attributed.

“Passionate” is shorthand for the stereotyping of, erm, people who speak Spanish as a first language, either South American or Spaniards (I’ll say it again: Spaniards are not Latinos). I don’t like stereotypes, and I don’t like things that belong in different categories to be put together, and I don’t like the current American stereotype on “Latinos”.

What the hell does passionate mean? Sometimes it applies to love, and we are back at the Latin Lover myth, which is every bit as racist as the Asian-woman-as-pleasure-giving-submissive-geisha myth. Sometimes it means we get very easily carried away by our feelings, and then it is extremely condescending. Besides, it shows poor vocabulary and a lazy train of thought. Say that I am enthusiastic, opinionated, extrovert, expressive, emotional, quick-tempered. Just by a lucky coincidence, I am all those things. I am not “passionate”. That label is so overused it doesn’t mean anything any more.

There is also the idea that Spanish-speakers share one culture. We don’t really, no more than English or French speakers worldwide do. Someone from León shares with someone from Venezuela as much as someone from Yorkshire would have in common with someone from Seattle.

And the funniest thing of all is that when I was living in the US, and to a lesser extent when I was living in Scotland, the locals tried to see in me the features they expect in their idea of a Spaniard/Latina. But when I am at home, I don't really fit in easily. A number of personal traits I won't go into make me very different from the Southern-Spanish stereotype on ourselves!

A definition of commedy of manners

Arvind said that this blog is anti-American and I already explained it's not. Then he said, in his teasing, Arvindish way, that I stereotype people. I don’t, I just like to write comedy of manners, which is a genre that I love to read. Picky professors would say that I should be more specific: it’s either novels of manners, or comedy of manners when it’s in a play. Since there are “blogs of manners” and “films of manners”, better stick to a single label.

Whatever its name, it is the lovechild of poetry and culture shock (I didn’t realise initially, when I named the blog). It is the place where fiction meets Sociology. In a novel of manners, customs and habits are important because they are used for characterisation. It is often associated with 19th century novels about the upper-middle class, but it is practised still: if you read a book in which you can infer a character’s social background and personality by the brand of his car and the make of his clothes, that’s comedy of manners. The first example (as of so many things) is Don Quixote: the very first paragraph describes Alonso Quijano’s lifestyle, what he ate, what he enjoyed, his possessions, so nowadays we need an edition with footnotes to explain that when it says “his table had rather more beef than mutton” it meant he wasn’t poor but he was definitely not rich. The best writer ever in this genre, with Cervantes’s permission, was Jane Austen, who started a novel saying:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife.

Is this true? Is it a universal truth? Well, my friend Jane goes to describe through three pages of dialogue a mother who thinks that her new single neighbour should be introduced to her daughters, now. Is that stereotyping? Maybe. Is that true? Probably. Is it fun? Absolutely. The success of comedy of manners is that it can satirise without pain. Jonathan Swift, George Orwell, Arturo Pérez Reverte or Michael Moore (did I just name the Four Horsemen of Doomsday?) prefer satire: to take a flamethrower and setting the monster on fire. Comedy of manners is more gentle, more delicate, and tickles the monster so that you laugh at him. Beats a flamethrower any day.

A definition of commedy of manners

Arvind said that this blog is anti-American and I already explained it's not. Then he said, in his teasing, Arvindish way, that I stereotype people. I don’t, I just like to write comedy of manners, which is a genre that I love to read. Picky professors would say that I should be more specific: it’s either novels of manners, or comedy of manners when it’s in a play. Since there are “blogs of manners” and “films of manners”, better stick to a single label.

Whatever its name, it is the lovechild of poetry and culture shock (I didn’t realise initially, when I named the blog). It is the place where fiction meets Sociology. In a novel of manners, customs and habits are important because they are used for characterisation. It is often associated with 19th century novels about the upper-middle class, but it is practised still: if you read a book in which you can infer a character’s social background and personality by the brand of his car and the make of his clothes, that’s comedy of manners. The first example (as of so many things) is Don Quixote: the very first paragraph describes Alonso Quijano’s lifestyle, what he ate, what he enjoyed, his possessions, so nowadays we need an edition with footnotes to explain that when it says “his table had rather more beef than mutton” it meant he wasn’t poor but he was definitely not rich. The best writer ever in this genre, with Cervantes’s permission, was Jane Austen, who started a novel saying:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife.

