Chapter 7 Cultural Differences
It sometimes bothers me that our farm helpers base their opinion of New Zealand and New Zealanders on their experiences at our place. It is a worrying responsibility!
One French couple, Dominic and Fleur, came to New Zealand during the time there was a lot of ill feeling about the French Nuclear tests in the Pacific. They were so worried about discrimination (needlessly, we felt) that they told everyone they came from Belgium and stayed their entire time in the country at our place. They said they thought we must be a typical New Zealand family, which made us feel rather important.
We did lots of typical New Zealand things with them such as going fishing, on bush walks, having barbecues and scrounging round the local flea market for bargains on a Saturday morning. Their English was not good so we dredged up our long forgotten school French to communicate with. Now they send us long and enthusiastic letters and e-mails all in French, which we struggle through then cravenly reply to in English.
The Japanese are very respectful and tend to walk three paces behind us as a matter of course. David was walking around the orchard one day with Yoko when he decided it was ridiculous trying to have a conversation by turning and shouting over his left shoulder. He slowed down so she could catch up but she slowed down as well, still staying the requisite three paces behind. David decided to be cunning and walked faster and faster while Yoko pattered along behind, running to keep up. Suddenly he stopped but she stopped instantly as well, still keeping her distance so he gave up the attempts to walk together.
I found it embarrassing to go shopping with the Japanese girls. They would insist on carrying my bags for me and I felt most uncomfortable walking around the streets of Katikati with up to three Japanese girls walking a few paces behind me as they struggled along carrying bags of groceries.
Three English lads who stayed here for a few months showed one of the best examples of cultural differences. On arrival they asked if we had many foreigners to stay. We replied that we did, after all, hadn’t they just arrived? This was greeted with the horrified comment, ‘But we are not foreigners, we’re British!’
Humour varies between cultures. Owen, a young friend of one of our sons, was with us at the dinner table one night. Not that that was at all unusual as he came to most meals. In fact a lot of people assumed he was one of our children until we explained that he didn’t live with us but only ate here. Owen proceeded to entertain us with the latest joke he had heard.
‘Have you heard about the two cows in a paddock.
One said to the other,
‘Are you worried about Mad Cow Disease’
To which the other cow replied,
‘It won’t worry me – I’m an aeroplane.’
This joke was so bad we laughed and the French Canadian Betty, who was staying with us at the time along with a Japanese girl Juko, wanted us to explain the joke. This we duly did, finding that it lost a good deal of its humour in the process, but Betty’s efforts to understand and her anxious questions were so funny that we continued to laugh. Juko wanted to know the joke so we had the hilarious situation of Betty, whose first language was French, earnestly trying to explain a bad English joke to a Japanese. By the time she had done this we were all helpless with laughter except for Juko. She still didn’t understand the joke and was sure we must be laughing at something really funny if she could only work it out.
Not only does humour obviously vary from race to race but some people seem to be devoid of any. Karl from Sweden took everything very seriously and could never tell when we were joking. He noted things down in a little notebook, which he constantly carried. On one occasion he reduced us to hysterics when he seriously wrote down ‘joke’ after a remark one of us had made. He was a very earnest young man and was horrified when we said we had heard that Swedish girls were in general very beautiful. He denied this saying that if they were he would have noticed and he hadn’t – and then wondered why we laughed.
Karl gets the prize for the best letter writer ever. He disappeared to his room every night to write letters by the bundle which he gave to me to post. I was tremendously impressed at how good how was to write to all his friends and family but rather taken aback when he told me he was writing to ask them all for money. With Christmas approaching he had decided he would like more money to enjoy himself with in New Zealand. As his main enjoyment in life appeared to be doing jig saw puzzles, a vast quantity of which we have collected over the years and stored in the games cupboard, it appeared he would not require much money to keep him happy. I don’t believe we ever saw him smile but he assured us when he eventually left that he had enjoyed himself tremendously.
A young German boy, Klaus, was another with very little sense of humour. It was his first overseas experience and he arrived at our place fresh from school. He was fanatical about his country and determined to prove to us that everything from Germany was better than New Zealand. We disconcerted him by laughing and refusing to enter into the argument – after all, we do drive an Audi! Klaus argued his way through every meal instructing me on how much better the food would be if it was grown in Germany and cooked by a German. After a few weeks of him continually putting down everything Kiwi our patience was wearing a little thin. We asked him why he was so sure that everything in Germany was the best. He replied that it said so in the German newspapers, which were always correct. At that point we figured he would grow up one day and hoped he would then be able to appreciate and enjoy the differences in cultures without one having to be the ‘best’.
