Yesterday I was taking the elevator
in the building in New York City where I’m staying. The door opened to a
middle-aged man and his mother already on the elevator, so I greeted them “good
morning” and got on. The man greeted me warmly back and then asked me where I am
from. Well I have absolutely zero idea how to answer this question and got
extremely flustered. “Do you mean where do I live? Or where I grew up? Or what
my heritage is?” He was probably equally confused by my discombobulated
response, so he settled on heritage. After I answered he told me, “I just
wanted to say that I really appreciated you saying good morning to us.” He
explained that he’s from Eastern Europe from a culture that values greeting
others, but he’s often disappointed by how few people respond to him here in
New York. I excitedly explained to him that I spent the past three years living
in Mozambique in a similar culture, so I also appreciate greeting others. We
chatted for a few minutes about our experiences because wishing each other good
days. That’s one of the things I thought I would miss most about
Mozambique/Africa—those momentary but wonderful connections you make with
strangers who you’ll never meet again.
I’m posting this from a bus, on my
way from NYC to Boston. Wireless on a bus? America is blowing my mind.
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