Leaving the Nest: An Expatriate's Survival Guide

Survival Fact #3: You Are Still Yourself (Only More)

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 15:30:00 +0000

Wow! A whole week since my last post? That's not good, but the circumstances aren't so bad. A new promotion at work is going to give me the time and resources I need to really concentrate on this labor of love. I want to thank everyone who has been so kind. Apparently people really like this blog, so I owe it to them to never fall so far behind again!

That said....

In the last installment, we looked at the symptoms associated with culture shock and where they come from. Tomorrow's post entitled "Chill Methods" will address how to slay this gorgon without risking your inner Perseus. But today, I would like to point out some helpful facts in response to some comments I have been receiving regarding the perceived loss of identity associated with culture shock. It happens. We sometimes feel as though our whole being has melted away and we're replaced with someone else.

I know I felt it, and unfortunately for me, I didn't have the darndest idea as to what was happening to me. Culture shock was just a humorous reference to someone who couldn't adapt to their new surroundings, or so I thought.... In my mind I was doing just fine blaring Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" every morning as my computer woke me up. So what if I didn't like that song before? At that moment, it was the best piece of music I had ever heard.

Yeah, I had it that bad...

Still do in some ways! Right now as I type this, I have a madman's playlist queued up on my Winamp. Patsy Cline followed by Jane's Addiction and rounding it off with some classic Dr. Dre. Before I moved here, I was pretty much an Alternative and Jam Band (Phish, Dave Matthews, etc.) kind of guy. In the year I've been here my (legally acquired) MP3 collection has gone from a few hundred to literally many thousands of songs. Why? Maybe I was (am) over identifying with my own American culture as a weird defense mechanism. But the side effect to that symptom is that I now have a much broader appreciation of music that will probably stay with me for life.

So it's not all so bad. Like the growing pains all of us have to experience when we are young, the secret is turning it around to your benefit. Though in my case it wasn't an excuse to get out of gym class, it was a deeper love of an art I had previously only used as background noise.

So in summary, don't be afraid that you are disappearing. You aren't. Whether you like it or not, you are becoming more cultured and the person you are is becoming the multi-faceted person you were meant to be. Tomorrow, we will talk about good ways of maintaining your tranquility. But for now, those of you who need something to meditate on,

I give you this truism....

Just think about it, you'll get it....

See?

You're Welcome!

Culture Shock 101: The Symptoms

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 17:14:00 +0000

So in the last post on this subject, we addressed the fact that culture shock is a very real problem that effects everyone who travels for long periods of time. You'll find yourself entertaining thoughts that you might not have back home. My good friend Nicole in Kuwait brought up an interesting example in her comment on the last post.

"The shock often results in me wanting to strangle certain types of people."
Nicole B Author of NicoleB Photography (excellent blog)

As tough as she may be, this is an educated and well traveled young woman. She's lived in Asia, Eastern Europe, and now the Middle East. If that feeling can be big for someone like Nicole who has seen more of the world than 99% of us, you can bet that you or I will be susceptible too.

For example, one time I was wanting to meet a friend at the Denny's in La Uruca, about 15 miles from my house. I told the taxista, "yo quiero voy a la Denny's in La Uruca". Simple enough I thought, until the hour long car ride ended at a glitzy country club / resort. I had said "Denny's", but the guy heard "tennis" and took me one one of the most exclusive clubs in the province.

Now had this happened last week, the driver and I would have had a good laugh and I would have called my friends with a funny story about why I missed my Moon Over My Hammy date with them. But no, this happened in the second month I was here and I was still oblivious as to why I was so irrational and paranoid. In that moment, my brain was conjuring up every possible scenario that had led to to some tennis club and not Denny's. First it was suspicion of the driver trying to charge a gringo as much as possible, knowing full well I had said Denny's. Maybe my friends sent me this taxi as a joke, which was quite possible considering my love of pranking them.

So I told the guy to just get me back home and that he was going to have to rethink his price. And because of my excellent grasp of the Spanish language at that time, I'm sure he heard it as "blah, blah, blah, mi apartamento...blah, blah, blah, dinero...blah, blah, blah, godammit!!" He was smart enough of a guy to figure it out, and an hour later I was back at my building. I paid the guy generously (I had calmed down enough to know it wasn't his fault), and made a beeline for my friends' apartment. The scene that followed played out something like this....

I'm a guy who rarely, if ever, loses his cool. This wasn't me at all and I recognized that as soon as my mind stopped to take a breath from all the hostility. And not all forms of culture shock manifest as hostility as Dr. Carmen Guanipa points out in her study.

"The symptoms of cultural shock can appear at different times. Although, one can experience real pain from culture shock; it is also an opportunity for redefining one's life objectives. It is a great opportunity for leaning and acquiring new perspectives. Culture shock can make one develop a better understanding of oneself and stimulate personal creativity.

