Differences Beyond Dialect (Conversation 2/6)

- A continuation on the topic of my conversation partner from Congo. I mentioned in the previous blogpost that there was certainly a dialect barrier between Fernand and I. The two of us, though both attempting to speak proper English, certainly had the trouble of understanding each other due the different accents and pronunciation of words. This more recent conversation had the anticipation of more productivity. I knew to speak slower, at least, and he seemed to annunciate better. Well as the conversation continued on, slowly but surely, other barriers became apparent. There’s a little thing called a cultural barrier. For example, Question: what was Ferdinand’s favorite food in America? Answer: Nothing, it’s all pretty disgusting. Question: what was his favorite movie/TV show? Answer:  None, he’s never really watched a movie or TV show. This is not to say I am criticizing or judging. Everyone certainly has a right to like what he or she wants. Either way, I find it hard to picture someone with these opinions because in reality a lot of this is what makes up Americans. Quoting Will Ferrell movies while gorging over McDonald’s Fries at some time in the a.m. is certainly a tradition of my friends and I. That’s when I realized that “foreign” means more than a dialect. It’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the conversation, it was certainly interesting. As another point that shocked me, he hates football. Growing up in Nebraska, I was born a Husker Football fan, went to TCU and then became a Horned Frog Football fan. I loved football. That was the best way to sum everything up. Not liking football? Um…What? He said he’s seen one football game, a TCU game, but he found it confusing and boring…so he left early. In his country, soccer is the big social phenomenon. No Superbowl, but soccer. When I watch a soccer game, there’s nothing special about it to me, not the same type of excitement but simple a bunch of men chasing a ball. However, when I visited Europe the summer before my senior year in high school, it was the same time as the World Cup. The excitement the Swiss felt, screaming in the streets, covered in paint, the same type of phenomenon a student feels at a college football game. So we may not agree on Will Ferrell, TV shows watched the next morning on Hulu, and the greasy hamburgers and fries devoured on a Friday Night, we agree on loving the sports we grew up with. And that’s ok with me.