Prompt: Describe an experience of cultural difference you have observed. What did you learn from it?
Impersonal was the only word that could describe the sensation. Whether it was the general size of the city, the hoards of the teeming population, or the discrete interaction I shared with a speechless taxi driver, the thoughts and emotions of New York appeared unvoiced. Any attempted connections were left unhinged. I could go so far as to theorize that the environment was acting as a drain on the population. Any questions I potentially posed, were questions these working people were too busy to answer. As I wandered through the towering edifices and shrunk beneath the blinding lights and advertisements of this city that would not stop to acknowledge my presence, all I could think was that I must have come from a place far away from here. On our last day, my friend and I chose to rest our weary feet on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum among a small crowd of other tourists. Truthfully, the melody is what brought us in. Four African-American men swayed back and forth, singing beautifully about love to the ears of their intent audience. The concept of music weaving itself between the seams of a seemingly detached society was provided a sense of tranquility. Through the eyes of these men was reserved the message of hope and compassion for humanity. Through their joined voices, I was admitted a passage into the authentic soul of this city that before, impressed me as foreign and far off. The vulnerability I was being exposed to was new and refreshing. Ultimately, it became apparent that even within the crowded confines of this metropolis, people were making an effort to connect across the emotional divide that I frequently encountered on my trip.
Impersonal was the only word that could describe the sensation. Whether it was the general size of the city, the hoards of the teeming population, or the discrete interaction I shared with a speechless taxi driver, the thoughts and emotions of New York appeared unvoiced. Any attempted connections were left unhinged. I could go so far as to theorize that the environment was acting as a drain on the population. Any questions I potentially posed, were questions these working people were too busy to answer. As I wandered through the towering edifices and shrunk beneath the blinding lights and advertisements of this city that would not stop to acknowledge my presence, all I could think was that I must have come from a place far away from here. On our last day, my friend and I chose to rest our weary feet on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum among a small crowd of other tourists. Truthfully, the melody is what brought us in. Four African-American men swayed back and forth, singing beautifully about love to the ears of their intent audience. The concept of music weaving itself between the seams of a seemingly detached society was provided a sense of tranquility. Through the eyes of these men was reserved the message of hope and compassion for humanity. Through their joined voices, I was admitted a passage into the authentic soul of this city that before, impressed me as foreign and far off. The vulnerability I was being exposed to was new and refreshing. Ultimately, it became apparent that even within the crowded confines of this metropolis, people were making an effort to connect across the emotional divide that I frequently encountered on my trip.