Symptoms:
Sadness, loneliness, melancholy
Preoccupation with health
Aches, pains, and allergies
Insomnia, desire to sleep too much or too little
Changes in temperament, depression, feeling vulnerable, feeling powerless
Anger, irritability, resentment, unwillingness to interact with others
Identifying with the old culture or idealizing the old country
Loss of identity
Trying too hard to absorb everything in the new culture or country
Unable to solve simple problems
Lack of confidence
Feelings of inadequacy or insecurity
Developing stereotypes about the new culture
Developing obsessions such as over-cleanliness
Longing for family
Feelings of being lost, overlooked, exploited or abused"

Remember: YOU are in control here, and now that you know why it is you think building a bunker in your room for the end of days seems like a swell idea right now, you can put off those plans and just try to chill.

My next post on this subject will be just that: Chill Methods

I hope this helps!

More Fun(?) With Google Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Sat, 05 Jan 2008 02:34:00 +0000

Okay, I have a bit of a strange situation on my hands here, and I decided to postpone my original post idea until tomorrow. Maybe someone can shed some light on this for me. Now I have been making some comedic posts involving our friends at the Google company. None of them really at their expense mind you, but posts where their tools have been utilized in the name of chaos and mischief. I don't THINK they could be involved but...I just don't know. I called up my house on Google earth the other night and when I zoomed in, I saw this weird streak of light going right over my roof.

If you have this program (and you should), you can zoom in on the thing at 9°56'59.40"N Latitude and 84° 7'52.83"W Longitude. If you don't have it, you can see the pictures I have attached here. It almost looks like some kind of electro-light tadpole thingie. I've decided to name it Kermit and ask some people smarter than me what it actually could be.

People supposedly see UFOs in the sky down here quite a bit, and at least once a week someone is on the news who claimed to see one. However they also figured out a way to make moonshine out of sugar cane, so I usually take those news stories with a grain of salt. But this thing is zipping over MY roof! Should I make a quick "implant check" on myself? If it does turn out that I was tagged like a wildebeest by some intergalactic Steve Irwin, I'll be pissed at first but after a while I'd figure out a way to have fun with it.

I'll let you know what the smarter people have to say as I get responses, but until then , tell me what YOU think...

Culture Shock 101: The Problem

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 21:56:00 +0000

Well after a month of existence, it's time for this blog to get to the meat and potatoes of it's mission. Sure we've had some n'yuks at my expense so far, but I'm a pretty easy target for that considering my ridiculous lack of common sense. Just as you learned from Wile E. Coyote that strapping rocket skates to your feet is a dumb idea in an area known for cliffs, you've hopefully seen where I should have done some things differently.

Culture Shock is a very real psychological phenomenon that effects everyone. For those of you with a metaphysical take on things, it may be explained this way. Every country and area in the world has it's own unique "psychic field" for lack of a better term. This field is basically the sum total of all the culturally unique thoughts, outlooks, and ideas of the population. And stepping out of that comfort zone and into one you are not used to literally shocks the psyche and can cause all kinds of weird things to happen to your state of mind.

For example: Those of you raised in the US as a child probably remember the old schoolyard taunt "nya, nya, nya, boo-boo, stick your head in doo-doo!" Where did you learn that? Who taught it to you? The bigger kids right? Well, where did THEY learn it? I don't remember any taunting seminar when I went in to Kindergarten. It's the same anywhere you go in the world. People just do certain things because they are inclined to by merit of being born in that particular culture.

Dr. Carmen Guanipa of the San Diego State University College of Education wrote an excellent piece on this phenomenon that you can read in it's entirety here. And I'd like to quote some of her work for the purposes of this post and others where I address this psychological annoyance and how to deal with it.

Culture Shock
The term, culture shock, was introduced for the first time in 1958 to describe the anxiety produced when a person moves to a completely new environment. This term expresses the lack of direction, the feeling of not knowing what to do or how to do things in a new environment, and not knowing what is appropriate or inappropriate. The feeling of culture shock generally sets in after the first few weeks of coming to a new place.

We can describe culture shock as the physical and emotional discomfort one suffers when coming to live in another country or a place different from the place of origin. Often, the way that we lived before is not accepted as or considered as normal in the new place. Everything is different, for example, not speaking the language, not knowing how to use banking machines, not knowing how to use the telephone and so forth.

The symptoms of cultural shock can appear at different times. Although, one can experience real pain from culture shock; it is also an opportunity for redefining one's life objectives. It is a great opportunity for leaning and acquiring new perspectives. Culture shock can make one develop a better understanding of oneself and stimulate personal creativity.

Well if my new agey description of it confused you, I'm sure Dr. Guanipa's was alot more clear. The next post on this subject will cover the symptoms and their effects on an expat, exchange student, or habitual tourist abroad. Until then, safe journeys and DON'T PANIC!!

Survival Tip #3: CHECK THE HOSE!!

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 15:20:00 +0000

Today is the first day of the rest of your lives, and for me, it's my first Benedryl shot of the year.

You see, last Friday I didn't get to the bank on time before it closed to get my paycheck cashed. And being that it was on the cusp of the New Year holiday, the banks were closed the entire weekend and up to today. I've literally had about $10.00 to live on for almost the last week. No New Years parties or festivities for Dr. Girlfriend and I. Que triste...

