small victories

ok, one more post today.  i am listening to a rebroadcast of the show Americans in Paris, an episode of This American Life.  the first section is an interview with david sedaris, who moved to paris to be with his boyfriend.  ira glass is asking him about living in paris, about learning a new language, living in a different culture.  david talks about going only to shops and cafes where people are overly nice to him, avoiding those where he has trouble communicating which causes shame and embarrassment and spending a lot of money in a shop just so people are nice to him and don't make fun of his broken french.  i complete understand this.  at one point, ira says to him that he is observing that really, the very simplest of things, i.e. someone returning his greeting, or being patient with him trying to speak french, or just smiling at him on the street, an acknowledgment of some sort, a break thru, if even very tiny, makes him very happy.  david agrees.  he says that it used to take a lot to make him happy.  but in paris, in a different culture, it takes very little.  understanding when you are given the correct change, a smile in a cafe.  that rings true for me, and i think i've learned to be happy with the very smallest of things...it doesn't take much.  this is learned when living in a different world, and successes are things like getting what you ordered.  or saying hello and someone responds, in the native tongue.  going to the grocery store used to be torturous.  until i learned the basic exchanges that happen at the cashier's, and i could engage, and understand, and be understood.  one of my greatest joys was going into the coffeeshop on the corner a block from my apartment, ordering a double espresso, and getting it.  however, that joy could quickly plummet into depression if they asked me if i wanted milk, and i didn't understand, and it became awkward.  once we ventured past the lines i knew by heart, about ordering my exact drink, all communication failed.  sometimes we would laugh, sometimes we would just stand there in silence, me and the barista, as she made my coffee.  i would leave the shop kicking myself for not knowing russian better, not learning it fast enough.  and then i learned to be patient with myself, patient with others, and happy with the fact that at least i was trying.  and when i learned to say "have a great day!" and therefore could return their farewell as i left the shop, well, that indeed was a great day.  small victories.