Fish and Chips: A Cross-Cultural Perspective

Tonight after Doug, our site coordinator dropped us home we decided to venture out to have fish and chips (fries) for dinner, a traditional Northern Ireland/UK meal. We had heard of a place just down the Antrim road that was popular with previous YAV's and were excited to try it. We made the walk, commenting on various things and trying to look the correct way when crossing the street (Libby rescued me once earlier today when I looked right instead of left). We walked in to the place, a carry out only, and the queue was formed around the sides of the entire inside, almost out to the door. The man at the fryer called across the line to us, "You?" I ordered breaded fish, which is apparently smaller than normal fish, and a small chip. After awkward moments waiting in an increasingly long line, we got up to the cashier. I had my pounds counted out and ready. Libby's meal came, Alison's meal came, but then they skipped over me and started taking money from the man behind me. I was confused and repeated my order, this time flustered enough to say "fries" instead of "chips." The women at the cashier took my money, gave me change, and assured all of us that everything we ordered was in the bag. We left, not sure of what really was in the bag only to get home and realize that we had everything we needed and that we had ordered extra chips, because fish automatically comes with chips. We had more fries than even the GFPC youth group could handle! But after our stomachs were full and we had swallowed our mild humiliation, we all silently resolved that this was the first of many experiences.


These first few days, Doug has been giving us an orientation. We started on Tuesday with some basics about the house such as: light switches are turned on up instead of down, turn on the cooker and hot water before trying to use them, "bleed" your radiator if its not working, and almost everything can be recycled in Northern Ireland so save it all in a bin. Wednesday we started out visiting my placement at the 174 Trust and then at Whitehouse Presbyterian Church.



Being in the places I'll be working makes me excited, because I look forward to connecting with people and doing the work I've been dreaming about since last February. Right now Doug is keeping my schedule in an undisclosed location, but from the things my site supervisors told me, I am looking forward to the challenges, growth, and joy they will afford. We also visited Libby and Alison's placements and got history and information along the way from Doug and Elaine. Yesterday, we registered with the National Health Service (all by ourselves) and got some of the historical background with a little jet lag mixed in. Today we visited the Presbyterian Church in Ireland and met the Clerk and the folks in the Youth office. I have so often been greeted with, "You're welcome" which can come as a bit of a shock to a Southerner who uses that as a reflex response, but I always do feel welcome in a genuine way and I am so grateful.


Today's fish and chips experience reminded me about one of the million reasons I felt led to take this crazy journey. As I stood in line and felt silly I thought about what my students from other countries or cultures must feel on a daily basis. When I'm trying to figure out my bus route, or count my money before I step up so I don't look incompetent, or trying to remember which is the correct word to say I think of how overwhelming it must be for a child who is drowning in the unknown. I am able to laugh with my other housemates about our communal frailty, but what about the second-language learner, or the child from a lower socioeconomic status who doesn't know the hidden rules of a society, or just the person who can't read social cues who struggles to find their way- what then for them? God is so good to remind us that we are all visitors. Our home is not earthly and the best we are called to do is love one another freely while we are together. I hope in the coming weeks to laugh at my failings and foibles, but mostly to reach out across cultures and seek first to understand rather than to be understood.

In closing, I know you will enjoy the funniest moment from "orientation." In the car today, I asked Doug if it was alright to wear pants to church or if I should wear a skirt each Sunday. To which he replied, "Well, I hope you always wear pants, but it is definitely appropriate also to wear trousers." Pants in Northern Ireland...are underwear.

My love and best to you all. Please keep the emails coming, they are an exciting surprise. We also receive mail directly at the house and I will be excited to send you airmail in response. Thank you for your support. I do truly feel that you are in this experience with me and hope to make you feel connected to God at work in Northern Ireland.