Junk food

In one of my English classes on Monday, I wanted my two students to read a short (and, admittedly, pretty stupid and boring) passage from the textbook about the world's oldest woman who, at 109 years old, ate only junk food. I asked the students if they knew what junk food was, and they had totally blank looks on their faces. I started at the beginning, explaining the word "junk," and then gave examples of junk food, pointing out that many foods in this category are fast food and/or are high in sugar or fat. They still looked perplexed. I thought more examples would help, but each time I asked them about a food and asked if it went in the "junk food" or "not junk food" category, they got it wrong.

"Is fruit junk food?" They stared at me. "No, in the United States, we say it's not junk food. It's healthy food." I said. I did the same for hamburgers and pointed out that Americans consider just about anything from McDonald's to be junk food.

"Okay, what about fish?"

"That's junk food," one student said. Only if it's fried, I explained.

"Chocolate?"

"Not junk food," they agreed.

And then it hit me. What a ridiculous concept! (Yeah, I can be a little slow.) Food is what sustains and strengthens our bodies. The concept that some food is essentially garbage is bizarre and probably isn't culturally relevant in a country where many people are just happy to have full bellies. I remembered Michael Pollan's discussion in The Omnivore's Dilemma about Americans' weird relationship to food.

When I came home and told T about this, he reminded me that our Canadian friend Sarah, a kindergarten teacher at the K-12 school associated with the University, struggled for weeks to get the parents of her students to send "healthy" snacks to school. She spoke, with horror, of watching one child eat a snack consisting of chocolate pudding scooped out of the cup with Kit Kats. After my confused ESL lesson on "junk food," I wondered whether Sarah had been making false assumptions, like I had, that food can be objectively divided into transcultural categories of "good" and "bad," "healthy" and "unhealthy."

And I'm curious to know if any of you have had similar experiences when engaged in multicultural discussions about food.

Merry Christmas

Wishing you joy in three different languages

Last night, our friends Thomas and Fazia came over to our apartment for hot apple cider. They told us that the tradition of a Christmas tree and presents is becoming popular with Moroccans, which is interesting because 99% of Moroccans are Muslim.

This morning, I had an email from a Jewish friend wishing me a Merry Christmas, and I wrote back wishing her one as well.

Both were reminders of the versatility of Christmas. Although its meaning has changed for me over the years, it has always remained my favorite holiday.

Whatever your beliefs, wherever you are, whomever you're with, I wish you a Merry Christmas.

Things they didn't tell me

In making our decision to move overseas, in our usual fashion, T and I (i.e. T) did a lot of research. He researched the places where we might live, and he found books on the various aspects, from financial to psychological, to making an international move. We even got to talk to someone who worked at this University for five years. We didn't feel completely prepared when we moved here, but we certainly felt more prepared than some.

However, there are still things I wish someone had told me. Or maybe someone did tell these things to me, but I wish they had been emphasized more.

At the top of my list of things they didn't tell me is the absolute truth that some people, after moving to a new country, will get sick, and they will never really get better, at least not as long as they stay in that country. I don't know why this happens. I have many friends, for example, who came to Morocco and started drinking the tap water and eating street food right away and never had a day of travelers' diarrhea. More common, I think, is an adjustment period of the body that ranges from a week to a few months, during which time the individual is more susceptible to all kinds of bacteria and viruses, but after which that person is basically okay.

Then there are those unlucky few who are constantly coming down with a wide range of diagnosable and undiagnosable ailments that affect a wide range of parts and systems of the body. I seem to be one of these unlucky few. This is something I have tried to avoid blogging about because it is essentially "negative," but the truth is it has also become a large part of my experience living in a foreign country for the first time.

Even minor health problems can be complicated in a foreign country, as I'm sure you can imagine. If one has moved from a developed country to an undeveloped or developing one, the quality of medical care will seem subpar. In fact, while I was very reluctant to go to doctors while living in the United States, I have made a fairly firm decision not to visit a doctor (or especially a hospital) here unless I am already in danger of dying – in case they kill me, of course. For people like me who like "be their own doctors," there is the issue of not knowing what sorts of medications and treatments are available. I have lived in Morocco for 16 months and I'm still learning what is and is not available. There is the additional complication of not always knowing what the real problem is that one is trying to treat.

The biggest problem of all, of course, is communication. Think about the last time you went to visit a doctor. Did the doctor understand you? Did you understand everything the doctor said? I think there's a high chance that you will answer at least one of these questions with "no." But if you had to communicate with the doctor in a language with which one of you was uncomfortable…well, imagine the opportunities for miscommunications and misunderstandings.

I don't know what the solution is for those of us in this small and unfortunate minority. I know I'm not the only person going through this, but at the same time it's not that comforting to know there are other people who, like me, haven't seemed to figure out how to be well in a foreign country.