30 November 2012

Culture jock

Yes, I have now left Finland.

I have my green card, but my social security number is pending and my goods are en route. I am in mental transit. The perfect mode in which to be surprised by cultural unfamiliarity.

For this is Georgia. That's the Georgia on My Mind, The Devil Went Down to Georgia, Rainy Night in Georgia style of Georgia.  Not the other one. Not the formerly Soviet Republic of Georgia. That's a different Georgia. Get that right.

Georgia, USA, certainly keeps giving me cultural surprises.  And the thing with surprises is that they often come from a direction that you didn't expect. Otherwise they wouldn't be surprises, right?

Did you know, for example, that the music bands to originate from Georgia include R.E.M. and the B-52s? I didn't.  Nor did I expect to be living almost next door to a thriving local organic greengrocer. Nor did I expect to have a paved footpath (almost) all the way into town from where we live.

To use a word that seems sometimes to be misappropriated on this side of Big Water, here in the quaint university town of Valdosta, some things seem surprisingly "liberal".  The tiny town centre may shut early, but there's a late-night drag show on Saturdays. There was also a very good beer-tasting not long ago, with plenty of microbrews and not a single bottle of Bud in sight.

That was at a place called 'Bas Bleu'.  Spelt 'Bas Bleu' but pronounced 'Bar Blue'. Ah well.

There are also bits and pieces that may fit some preconceived stereotypes rather more snugly.  There's the downtown, high-street shop front given over almost exclusively to what you might reasonably call "jive-ass preacher" gear, for example. (Yup, I learned that term from The Blues Brothers. Amazing what a li'l cultural edumacation can do, y'all.)  Largely, though, I have found many of these cultural unfamiliarities to be endearing rather than alienating.

The things that I have found less than endearing come mostly from the media.  I have been surprised by the volume of television ads that claim positive benefits on behalf of fossil fuels and prescription medications. Neither was I fully expecting my good old-fashioned paper junk mail to include a fairly thick brochure for a firearms sale. A semi-auto rifle on the cover at only $1299.99, for example. At least the .99 price tag seems universal.

In another score for the stereotypical view from elsewhere, our apartment complex has no recycling. However, when I open my eyes, there are recycling bins of different colours dotted all around town, ready to be spotted and filled.  A recycling enthusiast may not have it easy, but recycling can be done. With effort.

As such, it's individual people that often make the biggest difference in a place. In that sense, Valdosta for me is a case of so far, so good.  From the older gentleman bagging groceries at the Winn-Dixie check-out, to the real-life military crime scene investigator, the welcome in the Peach State has been, well, unimpeachable. I'm sure there's more to come, but it's a good enough start.

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