Learning to Laugh It Off
It’s not that I thought the cultural shift would be easy. In fact, I would say I’m pleasantly surprised by how well I’m fitting in with my host family and in day-to-day life in Annecy. I just wasn’t expecting the experience to be so… what’s the word, inelegant.
Honestly, it’s not that bad. Barring one major disaster (featuring unexpectedly locked bathrooms, public transportation mishaps, and a missed day trip to Lyon, all before 9AM and not necessarily in that order), it’s been smooth enough that I don’t feel the need to flee the country. But there’s always those little things that trip me up. Especially since I’m working with a foreign language, whenever something unexpected happens, it takes my brain a few seconds to process, which makes me a lot slower socially.
However, one important thing I’ve been able to take away from my course on French comedies is that everyone gets their turn in the dunce cap. And we can control how we handle that situation. I’m trying to approach it with humor, which I acknowledge is a tough skill to pick up. Here’s my guide to laughing it off.
The feeling is temporary.
I can’t guarantee that any of my tips will help the embarrassment pass faster for you. All I can guarantee is that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how far it may seem. This applies to all embarrassments, even ones that happen at home, but it’s doubly true when you’re abroad.
When we were visiting the Louvre, I heard an “Excusez-moi” behind me, and found a woman holding her phone out. Graciously, I reached for the phone, ready to take a photo of her and the young girl at her side. Instead, she snatched her phone away and motioned for me to move to the left. I belatedly realized that she was looking to take a picture of her son, who I was standing in front of. Yikes!
Will I feel embarrassed about my assumption for some time to come? Sure. Will I still be haunted by it at 30 years old? Nah. I’ll have plenty of other mistakes to worry about by then.
The human memory is not nearly as keen as we may pretend sometimes. We’re all hyper-focused on our own experiences, because if we don’t remember, who will? But that’s the beauty of being abroad when you make these mistakes: no one has to remember. That woman will probably remember that some stupid tourist got in the way of her pictures, but she’s probably forgotten my face, just as I’ve forgotten hers. She won’t harbor a grudge, and neither will I.
So we laugh it off.
The people are also temporary.
Being abroad really is liberating in this sense, because you are 99.9% likely to never see these people again. In a Paris restaurant, I found myself scooting all the way down a ten-foot-long booth, instead of shifting a table to get to my seat. Of course, I thought it was a perfectly normal solution. Not so for the waiter, who stared at me like the local clown. Oops.
Luckily, I’ll never see that waiter again; even if I go back to Paris someday, he wouldn’t recognize me. So really, that waiter and I were just passing through each other’s lives. I don’t have to think about him ever again if I so choose. Waiter? What waiter?
Obviously total denial is probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but take solace in the fact that the only one willing to keep score is you. And if you choose to not keep score either, then that’s one less thing to worry about.
So we laugh it off.
And for the people who aren’t temporary, they’re not judging.
I’m not saying my host family has low expectations for an American college student. But I was greeted last night with a dinner of “This is called la-sa-gna. Do you understand what that is?” They’re really not looking for perfection.
The other day, while trying to be independent, I replaced my bedsheets myself, since they were all dry. My host dad came in the following day and informed me that I had missed an entire sheet and oriented the flat sheet the wrong way. To top it off, I knew none of the relevant French vocabulary, so I had to alternate between fixing the mess and Googling the new words being thrown at me.
My host family has had students of all types for over a decade. They’ve got plenty of stories to tell me of their host students’ misadventures, but they’re always told with a fond tone, no mockery. Their job description is literally to make people feel welcome abroad, and they get that what makes implicit sense in France isn’t always evident to a foreigner.
On the other end, you may find that your fellow study abroad students see you do something stupid. I’d argue that your classmates are the best people to watch you fail, because then at least it’s a learning experience. They are also in the worst position to judge you. Given how unattainable perfection is during a study abroad, it’s hypocritical for them to look down on you for making a faux pas. (That goes both ways: remember to afford them that same generosity!) In fact, I find that my fellow dialogue students are the first ones to cheer me up and take my mind off a mistake I’ve made.
So we laugh it off. And we pick ourselves up again.
One last thing: Don’t feel like laughing it off is a requirement. That’s no fun either. Sometimes I’m just frustrated at my mistakes. Other times I’m totally uncomfortable with the culture (see my post on racism in France here) and that’s okay too!
Studying abroad is one of the most forgiving times to make silly mistakes, which means it’s also the best time to be brave. Do something new! You may get embarrassed, but we can deal with that. You may surprise yourself instead; that’s a whole new ballgame.
Ever yours,
Anson
