Barbara Streisand once sang a song about people. Something about people who need people being the luckiest people in the world.
That idea has been buzzing around my head since we got back from Summer holiday. While on holiday we encountered scores of people. And my interactions with many of them certainly make me feel like a lucky person. But interactions with others...well let's just say they left me a little bamboozled as to how people the world around can just be so bloody different.
We had been warned about going to France last year. Apparently they are rude, not very helpful and refuse to speak English even though they know they can. So we were prepared. And we needn't have been. I can't even remember meeting one of those people we had been warned about. From the major tourist traps in Paris to the small village of Guemene Penfao we only struck welcoming, helpful and polite people. We simply didn't have a bad experience in France. Nice. People.
Jump forward a year. We were warned that people in England could be moody, miserable, grumpy and aloof (our good friends Clare and Scott being the exceptions of course). Once again, our experience was far from that reality. Maybe it had something to do with the heatwave and the amazing summer we walked into? Not sure. But as soon as we got on a train heading from Gatwick Airport to East Croydon we met some typical working class blokes on the train who chatted happily and gave us directions. We met the most amazing people in the East Croydon Information Centre...people who did make us the luckiest people in the world because they gave us the best hints for saving money on deals and the best advice for how to get from here to there. Teenagers on the trains stood up for me when I had the kids in tow, men stood up for me and other women stood up for me. Lily made many-a-friend on the trains; her natural inquisitiveness and confidence made it easy for her to engage in conversation with whomever sat next to her.
Perhaps the greatest example of true English hospitality though, came from a wonderful woman called Helen. We have no idea what her last name was. We simply stood on a street corner wondering which way we head to our next abode, when Helen walked up to us. It was a hot day and we were struggling a little with a suitcase, a pram, two backpacks and two hot, tired toddlers. Helen said she knew the road we were looking for, offered to take us back to her house for a cold drink where she would phone for a taxi. This woman trusted us enough, that when Lily boldly asked if she could go upstairs to look around (a lovely traditional English house with garden) she left Jason and I alone in her lounge sipping (more like gulping) water with a slice of lemon. We felt like the luckiest people in the world. Bless you, Helen.
Indeed our initial thoughts about Italy were nothing short of fantastical. And boy did Italy deliver with respects to the sightseeing and the incredible historical landmarks. Lifelong memories! A glorious place for tourists, but perhaps not to be a tourist. We were largely under-prepared for some locals and their contempt for the hordes of visitors to their country. What a mixed bag! Many were welcoming, cheerful and helpful. Many loved our children and were so pleasant to us. However, after two weeks in this classical country, we found ourselves increasingly frustrated with the arrogant and rude behaviour of some. Old ladies would get on the local buses; typified by their hunched backs and walking sticks. That wasn't enough to raise any man from his seat, nor any young person. A woman with a baby was left to stand on a bus, juggling with her child and her bags, while attempting desperately to hold on as the bus lurched forwards and backwards. Not one soul raised their precious bottoms off the seats.
We encountered daily rudeness on buses, trains, in shops and in the streets. If you accidentally bumped into someone and proceeded to apologise, that apology was simply not enough. You were chastised well and truly. While having an ice-cream in a park in Pisa I was spat at by a 3 year old who tried unsuccessfully to steal Ben's drink bottle. We were pushed, jostled and almost run over in the mad rush to be first on the bus, first on the train, first on the boat. Reminded me a little of living and teaching in Al Ain...
Suffice it to say, one of our coolest experiences was walking in to the Irish Pub in Rome and being greeted with a smile and a loud cheery voice of the publican who said "Welcome Home!" Even Dave Dobbin couldn't have done any better. We truly felt at home and were even more delighted to share this little piece of paradise with our friends Lynlee, Trevor and kids.
Some of the friendliest people we have come across are those that have had some connection in the past to Kiwis and to New Zealand. Our trips to Oman have been nothing short of welcoming. When we hit the Oman border (having been grunted at by those at the UAE border), we are always welcomed affectionately when they see the New Zealand passport. "You are always welcome in Oman" is always the resounding statement made from the Omani people. Even when stopped going back to the UAE by machine-clad Omani soldiers, our experience of handing over the Kiwi passport was positive, with big smiles and "Oh you are from New Zealand" allowing us easy thoroughfare. Apparently the NZ government supplied Oman with lots and lots of milk powder during war time...and for that it seems, they are truly grateful. And we, are truly lucky.
We experienced the same kind of feeling in Crete recently. Our history and theirs is intertwined in our Second World War attempts to protect European shores from the enemy. Cretan people certainly value the role Kiwis played in defending their shores...and there is evidence still of their respect for New Zealanders. In Turkey, we are in the enviable position of walking straight out of the airport doors without need of paying for a visa to do so. Our relationship with these countries is obviously still strong, and we are lucky and thankful for that!