But we took it in stride, and believe me when I say that it turned out to be one of the most life affirming and all around positive New Years I have ever had. One of the things that I learned while living in a "poor" country is that money really and truly isn't everything. Poor village children laugh just as fully and have just as much fun as rich ones. And because their playtime is based more on imagination instead of a steady stream of whatever they ask for, who is to say who is better off?

In Costa Rica, $10.00 will feed you for a week. So we opted for food instead of libations and fiestas. One pain in the butt was the fact that we couldn't get a propane tank for the hot water. I don't know about you, but hot showers are something besides thumbs that separate us from the animal world. And cold showers are....well...they just suck.

But the sun down here is shining and it's about 85 degrees this time of year. And since we were already in an "oh well" kind of mood and determined to have as much fun as we could on the limited resources we had, we came up with a cool idea. Our backyard is enormous and the nearest neighbor is quite a distance away. So we decided to strip down to nothing and bathe ourselves with the hose. It was hot outside, the sky was bright and cloudless. Just sounded like a fun and romantic thing to do on a budget. At least this way, if the water was too cold, we could hang out in the sun for a while.

So giggling like hyenas, we got all the stuff from the house like towels, shampoo etc. and headed out back for our "sun shower". Now one of the most distracting things in this world for a man is a Tica with her clothes off. And Dr. Girlfriend is no ordinary Tica, she was actually one of the runners up for Miss Costa Rica two years ago and only lost because of "her attitude". So needless to say, my mind was on other things, and I didn't follow a golden rule about living in the tropics.

ALWAYS CHECK YOUR HOSE BEFORE TURNING THE SUM'BITCH ON YOURSELF!

Why? Because life down here can find a place to thrive in any area, even the common garden hose. So when I pointed the hose at my rear and told her to turn it on and "lemmie have it", it was entirely my fault that the newly displaced family of scorpions (about eight) decided that they instead were going to "lemmie have it".

Now in my life, there have been many times when my emotional state has gone from arousal to horror in the span of an instant. But this was different, and not induced by alcohol and mischievous friends. Imagine a bee sting with a pain factor multiplied by a factor of about 15 and you get the gist of a scorpion sting. My culo was on fire and swelling to Della Reese proportions. And when Dr. Girlfriend's apparent solution to the problem took the form of her shrieking and running back inside, I knew I was on my own. So I danced and slapped like a vaudeville performer on a cocaine and espresso diet. Eventually I got all the little bastards off of me, but I took about five hits of venom in the process and was already feeling woozy. It was actually shock because the poison on these little guys isn't really that bad, but I didn't know it at the time, so I mentally prepared for the worst.

That's when I turned to see a nekkid Dr. Girlfriend running at me with a broom hefted like William Wallace with a claymore. The distraction hit again as I thought about how the addition of nekkid Ticas would have greatly improved the movie Braveheart, and I think the vocalization of that thought manifested itself literally as "boingy, boingy, boingy". The thought of telling her I was fine and critter free just didn't occur to me. She then connected like a lumberjack thinking a pancake breakfast was hidden in a magic tree stump. I responded in English for her to "cut it out", and since her English is lacking, she translated my words as "hit me harder you're almost to the pancakes".

Luckily for me, she actually is a third year med student and a dang good one to boot. One shot of Benadryl later, I was feeling alot better. Sitting on a pillow as I type this to you, though.

This survival guide is intended to help you along your way to self discovery in new lands far from home. Please learn from my stupidity. Check your hose before you turn it on.

Fun With Google Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 04:35:00 +0000

Cool! The wicked witch of the west can kiss my ass! Here is something that makes her crystal ball look like five dollar webcam. There's alot of applications for this toy that include new levels of screwing with not-so-tech-savy minds.

This is my favorite:
Call your friend (preferrably one from another country)and tell him / her that you've been feeling dizzy and that you feel reality is drifting in and out of you or something similar. Tell them that you just need to talk to someone and get your bearings back. Bring up random smalltalk and eventually steer the conversation towards their hometown (preferrably in another country). While talking, bring the town up on Google Earth and take up all details. Then suddenly interrupt your friend with something like "OH! The FOUNTAIN at the center of town in the shape of Napoleon was so beautiful!" (presuming such a fountain was there, just using an example)
Your friend will undoubtedly stop dead in his tracks to digest this for a second. Seize that moment to go off on a rant about the way the streets were so cluttered and other details you shouldn't know about this place. Then make your voice fade out to silence saying something like "I'm going there now, Pierre! I'm.....going....there...nowwwww...." Then hang up! If done correctly, the prank should garner one of the following reactions:
1.) Your friend will think you have become some sort of enligtened being like Buddha, Mohammed, or Johnny Cash. In which case you can bank on him / her buying your next meal.
2.) Your friend will think you work for the CIA and start really hustling on their nefarious plans and get back to France.
3.) Think they're in the Matrix and hurt themselves quite badly trying to squeeze themselves through their phone's "talkie hole" in hopes of attending one of those sexy Zion raves because they are French.
4.) Go back to whatever it is they were watching on TV, because you do this kind of stupid shit to him all the time and he ain't buying it anymore.

