A gathering of young adults from our church, representing in various proportions and length of residency and with some margin for error: Nigeria, Ghana, the US, the UK, Australia, Swedish Finland, Indonesia, Brazil, and both northern and southern Italy.
My pastor’s wife recently lent me a fascinating book about navigating cultural differences, From Foreign to Familiar by Sarah Lanier. Lanier is a consultant to foreign missionaries who has lived in many different parts of the world. Upon taking the book from the shelf, I immediately flipped it over, scanned the blurb, and exclaimed, “Sarah Lanier. Well of course she would be from Georgia! That’s a very Georgian name.” It gave me a funny feeling to immediately sense that familiar context in a foreign country.
As a matter of fact, I had just confirmed myself as a member of what Lanier herself calls a “hot culture.” Hot cultures tend to have a strong sense of context, maintain a friendlier environment, value relationships over tasks, feel obligated to invite you if they mention an event in public, feel obligated to share food if they eat it in public, talk delicately around problems instead of addressing them directly and accurately, show deference to authority, have a strong sense of what dress and manners are appropriate for a given occasion, have a stronger group identity, and have a more relaxed sense of time. The Southern US, at least when and where I grew up, was a fairly typical example of a hot culture, with the possible exception of the group identity. (Southerners tolerate certain types of eccentricity quite readily, as long as the eccentric has good manners.)
I lost a little bit of this strong cultural identity as I grew up and moved on to larger cities within the South during the 70s and 80s. I learned to tone down my accent and deal with sarcasm, because it was absolutely necessary in order to attend a big, suburban high school along with transplants from Chicago and New Jersey. But I’ve never quite lost these initial Southern habits and preferences, and in fact, often felt a bit flabbergasted in New York City when I’d try to arrange spontaneous get-togethers for other moms and kids. And I never quite got over my need to chat to sales clerks using colorful idioms, even though I knew better. Even after fifteen years, I always felt a little too warm and sensitive in the context of that highly structured, achievement-oriented culture. But I learned a different, more direct and efficient way of dealing with people, for sure.
Then we moved to Italy.
Obviously, not everyone in Italy, or even in Piemonte, is the same. Some people are much more formal and have a more developed sense of organization than others. Some are warmer and kiss-ier than others. Some are dressier than others, more extroverted than others. But still, you don’t know where the assumptions lie until you’ve observed for a while.
Remember my initial frustrations with bureaucracy? I’m now convinced that the reason that, for example, it took me five months to enroll Sarie in the conservatory was that I made a couple of initial and egregious mistakes in dealing with Italian bureaucratic culture. And how could I have known better, since I was in (and from) the United States? Italian bureaucracy is a very high context procedure. You really don’t know what it’s going to take until you’re right in front of the bureaucrat–perhaps for the third time.
Perhaps my principal mistake was trying to obtain a clear-cut enrollment procedure at all, and especially via e-mail. Even though I didn’t have the option of meeting people in person, I needed it! For another thing, there is a definite protocol for writing business correspondence in Italy. By NYC standards, it seems incredibly formal: using the titles dott. and dott.ssa for just about everyone, using “illustrious” in the greeting, adding lots of flowery adjectives, and ending in “Porgo i miei più distinti saluti,” which the literal translation of “I send my most distinguished greetings,” just doesn’t seem to convey properly. And furthermore, no one does anything until the last minute. So no wonder I wasn’t getting anywhere!
But of course, I had no way of knowing this, and to this day don’t really know what the proper solution would have been. The actual procedure not only required a passable knowledge of the Italian language and bureaucratic conventions, but also of Italian commercial procedures, such as filling out a postal check and having the proper identity information (which isn’t even used in the US). And furthermore, the same procedure that finally worked for us may not have worked for the next person. Sarie is still, to my knowledge, the first full-blooded American to have enrolled in the Torino conservatory.
But bureaucracy was only the initial and most aggravating problem. I realized after some time here that I would require a different sort of wardrobe, a different sense of time and hospitality, and that I was likely offending people regularly by not following the proper greeting procedures when I entered stores. I’m slowly learning how to do these things, but I’m pretty sure I still step on toes. Now I try to ask: Do I need to bring something to dinner? Do I need to pay for that gift, or will that offend the giver? And I understand, for instance, that even the most professional businesspeople will likely not return my e-mail until they have an answer, even if it takes weeks. Or plan any event more than a few days in advance.
I personally find the Piemontese to be about right on the hot/cold culture spectrum. They have a reputation in Italy for being cold and reserved, but aside from a few apathetic bureaucrats, I usually find them to be not unlike myself, at least in their comfort with emotion. As I’ve learned how to address them, I find that they can be almost conspiratorially friendly. The nicer manners, the sense of proper dress, the family connections, the indirect way of getting information, respect of elders, and the greetings in stores, all remind me of the culture of the Southern US. But a culture as group-oriented as Naples or Sicily might have overwhelmed me completely. So, I feel like I’ve landed in the right part of Italy.
I may list more of these “foreign to familiar” differences as I run into them. I certainly don’t have a handle on them yet, but I’m starting to get a little more comfortable, at least. And at our international, English-speaking church we have plenty of Africans and Filipinos, and smaller numbers from many other cultures, who provide yet other perspectives and greater variety along the hot and cold culture spectrum. Interesting!