It never fails to surprise me how long it takes to get things done around here – at least compared to the American pace of life.  And the funny thing is, I can’t quite pinpoint what it is, exactly.

Is it the fact that nearly everything I cook is done from scratch?  Maybe, but I did quite a bit of that in the States, so I’m not sure that’s it.

Is it that we rely on the city’s transport schedule?  Highly possible.  Without a car, you’re really not free to just take off wherever you want, whenever you want.  You need to make plans to walk to the bus stop, wait for the right bus, and then let the bus driver get there whenever he wants.  Then you get off, and either get on another form of transport, or walk to your destination.  It’s the same process if you choose to take the metro, the ferryboat, or a taxi.  This takes surprisingly longer than a quick trip in a car.

The thing I’ve realized, though, is that in this stage of life (stay-at-home mom to two littles), I don’t have that much opportunity to hop in a car and go wherever I want, regardless whether I have said car.  There’s a good chance that even if we had a car waiting in our parking spot, it would remain parked for a good portion of the day.

(This is not to say, however, that we’re not still praying for funds for a vehicle.  With little kids and a growing family, a car would make it so. much. easier to do the things we need to do.  Try getting on an absolutely filled-to-the-brim bus with a 4-year-old and a 15-month-old in your lap, or in your arms as you hold on to a pole standing in the aisle, and you’ll know what I mean.  Quick trips to the grocery store never sounded so heavenly.)

Is it that we just don’t have the available necessities close by, so we need to make major outings just to get everyday items?  Maybe. 

In America, we’ve got “big box stores” like Wal-Mart, Target, Home Depot, Hobby Lobby, and the like.  If I wanted to get some fabric to make new pillows for the couch, I’d hop in the car with my Joann Fabrics coupon, grab what I wanted, and get back to my sewing machine. 

Here, I either coordinate my schedule with Kabob to make a family trip to the city center so I can get some sewing supplies, or I make sure he can have a day with the kids so I can go myself.  Then I get on public transport (see above), navigate unmarked, cramped streets that all look the same, running a gauntlet of vendors hocking their wares to the rich foreigner.  When I finally find my favorite fabric store (which is about a 10×10 foot room stacked floor to ceiling with fabric in no particular order), the owner prefers to ask me what I want, then show me what he thinks I need until I can convince him that I really do know what I want, so if I could just get that, that would be great.

This trip is already taking several hours, so I need to eat lunch, pick up a few more things I can only get down here, and perhaps visit a friend in the area, since it’s rare I’m downtown. By the time I get home, it’s been five to six hours, all to get some fabric for some updated throw pillows.

So yes, perhaps that’s it. But the thing is, while I miss the conveniences like craft stores every two miles, we’ve got other conveniences. I love the little neighborhood shops at the bottom of nearly every apartment building. Out of farm-fresh tomatoes? Run downstairs and pick up a new batch, along with some butter, sausage, and barley. Get back upstairs, and continue with dinner.

I still don’t know the exact answer why things take so long here, but my guess is that it’s a little combination of everything. And this combination settles nicely under the umbrella of culture. The culture is slower-paced here. We Americans value efficiency and productivity more than almost anything. Here, people simply aren’t in a hurry.

I’ve watched people buy and sell produce at the farmer’s market, and it takes minutes to pick up three lemons. They want to talk about the lemons’ freshness, where they were grown, what the buyer’s intended creation will be, and how the kids are doing in school. I’ve learned to (sometimes) patiently wait until it’s my turn.

Crowded buses, sitting among throngs of people when I really need to get somewhere as soon as possible, pick up new passengers that wait to get their bus card out of their purse until they’re right in front of the bus driver, and no one seems to mind. In my head, I’m thinking, “Okay, you can have your card out and ready by the time you see the bus turn on to the street,” but to these people, what’s the hurry? The bus driver will wait for me. It’s his job to let everyone on, so he’s not going to drive off until everyone’s on.

It’s a lesson in patience, the everydayness of life here. It’s a good thing to learn for this American, to be sure. But it’s not always easy.

posted: 09 April 24
under: culture