So far, I've only got the fourth reaction. But to summarize, Google Earth rocks!

To my French brother-from-another-mother, Pierre,....thanks for being a good sport over the years! Good luck my friend!!

Survival Fact #2: To You, It's You That's Who

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 00:40:00 +0000

You are a traveler.

There was a plan in place for you to be born with this wanderlust long before even the sun was born.

Take in every moment, every second, and every breath you take and add it to the knowledge you've acquired.

You know that today's vagabond is tomorrow's wise elder.

A wise elder that still has a child's love of the journey, and the ongoing process of dicovering who you are.

And you know that process never stops, because you have never stopped.

Never stopped exploring, asking questions, and discovering the patterns that connect us all.

If you are ever afraid, or if you ever have doubt, just remember the child you were that always had to see what was around the next corner.

And revel in the fact that they are the ones still calling the shots!

Feel better? Good! Now go grab your English-Whateverish Dictionary and order that pizza, champ! Try rolling your r's when you say pepperoni this time! And speaking of things with lots of cheese, I need to tone down this post before the Precious Moments kids start appearing wanting to sell us things. The best way to do that is to leave you all with a story about a fellow traveler like yourself. Fictitious and geek canon as he may be, there's alot you can learn in these stories about feeling out of place.

Enjoy!

Best. Marketing. Strategy. Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 05:48:00 +0000

I love these Ticos so damn much! This is at Witch's Rock surf area, where the waves are as big as buildings, and the nachos are apparently as big as your ass. Our overpaid corporate focus group shills could never come up with anything this good.

Hope you all are warm wherever you are, stay safe and enjoy the ones you love. Remember to close out 2007 properly because if your country follows the Gregorian calendar, you have Monday off! And remember that the tuckus you are sitting on now is exactly the size of the Costa Rican nacho plate I just scarfed down.

When Google Goes Ga Ga

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 16:04:00 +0000

"All right ... all right ... but apart from better sanitation and medicine and education and irrigation and public health and roads and a freshwater system and baths and public order ... what have the Romans ever done for us?"
Monty Python's Life of Brian

Stepping off the main subject for a second, I want to be the first to admit that Google's ways really confuse me sometimes. But in all honesty they have given to humanity more than they have taken, which is more than I can say about most companies their size. I use the program "Google Analytics" to monitor this site as well as it's sister site Dissent into Gladness, to keep track of how people find me. That way I know when to lay off the jokes that might be offensive to that country. A golden tool for international ignoramuses such as myself!

It's amazing how this program knows what keywords are used in search engines to find this site, and because I just started out, I'm not getting alot from the search engines. In fact, I got my first two just this week. Take a look and tell me if you'd expect the last keyword phrase to bring anyone here...

Yep, someone typed "exploding butthole while power cleaning" in Google, and got my site. I'm happy for the new traffic as is any blogger, but what does this say about me and my relationship with Google? Do they like me or not? Well I guess so if they're giving me visitors....

Something more constructive later.....

Survival Tips Chapter 2: Torches and Pitchforks (An LTN Christmas Special)

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 19:45:00 +0000

As Americans, very little of our culture is taught to us in the traditional sense. What we tend to learn about our own society is what gets filtered to us through the lenses of cameras for either TV or movies. There really are no rights of passage for our culture other than general teenage mischief, usually fueled by lust and alcohol. This can work against you when you are a guest in another country, especially this time of year.

For example, if you are living in Saudi Arabia, and are not Muslim, for Godsakes DON'T go caroling! Just trust me on that one... And the old mistletoe scam to get the hot chick in the office to kiss you, could potentially lead to a public execution in that same area of the world. Here's a field guide of what to do and not do if you live in the Arab world.

If you live in Hong Kong, the big party isn't until the 27th when the Taoists celebrate with a festival called Ta Chiu. This is a pretty mellow ceremony where every person's name who lives in the area is read off of a list by the Taoist priests, and then that list is glued to a paper horse that is then set on fire. As interesting and exotic as it may sound, remember that this is Hong Kong, so that list of names is going to take a while; make sure you take a Snickers. And to avoid the torches and pitchforks, do NOT try and cook meat over the flaming horse as this is the mechanism in which the names are received by heaven. It would suck if someone ended up having a cruddy year because their name floated into your KC Masterpiece instead of the cosmos.

Predominately Buddhist Thailand celebrates Christmas as a way to close out the year with a nice festival. They use the same imagery and decorations, and the kids all have that same anticipation of Santa's visit. You expats in Thailand are pretty safe to let loose here as the only offense you could really give is when you get that white and red striped peppermint injected dead scorpion and scream instead of eating it like candy.

