Never Underestimate the "Power Shower"

I think I was awake tossing and turning more than I was sleeping last night. The polite neighbor from the Deep South next door, made sure we heard not only her voice, but every word in her entire conversation. How kind. It’s weird how hypersensitive to stereotypes I have become. Knowing that Europeans view Americans as piggy, arrogant, rude, obnoxious individuals, I have made it my personal vendetta to refute the aforementioned. Unfortunately, with hotel neighbors such as mine, it is a daunting task. I am not one to complain, but I was forced to make use of my “Delighted to Serve” button on my phone and inform the front desk that some hotel guest were being inconsiderate.

Regarding my shower. When you don’t have coffee, tea or breakfast at your fingertips while getting ready in the morning, other necessities morph into privileges. After a long day of trekking, sight seeing, drinking, etc, a long, hot shower is my sanctuary. The water here is nothing like anything I’ve experienced. It gets so hot that it makes your skin prickle. So hot, that when you get out your skin is red like you laid out all day without sunscreen. Amidst all the new sights and experiences, the “Power Shower” is that which brings me back to reality and makes me realize that not everything has changed. After a long night of restless sleep, my shower gave me the energy to get up and ready for another day of sightseeing.

That really is the theme of this trip, for me at least. “Don’t sweat the small stuff” I continually remind myself. “Make the best of every moment.” “Take everything in.” It is so easy to not enjoy each day because we have so many days planned and such a long way to go. This is Day 6 and I can honestly say that we performing our roles to the fullest. Me with my “Spontaneous Planning while Not-Planning, but Mapping Sites Precisely,” and Alicia with her never-ending pictures and stories and insight of previous trips. We have managed to give each other as much space as we can while at the same time being with each every minute of the day. During train rides, we’ll either read or listen to music or write emails, giving us the much desired “Quiet Time.”

Speaking of stereotypes, Alicia and I, even with our attempt to blend into the local color, apparently stand out as American. More specifically, Californians. Seeing as how I have never been one to shy away from attention, see this as an advantage. When in a coffee shop yesterday, Alicia and I were approached by two curious British men. They asked to sit down and seeing as how Alicia and I are unable to come off as harsh, we obliged. I am so glad we did. They asked what stereotypes Americans had of the British. Only thing I could think of was “proper.” I think they were slightly disappointed I have yet to put more thought into the matter. Too bad. Fortunately, a question such as theirs allowed me the imply the same request. They had plenty to say about Americans. Apparently, the typical Californian is thought of as a “fitness instructor.” Another said, “Playing tennis and drinking orange juice.” Sublime and Gwen Stefani were noted as the local music from Orange County. Dually noted that when asked where in CA we live and I said, “Orange County,” I was informed, “Oh, ‘The O.C.” Yes, there is a show based on our county.

I have never put much thought into it but quintessential New Yorkers are thought of as the cast of “Friends.” Awesome. I hate that show, but I can’t blame the British Boys for their opinions. How else are we supposed to gain a perspective of our others except for what we give them? In today’s media driven age, television, the internet, music and movies are all that other cultures are given to derive a single opinion regarding an entire country. Amazing how technologically far we have gotten, but how little we have intellectually advanced.

The television over here is better than what we have back home. Probably because Alicia and I didn’t have cable and over here we do. Every country that we visit is adamant about their version of “American Idol.” Which sounds good in theory but, proves a disaster in practice. Not that the contestants are not talented, but a fluent Deutsch or Dutch speaking individual, would best display their talents in their own own language. However, Europeans are obsessed with American Culture, therefore all the songs are sung in English. Hilarity ensues. The result in a melody of the song with the words barely understood. They don’t annunciate as we do, so every word sounds unfinished. I really can’t describe it any better than that.