I once had a delightful conversation with a Japanese couple who stayed with us. Jumo and Hiroshi asked me if was going to rain that day. I looked out the window towards the Kaimai range and told them that if they could see the Kaimais it meant it was going to rain and if they couldn’t see the Kaimais then it must already be raining. The blank looks I received in response to this led me to explain weakly that it was a joke. They looked up their dictionary before giving what was obviously the expected response of ‘ha ha’ with no expression and serious faces. Hiroshi then asked me if I thought the joke was funny. By this time as far as I was concerned it was totally devoid of humour so I asked them to think of a Japanese joke and translate it for me. This led to a rapid exchange of Japanese and a lot of recourse to the dictionary. They then went to their room, still talking earnestly to each other, only to emerge three hours later to tell me that they had not been able to think of any Japanese jokes I would enjoy.
Sometimes I am sure our customs can be rather alarming to foreigners. One Swiss girl told me that it was customary in her country for the hosts to give their bed to the guests and sleep on the floor themselves. As we had provided her with a perfectly good bed in a room of her own we were never sure whether she was suggesting a swap or just trying to train us better. She was shocked at what she considered the filthy condition of New Zealand homes and housekeeping standards. I hasten to add here, before my housekeeper resigns in a fit of righteous indignation, that she had stayed in several places before she came to us and that her impressions were from these places. It did however have the effect of making me pay more attention to sweeping the kitchen floor for a few days.
Another sweet young thing form the States rang her mother to tell her there were bugs in the bed. She had retired to her room every afternoon to eat biscuits and read magazines. The local ant population was not slow to discover this and as their idea of heaven is a warm spot close to a source of food wasted no time in moving in.
Young people appear to need a lot of sleep. Most of our newly arrived farm helpers express polite disbelief when we tell them we go to bed at nine thirty at night, and assure us they are used to staying up well past midnight. This usually only lasts for one or two nights by which time they are so worn out with the unaccustomed physical exercise that they crawl off to bed as soon after the evening meal as they can. We are very used to knocking on bedroom doors in the mornings to wake people up for breakfast – at the cr
uel and unreasonable time of seven thirty!
Various bodies appear in various stages of sleep - some can function right through breakfast and the first few hours of the day with their eyes still shut - and the working day begins as everyone searches for their respective boots at the back door.
We take our shoes off at the front or back doors before entering the house and leave them on the verandah. Sometimes it looks like a gigantic second hand shoe sale with boots ranging from new to old and from large to small. Our Labrador occasionally takes a fancy to one particular boot and will carry it around for a while before losing interest and dropping it in some obscure corner of the farm. He then wags his tale earnestly at the owner who is usually hopping around on one foot in the cool morning, swearing about his missing footwear. Fortunately as a now elderly dog he seems to have outgrown this habit although he is quick to curl up and sleep on any coat or sweater left outside. His air of injured innocence when unceremoniously dumped off this clothing has to be seen to be appreciated.
We had a guest at one time who arrived through a series of misunderstandings. I’m not sure where he found our address and phone number but he had obviously formed the impression that we were running some form of small luxury hotel. When David went to collect him from the bus stop he found a sweet white haired old gentleman, so frail he could not lift let alone carry his expensive leather suitcases. He thanked us for a lovely dinner and promptly fell asleep in front of the television. When we explained the farm helper set up to him the next day he looked a bit taken aback and suggested rather doubtfully that perhaps he could rake the path for us. We took him to a local motel where he found the standard of service he was accustomed to before moving on to one of the larger tourist towns. We never did find out where he was from or how he ended up at our place but as he was meeting up with his wife the following week she was no doubt able to sort him out.
As guests stay longer they quickly become part of the family and share their problems with us. Many a car or bicycle has been repaired by David and we have given lots of advice, probably largely ignored, on relationship and financial problems.
We often seem to have young men looking for girlfriends and young women looking for a man but seldom at the same time. We once made the mistake of having a handsome young man stay with two single girls. They spent their time trying to outdo each other in their efforts to gain his attention; the house reeked of perfume and deodorant and the hot water cylinder ran cold to the accompaniment of the constant buzz of hairdryers. Their efforts were in vain as he had left a girlfriend back in Canada and spent his spare time and money phoning her and writing her letters.
Two delightful British ladies were another case. Both on the wrong side of thirty they each carried a small notebook in which they had listed their requirements for an ideal mate. No one was safe. Any man they met was discussed and matched up against the entries in their book and invariably found wanting. The heroes they were looking for had to be rich, dark haired, over six feet tall and preferably play tennis as well as owning a farm. I felt quite safe here, as my husband would have to stand on a box to meet at least one of these requirements.
Bronwyn and Betty carried on their man hunting campaign all around New Zealand and Australia then rang us in delight to say that Bronwyn had finally met the man of her dreams and would we please come to the wedding. Oddly enough Prince Charming looked nothing like the requirements on the list, being short, sandy haired and a builder to boot. That’s true love for you! I guess Betty is still travelling around with her notebook – after all, she caught the bouquet.
