As we sat in the dining room of their beautiful home which detail for detail looked and felt like a very nice American house, Mandira and her husband Ram explained to us their fears about what might happen if their son goes to a university in America.
He could come to like life in America and not return. He could disconnect from his family. His values could shift and no longer be the same as his parents. Their son could slide away into another culture.
This of course, is a rightful fear. I have always liked Lee Kwan Yew’s analysis that America’s greatest strength is its ability to attract and assimilate the world’s greatest talent. American culture has a powerful undercurrent which tells people they are welcome to participate and be one of us – just check your background at the door. We can have equality – as Americans. So, get with the program and join up.
Normally, I would feel deeply for parents concerned about something like this. They have given their son everything they have to give. He goes to the British School in Kathmandu which is very expensive and difficult for a Nepali kid to get into. He has braces – which neither Emily or I have ever seen before in Nepal. He has every comfort and amenity you could imagine. Mandira and Ram have poured their hearts, souls and bank accounts into their only son.
Only, as they talked about the potential losses and their fears, I found myself looking around their home – which if I didn’t know better could have been in Westlake Village or Thousand Oaks, California – where I grew up.
Hardwood floors, big living room with giant “L” shaped sofa, a kitchen any American would love complete with granite counters, perfect insulation (rare in Nepal) and most importantly – the finest bathroom in the country are just a few of the jaw-dropping features of this Nepali home. I would pay just to have access to that bathroom – which comes complete with built-in bathtub, shower and a toilet I didn’t think you could find in this part of the world.
While to Emily and I this appears to be a tear-inducing piece of home-like comfort, Mandira’s house is beyond extraordinary for Nepal.
What I didn’t say to her is that her son isn’t in danger of straddling two cultures – he already is.
They talked about how he watches American and British TV and has ideas completely inconsistent with those they grew up with. He wants to go bungee-jumping, he wants to race a motorcycle and he wants to do his undergraduate education in the United States (which they sort of support).
Mandira received her LLM in London – so she sees the value of foreign education, but would prefer he wait until graduate school so that his Nepali-ness is a little more cemented. She says that Nepalis who attend grad school abroad usually return home, but not so those who go away for undergrad.
Don’t think their son is some kind of terror. He’s a little spoiled, but really very down-to-earth. He’s a sweet, intelligent, grounded person who as far as I can see is just following the path that has been laid out in front of him. He lives in a home that would make most Americans jealous, he attends possibly the most prestigious school in Nepal, he has a front and backyard with a basketball hoop, he watches foreign TV – what would anyone think in his position?
Ram worked for four years in Japan. Mandira lived in the UK. They have worked to have everything foreign. Mandira’s work as an internationally honored human rights attorney and leader has taken her around the world. She has a car and driver. They’ve had a taste of the world and they’ve incorporated it into every aspect of their lives. They have the financial success to do it.
Despite their genuine concern about cultures and values, Mandira and Ram have already crossed the line into the netherworld between cultures – more western than Nepalis, and too Nepali to be Americans or Brits.
Over the past several weeks, we’ve met several expats who live in Kathmandu and other Asian countries. Some are happy, some are conflicted – some are trying to make it work.
In countries like Nepal, an average American or British school teacher can live like a King or Queen. International schools – in exchange for a two or three year commitment – pay airfare (including an annual trip home during summer break), cushy housing, public holidays and all breaks including a full-summer vacation. Teachers make American salaries. So, let’s a say a school teacher makes $40,000 a year – in Nepal, they can pocket just about all of it. What a change of economic status.
For someone who can appreciate a foreign culture and their amazing opportunity to save money – being a foreigner working in a country like Nepal is a wonderful thing.
Only it’s rare to find a joyous, happy expat community.
When I lived in Bangkok, most of the Brits and Americans I worked with had been around awhile and spent much of their time complaining about what was wrong with Thailand and Thais and the way things were done there. Many confined their social lives either to drinking at bars with other expats, enjoying the company of prostitutes or both. It was a cliche taking place before my eyes.
In Singapore, where everyone speaks English and the standard of housing is excellent in almost any neighborhood, expat communities were very strong. They occupied some of the most expensive areas of town and kept a fairly closed community – separating themselves from what I found to be the most accessible local population in Asia.
I never understood it. I lived in wonderful condos in Singaporean buildings, that were among the nicest places I’ve ever lived. I had Singaporean neighbors – who were friendly and kind. I saved a lot of money too.
Many of the expats I met complained about how boring Singapore was or how hot. True, it’s not the most exciting place on Earth – but one of the easiest and most comfortable places I have ever been.
Two nights ago we had dinner with three very successful guys from San Diego who were passing through Nepal and went to Nagarkot for their mountain view experience. They’re all well traveled. One was British, one Australian one Los Angelino – all San Diego residents now.
They all talked about how horrible expat communities are – including communities of Brits and Aussies who live in the United States. The condemned how much of life people miss trying to stay in their bubbles of comfort.
One has a sister-in-law who has been in Orange County for eight years and refuses to get involved in anything because she always thinks they’re moving back to Sydney next year. Only, her husband’s contract has been renewed continuously for eight years.
My favorite part of the conversation was their conclusion that the constant putting-down of the host location and culture has to do with trying to make expats feel their culture is better. It’s a superiority which helps them feel okay staying removed and not exposing themselves.
The miserable expats are neither participants in their own culture or engaged in the culture around them. This is the foundation of the misery. They live in the most awkward of all worlds – the space between.
I sympathize with the people caught in the cultural vacuum. Not everywhere is easy. I really struggled in Taiwan at times. Sometimes, it’s hard not having the comforts and things you love about home around you.
Or, for the people in Mandira’s situation – it’s completely understandable to want more for yourself and your family. When you see something that you admire and works for you, why not pursue it? There is no shame in success or in stretching your horizons.
Many of us “cherry pick” ideas – taking pieces of the ideas and cultures we’ve known with us, putting them in our toolbox or displaying them proudly on the walls of our inner-worlds. The key – in my humble opinion – is to know that the parts we like are just that – the parts we like.
But being a cultural collector doesn’t get you in trouble. In fact, it’s very safe. Taking that next step and putting a foot firmly in another world – that’s when the ground begins to feel shaky.
When you enter another culture – unlike another country – there are no embassies that can help you in case of trouble and there are no clear lines and answers. Everyone has to find their own way because each person is navigating their own uncharted waters for the first time. Some people sail smoothly around the horn, some battle through stormy seas, others crash on the rocks. Sometimes even experienced captains have momentary losses of control.
So, as we sat around Mandira’s dining table, enjoying the best masala tea I’ve had in Nepal, in what appeared to be the calmest, most orderly space in Nepal, I realized that these people – for more than one reason – were engaged in a voyage not for the faint of heart. And I admire them.
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