Expats in Norway who are invited to Christmas dinner by locals will be treated to the traditional dish called lutefisk. This is fish that has been treated with lye until it has become a jelly like caustic fish substance. Smile, choke it down, don't cry, and make no reference to the fact that this was probably the food that made the vikings so mean.

So there is a small sample of various Christmas traditions and how not to upset the locals in your host countries when celebrating. I hope this helps!!

Monkeys....

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 19:06:00 +0000

Don't let this dirty little bastard's face fool you. He wants to ruin your hike by yelling at you until you lose it and fling a stick at he and his buddies. That's when he and his friends WILL throw poop on you.

You see, that's what he does, this supposed distant cousin to you and I. He wants no family reunion, no holiday cheer at the table of primate love, he just wants to throw poop on you.

I love all God's animals, I really do. In my particular belief system, all animals are bothers and sisters to humanity. But I have a ruined jacket that says "not this guy", I'd really rather have been bit I think.

And these things live in the jungle, how the hell did they get to eat CORN?

La Migra Station of the Damned

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 06:21:00 +0000

"It was much pleasanter at home, when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits."

Alice

And how, sister! Have you ever wondered if there was a government agency in your host country that was specifically commissioned for the sole purpose of seeing how long a foreigner will sit in a plastic chair before he/she begins to feed on themselves? Well if you live in a certain Central American country that will go nameless for now, yes, look no further because there is one. If you live here for more than a year and are getting your residency status, you will see it. Bring a book.

And even though my butt lost one dimension and about 40% of it's sensation during my wait, that wasn't it. That isn't what makes people lose it and seek their own fingers for nourishment. It's the fact that the wait consists of walking up to a desk for a paper. You fill out and return said paper and watch with mild amusement as it is slid into a drawer of the same desk.

On to another line where you fill out exactly the same paper. THAT paper gets you the honor of returning to the first desk where the first paper was slid in the drawer. The person at the first desk asks you to have a seat next to some dusty skeletons wearing equally dusty American and European clothes and strangely enough, all missing fingers.

No names are called. The man at the first desk with the paper you originally filled out to watch him abscond, just scribbles and occasionally makes a personal call. No numbers are called. The other line (which took 30 minutes) goes on it's business of making people fill out the identical form. No names are called. And you know if you open your mouth, you're just going to make an ass of yourself...again. No numbers are called.

Two hours in and still only the sounds of ceiling fan, shuffling feet, mosquitoes, and the occasional cough. No names are called. Why do your fingers have something to amuse themselves with? That's pretty unfair. Lookit'em just fidgeting away like we weren't trapped in some weird time nexus right now. No numbers are called. Just you and the tourist clad skeletons someone forgot to take with them when they first came here in 1955.

Four hours in and your fingers are starting to literally infuriate you. The skeleton next to you asks you for a smoke, but you decline on account of the cobwebs being a fire hazard and you'd be damned if you're losing your place because of a stupid skeleton setting off the fire alarm.

"Damned? What do you think you are right now?" No mistaking it, the voice came from your fingers. They are positioned like a sock puppet without the sock ....a....skeleton of a sock puppet! "Stupid fingers!! I'm turning you all into poop for that!!" you shriek as you begin to do what was unthinkable before you entered this building and clamp down bulldog style on your own mouse clickers.

THAT'S when they call your name and say they will call you in two days. You waited five and a half hours to wait to be told that you will be called in two days. So you can return....to La Migra Station of the Damned.

You Can Feel Good About Good

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 19:44:00 +0000

Being a gringo in Costa Rica has certain labels to it that I didn't expect before I moved here. Being raised on enough MTV, Nikolodeon, and Disney to turn even the strongest mind to tapioca; I had assumed we as Americans were universally seen as the consummate "good guys". For some reason I thought that finding friends would be a snap and that everyone would understand my apple pie American English if I just spoke REALLY REALLY LOUD AND REALLY REALLY SLOWWW. Nope. I was pretty much wrong on all points and learned quickly that relying on US media outlets for inter cultural waypoints was like going to White Castle for health food. Wow. I miss White Castle... Moving on...

I quickly found out that in the case of my host country, there were some things my history textbooks never mentioned about Costa Rica. Like how we tried to invade and enslave them in the 1800's, giving rise to the Central American version of Braveheart being played out with us as the bad guys. Whoops. And then there's the whimsically evil escapades of the United Fruit Company who made Halliburton look like a non profit charity outfit.

So there was a little more of a deficit than I had previously thought as far as good will was concerned. Not that the typical Tico would bring it up unless in an argument anyway, these people are literally the most tranquilo on the planet. But living here there is a label that sticks to you no matter how you present or carry yourself. You are a North American, you are rich, and you're either here to make a buck or live your life on vacation. A pretty cruddy label to have especially if only the North American part is true. And my first few months here, I genuinely but ignorantly took the word "gringo" as a racial slur to the chagrin of my well meaning Tico friends.

But I have always been the kind of person that needs to know and feel that I am on the right side of the good-evil-indifferent equation. If life were D&D, I'd probably be a solid Neutral Good according to the little quiz. There are different times for law and chaos, but the spirit of good should remain constant. There have been times in my life where this view had led to some suffering on my part, but I also feel better about myself than some people.