New Zealand, unlike some other countries, does not have a history of employing other races to do the menial tasks. This was demonstrated very clearly when we had Avi, an Israeli man come to stay with us. The first three days were rainy so Avi had a wonderful time playing snooker and computer games. The fourth day dawned warm and sunny so David took Avi out to the orchard to show him the work he would be doing. This consisted of walking along the rows of kiwifruit and pulling off any small or misshapen fruit prior to picking. This Avi began happily enough but once he had the hang of it David left him to it to go and do some tractor work. At lunchtime Avi came in with a scowl on his face but didn’t say much. At dinnertime he told us that in his country they employed Arabs to do the job he was doing. He felt that he should not be expected to do Arab work and demanded a job driving the tractor instead. When we not unreasonably pointed out that this was David’s job and that we needed Avi to do the kiwifruit thinning he became angry and said he would leave the next morning to look for a job where he would not be treated like a peasant. I feel he was not going to have a very happy time of it in New Zealand as it is highly unlikely he would meet a farmer who would give him the plum jobs while doing the ‘Arab work’ himself!
Bronwyn and Betty
Bronwyn and Betty were travellers two
They came to New Zealand to try something new
Mandarin picking was hard work and so
They loaded their car and off they did go
Alas it was winter and down came the rain
It washed all their plans and ideas down the drain
Too wet to go caving
Too wet for the beach
Their dreams of adventures splashed on out of reach
But these girls were determined their stay would be fun
They learned how to load, shoot and handle a gun
'This will be handy' they said 'if we ever
Get sunshine instead of this awful wet weather'
They said with a smile as they batted their eyes
'Our plan is to hunt down and grab two strong guys
We're practicing running each morning in case
We spot some, they run, then it's on with the chase
Pursuit, shoot and capture's the way we will go
With best foot put forward, we're off, tally ho!'
Bronwyn and Betty those travellers bold
Had a birthday when Bronwyn turned thirty, I'm told
They toasted her beauty with glasses of wine
Then Betty said 'Bronwyn, my dear, it is time
We sought some direction to head with our lives
Are we going to be rich business women or wives?'
Consulting a gypsy they held out their palms
For a sum quite substantial, and not without qualms,
Prosperity, happiness, all were foretold
In the very near future before they grew old
Encouraged they left with a lot to discuss
At last inspiration struck - they said 'Let us
Start a shop selling muffins, we know that's a winner
We're not getting either much younger or thinner
The way to a man's heart, the proverbs all say
Is first through his stomach, so that is the way!
We're the ones who can do it, if anyone can
All we need now is our own muffin man'
To sunny Fiji our brave travellers flew
Still trying to capture a strong man or two
With her man-spotting telescope held to her eye
Bronwyn looked round and at last gave a cry
‘There’s one’ she exclaimed, ‘over there on the sand’
‘Show me,’ said Betty and grabbed at her hand
That poor bemused fellow did not stand a chance
As Bronwyn and Betty began their advance
Shoulder to shoulder they slunk to their prey
Who backed off in terror and sprinted away
‘Another one gone,’ Betty said ‘Dearie me
There are plenty more fish to be had in the sea
Pass me the telescope, I’ll have a go
If we don’t spot some soon then it’s home we will go’
It happened to Bronwyn and Betty one day
That they turned to each other and said in dismay
'We've travelled together, good friends from the start
Alas, though it's sad it is t
ime now to part'
While Betty to England flew off in a plane
Bronwyn set out on her travels again
Still in search of a man she to Canada flew
Hoping to find at least one, if not two
She travelled round Canada, saw Montreal
And then to the Rockies, steep, craggy and tall
Still hopefully searching she cried 'What the heck
I'll try for a Frenchman' and flew to Quebec
Admiring the waiters, she found a cafe
Where they plied her with croissants and cafe au lait
She lingered all day with her dreams of l'amour
While they crooned to her 'Would ma'mselle care for some more?'
But all good things pass and with one last au' voir
She continued her journey to view Ottawa
There were men there in plenty, she felt her palms tingle
Unfortunately they were none of them single
Said Bronwyn to Betty ‘It’s nigh on a year
Since we had our New Zealand vacation, my dear
What an adventure that turned out to be’
Bronwyn said ‘Look at what happened to me
The man of my dreams has appeared and I know
That from now on together our pathways will go
Our relationship started when we were just friends
But now I feel marriage is how it will end’
Betty was envious ‘What about me?
My best friend only likes guys, don’t you see
I’m working so hard now from morning till late
It doesn’t leave much time to search for a mate’
‘Take my telescope dear’, Bronwyn said with a smile
‘Look through and you’ll find that within a short while
The man of your dreams will come up into view
You will know in your heart he’s the right man for you
It worked for me - let’s hope it works for you too!’