Fitting In and Standing Out

     Sometimes, no, a lot of times I walk through my day and notice things about Slovakia that I just really love. They are things that probably no one else in this country notices or appreciates (ok, maybe the handful of foreigners do) because they grew up here. But I didn't. I'm not talking about the gorgeous rolling green hills or the craggy mountain ranges or the picturesque old buildings and squares. Those are things everyone can appreciate if they have half an eye open. But let's take for instance these bricks. We have a tendency in the US to just pave over everything, but these bricks are very typical here for parking lots. I've always liked the looks of them, and I just now realized it's a nice (and practical) way to keep a little extra green around. And a little extra CO2, to boot, in places where there are lots of cars. But the thing that caught my eye on the way to see Miss Tatiana, my hairdresser and friend (whom, by the way, you can add her to the things I love about Slovakia), was how each little rectangle had different kinds of plants in it. They looked like thousands of tiny terrariums (terraria?) and it just made me really happy. Or take for instance the half pound of walnuts I got for free this morning while waiting for my friend. Rosy was playing in a rock pile and the wind was blowing and they just kept falling all around us. Never in my life had I ever gotten to gather walnuts back home. Maybe I just never took the time to notice them, but here there are plum trees, cherry trees, apricot trees and walnut trees in public areas, and now and again you see people collecting their fruit. Today it was me. 

     Sometimes I walk through my day, though, and notice things about Slovakia that I don't love so much. In this instance I'm not talking about political corruption or lack of handicap access, outdated medical care or stiff-necked ways of thinking, although I don't love those things so much either. I'm talking about feeling like an outsider. Sometimes things happen and I go to my room and just cry because I realize that I will probably never fit in here. Things have gotten better, I have started to learn the culture. Funny that you actually have to learn a culture just like you have to learn a language. And in my experience, learning the culture was almost harder. For example, Slovaks are huge on their greetings. Children are taught to greet adults at a very young age. As soon as they can talk. And just about every day I hear mothers, prodding their children to say good day to whomever they met on the street, usually in an exasperated manner. ''What? Don't you have a tongue?'' (direct translation) they often ask, as the child hides behind their leg, shyly looking at the ground. I feel very torn about this whole thing with our kids. On the one hand, I absolutely hate the idea of forcing kids (or myself) to greet people because it's expected of them. I also hate people greeting me because it's expected of them. There's a girl in our building, and every time she says good day to me I almost feel a little sick because I can see in her face that it's a purely perfunctory act. And if I'm honest, there are some people I greet perfunctorily because I know it's expected of me. When I first moved here I got burned a couple of times because I didn't say good day out loud to some people. I had no idea I was expected to greet my in-laws' neighbors or my friend's mother-in-law, but some people got very offended that I just smiled at them. Conversely, I've gotten some very strange looks when I said good day to some people I'm not ''supposed'' to greet. There are these ''rules'' to whom you're supposed to greet and I did not know those rules. I'm supposed to greet everyone who lives in our building and anyone I run into in our building. I should greet anyone someone I'm with greets, whether I know them or not. I should greet people in waiting rooms, doctors, nurses, anyone working when I enter a shop, everyone I meet in a small village, the bus driver, service people, anyone who is already in a room I enter, but not always. You see my conundrum? It has brought me to tears many a time. But back to our kids. Part of me wants to just let them be and not bother at all with this whole greeting thing. Lily, for example, has never greeted anyone she was ''supposed'' to greet that I know of except family. Not for lack of (our) trying. She just won't. And part of me thinks you go girl. (Hahahahaha. I wish I actually thought those words. That would be funny). It's like when someone gives your kid something and your kid doesn't say thank you, so you ask what do you say? And they still won't say thank you, so you speak more firmly and pretty soon it's like SAY THANK YOU, GOSHDARNIT!! which totally defeats the purpose and the giver is uncomfortable and you are embarrassed and it's just awkward for everyone involved, but at the same time you want your kid to be polite and learn to say please and thank you. Same with greeting. I don't want my girls to feel the way I felt when someone gets wind that they're a non-greeter. I don't want people to think them rude, because they're not rude. And I'm not rude. But a part of me thinks yeah. Buck the system, Lily. You don't have to greet anyone you don't want to greet. Greeting is a voluntary act. Now Rosy? She's a natural greeter. Last week she walked right up to a 70-year-old man and said, čau.  He looked twice to see if she'd said what he thought she'd said before answering, čau. She greets passersby from our balcony, hunched over old women, drunks, mommies, you name it. I think you get where I'm coming from, do you not?

     So, the other night Lily had a get-together at her pre-school. All the kids and families were invited to return to the school in the evening with a jack-o-lantern to carry around the neighborhood, and then there was to be some food and music etc. afterwards. I ended up making not one, but two jack-o-lanterns because on the first one I made a hole in the bottom for ease of candle place-age, not realizing that Lily was supposed to carry the pumpkin. That one was a cat. On the second one I made girly flowers, but it was all flopsy topsy-heavy because of the type of pumpkin. We arrived and as I started looking around, all of the kids had either battery-operated little pumpkins or just tiny, uncarved pumpkins and suddenly I felt like a prize idiot. Once again I found myself in a situation where I seemed to be the only one who didn't get the (imaginary) memo. Thank goodness Tomáš didn't bawl me out for it, or it might have crushed me. I'm not sure why it upsets me so much. Maybe because I try so darn hard, just to have it flop and feel like a fool. Like the time I spent hours making a butterfly mask for Lily's carneval celebration because I didn't want her to look like every other box princess in the class, only to arrive the morning of, wishing she looked like every other princess instead of having to wear my silly mask. But maybe this is the crux of the whole thing. I can't have both. In other words, I can't fit in and stand out at the same time. Maybe that's it. I'm ok with standing out when it's me who chooses to. But when it's out of my control, that's what upsets me. But how do I make my peace with it? Our girls, like it or not, are going to be different from their classmates. They are not going to have fish and potato salad for Christmas dinner (except at Babka's), they will probably (regrettably) correct their teachers in English, they will have homemade cakes on their birthdays, and much to Tomáš' chagrin, they will wear clothes that did not come together on the same hanger. I guess it's a matter of just swallowing it all. Enjoying the moments when you're up and swallowing the bitter (and embarrassing) when you're down. Because really, that's life, isn't it? 

     We ended up having a pretty nice time at the fall celebration. Lily was excited that they gave out free cotton candy and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had a good chuckle when while traditional Slovak folk songs were playing, the director of Lily's school (dressed as Mother Autumn or some such thing) called to the DJ for some Madonna dance music. And the lanterns were cool. And they didn't burn down the school. That was a plus. In what ways do you walk the tightrope of fitting in and standing out? Liking and not liking the place you live?