A Series of Differences #1: The Case of the Missing Bubble

As a well-traveled expat I have confronted the spectrum of personal space. Americans are definitely on one extreme. We, perhaps more than any other culture in the world, need a substantial buffer between us, unless we are well acquainted. We refer to this as our ‘personal bubble’. In the public sphere we feel uncomfortable being crammed into small spaces, though certain urban contexts—especially public transport—have made this behavior somewhat acceptable. But I assure you that being crammed on the subway in the US of A is nothing like being crammed on the subway at rush hour in Seoul Station, South Korea or being squished into a metro bus in Brazil. It is equally dissimilar to hanging on for dear life in a car rapide in Senegal or mimicking canned sardines on a ferry in Thailand. Traveling quite forcefully bursts our bubble and makes us confront different perspectives toward personal space among other things. I admit I am thoroughly guilty of being affronted by people invading “my space”. This is my cultural bias in action.
 Allow me to explicate further. Personal bubbles don’t exist in most cultures. In some, people use proximity to express their respect; in others they simply don’t see nearness as threatening. I have learned this lesson many times over through a myriad of uncomfortable experiences. When I lived in Korea I would often use metro and inter-city buses to get around. The seats were close together, perhaps more so than a typical budget airline. Not being terribly large I didn’t face physical discomfort, but I was bothered psychologically. It is just hard to feel comfrotable when strangers are so close. But the real awkwardness occurred on the longer rides when grown men would fall asleep and their heads would tip onto my shoulder. What do I do? Do I brush them off and awaken them? Do I endure it and get over my own ridiculousness? What is it that so bothers me about it anyway? I try to be objective about it but instead I gracelessly squirm without pushing them away outright.

Culture 1, Reese 0.

 Here in Bhutan people stand extremely close to each other while talking—sometimes as close as 6 inches (15cm) from nose to nose. There is one teacher at my school who always seems to deliver inconvenient news to me during our morning assembly (extra responsibilities, last-minute meeting announcements, and additional requests). He steps incredibly close, close enough that I can easily detect his breath and proceeds to give me bad news. I take a step backwards due to my discomfort which causes him to shuffle forward. I do this again which evokes the same response and it continues for some time. In a very peculiar way it is a dance of cultures, each force acting the way they were indoctrinated. Occasionally I imagine the scene unfolding from a 3rd person perspective: how strange it must appear to the 792 students standing within eyeshot. Either way I find the experience rather souring.

2-0 Culture

 Last and most colorful of these images brings me back to a bus ride I took in early April. The bus was full when we left the eastern city of Trashigang departing for Mongar. All the seats had been filled and a few sat in the aisle.

 (near the beginning of our journey)

As we departed we continued to pick people up. Commuters squished and made more room from space I didn’t know existed to begin with. More and more joined and soon there were at least 15 more inside the small bus than when we started. At one point there was an elderly villager woman sitting on the floor who wrapped her arm around my calf and proceeded to use it as a pillow. I looked over at my friend Nakita in disbelief thinking this woman must not realize she is holding onto a human being—but she knew. She readjusted my leg to her convenience and I couldn’t help but laugh. Finally I was accepting the strangeness of it all.

(you can spot one woman on the floor who is behind the one latching onto my leg)

2-1.

As the hours passed and more entered I found myself sitting next to a man standing in the aisle. His was facing me and was forced to lean forward because of the person behind him. Let’s just say my head was at an unfortunate height and parts of his body kept bumping into me. I’d move over if there were space, but there wasn’t an inch of budging room. I felt my bubble bursting and a feeling of violation with it. Nakita of course found this utterly amusing, snapping a few photos amidst my discomfort. I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

Game over: Culture 3, Reese 1.

All these situations are minute lessons in cultural tolerance. Many would protest the actions and find fault in the other party, but I think this mindset is a narrow one. We perceive the world through the lens of our own culture, whether or not we realize it. The actions may elude our own rationality, but that doesn’t mean that situations like these warrant judgment. Some things just are and making peace with that inevitably broadens the mind.