As academic week 6 draws to a close and minds begin to turn to the cultural institution that is Spring Break (as if they weren't already!), I thought that, given I don't want to be totally written out of your will (with that comes the uneasily morbid assumptions that (a) you have a will, and (b) I'm in it), I should exercise my fist for lettering in the digital form.
In the interests of maintaining my ever-more-widely circulated reputation as somewhat of an ethnographic David Attenborough (who has, I'm told on good authority, hung up his boots), I've been brooding on a rich tagline for the richer content of this foreign memoir. Brooding finished. It's 'Simple thoughts; complex institutions'.
"What", a significant other asked, "have you found most surprising about Americans?" Musing the question over my last sip of protein shake (you should see my pectorals and biceps by the by, I'm now officially buff) I figured that it was simply how nice people were to each other. As the cynical Aussies reading lift their jaws from the floor, I will provide exemplars: the almost obligatory ritual of holding the door open, always saying 'bless you' or 'it was nice to meet you', smiles that would give you cataracts…the little things. Americans are a bunch of happy, friendly people. Or so it appears.
The source of this seemingly boundless optimism remains a mystery. Let's flesh it out. It most definitely isn't the media that I've had the dubious pleasure of being exposed to (the dulcet tones of certain anchors on a certain ex-expat's own station). The negativity and conspiracy that spews from the box is intoxicating, beyond the 'I've-drunk-just-a-little-too-much-and-everything-is-just-a-little-more-interesting' stage. "Desist with the flowery prose" I hear you holler in ironically flowery prose, "and give me something I can quote". Okay, case in point, the recent court proceedings of a certain deceased beauty star. Every day, networks personally criticize and even question the motives of the presiding magistrate – am I the only one wondering where the principles of an independent judiciary or the sanctity of the courtroom disappeared to? UTube it, I'm sure my point will become clear.
If not in the media, where is this source of happiness hiding? At least contributing, I have no doubt, is the fulfillment of the supply and demand principle in relation to an American (though by no means exclusively American) need for belonging. Put simply, people here seem to want to belong to something other themselves. This is exemplified by Penn State having the largest on-campus Greek Life system (fraternities and sororities) of any university, closely followed by most other sizable universities throughout the 50 states. It might also explain the growth of the suburban mega-churches, or the annual export of children to summer camp.
From the fog of a recent weekend arises yet another example. The setting: a student apartment a few miles from campus. The event: a party with a good few hundred people. The time: 2:30am. As the party winds down, a palpable sense of longing develops, as guests begin to scurry to find something to accompany them home for the evening. The accepted norms of flirtation are thrown out the window as guests realize if their evening has any chance of being extended (…), it had better be secured within the next few minutes. Add the idiosyncrasies of a party in a college town – inbreeding like you wouldn't believe, a large number of people needing to leave at the same time, no public transport, few taxis, subzero temperatures, and housemates that seem determined to evict guests by force, and you have a very peculiar end to an evening indeed. Primal instincts abound. Most interesting was how quickly the mood changed – from a buzzy, cool vibe to musical chairs with people as chairs within just a few minutes. As far fetched as it may sound, I am not exaggerating.
Not all parties are like this, however. As the name suggests, State College is given its identity by Penn State, as if the town was earth and the university it's sun. It's easy to forget is that we are in a rural area. Just half an hours drive up the road is a small town undergoing something of a naturalist, organic, collectivist revival. It was the opening of a new local-produce, organic beer restaurant owned by a friend of Keveau, a friend of mine. So Keveau, two Paleontologists here for some post-PhD study (one from Canada, one from Argentina), and I donned our jackets and headed for the hills. When I saw yellow warning signs for Amish buggies I knew we weren't far away. Then sure enough, around the corner came one in the flesh (a buggy, that is, not a warning sign); a wooden carriage pulled by a couple of sturdy-looking horses, driven by a long-bearded man dressed in black. Fascinating sight. The restaurant itself was filled by an eclectic mix of locals, all dancing to a Texas blue-grass/folk band without a care in the world. Characters aplenty – like the local librarian who travels to Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea every two years to train the University of Technology staff to use their cataloguing system. Or the co-owner, who set up a series of art education centres in Africa. Or the retired couple who run a 'trust bakery' in their basement; locals let themselves in, take all the bread they want and drop the money in a box on the counter.
In contrast to this emerging pattern of simple, honest thought are America's endlessly complex structural institutions. It's obvious that in almost all cases, the onus is on the individual; for superannuation, for health insurance, for university education. Anything worth investing in is expensive, and a college education is out of reach of most people (think of the cost of an Australian full-fee paying place and triple it). The legislative differences among states are broad enough to think of each as a different country with a tenuous link to an umbrella body, as Europe has to the EU. This means that everything (including insurance policies, for example) is state-specific, thus further discouraging (isolating?) residents to move beyond their state boundary. Anyway, enough of this political blather.
Incase my indulgent rambling has left you either comatose or questioning my mental stability, here is a typical-travel-email style recount of the last few weeks at Penn State:
- Skiing at Tussey Mountain (less than 20 mins drive from campus)
- THON (Penn State's annual dance marathon – $5.2 million raised for charity this year – see http://www.thon.org/)
- A growing reluctance to indulge in the diet of a dining-hall-subscribing college student: meals have been getting progressively larger and more wasteful due to peer pressure, reflecting on the waist line to the tune of 5 kg's +
- Free theatre on Thursday nights
- Lecture from world-renowned equality lobbyist Suzanne Pharr (see http://www.suzannepharr.org/)
- Frolicking in 20 inches of snow, most of which fell in two days
- Late nights, late mornings
- Growing addiction to PR podcasts (I'm now a nerd – out and proud)
And so ends another of my memoirs.
I do miss you on occasion, and you can relieve this pain by either depositing directing into my bank account (it needs all the love it can get), or simply replying to this post; the choice is yours.
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