Here in Al Ain there's also so much to feel lucky about. We have met some of the most tremendous people from all walks of life. Some of the local teachers I work with are inspiring. They are strong, confident women with great senses of humour and wit. They are empowered and wonderful role models for the next generation. While many of the teachers at my school initially were rude, weary and at times downright disrespectful towards me, there were some who accepted me and were kind to me from the very beginning. Where it took time for others to warm to the western influence, there were a handful who openly welcomed me from the outset. They have treated me with respect and as an equal. They have shown me affection and care during my time at my school.
Then the women who have become my friends here. They come from many places around the globe; from the United States, from Canada, from the British Isles, from Australia, and of course from New Zealand too. The thing about living in this place is that friends come thick and fast. The friendships develop at warp-speed because we need them to. Without family and friends from back home, friendships in the desert take on a very necessary survival aspect; you need friends just to get you through each day, each month, each year.
Sure, I've seen some bizarre behaviour from some sectors of our western community. If I wrote a book about what I've seen you wouldn't believe it! I'm sure never to understand the way some people choose to behave, as much as I suppose I remain an enigma to others. But the people who count; well, they have made my life extraordinary. They are a part of the novel that is my life, and they will forever be etched in my memory and my heart for the contribution they made to my survival here, and my enjoyment here. Babs was right...people who need people are the luckiest people in the world. And I count myself very lucky. Shukran to you all.
So to put some of this in perspective, I remember a few years back teaching the film "American History X" to my senior students in New Zealand. One of the enduring moments in that film is of a young boy, talking about the hate that he has in his heart for other people and finally he realises that, "Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. It's just not worth it." The boy goes on to realise that it is not skin colour, religious belief or ethnicity that matters; it is people.
Maybe this quote means a lot more now that I've experienced so much diversity in my life. Al Ain is a quilt-cover of ethnicities. Lily and Ben's school has 25 different nationalities. We all try to live here alongside each other attempting to forge a life where our world views can exist harmoniously. For the most part I don't think we've got it right, yet.
But you know, despite that, the friendships I've made remind me constantly how little impact those differences can have. The words we say may be different, how we say them may be different, and the way we do things may be different.
But in the end it is the people, nothing else, who matter.
'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.'
That idea has been buzzing around my head since we got back from Summer holiday. While on holiday we encountered scores of people. And my interactions with many of them certainly make me feel like a lucky person. But interactions with others...well let's just say they left me a little bamboozled as to how people the world around can just be so bloody different.
We had been warned about going to France last year. Apparently they are rude, not very helpful and refuse to speak English even though they know they can. So we were prepared. And we needn't have been. I can't even remember meeting one of those people we had been warned about. From the major tourist traps in Paris to the small village of Guemene Penfao we only struck welcoming, helpful and polite people. We simply didn't have a bad experience in France. Nice. People.
Jump forward a year. We were warned that people in England could be moody, miserable, grumpy and aloof (our good friends Clare and Scott being the exceptions of course). Once again, our experience was far from that reality. Maybe it had something to do with the heatwave and the amazing summer we walked into? Not sure. But as soon as we got on a train heading from Gatwick Airport to East Croydon we met some typical working class blokes on the train who chatted happily and gave us directions. We met the most amazing people in the East Croydon Information Centre...people who did make us the luckiest people in the world because they gave us the best hints for saving money on deals and the best advice for how to get from here to there. Teenagers on the trains stood up for me when I had the kids in tow, men stood up for me and other women stood up for me. Lily made many-a-friend on the trains; her natural inquisitiveness and confidence made it easy for her to engage in conversation with whomever sat next to her.
Perhaps the greatest example of true English hospitality though, came from a wonderful woman called Helen. We have no idea what her last name was. We simply stood on a street corner wondering which way we head to our next abode, when Helen walked up to us. It was a hot day and we were struggling a little with a suitcase, a pram, two backpacks and two hot, tired toddlers. Helen said she knew the road we were looking for, offered to take us back to her house for a cold drink where she would phone for a taxi. This woman trusted us enough, that when Lily boldly asked if she could go upstairs to look around (a lovely traditional English house with garden) she left Jason and I alone in her lounge sipping (more like gulping) water with a slice of lemon. We felt like the luckiest people in the world. Bless you, Helen.
