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Small Town Life
What if you could go anywhere in the world? If it didn’t matter that you had no money, or plans. You could simply hop on a plane and head to the destination of your choice. Would you happily take up the offer, or would you continue to go about your day-to-day life? I know what I would choose. I would go anywhere and everywhere. To see it all is my life goal. The world is such a huge place, with billions of people to meet and new things to try, why limit yourself to what you have in front of you?
Growing up in a small town, it is easy to get lost in your own bubble. The bubble of doing the same thing every Saturday night, seeing the same people every day, and living your life the same way for years on end. It is easy to fall into the thought process that this is all that exists, and be content with thinking that way. Some people where I live act as if an outside world doesn’t exist.
I enjoy going new places very much. It doesn’t have to be in a different country, or even a different state, but seeing somewhere new, reminds me how much of the world that I haven’t seen. In the past couple of years, I have been many new places. Two years ago, I went to Washington D.C., this was my first experience in a place so culturally different from where I live. Most people think that in the United States, culture is universally the same. My first day in Washington D.C., I found that statement extremely inaccurate. There was a large public presence of homelessness, diversity, and crime, three things that I was not accustomed to seeing outside of books and the internet. Living in rural Maine, you rarely see beggars on the sides of roads and in public places. The culture is pretty two-dimensional, with most people being white working class people who work in an industry relating to aquaculture. Another culturally shocking thing was the warnings we received from the man leading our visit. He warned us of pit-pocketers and that staying in a group of at least two was vital. He warned us to keep our valuables in the locked vans. This was strange to me. I live in a place where everyone knows everyone. I know at my house, the only time the door is locked is at night. I personally never lock my car, and frequently leave the keys in the ignition. You just assume that no one is going to break into your car, and certainly no one is going to drive off in it. I left Washington D.C. with a greater understanding of cultural differences in the United States.
This summer, I was exposed to an entirely different spectrum of ‘culture shock.’ I was employed at the summer camp I had attended as a kid, a Girl Scout camp in northern Maine.
This year we had difficulties finding past campers and other locals to work as counselors, so nine young women were found through various organizations to work with us. Six of them were from the United Kingdom, and three from Ireland. Four of them had visited the United States before hand, doing various things, but the other five had never been to the United States. I watched as these girls experienced many things for the first time. Some they were a fan of, some they were not. They had never had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, celebrated the 4th of July, or been bitten by a mosquito. Their reactions varied, from loving the sandwiches, the pride, and big American cookouts, to ending up at the hospital from all the bug bites.
I think being exposed to different cultures gives me a unique perception of the place that I live in. I am thankful that I have had these opportunities, unlike some people who live in this bubble we call Washington County. Someday I hope that I can convince others that there really is a great world out there.
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