Bubbles

My Facebook circle is pretty diverse (which is more or less an accident). I am friends with people from a variety of countries and probably half of the US states. There are engineers, IT specialists, medical professionals, ministers, human rights activists, designers, accountants, lawyers, scientists, yoga instructors, artists in a broad sense of the word, and a ton of educators. My circle includes Catholics, Russian Orthodox, all kinds of Protestants, Jews, Muslims, Atheists, and, I believe, at least one Pastafarian. The range of political views is just as wide. Still, I can’t pretend I’m not living in a bubble because out of my 457 FB friends there are only 27 people of color. That’s less than 6%. I am purposefully trying to diversify and look for interesting people to follow but I am not very good at this yet.

It’s funny, isn’t it? In the year 2017, the world is at our fingertips. It’s never been this easy to stay in touch with friends and family or find a long-lost childhood friend. Yet somehow, instead of becoming more and more open to the world and each other, we tend to reinforce the walls of our bubble to drain out any voices different from our own. I would like to hope that most of us don’t do it purposefully, that we simply don’t give it any thought, that we were born into this bubble and never even realized it was there.

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The presence of the bubble may not be our fault, but I believe that breaking free from it is our responsibility. It may take a lifetime; it may be something we will never truly achieve but we sure can try.

If most of the people in your circle look, talk, and think like you do, I challenge you to talk to somebody different. Listen to somebody with a different skin color, a different religious background, a different socio-economic status. Listen to a legal immigrant, listen to an illegal immigrant, listen to a refugee. Listen to a woman who went to the March for Life and to the woman who went to the Women’s March. Listen to hear, not to reply. At least once a week, read an article from a news source you don’t normally read (sometimes the headlines alone can make my blood boil or my eyes roll but I do read because I want to understand where people are coming from). Read a book about the subject you know little about (extra points if it’s written by someone whose views are not exactly the same as yours). Google. Research. Go to the source. Ask questions to learn rather than to trick or prove wrong. Keep in mind (and gosh, this is hard) that if we disagree, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the other side is stupid and/or closed-minded. It usually means that at least one side (and ouch, it can be yours!) is misinformed or is seeing the issue from a different angle.

You see, I am challenging myself to do all of this, too, and I need good company.

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Thursday List: Lessons Learned

In no particular order, allow us to present lessons we learned while we traveled this summer.  Humorous?  Maybe (or maybe not, you be the judge).  True?  We think so.

1) The Toyota Yaris is one of the worst cars ever built.  We rented one for a day in Georgia (that would be the state, not the country).  The steering had less feel and was more vague than a careless comment that could be either a compliment or an insult.  The blind spots were larger than a Ford Expedition.  The centered gauge cluster is less sensible than a drunken, raving Mel Gibson. The acres of plastic swathing the interior epitomize the notion of “cheap,” along with every other aspect of the automobile.  Also it has no power.

2) The author of the CNN article “The New London, Paris and Rome” is totally wrong about Ostend.  Ostend is boring and the beach unappealing–not “oddly restorative.”  Besides, we got locked in a Japanese garden while there.

ostend

Ostend. Bland, forgettable, and certainly not worth visiting.  Sorry Belgium.  We love some of your other cities.

3) Couchsurfing is infinitely more fun than staying in a hotel.  And couchsurfers are, as it turns out, not all hippies–they’re a varied group of interesting folks.  We stayed with a guy who works in the Belgian steel industry, two air traffic controllers, and more.  We met fellow surfers who had careers as mind-blowing as molecular modeling researcher and astrophysicist.  Not kidding.  The astrophysicist, a guy named Lorraine from France, is also a beekeeper.  He shared a story about how he was asked to deliver a beehive to the Prime Minister (all true, mind you). He said yes, of course.  “But I told them that because it is summer, if I put the beehive in the car to deliver it, it could be a problem.  Because of the heat, the bees could die.”  The person he was speaking to said, “No problem.”  “Yes,” he said, “It would be a problem.  The bees could die.”  The other person reassured him–“No, no problem.  You will not have to stop.”  He ended up having a police escort through the center of Paris so that he didn’t have to stop and wait in traffic, and he delivered the beehive and set it up at the Prime Minister’s place.

4) Traveling with a baby is not only possible, but for the most part, quite easy (and there’s a post about that in the making).  As a side note, carrying a baby in a carrier starts to hurt one’s back after a couple days (but it is notably easier than pushing a stroller all over creation).

5) We now understand our friends who told us a year ago that they were looking forward to being back in the UAE. Then, we thought they were, well, nuts. Now, we are those people, too.

6) It can be rather hard to explain to those back in the US – or the people we met during our travels – what life here is really like. It seems that there is a backstory to every story. Also, for some reason, it’s easier to tell about the negative experiences.

7) Speaking of backstories, here’s one now: just kidding.  Lesson learned when telling stories to family back home–trim the backstories to the bare minimum, or your loved ones will tune out before you get to the good stuff.

8) Strangely, following the most obvious road signs from one place to another doesn’t always yield the fastest route.  Take our trip to Reims from Luxembourg, for example: this should have been a short two hours, judging by Google Maps, but it took us no less than six hours of meandering secondary roads.

The French countryside somewhere along a rural road between Rheims and Luxembourg.

The French countryside somewhere along a rural road between Rheims and Luxembourg.

We found some great mountain roads between Luxembourg and Germany.  This was just over the German border.

We found some great mountain roads between Luxembourg and Germany. This was just over the German border.

Somewhere in France...

Somewhere in France…

9) That brings us to this point: enjoy being on the verge of lost or completely off track.  Make it a point to simply have a great time exploring.  Make the best of sore feet (an excuse to stop at that little cafe!) or winding back roads (pull over and get a photo of the picturesque mountain pass).  The single best day of our trip was when we were driving, completely by accident and thanks to the road signs, the French countryside.  And enjoy the crummy places you end up, too (within reason, of course), like Ostend.  Where else would we have ever gotten locked in a Japanese garden?  It was a memorable experience at least.

10) It’s good to come home.  We already knew this.  But what we didn’t expect was to grow tired of traveling, since we both love it.  Still, we did.  After what started to seem too long on the road, we found ourselves especially grateful to have our own space and the chance to return to our routines.