Learning and applying behavioral patterns is easy, I think.
But can you play LEGO with them?
I realized that my answer is yes.
I put myself together
A few weeks ago I learned a Vietnamese behavior pattern. (I wrote about it in my article “Attractions in Tuy Hòa”.)
I started to apply it.
Then I started to think about how the behavioral elements I picked up after observation or teaching are present in my everyday life.
I thought about what elements have been built into my behavior. Where do they come from. And most importantly, how do they relate to my current habitat. I discovered some contradictions and a little disharmony.
That’s how I realized that I’m actually playing with LEGO bricks in this area.
Also.
I’ll show you what I mean.
Wai
The very first – previously unknown – behavioral element was the wai. I wrote about it exactly a year ago in the post “The first week on Koh Samui”.
The wai is the combination of two palms in front of the chest (as in prayer) and a slight bow of the head. However, it is not just a simple gesture. It is an expression of respect, humility and goodwill.
I don’t think there has been a day in the past year when I haven’t used this gesture.
I brought it from Thailand, Indonesia, Laos and China to Vietnam.
Here I noticed that it is not used here. It doesn’t bother me, I use it. Because it has become part of my thinking, behavior and life.
A little cultural history explanation is needed here in order to fully understand the process I went through.
So the wai was given, with the content described above. That’s where I arrived. Then I went to Indonesia and continued using it there. I couldn’t have known this, but in Indonesia this gesture has a different name, and its meaning is different. There it’s called sembah. It’s more strongly associated with respect, homage, religious and ceremonial situations. That’s why it’s not used as often, it’s not as much of an everyday reflex as in Thailand. But when I gave it, I got it back. So I wasn’t aware that I was doing it “unnecessarily” so often. I kept using it.
When I returned to Thailand, things fell into place.
From there I went to Laos. Now I know that it has a different name there too, it happens to be called nop there. But its meaning and everyday meaning are very close to its Thai sibling. So I wasn’t a “white raven” there.
Here in Vietnam, however, it’s not part of city life. Instead, they nod. If I wanted to encounter this gesture, I’d probably have to look in a different environment.
So there was a part of my journey that lasted 8 months, when I used it, as others do. The cultural difference did not appear on a conscious level. Then I have been using it for 4 months, despite the fact that I am alone in this. I recognized this difference.
Despite this – without any particular decision or analysis – I continued to use it. What has not changed in me is that I turn to the person in front of me with respect and humility. It is a gift to myself – which I unfold every day – and I give it to the other person as well.
Smiles and rejection
The most important lesson Bali taught me was how to respond to constant “harassment”. I wrote about this in my article “Bali smiles differently: not all paradises are the same”.
It was then that I understood that my responsibility in relation to the constant questions, requests, service offers, and interruptions of attention that come my way is simply to reject what I don’t need. I do this with a wai, a smile, and a kind “no, thank you!”. That’s it and no more.
The response after a rejection is not my responsibility. If I receive a kind gesture in return for my kindness, I am happy. If the reaction is indifferent or aggressive: it doesn’t affect me. We share mutual politeness, if any. In that case, I am on the “positive” side. If there is no mutual politeness, I am still on the “good” side.
I have been using this rejection method a hundred times a day ever since, for my own sake.
I almost always smile anyway, so why wouldn’t I do the same when I say no?
In the past few months, I’ve come to understand a saying I’ve known since I was a teenager. And it’s about my own realization about rejection.
“Smile at the world and it smiles back at you.”
I’ve been smiling at the world for a long time. Fortunately, the world is often in the eyes of another person and a face smiles back at me. Sometimes it’s “just” a cloud…
With two hands
This is my latest gesture. I quote from my previous post:
In the past few weeks, I’ve learned a very important little thing. Vietnamese people hold the thing they want to hand over to someone with both hands. It’s a sign of respect. It was something I’d seen, but never thought about. It was only in retrospect that the sight made sense.
Since then, I’ve also held the money I hand over to someone with both hands, for example. And since then I’ve seen how much joy this little thing brings.
It still surprises me when the Vietnamese side doesn’t give this respect. I’m in Saigon. It’s bustling, there are thousands of people everywhere. The waiters are relaxed, the vendors are phlegmatic, there are some behavioral elements that are more metropolitan than Vietnamese. But the moment the waiter gives the bill casually, with one hand, and then sees the banknotes I’m holding in my two hands, something changes. The phlegmatic waiter then shudders and bows his head. I don’t think it’s in front of me. In front of the respect he receives.
I’ll continue
These small micro-changes started my thinking.
These gestures have meaning. For me and for the other person.
I feel and live the effects on my own life.
I’ve also experienced the effects across countries.
A few weeks ago I realized that I really like this behavioral LEGO.
I get a brick here and there.
And if this brick builds me, then I immediately incorporate it into my behavior and don’t let it go until I want to.
I’m going to Cambodia soon. I don’t want to know in advance whether we’ll pass objects to each other with two hands. I’ll take it with two hands. Because I respect the other person. And I respect myself enough to keep this brick.
Now I still have a hard time imagining myself in a Hungarian store, where I hand over my bank card to the cashier with both hands, then – before taking the pad from her – show a wai and say “thank you so much!”.
I assume she won’t understand.
It’s okay. I understand now.
Buy me a coffee?
If you enjoyed this story, you can buy me a coffee. You don’t have to – but it means a lot and I always turn it into a new adventure.
Buy a coffee for Steve
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