Living here, I have seen the deepest depths of poverty carrying the widest smile on its face and the most opulent riches living without satisfaction. So in order to make sure I live within my own beliefs, I try to impact my new home with as much random goodness as I can. This could come in the form of leaving a bag of groceries on a doorstep in the middle of the night. Or it could come in the form of a quick translation for someone in a bank line. A family subsisting on only beans and rice waking up to an unexpected feast is the butterfly wing flap in Africa that creates the hurricane because you have reawakened the belief in miracles if it wasn't there already. Each of us would like to think that God has our backs, and when that belief becomes true faith we become more whole beings. We're inspired because we have been given proof that we are all more than what we appear to be.

Luminous beings are we....not this fleshy matter...
Yoda (67 Monterrey Pop Festival)

In either case, shifting your actions so that they reflect what is the highest good can erase old boundaries and labels and replace them with new appreciations. The most important thing to remember is to always opt for anonymity whenever possible. The good you are trying to spread should carry the same face as our Creator (whatever name your beliefs have given him/her/it/them), and shouldn't be to bring attention to the giver. That brings focus to the person and not the idea.

So my point in all of this is simply that the force of good is humanity's best asset. The intelligence and lucidity to see that Love is the driving force of all life is our birthright that I sincerely hope gets passed down to the next dominant species. And if history's cobwebs can be swept away, the only thing that can possibly do it is Love. So be random, be generous, and when possible be anonymous. If everyone did this, all of mankind would be back at the same dinner table. I just hope India doesn't hog all the biscuits again....

Voices from Home

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 17:57:00 +0000

As the going purpose of this blog is to give folks some relief from the shock of living in another country, I'm going to keep chucking sign posts through the digital ether for your consideration.

When an American leaves their country for the first time, it can be quite unsettling. People driving on the "wrong" side of the road, playing "guess that critter" when buying meat at the store, and finding out that not all houses in the world are climate controlled are things you will have to put up with. At the end of a long day I sometimes felt like Sir Bill Murray in Lost in Translation, just sitting on my bed staring at the wall, just waiting to be confused again.

But the feelings of isolation you are experiencing can be soothed just as easily as they strike if'n you know where to look.

The internet has brought the entire world together in a very profound way. Chances are that your hometown radio station does a live internet broadcast. Even if you swear by your CD or MP3 collection and haven't listened to it in years, bring it up and let it stream. You see it's not the music that has the healing quality my wayward friend, believe it or not....it's the commercials.

No that wasn't a typo, the commercials that once were the bane of listening to the radio are now welcome voices in your new home. I myself like to listen to the old Art Bell show (now A.M. Coast to Coast) at night. It's a show about UFOs and Bigfeet mostly, and it helps me feel at home late at night when it's just me with my thoughts. If there's a particular show that YOU are a fan of you can find it easily right here. You can use this site to track down just about any radio broadcast in the US. And like everything else I recommend to my readers, it's completely free and spamless!

In the quiet of night, even ten thousand miles away, voices from home can keep you company!

Survival Fact #1: Bush is Not Your Fault!!

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 21:04:00 +0000

If you are an American abroad, you will find yourself in the position of explaining alot things going on in the States that alot of people don't agree with. Now this will happen to you at some point when you start making friends in your host country. I will leave the chimp bashing on my other blog as I realize politics swing both ways for my readers. But that doesn't take away the fact that this WILL happen.

For example, I was enjoying my first night out with some employees of mine at a discotheque in downtown San Jose. We had all become friends at work and I was curious to experience the nightlife after being cooped up in my apartment for two weeks. After "sampling" a couple of Imperials, the national beer, one of my friends decided to make the observation that my beer of choice fit nicely with the fact that I was an American.

At first I didn't get it, thanks to that delicious ambrosia of a cervesa. I mean this beer is good, like every other thing under the country's strict food laws, this was REALLY 100% natural beer. There are only four freaking ingredients on the bottle!

But then it dawned on me, partly due to the bit of an embarrassing pause after he said it. "Imperial", I read off the bottle. "Huh? What are you trying to say Manuel?" I asked rather buzzedly.

"Your president thinks he can take over the whole world and be cheered at. How did you people elect him TWICE?"

I explained to him that I was in fact lying in bed for two days after he was re-elected. Didn't eat anything. Didn't say anything. Just lied there in a surreal combination of denial, ennui, and paranoid bewilderment. My girlfriend at the time was seriously considering calling someone to fetch me for a white padded holiday.

So after a while, I was able to get the scene laughing again. I explained that alot of my reasons for leaving the US were the strange changes and my president. But here is where my experience can help YOU. Alot of American world travelers have resorted to stitching Canadian flags to their backpacks as to avoid any prejudice.

Don't do that.