Is this true? Is it a universal truth? Well, my friend Jane goes to describe through three pages of dialogue a mother who thinks that her new single neighbour should be introduced to her daughters, now. Is that stereotyping? Maybe. Is that true? Probably. Is it fun? Absolutely. The success of comedy of manners is that it can satirise without pain. Jonathan Swift, George Orwell, Arturo Pérez Reverte or Michael Moore (did I just name the Four Horsemen of Doomsday?) prefer satire: to take a flamethrower and setting the monster on fire. Comedy of manners is more gentle, more delicate, and tickles the monster so that you laugh at him. Beats a flamethrower any day.

Leaving Ithaca

Leaving Ithaca is a contradiction, we don’t leave Ithaca, we come back to it. But the truth is that I’m leaving Ithaca to go back home! It will necessarily bring changes to this blog, since there will probably be few chances for culture shock. I will pay more attention to my surroundings, and write comedy of manners about University life, and about Seville. And there’s always the poetry, of course.

So. I came to an Ivy League school to do research on domestic violence, and these are some of the things I ended up doing:

- I’ve learnt to bellydance. I have danced in public for a couple hundred people (not including the massive crowd that watched the Ithaca Parade).
- I have learnt tai-chi (although I gave up)
- I have gone vegan for weeks and months, and stayed healthy.
- I’ve eaten blue potatoes.
- I can make my own sushi.
- I’ve used the word “queer” in class and in an exam.
- I’ve used my knowledge of (Catholic) Canon Law in a term paper seven years after dropping out of Law School.
- I’ve studied Socio-Psychology.
- I’ve seen a Bollywood film, a Norwegian one, and a handful of African ones.
- I have visited Niagara Falls, Washington DC and New York City.
- It must have been love, but it’s over now.
- I have seen performances by Michel Camilo, Paul Winter, Eugene Friesen, Jessica Lange, Christian Slater, Balinese dances, a Filipino vaudeville show, a madman that performed (not recited: performed) Finnegans Wake, and also more bellydancers that I can remember.
- I’ve had my head shaved.
- I’ve survived Ithacan weather, including walking from East Hill to Greenstar during a snowstorm (that would take 50 minutes in good weather).
- I’ve taken a massage class (Swedish, Shiatsu and Thai).
- I’ve been a extra (an actress with one line, heh!) in a student film.
- I’ve gone tubing (because waterski looked too difficult).

Isn’t it a miracle that I also had time to do the work I came here for!?

Hairdressers' Names

I am still recycling the oldest posts, among other resons because in my last days in Ithaca I want to give extra doses of culture shock posts.

In Spain most hairdresser’s are called like the owner. A last name tends to indicate a man, while women use their first names. There are very few exceptions. Here in Ithaca there is another ongoing theme.

Hair A’ffayre (or some other horrible spelling). The Mane Event. Hair It Is.

Knickers told me that she knew of another one called Curl Up and Dye. Is there an end to the amount of very bad puns you can do about hair?

Hairdressers' Names

I am still recycling the oldest posts, among other resons because in my last days in Ithaca I want to give extra doses of culture shock posts.

In Spain most hairdresser’s are called like the owner. A last name tends to indicate a man, while women use their first names. There are very few exceptions. Here in Ithaca there is another ongoing theme.

Hair A’ffayre (or some other horrible spelling). The Mane Event. Hair It Is.

Is there an end to the amount of very bad puns you can do about hair? And, does this happen in the whole country or just here?

A company from where?

This is just out of a cartoon, seriously. I bought a blender, and the box had a small sticker that said AN AMERICAN COMPANY. There is of course a little American flag on the sticker, too. I look in disbelief, turn the box upside down, and see something a lot more familiar, next to a New Jersey address:
Made and printed in China.

Heh heh. Is the average US shopper supposed to feel better by knowing that their grocery shopping is making someone from New Jersey a millionaire, while the actual work is done in the other side of the world?

On seconds thoughts, the blender's brand has a French-sounding name, and the fact that it is a sticker and not actually part of the box’s design makes me think that the company needed to clarify that they were not French at the time that France decided not to take part in the invasion of Irak, and some people threatened to boycott French products. Still, ridiculous.