The honeymoon

Scientists, musicians, athletes, and activists are among them, but the Fulbright Scholar is somewhat a species of its own.  And when a flock of them are herded together in an exotic environment, a peculiar dynamic emerges.

Each is a leader, but also a diplomat. All are intelligent, but none are highly experienced in this particular context.  Everyone feels slightly anxious in the new and unexplored territory, but no one wants to seem nervous or unsettled.  The goal is to appear assertive yet nonchalant.  A typical interaction may proceed as follows:

“Do you know when we’re getting our visas?”

“Probably tomorrow, but I’m not worried about it.  Did you ask Alexandra?”

“No, I’m sure it will work out.”

“Are we going out for dinner later?”

“Yeah, at some point.  Do you know of a place to go?”

“No, we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever.  Something will happen.”

The key is to emphasize unpreparedness as a way to highlight a near professional level of spontaneity. For example:  

“I didn’t read any of the information packet, I just met a guy when I arrived and it was no big deal.”

Independence without isolation.  Freedom without insecurity.  

According to someone, the first stage of cultural immersion is the honeymoon.  But that only comes after the awkward dating stage, in which The Fulbrightus Sapien attempts to impress The Culture and trick her into thinking he is not intimidated by her beauty.  

But once sufficiently fed and slightly inebriated, pretenses within the group melt enough for everyone to effortlessly soak in the enchanting newness of a foreign place.  A place where spicy brass music plays through all six stories of a downtown restaurant.  Where a birthday is celebrated with a shower of confetti hearts and not one, not two, but three rounds of the Happy Birthday song played by a five-man band.  Where a party is not a party if there is no dancing.  Let the romance begin.