Outsider, Pride and Wine

While in Africa I could not hide my whiteness. No matter how good I got at handshakes, greetings, or facial expressions, I could never, for a second, blend in. I was always foreign. This is a familiar experience for me, as a child I was always moving to new cities, so I have grown accustom to being new, foreign, an outsider. In fact this may be the reason I travel like I do. My identity is locked into being a foreigner, so paradoxically while I am foreign, I am most myself. Regardless of my comfort with being an outsider, this status brings certain handicaps. With this handicap came a multitude of obstacles: increased prices, innovative services and service charges and additional governmental regulations.
Being a foreigner does bring certain benefits however. After being denied entry to one of the premier tej bets (honey wine places) of Addis Ababa, I was determined to find a way in. Most of the tej is artificially sweetened with sugar or adulterated with other ingredients. This place offered aged, pure honey tej and my taste buds were screaming for it. What could I say to the guard that would convince him to let me inside? I could beg, I could reason, I could offer a bribe. By this time I had about a month of experience being a farangi (foreigner) so I was starting to figure out how to use my status to my advantage. I learned introductions and stories are an important part of the culture, so I started with this. “ I have been in your wonderful country for nearly a month. I have seen the beautiful gabis (white cotton cloaks), danced exciting dances…” I shuffle my feet in an attempt to recreate the gurage dance. “I have tasted the doro wat (Ethiopia’s national dish).” Here is the sinker, I realize that my role as a foreigner is to be impressed with the things Ethiopians are proud of. “The only thing that remains is for me to try tej and I am told this place is the best.” A tired nod of acceptance and a wave of the arm signals the success of the technique. The tej tasted every bit as good as I had hoped, probably because it was adulterated with a hint of intercultural satisfaction.
This technique was locked in my memory and sealed with the taste of honey. However I didn’t expect to use it again so soon. Standing before the official at the check in counter in Charles de Gaulle airport I was faced with a similar non. Although Delta airlines bumped me off my flight and stranded me in Paris for a day, this official would not allow me to check a third bag that contained wine. “You have checked the maximum luggage.” I was told frankly. I tried reason, “It’s a small bag,” non. I tried cajoling, “Here, I will just put the bag here in the luggage area and I will pick it up in America, no problem,” non. Then I remember, I must use intercultural competence. I lift my eyebrows and push out my lips ever so slightly, the way I have seen many Parisians do as they explain something rather matter of fact. "How can I be in Paris and not buy wine?” and just to put a button on it I figured I would not make this situation not about me, but about something I suspected the French value more “please…for the wine". He reaches over, grabs a little tag and affixes it to my passport.

Intercultural Tip: Appeal to Pride