homecoming

Ten days into LA and the most common question I receive about my two years served (yes, like prison) as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Romania is "What are you going to do now?". It's a good question, I suppose, considering how often it comes up in conversation. At a recent party before cups of liquor drowned this cultural habit I listened to it repeated over and over. Eventually I was expected to answer. It's hard to imagine two years of absence from this American (or is it just metropolitan?) tradition would have erased the commonality of the question from my psyche. The Romanians I met, in general, do not put such emphasis on the importance of work and profession in informal conversation. Far more frequently discussions and introductions revolved around family, the neighborhood, how one's wine turned out that year, marital status, and/or some passionate comment (usually against) the gypsy community.

In general it is considered rude to start meetings, even in the work place, about business--that was saved for last. First a tea or coffee, maybe some soda if you'd please and let's get to know each other. Building foundations of trust on something a little more solid than how you earn a living was far more central. Some attribute this to a communist past in which your neighbors could be government spies waiting for just the opportunity to tell some official you got two chickens instead of one from the ration lines, so they could get two chickens instead of one from the ration lines.
Whatever the reason behind the differing approach, I had gotten use to it. People were not defined by what they did in the workplace but more so who they were. I know we're in a recession right now, but believe me, jobs are even scarcer there and far less lucrative. Most people had two. Most people I knew didn't like their jobs. It was always a concession--giving your time to some dick boss so you could pay some of your bills (not so different from here right?). Maybe that explains why the "What do you do" question wasn't tossed around very often. Listening to people list out their occupations like recalling the number of lashes against their backs isn't exactly going to charm the audience.

Ten days into LA I have already began asking the question of others, what are they doing? Though I cannot quite yet answer myself. I realize the altterior and beneficial motives to these tactics--namely networking. Still, I cannot help but feel there is something personal missing from the average (believe me, not all of them are!) conversation with my fellow Angelino. Days ago, in the wee morning hours on some strangers patio I sat next to a man under a colorful hat and asked him the infamous question. "Well," he responded, "I really like being in the sun. Music too. And women." The unusual response was inspiring and when he turned to ask me the same I was forced into being, and lets hope it never happens again, clever.

That's just it. I'm not discounting the valuable information discovered through any questions, work or otherwise. I am not arguing for anything really, just sharing a newly aquired perspective since defining oneself by work just didn't happen as often in Romania. And being that I am currently unemployed the question stabs at my side every time I hear it. Unfortuately, since we don't talk about homemade wine in LA, my conversations are that much more empty.