Call It What You WIll

I think it’s safe to say that this blog’s title is a bit of a misnomer. It’s called Global Business Leadership because I had this crazy idea that it’s what I would be writing about when I started the blog. Then, I found that I simply enjoyed posting my sometimes snarky travel stores so much more. The blog got more and more global but had almost nothing to do with business and even less to do with leadership. Its name should have been changed long ago. And it probably would’ve been. If not for the pesky problem of what to call it now.

To take it one step further, this post isn’t even that global. It has to do with where I’m from – The San Gabriel Valley.  It was the place where I grew up, went to school, and hung out with friends.  Life was just that: plain, normal, life.

I first heard about the 626 Night Market  last year in Poland. It was new. But it didn’t seem like it was especially out of the ordinary. I thought of it as a local phenomenon. For that reason – That, and two tiny obstacles called The Atlantic Ocean and North America—I’ve been aware of it for over a year without attending.

I went last weekend. I’ve been to night markets in Maldives and Thailand. You learn to force your way through the crowds. Admire strange new snacks. And that its usually best to try said delicacies before asking what they are. So that was nothing new. I noticed something that did surprise as I happily munched my way through octopus balls and chicken harts: Other white people. Most of my friends from the area are Asian. I’m used to being the only round eye at most of the locales we frequent. This was no longer the case. I felt slightly weirded-out. Something had changed.

Apparently what I thought of as normal became a ‘thing’ while I was gone. The great expanse between LA and the Inland Empire is now referred to as ‘The 626’.I’ve heard what goes on here has a name:  the ‘boba life’ (Seriously?). So, I guess I’ve been living on the periphery of it as much as possible to without even liking tea or tapioca.

Whatever you decide to call it, people are curious. And that’s what has changed. Asians remain the clear majority at the night market. Yet, It’s one of the few markets anywhere where you can see people of every race brought together by a common love of food.

It’s changed things at home too. For better or worse, my parents want to know about it. We’ve lived here for years. But, I had no idea how much they didn’t know about our surroundings.  Now I’m getting questions like “What is boba?” and “Have you eaten this Korean barbecue?” mixed in with “What were you guys up to yesterday?” Well, umm…let’s see here…

Whatever people don’t know, they’re learning. Some are shocked a la ‘You seriously want me to eat cow’s tongue?!’But I think most are also impressed by the uniqueness of it. Some are starting to come in numbers. Like I saw at 626 night market, that changes it. Blends with it. Globalizes it. Dumbs it down? I don’t know. But, maybe in that sense this post is global after all.

You can call it whatever you like. You can give it a name. Make it a phenomenon.  Call it something new and unique. But to me it will always be just the way things are. The experiences I’ve had.  The label doesn’t matter. The content counts. Whatever it may become.

GIrls, Booze and Maturity: Some Observations

I sat down and took in the view before me. Fountains danced
to music against a backdrop of ancient defense walls. Beyond that, stood thecathedral and medieval square that we had just walked through. It was my last night in the town of Bardejov. I had come to the region in Slovakia to visit a friend, who I met while studying Polish in Krakow the month before. She,her friends and I were out for a bit of the local nightlife. As we casually sipped glasses of Saris from a pub located in one of the fortifications defense turretswe discussed how we have changed now that we had entered our early 20’s. She sounded almostnostalgic for her teenage years, recalling the blind excitement of nights spent sneaking cheap Champaign on the town defense walls. “It really made me feel like someone” she toldme in Polish. Now, we agreed, we hadmoved beyond that stage. Sitting down over a beer was a normal part of life. It was also nothing special.
I didn’t think much about this discussion until a few days ago. Almost half a year later after that
discussion, I found myself sitting in a small Korean restaurant in a strip shopping center east of Los Angeles. I was staring at an image of what looked like a glass filled with psychedelic vomit on a smartphone. The smartphone’s owner was prattling on excitedly about how she wanted to try the libation in question. Not because she’d had it before, or even because she heard it was good,but because it was so ‘cool’. She had just turned 20.
It occurred to me that this must have been the excitement that my Slovakian friends of roughly the same age had recalled. Only, in America youth go through this stage much later.
Growing up, this youthful excitement must have passed me by. I spent a lot of time traveling as a teenager. I have been of legal drinking age on my birthday since I turned 16. Alcohol was always just another part of life to me. I hate clubs, and have never felt the need to go to one and binge drink simply because I can.
Yet, this was exactly what I saw when I traveled to Shanghai on a university trip in 2010. It one of the first times that most of the other students could actually go to a club. A group convinced me and a Korean international student to go with them. Everyone but us acted as if this activity was the high points of life. The Korean student and I did not enjoy ourselves and left early. On the way back to the hotel we agreed that our collogues behavior was immature compared to the youth in many other nations. The others on the program had yet to realize that reality is different from how things appear in music videos. Those who may have begun to suspect weren’t about risk voicing the truth to their peers.
Indeed, on my most recent trip to Ljubljana we celebrated my admittance to graduate school by going to a pub. One current student in the graduate program explained why. The clubs in the Slovenian capital are filled with 18 year olds who think being there means they are someone.
Apparently, this is also the case is Bardejov. It’s a normal stage of life inany country. Many quickly grow out of it.
Since my most recent return to America, many of my friends have turned 21. I cannot help but be struck by how much they remind me of some of my 18 year old European acquaintances. The excitement one of them displays regarding participation in drunken revels is almost
exactly the same as the attitude of an Austrian girl I knew in Poland. There is three years of age difference between them. Maybe will mature more quickly than the other, but that one will also have grown up faster. I suppose that which is better depends on your perspective.