My "Coke-in-a-bag" moments

Teams come down to Oaxaca and have to adapt to not being offered choices. Actually they are offered two choices: do you want it or don’t you? Going back to the U.S., I have to adjust to being offered too many choices. I remember going to the bank in Dallas to cash a check with my mom. First the teller asks, "How would you like it?" Huh? Like, today please? In my hand? What? My mom rescued me by explaining that the lady merely meant to ask how many fives, tens, and twenties I wanted.

Then I freaked out a bit when the teller gave me a $20 that was TORN! In Mexico, those are completely worthless. No one will accept bills that are written on, torn, or otherwise damaged. I stood there in Dallas at the bank and froze, staring at the bill, wondering what I should do. My mom gently nudged me, saying, "Ready?" Boy I feel stupid sometimes.

Since this is short, I’ll mention another cross-cultural panic crisis, another “coke-in-a-bag” moment, if you will. Enjoying a lovely ladies tea at a friend’s church, I was offered refreshments. “Coffee or tea?” sounded simple enough, but oh, my, it was nothing like simple the way I define it.

“Tea, please,” resulted in a tray with no less than twenty varieties of tea being offered me. It would have held up the whole event if I'd tried to search through all those tea bags trying to figure out which one to try.

“No, no, I’ll have coffee.” Same thing, with various flavors and levels of caffeinatedness offered.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

Apparently that was not meant to be a yes-no question. I was shown five different kinds of sweetener. No kidding! White, brown, yellow, pink, and blue. What in the world? Why would people need so many choices? Even the “cream” option proved to be stressful, with French vanilla, peppermint something, and I don’t know what all, some low-fat, some full-fat, and some fat-free.

I can laugh over the man who went ballistic in the tienda over a Coca-Cola, but I’ve done the same thing in reverse in my “home” culture. Wow. I just don’t get it. I'm starting now to pray for our summer trip to the states this year, trying to remember all these cultural differences again. I'm reminding myself that people are being nice to try to serve it "my way" even though it actually causes me stress to have to make so many senseless decisions.

I wish they'd just give me Coke in a bag!