The best thing about studying abroad in China was the food. I ate everything my stomach could fit — and then some. I ate a different kind of ice cream almost every day, and each one cost less than a dollar. Trying street food became a hobby. While I often went to different cafes to study at night, one thing they all had in common was their low prices. I could knock back three cappuccinos topped with cute foam art for the price of a single grande pumpkin spice latte.
They say studying abroad is expensive. That is a fact. But I did not fully realize the difference in lifestyles our ugly American currency could bring.
At home, I try to eat out as little as possible. In Chengdu, China, I was making it rain for some red bean buns and the best fried rice I ever had. It was awesome. It was amazing. It was slightly elitist.
When we go on these great journeys to other countries as students, we do not often think of how our American status impacts our experience. When I traveled abroad, I was never really afraid. I was happily lost in all three airports I had to run through to catch my flights, but my heart didn’t skip a beat from real worry. I approached life with a sense that it would work itself out. Lost after getting off at the wrong subway stop? Adventure time! That place I just wandered through was off-limits to tourists? How interesting!
My American status came with a sense of calm and control and, most importantly, financial stability. It allowed me to experience being in a foreign country with minimal worry. Moments that could have been dangerous were awkward and funny instead. I could go to the embassy if I really needed help. I could always find someone who could speak English. If anything bad happened, I could soothe myself with the knowledge that I could return home at the end of my study easily. I didn’t have to think about how I was going to get home if anything political happened to make my return difficult.
We do not always see these scenarios for the privileges that they are. As English speakers, we are not often forced to speak another language or even understand the culture of our destination.
From racing up the stairs of a temple with my able body to expecting internet everywhere I go, I have privilege. Very little is out of my reach. If something is, I can argue for it in my neat little American accent. The security of my American status is nothing to scoff at.
So, here is what you do. First, you lose the concept of class. Leave it at home if you’re not willing to throw it away just yet. The designators of having or not having “class,” good manners, proper English and tasteful appearance are toxic because they place value on a person for some behavior or appearance that isn’t economically feasible for everyone. I don’t own Kate Spade; I will never own Kate Spade. If I ever have Kate-Spade money, I will spend it on groceries. The vernacular someone uses shouldn’t indicate their worth the same way an accent should have no bearing. Instead of using someone’s speech as an indication of intelligence, give people the same awkward smile I got when I spoke garbage Chinese. I know I appreciated it.
Above all, be grateful. If you get to study abroad, you’re doing something not everyone gets to do — something maybe your parents didn’t get to do. Don’t worry about trying to fit your American expectations and values on the place where you end up. Instead, learn and soak it in. Appreciate the differences and what they can teach you.
Brooke Henderson is a UF journalism and international studies sophomore. Her column usually appears on Mondays.