We had a founding father named Benjamin Franklin who was the very first face our country put forward diplomatically. He lived in France during his time in office as our envoy, and he lived there for close to ten years. He used that time to communicate exactly what was the American character and our ideals. He would often show up at functions wearing raccoon skins like Davy Crockett or in just casual clothes which were the equivalent of jeans and a t-shirt for the time. And all the while, he would talk about the inherent Right of man to be a free thinking and self determined individual. Rumor has it the ladies were quite fond of this pudgy, bespectacled, long haired, but razor sharp ruffian too. As a result, the image of America was forged as such and stayed with us right up until just recently.

It's your job to take that image back. Over the years, our philosophies and ideals combined with our incredible diversity has given us "super power" status (I still can't fly). But we are still at heart the fun loving free spirited pranksters who would rather throw the tea in the harbor than pay taxes on it. As soon as our culture gets back to those roots, we will be just fine. And being outside the country, you have the opportunity to "walk the walk" as it where and show everyone that we are a country of different voices and the loudest ones right now aren't exactly speaking for all of us.

I hope this helps!

Survival Tips Chapter 1: Poop Hitting the Fan

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 06:42:00 +0000

Beneath the same sky we share a view of the stars, and there is so much going on up there now I don't know if you've had a view of this comet since it's arrival, but it has lit up the sky down here to where there is a very real science fictiony look to the place. Hopefully you aren't in a place where the locals consider this an omen of some kind and demand sacrifice. If that's the case, I offer you this and this as possible resources to be utilized.

As this blog is first and foremost a survival guide, I feel it necessary to include some real advice on what to do if poop goes horribly, horrifically, catastrophically, or delightfully wrong while on your journeys. Even if you are in Japan.

Look for these and other useful tips as time goes on!

Some Volcanoes Are Just Jerks....

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Sun, 09 Dec 2007 07:28:00 +0000

Woke up to Mt. Arenal doing it's usual "fear me, mortals" statement by shaking the whole province out of a peaceful sleep. No problem, does it all the time....no problem at all.

God, I hate that bastard.

10 bucks says I go back to sleep and dream about being in Pompeii. Dr. Girlfriend looking way too good in a toga aside, I know the ending of that story and it's pretty damn undignified. At least I can count on the Costa Rican govt. to rely on more than divination with chicken guts to predict the severity of the eruption.

Going back to bed....

Critical Linguistics for the Habitually Misplaced

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 23:09:00 +0000

After living here for a year, my Spanish is finally to the point where I can call myself at least semi-fluent. Dr. Girlfriend still laughs whenever I say certain words, but I no longer just assume the fetal position and weep anymore when trying to order Chinese delivery. What did it for me quite honestly was a Star Wars Marathon on Cinecanal (the local 'HBO')entirely in Spanish with subtitles in English. 8 hours of Force luvin' goodness later and I had cracked the language like a code. Alot of times, just unraveling one or two sentences and analyzing the grammar can illuminate a good part of a language.

I offer this to you as a gift. I found this online a few months back, and it can help you do just that with the language of your host country.

How to say
"Oh my god! There's an axe in my head" in various languages

English: Oh my god! There's an axe in my head.
Bosnian: boje moj! sjekira mi je u glavi.
French: Mon dieu! Il y a une hache dans ma tete.
Visigothic: Meina guth, Ikgastaldan aqizi-wunds meina
haubida
Swedish: Ah, Herregud! Jag har en yxa i huvudet!
Dutch: O, mijn God! Er zit een bijl in mijn hoofd.
Latin: Deus Meus! Securis in capite meo est.
German: Oh mein Gott! Ich habe eine Axt im Kopf!
Japanese: ahh, kamisama! watashi no atama ni ono ga
arimasu.
Norwegian: Herre Gud! Jeg har en aks i hodet!
Spanish: Dios mio! Hay una hacha en mi cabeza!
Hungarian: Jaj Istenem, de fejsze van a fejemben!!
Middle Egyptian: in Amun! iw minb m tp-i!
Greek: hristo mou! eho ena maheri sto kefali mou!
Tagalog: Ay Dios ko! May palakol sa ulo ko!
Danish: Oh min gud! Der er en oekse i mit hoved.
Afrikaans: O God! Daar's 'n byl in my kop!
Polish: O Moj Boze! Mam siekiere w glowie!
Maori: Ave Te Ariki! He toki ki roto taku mahuna!
Italian: Dio mio! C'e' un' ascia nella mia testa!
Portuguese: Meu Deus! Tenho um machado na cabeca!
Klingon: ghay'cha'! nachwIjDaq betleH tu'lu'!
Bengali: Oh Allah! Amar mathar upor bash poreche.
Finnish: Voi Luoja! Paassani on kirves!
Icelandic: Gud minn godur! Thad er o:xi i ho:fdinu a mer.
Ancient Greek: O Theos mou! Echo ten labrida en te mou kephale!
Babylonian: iliya pashu ina reshiya bashu
Assyrian: iliya pashum ina reshimi bashu
Welsh: A nuw! Mae bywell yn fy mhen i!
Alsatian: Lever Gott! Es esch a Axe en miner Kopf!
Swahili: Siyo! (Huko) Shoka yangu kichwanil!
Slovenian: Moj Bog! Sekiro imam v glavi.
Irish: Mo Dhia! Ta' tua sa mo cheann.
Esperanto: Mia Dio! Hakilo estas en mia kapo!
Marathi: Aray Devaa! Majhyaa dokyaat kurhaad aahay.
Hindi: Hay Bhagwaan! Mere sar mein kulhaadi hain.
Russian: Bozhe moi! Eto topor v moyei golove!
Hebrew: Eloi! Yesh'li ca-sheel ba-rosh sheh-li!
Malayalam: Entey Deiwame, entey thalayil oru kodali undei.
Latvian: Ak Dievs! Man ir cirvis galva!

