(Inter)National Hug A Foreigner Day!

I am proposing a new holiday; one during which humanity, in mass, vows to go out and find the befuddled person roaming the aisles at the grocery store, or the lady who doesn't understand when or how to cross the street, or the sad hungry guy in line at a fast food place who just wants a damn hamburger but keeps getting asked about french fries in a language he doesn't know...AND GIVE THAT PERSON A HUG.  They need it, trust me.

I knew coming here that there would be things I wouldn't understand; signs I might not be able to read or customs I might inadvertently stomp upon...but I never assumed that I would have no idea whatsover how to shop.  Things are just different here in a way I wasn't quite expecting, and even the simplest things trip me up.  For starters, of course, I barely know the language.  I'm working on it, but I've only had two semesters (and three weeks) of classroom Russian and that doesn't help a hell of a lot when the cranky lady at the market is yelling at you to lay your bottle of wine down flat.  Also, these feisty Russians really strongly dislike making change, and will almost refuse to do so until you've gone through your entire purse and proven that no, in fact, you don't have 17 kopeks (which by the way is roughly no money whatsoever leave me alone about it why are you charging that stupid denomination anyway you suck OMG!). 

Then there's the fun of having to evaluate each new store you go into and trying to figure out what its particular idiosyncrasies are.  Some make you lock up your purse in a locker before you shop (because I am now oh-so-comfortable letting my valuables out of my sight and all...).  Some have absolutely everything behind a counter, necessitating a rather humorous conversation with the clerk that involves lots of pointing.  Some have a line in which you have to get your produce weighed and tagged before you go into the main checkout line, and believe me, the clerks have no problem simply tossing aside unmarked bananas and not selling them to you.

Of course, even after you've figured all of this out, you still have the products themselves to contend with.  Luckily for me, bread comes in clear packaging and the word vodka never changes.  But things get complicated after the essentials are met.  For example: are these lovely wet wipes for makeup removal, or for baby poo removal?  Will this pink mystery goo clean my dishes or soften my undies?  And my favorite thus far: the mystery meat.  I accidentally bought pure fat strips the other day (kinda like bacon, minus any pretense of meat), under the mistaken assumption that they were slices of peppered turkey.  Whoops.  After my "turkey" turned completely translucent in the frying pan and I watched 59 rubles go in the trash, I made a decision:  I'm bringing a dictionary with me when I shop.  I was hoping to not have to be That American who carries one around like that, but upon further consideration, I'd much rather be That American, than be That Girl Who Shampooed With Russian Nair.

Basically, I humiliate myself constantly.  At least once a day I get that deer-in-the-foreign-language look on my face and am often met with exasperation and/or blatant mockery.  Usually I laugh right with them, but sometimes I just want to scream I'M TRYING BUT YOUR STUPID LANGUAGE IS REALLY HARD!!!!!  (Of course, I can't yell that, since, well, I don't know how to say it.)  I've found myself, in my less adventurous moments, selecting food-gettin' places simply because they look simple to order in, or worse yet, resorting to American menus that are simply transliterated, which led to my McDonald's moment (anything on the menu you're used to just needs to be ordered with a Russian accent, and it's yours.  Beeg yend Tyestee?  Fehlyey uh feesh?  Yes please!).  I know this will go away with time, and soon I'll be able to answer the guy asking if I have an Ashan credit card, but for right now, it is a little intimidating.

Which leads me to my main point:  Be nice to foreign people.  They're just as bright and adept at the world as you are, but everything around them is probably brand new and very strange.  We Americans do weird things all the time; we just don't notice it because we're doing them.

Put yourself in their shoes.  Remember the first time you ever looked at a Starbucks menu?  Yeah, you had no idea what you were doing, admit it.  And that shit's in English!  (Well, okay, it's in Starbish.  But still.)  It's like that, times fifteen thousand and minus the nice baristas, every day. 

So, the next time you get frustrated at that foreign girl in line, just gently set her wine down for her and giggle to yourself at the blog she might be writing later that night, pondering why the hell every American everywhere wants to know how her day is going and keeps offering her a "doggie bag" if she hasn't finished her food. 

And one more thing:  English is hard too.  Really, really hard.  Be glad you know it, and don't be a dick to people who don't.  I'll bet they're trying.  And if they tell you they don't speak your language, for the love of God, don't keep rambling at them in that language!!  This is one of Russians' least helpful habits.  Just switch to short, simple words that a first year learner might know and use a gesture or two, and I'll bet you'll figure each other out.  You'll get a sale, they'll get bananas, and world peace will reign.

So there ya have it.  From now on, October 4th will be (Inter)National Hug A Foreigner Day!  Let's just hope that, for the sake of diplomatic relations, Glenn Beck at least leaves this holiday the fuck alone.