Shabbat, beer pong, and Canadian Thanksgiving; the culture shock begins

            Aaah. Another week, another spa. I didn’t actually spend time in the spa this weekend, but I am not one to complain about staying in a nice hotel with nice families and nice, free food. This weekend was much smaller and quainter than the conference I had attended in Estonia, with roughly 15 of Riga’s Jewish families gathering for Shabbat shlufen an hour outside of town. While the families learned about Judaism and each other, I learned about cultural differences that sent me for a whirlwind.

            The first and hardest lesson came before the retreated even started, when I tried to help pack the car. Lesson number one: if women lift anything heavier than the family’s dinner they will not be able to have babies. At first, I thought this was a joke. I knew the men wanted to appear chivalrous and strong, but I didn’t mind bruising their egos just a little if it meant I could help. Then, when different men of different generations wrestled boxes away from me and yelled at me to protect my baby maker while the women agreed with their “science” I realized I had a problem on my hands. I can deal with cultural differences, but I’m not sure I can deal with misinformation. And I really can’t deal with weakness or misogyny. I appreciate that the men want to be helpful and recognize that this tradition might come from a good place, but I also appreciate the importance of female strength and independence. Taking heavy things away from me is like taking a bagel away from a Jew. It’s not going to happen. Not to mention, men can also get hernias and damage their babymakers from lifting. I never thought I’d miss the overly cautious PC American ways but absence makes the heart grow fonder and apparently stronger.

            Eventually, after the men packed the car, we were on our way. We got there, the men set up, the families filtered in, and the festivities began. We began the weekend the way any good Jewish gathering should begin; with singing, dancing, and eating. A good and enlightening first day.

The Goldstein Weinstein name represented on the family tree with a cute baby to show it off

            The next day was spent with family games, adult lectures, and kid activities.

 I spent most of the time with the kids, getting to know the programs and madrichim (counselors) that brought me to Latvia. I am continually impressed by the madrichim’s innovation and program execution. For this one activity, I watched a 17 year old transform into the cutest Russian babooshka (grandmother) I’ve ever seen. She had the headscarf, loud, shrieky voice, and everything. Even better, kids programs rely on basic enough Russian that I was only kind of confused! What an improvement!

            Shortly after lunch I returned to Riga for the Jewish University Students kick-off event: An American-style college party.  Yes, I left America and college for this. I wasn’t good at being a party college student when I was in college, and suddenly I was supposed to teach Russians how to play drinking games and have a rager… What a great way for me to show off my four years at school. So, I taught them beer pong because almost every other game proved too complicated. All in all, if all college parties were like this one I might have gone to more of them. It was organized and there were fruit and cheese platters galore. Either Russians have a better impression of Americans than I thought they did or they just party in style. The best part was that after the party was over and I returned to the spa, the adults were raging harder than anyone else. Russians know how to live it up.

            The next day was filled with more learning, as I found I could connect with the adults about psychology and middle child syndrome and the kids with games. I also learned a lot about eating. First of all, I would like to publically apologize for telling my Grandpa he uses too much salt and pepper. He ain’t got nothing on these Russians. Exhibit a and b:

I then learned about the many uses for jelly, ketchup, and mayonnaise. Jelly can replace syrup on pancakes. Fine. Ketchup can be used instead of sauce on pasta. Um… And mayonnaise can be used on, well, everything. Hmmm… It took me about half an hour to realize they were not playing, “let’s lie to the foreigner” and they actually do these things. Health be damned! Let’s over season! This is going to be my most interesting culinary adventure yet.

            After the retreat came a cultural learning experience of a different kind, as I was transported back to my hemisphere for Canadian Thanksgiving. I know it’s un-American, but so is living outside America. Plus, I’d already been to what is basically a 4 day black Friday at one of the local stores, so Thanksgiving was in the air.

This Thanksgiving still has the turkey and fall foods but none of the Native American murders. And, unfortunately, none of the football. But, when I saw the turkey wrapped in bacon, I knew I was home. Well, not my home, but maybe the home next door.