Thrown for a Guadeloupe

Editor’s Note: the follow post is part of a larger article I am writing about my recent vacation to the island of Guadeloupe, which is in the French Caribbean. My wife’s parents graciously gifted us with this vacation and it’s been a blast. However the island is definitely French, and that makes for some wacky hijinks culturally, seeing as how of the five of us, Nicole is the only one who speaks French. This post is about the communication and cultural differences I’ve noticed. Stay tuned for more.



Cultural Differences
Being a former missionary, I was trained in cross-cultural rules of engagement. There are assumptions that everyone has as a result of their upbringing that when they go to places with different cultures, may or may not be shared. For example, I had a friend who grew up in a small town farming community where – because of the personality of his family and his town’s culture – he learned to talk loudly and shake people’s hands furiously, as though he were trying to unhinge your arm. This would work in some cultures, like with Wookiees. Other cultures, it is almost assault and reason to become alarmed.

So this vacation helped me realize that not all my ideals and values are shared by everyone on the planet.

Take, for example, diet Coke.

Our first night in Guadeloupe we all went out to a local restaurant. And then the next day, for lunch, we went to a little seaside bistro. My experiences with diet Coke on both of these occasion showed me that not every human views soft drinks with the same set of biases.

Some people believe that when you order a soda, it should automatically come with free refills. I am not one of these people. I understand that not everywhere on earth operates on the “free refills” premise. When I lived in New York City, for example, I was frequently mocked by waiters when I asked them if there were free refills.

“This isn’t Chiles,” these waiters would sneer, which sort of made me feel bad because I kind of took it as a slam on the Midwest, where the corn was tall, the people are honest and the glasses of diet Coke are bottomless.

So I know that not every place has free refills. This is okay with me. Even if you just bring me out the can and a glass of ice, I’m okay with that.

But I discovered that I assume when I order a soft drink, that it will come chilled. This assumption is not shared with people in Guadaloupe. Apparently the miracle of refrigeration has yet to be applied to beverages on this island. They don’t even bring you a glass with ice in it. Not even ice. I wonder if Coca-Cola has to change their advertising strategy for such places. Enjoy a room-temperature Coke!

Secondly, I discovered that when I order a soft drink, I expect a serving size of at least 12 ounces. At least a can. This too, not an expectation shared by the Guadaloupians. The waitress brought out my lukewarm diet Coke in a glass that was in a glass roughly the size of a Dixie cup. No kidding, this thing was only marginally bigger than a Nyquil cup. Perfume comes in bigger bottles. I was quite disappointed.

It only Hertz when it’s love
The other area where my cultural bias really broke through was in regard to automobiles. Before we went to Guadaloupe, my father-in-law reserved, through Hertz’s online website, a car. The website said that the car was big enough for all five of us, and our luggage, so Bob reserved it for a good rate.

Another thing I learned about myself. I tend to view reservations as meaning something. Especially reservations with confirmation numbers that have been secured with a credit card 10 days prior to arrival. This is not the case with all cultures. Some people groups, like the ones in Guadaloupe, view these “reservations” differently.

Bob took his printed out receipt to the Hertz counter and the lady behind the counter said, “Yeah, we don’t have any large cars.”

“What do you mean, ‘You don’t have any large cars,’” Bob asked. “I have a reservation confirmation right here.”

“I can not do anything with that,” the lady said.

Apparently, that guarantee from Hertz meant about as much as mail from Publisher’s Clearing House promising massive cash rewards. The lady gave us a car she said could seat five.

After about two hours of waiting in various lines, we finally got the car. It was a Renault Scenic, and this spacious five-person car was about as big as 2001 Corolla. I’m not sure what size those five people were the woman assumed would be able to fit into this car. Either this woman was born and raised among circus people, or Renualt’s capacity instructions were written by Oompa Lumpas. The only reason this car fit all five of us is because Justus is less than two feet tall and weighs 30 pounds. It’s like those tents that say, “Sleeps five people comfortable” and when you buy it from Target you imagine the tent is going to be simply cavernous. “We could set up hammocks inside this thing, it’s going to be so big,” you think to yourself. And then you set it up and you realize, “The only way this tent is going to sleep five is if we stack people.” It was like that.

What upsets me most is that I was right there at the check out when the lady told Bob that the car sat five. I was right there. This is how the conversation should have gone.

HER: It seats five people. pointing at me Or two of those.
BOB: I would like to upgrade.