Musings
Note: To my loyal readers from outside the U.S., my apologies for my American perspective. Perhaps, however, this may strike a chord with your observations and experiences, as well. Thanks for your patience with me.
I've just returned from full-day speaking engagements in Santiago and Quito, passing through Peru (and am in Mexico as many of you are reading this). The travel was uneventful by today's standards, although the Chilean economy nearly crashed due to a huge banking scandal, and the police discovered a plot to assassinate the Ecuadorian president. Ho hum.
My audiences totaled about 400 sales executives and managers, utilizing simultaneous translation. About half or slightly more spoke English. I speak enough Spanish to take a cab, obtain a hotel room, and order a meal without alarming anyone unduly. The work was arduous, tougher than I like these days, but the experience was wonderful.
Among my hosts and audiences I found delightful, professional, interesting people (despite the fact that ubiquitous cell phone use is readily accepted in the middle of meals, during the formal programs, and while in personal conversations--acts that even New Yorkers would find intolerable). I also found average national incomes ranging from $5,000 to $12,000 annually, and abject poverty yards away from pointed affluence. I stayed in the best hotel in Quito, but was cautioned not to walk around the neighborhood.
Peru and Ecuador became my 52nd and 53rd countries to be visited, respectively, and Columbia should become my 54th in June. In all of those travels, what shocks me most is Americans.
Despite the omnipresent American business people and tourists (yes, contrary to the press, we're still all over the place), I find that most of my countrymen are falling behind our overseas counterparts. Few Americans speak a second language even haltingly. They make few concessions to local culture. (When I watched a portly man walk across the lobby of my outstanding hotel in Santiago in shorts, a tee-shirt with an inane message, and flip-flops-- in the midst of well-dressed Chileans--I found myself averting my eyes in embarrassment.) American who don't travel don't seem to have much of a notion of the world other than what seeps into their minds through television sound bites. Even those who do travel seem rarely to take the time to learn about the local culture, conditions, and climate.
I found no animosity nor intolerance. If the Iraqi war is an issue, it was raised only in intellectual conversation over drinks with more of a need to understand how we feel than a need to chastise us or argue. Both of these countries--and this is not uncommon--despite politics, geography, and culture, share the U.S. as their major trading partner for both imports and exports. Our culture, for better or worse, is unavoidable: In Santiago at the U.S.-brand Sheraton, I purchased the Miami Herald with U.S. dollars, chatted happily over drinks with my hosts who are fluent in English, and listened to the lounge trio do a superb job on Cole Porter classics. For all the world, I could have been hosting my Chilean colleagues in San Diego or Orlando.
I have to admit to mixed feelings about all this. It's a pleasure to travel with the comfort and ease of understanding and of familiar icons (American products and stores abound). But we do seem to be the 2,000 pound gorilla which people have no choice but to accommodate and not upset.
I found myself doing everything I could to change that impression. I'm only one person is a small boat, and I fear I'm trying to row against the wind and tide. But the effort surely can only help us all navigate better to our destinations.