A Fish Out of Water: My Cincinnati Interlude

(This was my 4th Toastmasters speech. Couple of things to improve: make sentences shorter; use common words.)

A Fish Out of Water: My Cincinnati Interlude

As far as idioms go: one of my favorites is this: “A fish out of water”. This expression is often used to denote the discomfort of being thrown into a new and unfamiliar situation. If you’ve ever seen an actual fish taken out of the water, you’d know why this expression is so appropriate. A fish in such a situation plops around violently, eyes bulging, gasping for breath. It is not a pretty sight.

Fellow toastmasters and guests, I have been—and in some cases, still am— like that fish. You see, I have lived in Manila, Philippines most of my life. In May 2005, work brought me to Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. Boy, was I in for a shock. For this speech, I wanted to share some of my experiences from the roller coaster ride of these past three years. If any of these stories make you laugh, or make you say a-ha, then I would have achieved my objective.

I will start with one of my hardest adjustments: Being away from family and friends. I come from a culture that values personal relationships. As such, being thousands of miles away from family and friends was disconcerting, and even painful. Sure, with email, telephones, instant messaging, voice over IP, the world has gotten smaller. However, there will be those moments -- birthday celebrations, baptisms, graduations, and even hospitalizations or funerals—that you cannot personally attend.– This distance from loved ones, truly, has been my hardest challenge.

To cope: I aggressively maintain contact with folks back home. I make it a point to phone home once a week. I blog about my daily life and encourage others to do the same. I maintain regular email communications, and SMS with family and friends. I carry three cellphones all the time: a personal US mobile number (this is what TM has on file), a work mobile number, and a personal Philippine mobile number. The Philippine mobile is so that people in Manila can SMS me at a cost of 2 cents, instead of the 40 cents it would cost them to SMS my US mobile. Sure it is a hassle to carry so many phones but every message is precious. Whether it is a forwarded message, a joke, or news of goings-on back home, these messages never fail to make me smile.

The second hardest thing to adjust to was the vastly different lifestyle in the US. Whereas in the US, self-sufficiency and independence are valued traits, I was accustomed to the service culture. Case in point: before coming to the US, I have never pumped gas. Thus, imagine my chagrin when I had to refill my gas tank for the first time. Where does what go? Is the fuel cap screwed on tightly enough? What if I do something that generates a spark and blows up the gas station?

I was similarly ignorant about the most basic tasks around the house. Something as simple as changing a light bulb was cause for consternation. There was also this incident just last winter when the lights suddenly went out. We thought there was a electric blackout—not an uncommon incident back home. My wife and I spent four hours bundled in jackets in the freezing cold waiting for the lights to come back on. When we realized that only our apartment did not have power, we called the apartment manager’s office. They sent a custodian to our apartment and after flipping a couple of switches in the fusebox, we were back in business. Needless to say, I was truly embarrassed.

While on that image: Winter. Back in the Philippines, we have two main seasons: sunny and rainy. Here: I was introduced to the colors of autumn (which I love, by the way), and the bleakness of winter. Ah, winter, glorious and fascinating on one hand, and wretched and frustrating on the other. Driving in snow is a tricky exercise I was hardly prepared for. For that matter, walking in snow was also an interesting proposition. Salting the streets, de-icing the windshield and scraping off snow were also entirely new concepts.

Social norms are also perplexing. You know how in the US you flash your car’s headlights to signify that you are letting the other person go first? In the Philippines, it is the exact opposite. I would flash my lights to indicate I want to go first. Imagine what kind of potentially life-threatening situations that small difference might lead to.

These were just some of the anecdotes I have compiled these last three years. For the record, I want to be clear that all these mishaps aside, I have thoroughly enjoyed these experiences. Being in a new and unusual situation has a way of expanding one’s horizons and forcing one to grow. And I do believe that all these experiences have forced me to mature and expand my world view. For this, I am forever grateful.

And so, having shared all this, I also hope that you will walk away today with an appreciation of some of the hardships a non-local might face. So the next time you see someone looking puzzled at the gas pump, why not offer a hand? You might not be able to help the little “fishie” back to water but at least you might make adjusting to land a little bit easier.