See? Even if you find yourself on Kronos, homeworld of the once mighty Klingon Empire (where you may actually need this phrase), I got your back!

Alas Poor Fido, We Ate Him Well Horatio!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 21:51:00 +0000

Do you remember the first time you went to the grocery store / market of your host country? I remember thinking, "dang, so this is what starvation is going to be like", and resigning myself night after night to pizza deliveries and the ubiquitous Mickey D's. There was a bag of meat in the frozen section of the Perimercados that looked like stew meat of some kind. Upon closer inspection I saw that there was a picture of a golden retriever on the bag. Different other bags had different breeds of dogs like German shepherds and cocker spaniels.

No way....really....I mean...REALLY? Costa Rica does have a large Chinese immigrant population, and dog is enjoyed in several parts of southern China like beef. There was already so much in the store I couldn't read or understand yet that I just chalked it up to diversity and went on my merry way and prayed to God I'd find me some Chef Boyardee.

Twenty minutes and six cans of ravioli and Dino O's later, I was in the checkout lane. In front of me was a European woman who had a much better grasp of the Spanish language than I did, and she was also haggling the price of an enormous frozen bag emblazoned with an elegant picture of some kind of hunting dog in mid-run.

At this point I was struggling to keep all six cans of preservative my laden ambrosia with from falling onto my feet. My mind had completely lost the ability to rationalize using a shopping cart when I first entered the building partly because of my lifestyle and partly because I had assumed they just didn't have the technology. Mostly the first reason. But this lady just wouldn't shut up about her bag of dog, and the line was building to a small crowd. Screaming kids. Cans about to fall. This lady's STILL trying to get a BARGAIN on DOG MEAT! I couldn't take any more....

"Ma'am, there's a Doberman across the street from my house that I will kill, clean, and filet for you for free if you'll just hurry up and get this over with!" My Canadian neighbor, Morton, (who I didn't see enter the store) ran up to the side of the line. "If you touch Kiethy MacTeethy, I swear to God, I'll tell Arnie it was you! You psychotic American jerk! Where do you people get off threatening everything that inconveniences you?"

"My momma didn't name me 'You People', Mort, and I was just trying to offer this lady some livestock AS A JOKE!"

The joke was on me because that wasn't a bag of dog meat. It was a bag of dog food. And it was intended for one Mr. Kiethy MacTeethy as a treat. His owners were a Swedish couple who I can still say that I am friends with now.

Moral: Either don't lose your cool in line, or pick a stray dog the next time you offer to "rustle" one. You pick...

Another Costa Rican Morning....

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 15:31:00 +0000

I absolutely love my host country. The monsoon season has subsided and the air has a cleanness to it that you have to experience to understand. Costa Rica has one of the largest and still undeveloped tracts of rain forest in the world. And my God, those trees can scrub air like you wouldn't believe. I have lived in pollution free air for a year now, and there's no way I could ever go back.

I used to live in Tampa, Florida which is arguably one of the most disgusting smelling cities in the US. Mostly because of all the cheap-o cigar companies churning out smokable poodle turds for those people "too cool" to just smoke cigarettes. You know those cigars that cost like 80 cents for a pack of like 10? All of them are made in that odiously stinky city.

Where are you right now this morning? Are you enjoying your morning in Europe, Asia, or any other continent?

You are not alone!!

noreply@blogger.com (Merlyn Trey Hunter) — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 00:55:00 +0000

Nope, not in the least bit! Even though part of you really just wants to go home, you will adapt to this new place you've found yourself, I promise. No one is out to get you (unless you really DID do something), and no one begrudges you for being homesick. You will find that this experience will happen in stages until you finally arrive at a place of mind that few Americans ever know, cultural tolerance and adaptability.

Yes this will turn out to be one of the most memorable adventures of your life if culture shock doesn't chase you back home. You will learn more about the world and yourself than you ever thought possible. You will also learn what it is that makes us "American" and how that's perceived by the rest of the world.

Feel free to drop your comments and questions as everyone benefits from advice in this area. And the very nature of the way we live now leads to some pretty funny stories. I'll be sharing mine as I go along, but I'd love to hear from others as well! In the meantime, I'd like to leave you with a little motivational image to meditate on. I know it's helped me quite often!!