Indeed our initial thoughts about Italy were nothing short of fantastical. And boy did Italy deliver with respects to the sightseeing and the incredible historical landmarks. Lifelong memories! A glorious place for tourists, but perhaps not to be a tourist. We were largely under-prepared for some locals and their contempt for the hordes of visitors to their country. What a mixed bag! Many were welcoming, cheerful and helpful. Many loved our children and were so pleasant to us. However, after two weeks in this classical country, we found ourselves increasingly frustrated with the arrogant and rude behaviour of some. Old ladies would get on the local buses; typified by their hunched backs and walking sticks. That wasn't enough to raise any man from his seat, nor any young person. A woman with a baby was left to stand on a bus, juggling with her child and her bags, while attempting desperately to hold on as the bus lurched forwards and backwards. Not one soul raised their precious bottoms off the seats.
We encountered daily rudeness on buses, trains, in shops and in the streets. If you accidentally bumped into someone and proceeded to apologise, that apology was simply not enough. You were chastised well and truly. While having an ice-cream in a park in Pisa I was spat at by a 3 year old who tried unsuccessfully to steal Ben's drink bottle. We were pushed, jostled and almost run over in the mad rush to be first on the bus, first on the train, first on the boat. Reminded me a little of living and teaching in Al Ain...
Suffice it to say, one of our coolest experiences was walking in to the Irish Pub in Rome and being greeted with a smile and a loud cheery voice of the publican who said "Welcome Home!" Even Dave Dobbin couldn't have done any better. We truly felt at home and were even more delighted to share this little piece of paradise with our friends Lynlee, Trevor and kids.
Some of the friendliest people we have come across are those that have had some connection in the past to Kiwis and to New Zealand. Our trips to Oman have been nothing short of welcoming. When we hit the Oman border (having been grunted at by those at the UAE border), we are always welcomed affectionately when they see the New Zealand passport. "You are always welcome in Oman" is always the resounding statement made from the Omani people. Even when stopped going back to the UAE by machine-clad Omani soldiers, our experience of handing over the Kiwi passport was positive, with big smiles and "Oh you are from New Zealand" allowing us easy thoroughfare. Apparently the NZ government supplied Oman with lots and lots of milk powder during war time...and for that it seems, they are truly grateful. And we, are truly lucky.
We experienced the same kind of feeling in Crete recently. Our history and theirs is intertwined in our Second World War attempts to protect European shores from the enemy. Cretan people certainly value the role Kiwis played in defending their shores...and there is evidence still of their respect for New Zealanders. In Turkey, we are in the enviable position of walking straight out of the airport doors without need of paying for a visa to do so. Our relationship with these countries is obviously still strong, and we are lucky and thankful for that!
Here in Al Ain there's also so much to feel lucky about. We have met some of the most tremendous people from all walks of life. Some of the local teachers I work with are inspiring. They are strong, confident women with great senses of humour and wit. They are empowered and wonderful role models for the next generation. While many of the teachers at my school initially were rude, weary and at times downright disrespectful towards me, there were some who accepted me and were kind to me from the very beginning. Where it took time for others to warm to the western influence, there were a handful who openly welcomed me from the outset. They have treated me with respect and as an equal. They have shown me affection and care during my time at my school.
Then the women who have become my friends here. They come from many places around the globe; from the United States, from Canada, from the British Isles, from Australia, and of course from New Zealand too. The thing about living in this place is that friends come thick and fast. The friendships develop at warp-speed because we need them to. Without family and friends from back home, friendships in the desert take on a very necessary survival aspect; you need friends just to get you through each day, each month, each year.
Sure, I've seen some bizarre behaviour from some sectors of our western community. If I wrote a book about what I've seen you wouldn't believe it! I'm sure never to understand the way some people choose to behave, as much as I suppose I remain an enigma to others. But the people who count; well, they have made my life extraordinary. They are a part of the novel that is my life, and they will forever be etched in my memory and my heart for the contribution they made to my survival here, and my enjoyment here. Babs was right...people who need people are the luckiest people in the world. And I count myself very lucky. Shukran to you all.
So to put some of this in perspective, I remember a few years back teaching the film "American History X" to my senior students in New Zealand. One of the enduring moments in that film is of a young boy, talking about the hate that he has in his heart for other people and finally he realises that, "Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. It's just not worth it." The boy goes on to realise that it is not skin colour, religious belief or ethnicity that matters; it is people.
Maybe this quote means a lot more now that I've experienced so much diversity in my life. Al Ain is a quilt-cover of ethnicities. Lily and Ben's school has 25 different nationalities. We all try to live here alongside each other attempting to forge a life where our world views can exist harmoniously. For the most part I don't think we've got it right, yet.
But you know, despite that, the friendships I've made remind me constantly how little impact those differences can have. The words we say may be different, how we say them may be different, and the way we do things may be different.
But in the end it is the people, nothing else, who matter.
'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.'
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.