Culture Shock Lives On

Last week, my parents and I enjoyed several meals at Italian restaurants.  I had to remind my parents as they got anxious waiting a half hour between courses that this is Italy and to relax and enjoy their way of life.  I had to remind them again, when we waited 45 minutes for the check.  My parents caught on.  They took me, Becca, and the Mimun's to dinner the other night and were not fazed when the group hadn't gathered until close to an hour after our predetermined meeting time.  I felt quite proud of myself that I had adjusted to this foreign culture (more foreign to us antsy Schlussels than to other Americans).  Well, apparently I'm not there yet.

Last night, Becca's parents took me and the Cousins (the other Italian family that has hosted Becca and me for Shabbat meals) out to dinner in the ghetto.  I had alot to do but meeting Becca's family and seeing the Cousins sounded great so I figured I would get to work afterwards.

Silly me.

Dinner in Italy is a very long affair and I had to remind myself during the half hour between courses and the 45 minutes it took to get the check that I'm in Italy and to relax and enjoy. Enjoy, I did. Relax, I tried.

After dinner, the Cousins drove me home.  I sat in the backseat with their 2 teenage children.  I went through the usual ritual of riding in a car - climbing in, sitting down, reaching behind me and fastening the seatbelt.... And they started to laugh.  They cracked up and informed me as if I made a huge cultural blunder that in Italy, you don't have to buckle up in the back seat.

I found it hilarious that they found my safe practice to be funny enough to laugh out loud.  But laughing alone isn't so much fun and some things translate better than others so I responded simply and decided to blog later.

I guess the culture shock lives on.