Culture Shock

Greetings from the left coast. I recently returned to San Diego after a trip to the east coast. After a week of the hurried pace, the intense meals and the long (albeit fun) nights, it was hard to reset my internal compass to the slower pace, the not so good food, and the 10pm deadline for bedtime. It all resulted in a huge dose of culture shock. It's just SoCal I'm sure you are saying - it's not like I live in Mexico or Asia or anything like that. Chill out. But trust me, the transition is extreme pretty much every time I come back. That's not to say that there aren't some lovely things about returning to a more low key, more casual environment. Sure, here, no one asks what you do for a living (a major social taboo in San Diego by the way), no one asks where you are going or what you are working on. No one asks anything, and there is rarely anything more to talk about than how recently you have been to the car wash, how bad the weather has been compared to normal, or how often you work out.

Then, after three days, there's the moment of "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!" And what better way to fit back in then to take a trip to the gym, not to work out though, but to shop! In San Diego, Lulu Lemon is not a brand, it's a life style. To put it plainly, LuLu Lemon is to San Diego as Louis Vuitton is to New York. Before moving from NYC last spring, a friend encouraged me NOT to bury myself in a wardrobe of Banana Republic, despite my instinct to do so. "Dress cute," she said. "Be the hot mom at school. Where a Prada dress." "What a waste," I told her. "No one will appreciate it." And how right I was... On the first day of school I decided to heed her advice and dress up for the occasion. LOST on the audience, as anticipated. Lesson learned: there are places where ked's shoes are still a household staple, where people don't understand the negative impact of high fructose corn syrup, and where the trans-am is still considered cool. After much Lulu Lemon and seven sessions with the trainer, life gets a bit boring again, and 10pm seems like a great time to go to sleep.

Moving someplace new is always a challenge. I, for one, make friends pretty easily. I am not bashful (those of you who know me are laughing now) and I am not intimidated easily. Not that I am here, by the way. I would say it's more like a fish out of water scenario. I guess then that the problem is a misalignment of incentives? Or maybe goals? No, aspirations? All of the above? Yes - the latter. I come from a world where the incentive to exceed expectations is commonplace, almost unappreciated. In San Diego, ambition is a dirty word. My friend's father once said that Southern California is the land of fruits and nuts, and certainly, he was not referring to the crop production. Here, for example, expectations and ambitions are mainly reserved for the pursuit of plastic surgery (oh yeah, it's that bad). That's not to say that there are not any ambitious people here, or that people are not successful, smart or inventive. Some are. It's just a difference in the over arching attitude. I constantly remind my husband, who continues to be surprised by the San Diego work ethic, that this is a place where people move and then get a job. Not a place where people move for a job.

When I first arrived here, I tried to "dial it back," not be the aggressive New Yorker. I started to cook, I didn't bring my nanny to birthday parties (or g-d forbid send her without me - sacre-bleu!), and I stopped honking in the car (Okay, well at least I tried to stop honking). Why not fit in, right? Cooking was a great idea because the restaurants here are pretty terrible and I love the Food Network. Therefore, one plus one equals three. Problem? Despite my discerning palate, my ADD makes me a problematic chef. Some dishes are good, but others are forgotten, and therefore, overdone. I cooked for the first three months that I was here. I searched high and low for really high quality fresh foods (the dirty little secret of San Diego is that they send all the best fish and produce out of state, because most people here don't appreciate it, won't pay up for it, and don't care how it tastes). Anyway - I cooked to the extent that when my grandmother visited last summer, she was freaked out. She came with my mother to my house for a home cooked meal (already they knew they were in trouble). When she arrived she insisted that I must be short handed with help. I insisted, of course, I had little else to do, and cooking was a great outlet. That was until... Until the night that my ADD and my cooking ambition collided. I was on the cell phone talking to my husband, while making a pork roast at the same time (shh, don't tell the rabbi). The smell from the oven was overwhelming, and it was time to remove the Iron Clad and let the roast rest. Lo and behold, I grabbed the roast from the oven. But, the hand with the oven mitt remained on the cell phone, the bare hand stuck to the 500 degree roasting pan. In a split second of extreme pain I realized one thing that was paramount. I needed more help. Oh, and I needed to go to the emergency room...). In the emergency room at 11pm (an hour past the local bedtime deadline) with ice on my blistered hand, I had an epiphany. After the young doctor on call told me he'd be back after he looked up on the internet what to do, it hit me. Don't try to fit in... Be who you are. In my case, that is a person who doesn't cook, who has a 24 hour a day nanny, and who would really like to hire a driver.

There are some other important things I have learned as a resident of San Diego, and if you decide to come visit me (and please do - there is a great hotel down the street), these are some of the things you should keep in mind:

1) Don't ask people what the "do", rather, ask them only "what they are in to" (answers, by the way, range from hiking, biking and surfing, to smoking pot - yes, that is a sport here)
2) You can spilt a restaurant bill ten ways at a lunch where woman only eat salads, not to mention that you will pay extra on your one-tenth if you add chicken (Oh, and don't offer to pay the whole bill, they will think you are showing off)
3) Mall is a verb here, as opposed to a noun, which it is in most other places
4) The mall is also not a bad after school activity for the kids. They have a bouncy castle and choo choo train.
5) If you honk, people will just give you the finger
6) It's acceptable, here, to get naked on the street as long as it's because you are changing from your surf clothes into your work clothes
7) Il Fornaio's food is not half bad (that's a lie)
8) Don't cite articles from major news publications, you will just be met with blank looks and empty stares
9) Restaurants close on Monday nights
10) It's okay to shower every third day

Oh, and if you are a New Yorker and you try to fit in, you are bound to stand out even more...