Embrace the exotic

Do as the locals do, and you'll get more joy out of your journeys. All it takes is a little education and a little courage.

By JUDI DASH

© St. Petersburg Times, published July 16, 2000

[Photos: Judi Dash] In Bali, the author’s American husband tries to fit in by wearing a traditional wrap skirt and a cap, though he kept his striped polo shirt.

Scene: Two hefty Americans touring a Balinese temple, one man in shorts and a muscle shirt, the other guy in an ankle-length, flowered wrap skirt and matching cap.

Which one stands out as a foreigner?

Both of them.

Which one stands out as a jerk?

No, not the dude in the skirt (my husband, actually). In a country such as Bali, where modest dress, especially the covering of one's legs and shoulders, is a cultural norm for both sexes, Mr. Skirt is merely trying to show his respect for his host country. Mr. Muscle Shirt is defiling a holy place.

Local folks appreciate the difference.

Fitting in with the people of a destination is one of the great joys of traveling abroad and can be hard to accomplish when you are separated not only by language barriers but also by customary dress and mannerisms.

But there are ways to soften, if not erase, the differences and to increase the comfort level for both travelers and residents. The more the line is blurred, the more the tourist and the local evolve into visitor and host.

Dress as they dress

Or at least dress in harmony with local mores.

In Bali, my husband, David, perhaps went a bit overboard with the skirt and skull cap. Balinese men and women strolling by us in their own wrap skirts and caps giggled as they beheld the striped golf shirt, high-top sneakers and clunky camera gear that made up the rest of David's attire. But our guide told us that the people were grateful for David's well-intentioned gesture, though long pants and a collared shirt would have been sufficient.

The main point was to honor the dos and taboos of the culture, eschewing clothes that offended, such as shorts or halter tops.

In some ultra-conservative cultures, particularly in parts of the Middle East, dressing like a local can mean the difference between an easygoing exploration of a place and outright hostility from the residents, especially toward women.

As I walked around the crowded streets of downtown Amman, Jordan, my bare head attracted attention, even glares. When I donned an inexpensive scarf purchased from a street vendor, the staring stopped and I could stroll in peace.

In Mea Shearim, the Orthodox heart of Jerusalem, my long black skirt, long-sleeved shirt and somber babushka had a double advantage: I was able to pass inconspicuously among similarly attired women, and on occasion I could discreetly snap a few pictures of the scene. A tourist in less modest dress aiming a lens might have provoked an encounter.

Play where they play

Sure, you want to see the major tourist sights, but you can be more than the sum of your guidebooks.

Where do the locals go for entertainment? You will fit in more with the members of a community if you understand what amuses them. Do a little research, and you can savor experiences rich in local flavor.

On a Sunday in Tijuana, Mexico, a border town south of San Diego brimming with T-shirt shops, cheap crafts joints and con men pushing everything from miracle potions to fake designer wear, a 10-minute taxi ride placed us among hundreds of pleasant Mexicans, no tourists and no one trying to hustle us. Where? The local bullfight.

We sat in the stands (cheering the bulls) among large families munching spicy empanadas and tacos as they watched the action in the ring. In front of us, a father patiently instructed his young daughter in the complex rules of the sport (it's not just about killing a bull), and, next to them, two elderly men poked each other good-naturedly as they commented on each toreador's performance.

When the teenage boy sitting next to us realized that we were struggling to follow the announcer's play-by-play, he explained the action in broken English.

And in Johannesburg, South Africa, several members of our tour group ventured out of the designated refreshment stop and into a nearby luncheonette/billiard parlor to get a taste of local life. We joined some young men in a game of pool, breaking the ice for a round of drinks and a rousing political discussion. Our other tour mates, meanwhile, sat bunched together down the road, getting zero sense of place.

During my travels, I have mingled with the crowds watching lawn bowling competitions in Sydney, Australia, baseball games in Tokyo and soccer matches in Jamaica and Costa Rica. I have participated in Catalan folk dancing on the steps of the Barcelona Cathedral in Spain, soaked in the communal women's baths in Istanbul, Turkey, and sucked steam from water pipes in tea shops and Bedouin tents around Jordan.

How did we find the action? By asking our hotel desk clerk for recommendations off the tourist track, perusing local newspapers (getting translation help when necessary) and checking ahead with the tourist board, emphasizing our desire to experience real local life.

Celebrate when they celebrate

Tourists and locals alike are encouraged to decorate themselves as part of dressing for the summer Sing Sing festival in Papua New Guinea.

There's no time a country's residents are more welcoming than when they are in the midst of celebration. I have joined crowds cheering the costumed dancers during the annual Tet lunar New Year parade in Vietnam (We handed out balloons to children along the parade route, who instantly became enthusiastic guides).

I have decorated my face with greasepaint and banged on little drums along with thousands of villagers gathered for the summer Sing Sing music and dance festival in Papua New Guinea.

In Spain's Rioja region, I guzzled the first pressings of the annual wine grape harvest, toasting vineyard workers dancing in the village square and applauding ebony-haired senoritas competing for the crown of Miss Vino, or some such title.

I have celebrated the Holy Week Carnival, dancing among soulful street musicians of Brazil's San Salvador de Bahia, strutted in skimpy formal wear at a Samba Ball in Rio de Janeiro and schmoozed with the humble folks of little La Paz, Mexico, my departure point for a whale-watching kayak excursion around the Baja Peninsula.

Something as simple as participating in a worship service (either of your own faith or the area's dominant tradition) can strengthen your ties to the host community.

I have attended Yom Kippur services in Rome, a calypso gospel prayer meeting -- with trumpets, drums and tambourines -- in Anguilla, a Methodist Sunday service in Fiji (conducted in Fijian) and a Greek Orthodox Mass inside Jerusalem's Old City.

One caveat: Be careful to scrupulously observe local customs when attending community celebrations.

At the sacred Corn Dance festivals in pueblos around New Mexico, for example, visitors often are forbidden to bring in cameras or any other media that might capture an image. Ignorant of the latter taboo, I was happily sketching a gaily decorated thatched dwelling during a parade in Santo Domingo Pueblo, south of Santa Fe, N.M., when one of the star Corn Dancers, in black face paint and giant corn husk hair decor, abruptly thrust his screaming face into mine, grabbed my sketch pad and tore it to shreds.

Once my heart started beating again, I sheepishly retreated to the back of the crowd, willing myself to breathe, breathe.

Travel, eat, shop as they do

It should be obvious that you will encounter more residents and blend in with them better if you travel the way they do and dine and shop at the kinds of establishments they tend to frequent.

Skip the hotel dining room and head out to street cafes and small restaurants where the food is local and the ambience relaxed.

Pay a visit to the nearest open market. In some towns, markets take up many blocks, with stalls selling fruits and vegetables, fish and housewares.

Eschew taxis whenever feasible and take a bus, a train, a ferry, a ciclo (a pedal-powered rickshaw that is a common means of transport in much of Malaysia and the Far East.)

I have rented a bicycle to join the throngs navigating the narrow side streets of Hanoi, Vietnam, stood beside orange-robed Buddhist monks in ferries plying Bangkok's Chao Phraya River, shared deck space with fruits and chickens on mail boats in the Grenadines and Tahitian islands, and stuffed myself into brightly painted Jamaican buses along with hordes of folks heading home from work.

Freelance writer Judi Dash lives among the locals in Beachwood, Ohio.

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