Kyle Hepp

May 26, 2011

Imagine me pronouncing that Hola like HOLE-a London!

Yesterday evening around 6:30pm we got on our flight to the U.K. The gate check agent spoke into the mic, “Now boarding Groups 1 and 2. Now boarding Groups 1 and 2…hey! WHAT’S UP MAN?!” to his friend. It was funny, I should’ve known that would be the start of a great trip.

We arrived at 9am London time this morning and so far, all I’ve seen has been en route to my friend Francine’s flat from the airport, and the inside of her flat but so far it’s been amazing! The water here pressure is incredible! Francine’s shower’s lowest setting is blows the lid off of the water pressure in any Chilean shower I’ve ever been in (lots) and is stronger than most American showers set on high.

When we were landing, I woke Seba up from a deep slumber to tell him to “Look out the window! Everything looks so British! I can even see their giant hats from all the way up here!” Then, when I admitted that no, that wasn’t true, no hats, he got mad and told me not to wake him up again until we were on UK soil. Party pooper.

The airport gave me warm fuzzies all over. Looooong lines to get through immigration. Scary signs everywhere warning that if you do not have correct documents you will turned away or fined. At least 17 different nationalities waiting to get a stamp on the old passport, everybody looking fearful they’ll get turned away and probably saying as much in language I don’t understand. Such a welcoming and happy place, just like going through immigration in the U.S.

But we made it. No problems at immigration, the girl was quite loooovely (ah! I’m so British!) her accent made me smile the entire time. I kept thinking to myself, “Oh my god these Brits are HILARIOUS!” Except they’re really not, I just think their accent is silly. Honestly, the only thing that could’ve made the experience better would be if she had dressed like those guys with red suits and giant furry animals on their heads that guard The Buckingham Palace.

From the airport we hopped onto some kind of transfer train to downtown London for FORTY FIVE DOLLARS for both us for one way. Holy hell this trip make bankrupt us. The freaky thing was that when we got on, a video of the scenery of South America was playing and the first thing we saw on the screen was Torres del Paine. How did they know we were coming?

Once we got off the train, we had to take the metro/subte/subway/underground to Francine’s house.

While waiting in line to buy a ticket, I was witness to the craziest display of passive-aggressiveness I have EVER seen.

Let me explain. There were lots of people waiting in line. There were two machines open to buy tickets. While we were waiting in line, one broke. Do the math. That leaves one machine for many, many people (I’m so good at exact numbers and scientific calculations).

An Asian tourist was using the machine the works when we got in line. I only mention that she’s Asian because I believe it’s relevant to the story — I’ve heard that Asians have very little respect for lines.

It took her five minutes of struggling with the machine before the groaning from the audience started. Unperturbed, she seemed to be taking her sweet time. A couple minutes, she decided she could not do this alone and headed off to find an underground assistant wearing a neon yellow vest to assist her. The grumbles from the crowd grew. The assistant came over and tried to assist. After approximately 7 minutes of trying to help her and not understanding her, he lost patience, and left.

The girl started over, again. She weighed her options carefully. And slowly. The Brits grabbed their cell phones. At least three people made calls to friends, loudly saying things like, “Well, I would’ve been on time, IF SOMEBODY WOULD FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE THE TICKET MACHINE,” and “I’m running a bit late dear, there’s one oyster card machine for an entire platform and ONE GIRL HAS BEEN USING IT FOR TWENTY MINUTES.”

At no point did a single Brit speak directly to the Asian and ask her to hurry up. They only said it in loud voices to each other, to their cell phones, to the walls, hoping she would overheard and get the message.

Then. She left the machine to go get change. This is where the story gets baffling. In the U.S. I am pretty sure that while she was going somebody would have canceled her transaction and started using the machine himself. This girl walked to a coffee stand about 10 meters away from the machine, waited in line to get change, and then was told that no, they wouldn’t give her change unless she bought something, which clearly she didn’t want to do.

NOBODY TOUCHED THE MACHINE the entire time she was gone. It was shocking. Though people’s calls to their mothers and business partners and random acquaintances on their cell phones did turn into shouts, complaining about the situation.

Finally, she came back and asked the British girl behind her and before me if she could help. The British girl turned around, rolled her eyes at me and the entire 25+ people in line behind us (I kid you not, the line was huge) and proceeded to rip the Asian’s credit card out of her hand, shove her away from the machine (I am not exaggerating) and ask, “So where do you want to go?”

The Brit bought the Asian’s ticket for her and the Asian left. Finally. After only 30 minutes of using a machine that at least 25 other people were waiting to use.

The culture differences struck me like a brick in the face.

First off, as an American and/or Chilean, I would have been so ashamed had I been that girl. As an American I would’ve asked the girl behind me for help immediately — which is actually what I did when it was our turn, but man it terrifying! As a Chilean, after I’d say, five or so minutes of frustration, I would’ve given up, stood to the side and then waited until I figured it out and got back in line. If there’s anything Chileans Do Not Like, it’s making a scene in public.

Then, as an American standing line, I would’ve said to the girl directly, “Excuse me, do you mind hurrying up? There are a lot of people waiting behind you and we all have places to be.” And then the person using the machine may have responded back, “I’m going as fast as I can, take a chill pill!”

I did not take that route today, simply because I was following the Brits’ cultural lead and to be frank, I was enjoying the cultural show. I felt like we were on an episode of MTV’s Boiling Point — that show where an actor goes up to a normal person and does something super obnoxious — for example, the actor goes to a hotel where the staff hasn’t been informed he’s coming and asked the bellhop to put his suitcase in his room. There’s secretly some 500 pound weight in his suitcase so the bellhop can’t move it. The actor will insist and insist that the bellhop move the suitcase and the bellhop is a normal person who gets varying degrees of money depending on how long he lasts through the actors shennanigans without reaching his “boiling point,” or losing his temper. I made that up but you get the point.

In no possible scenario can I ever imagine an American lasting 30 minutes before losing his temper.

Now, if this line were full of Chileans, the room would’ve been full of silence and angry, angry stares, eyes that pierce you like daggers. Nobody would say anything, to each other, to the girl to the wall, to anyone. But, the minute that girl turned her back or walked away to go get change, somebody would’ve jumped in and canceled her transaction to start using the machine themselves.

It was a study in cultural differences, it really was. And all that after having been in the country for like an hour!

Have you ever noticed something about another culture right off the bat, that stands out to you as totally different?