By Ara Jansen

A visit to the USA proves to be a bit of a culture shock!

I’d been living in Spanish speaking countries for almost five months. So when my visa ran out, it felt like a breath of fresh air to head to the first world for some creature comforts.

 It proved to be cheaper to fly to Tijuana and then walk across the border into Southern California. And my first trip to the city,which most people think is really Mexico, confirmed my worst fears. It’s ugly, owns none of regional Mexico's beauty and is simply not very nice. About the only good thing about it is the huge flag .From just about every point on both sides of the border you can see it. I wonder why the Americans have not entered the pissing contest with a flag of their own. There’s a hill right there which would be perfect to raise the stars and stripes.

  The taxi drops me at the closest point and the driver points to the long tunnel-like building I have to walk through to get to the good ole U S of A.  I am ushered into the office to talk to a US immigration officer. The guy dives into my passport and his face lights up. “You come from Perth,” he says. “What does Fremantle look like these days?

   I’m stunned. It’s been hard enough finding people in Mexico who actually know where Australia is and realise there’s more to the country than Sydney. In the US, given something like less than 10% of the population own a passport, I never hold out much hope. Turns out my friendly officer was once in the navy and spent time in Fremantle and also the Philippines. So we have a chat about both places, he stamps my form happily and sends me on my way with good wishes.

With my green form in hand and a receipt for $US 6, I walk through the tunnel-like building into San Ysidro, San Diego. Just like that. One minute I am on Mexican soil, the next minute I am in America. It’s odd. Suddenly there are more Anglo-looking people, but the signs are in both English and Spanish.

 I solicit some advice about what ticket to buy for the trolley which goes into downtown San Diego and wait. The trolley takes almost an hour to get downtown, and I later realise "la linea: (the line or border), is about 20 minutes from town. But it’s a perfect opportunity to look around and remember what it is like to be back in an English-speaking country.

  I transfer from the trolley to a taxi to go to my hotel. I also find out that the reason that none of the cabs look spanking new is that most of them are ex-Chips black and whites. Yup, those indestructible police cars, which always get shredded in movies, are sent out of pasture as cabs.

  My hotel was a comfortable enough, Comfort Inn. But let’s move to the most important part of any hotel room after establishing there is hot water and you can flush the paper down the toilet: the television. Vital barometer of the local scene no matter what city you are in. One chic lit writer, whose book I read in one chilly San Diego day while holed up in my room, said that there was one certainty about American television: Law & Order. And she was right. During my first exposure to cable television, I could indeed see Law & Order at just about any hour of the day. Whoever said 47 channels and not much on was right. And by they way, who in the world made MTV the kings of music television when they barely play enough to satisfy a goldfish.

 And while you are indulging in the best of couch potato traditions, Americans never want you to go hungry. Even if you are satiated only with chips, soft drinks or chocolate bars. The floor of my hotel had two such machines next to the ice machine. Off the lobby were more, in case mine was out of something, or if I wanted an ice cream late at night.

 I learned quickly America is about personality. Not five minutes at my table at the Hard Rock, the bartender was already thinking he was the star of Cocktail. And for those of you who snivel at the Hard Rock, from my globetrotting experiences, they always offer good quality food at a good price. Also, after being in Mexico for three months it was nice to get back to the world of rock. The first three videos I saw after I sat down were Huey Lewis’ "I Want a New Drug", Motley Crue’s "Girls! Girls! Girls!," and the Time Warp. Welcome back to the world of rock! Huh?

 It was joy to be back in the land of good salad and where ordering is not Russian roulette. And it’s nice to know your chances of getting sick are minimal. Oh yes, did I mention they have root beer here. Truly a Homer moment for me.

 Apart from being the land of personality, San Diego (maybe as a barometer for the rest of the country) is the land of big, fast, up-to-the-minute, and consume. No one drives a small two door Charade, its SUV’s or 4-wheel drives all the way. Who wants dial up when the television tells you that you can get broadband quicker and cheaper.

 You can advertise prescription drugs on television in the US. I realised there’s a hell of a lot of legal drugs out there to go and try! The ads are almost all testimonial style, but what freaked me out is that a third of them are about the side effects. Then the news shows create this pervasive and insidious hype. And after you see them night after night, it’s no wonder so many Americans live in a state of worry. The talking heads induce a constant state of threat and paranoia.  All these things combined create a sense of panic and inferiority. Hell, by the time I left, I was feeling stressed about not having fast connection broadband and even considering a large sedan for my next car!

But forget terrorism, alongside this consumption comes dangers, which you will find right in your own home. There are warnings everywhere. A bottle of Dr Pepper warn that opening it improperly can cause an eye injury, while the room at the end of my hallway has a sign on the door which says it contains substances which might cause cancer. Is there anything in this bloody country that won’t harm me?

 Shopping, like the waiter gunning for a big tip, can be a smothering experience. You walk in a store and are greeted almost immediately by what they now call an “associate”, which is the PC word for sales assistant or checkout chick. Their sugary manner made me wonder whether they were all on super commission, or really trying to flog you something cool. In many of the shops I visited they have eliminated the paper for signing your credit card slip. Instead there’s a computer screen where you can’t but squiggle your name badly.

On the up-side, I found a whole aisle in Target full of top brand $1 toiletries in small packs: 25 cotton buds, mini toothpaste tube and a bottle of moisturizer small enough for a week away. Maybe this is just the kinda stuff which impresses a gal Maybe you just get impressed after missing things. Then again, everything here seems oversized, big and generous. People’s smiles are like the Grand Canyon and they can’t do enough, it’s almost over the top. Large size, super size, Morgan Spurlock me!

 The messages sent out to the citizenry are mixed. They encourage you to consume and get the latest laptop, which you can carry everywhere with you. No matter where you are, with wireless technology, you can log onto the web and also be scared witless by the news media. So you can watch a movie whenever you want or check your stock portfolio, but surely this is also encouraging people to disconnect from the world rather than connect in any human way. We’re teaching people to become better friends with their computers and phones rather than their human “best” friend, and then be totally paranoid we will be cut off from it all by a nasty virus. Does this sound like a cycle of fear to you?

  Is this just a form of escapism from a world where less and less people want to actually experience anything? Surely going out and touching someone else’s heart, or making a significant impact on someone’s life that really needs a hand,is what we should be doing. Isn’t that plugging into life in a more realistic way than any computer game can simulate?

 Does it sound like I had a terrible 10 days in the first world? Far from it. I was able to shop, see some crap movies in English without having to enquire about what language they were in, buy English books from huge stores, eat good quality chocolate, read the menu and understand it completely, and be amused by the amount of stars who do advertising campaigns for products from cameras to toothpaste.

  By the end of 10 days, I found myself eager to get back to Oaxaca and Mexico. Back to a city which moves at a slower pace, isn’t hell bent on fashion or consumerism, and where the people are much quieter. Despite some idiosyncrasies here, I missed the place. 

 Ara Jansen lives in Oaxaca, Mexico, she is a writer, certified English teacher, music journalist, and publicity consultant.

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