Porteños, as locals are called, like to get together with friends to have leisurely discussions ranging from the whys and wherefores of life to their beloved football team, the course of the economy (always in some sort of crisis or another), or their amorous escapades in excruciating detail (they are, after all, of Latin descent, and, let’s face it, men like bragging).

Cafes are not only a rendezvous for friends: job interviews and work-related meetings also take place in them. Even love affairs begin and end over steaming cappuccinos.

Cafes are quite busy early in the morning, when office workers stop by for a breakfast of the national combo: “cafe con leche y medialunas” (white coffee with croissants) or a “tostado mixto” (a ham and cheese toasty). The morning paper is usually provided as well. It can safely be said that a cafe is an extension of home and office.

Cafes play such a key role in popular culture too that even songs have been dedicated to them, especially tangos. Twenty years or so ago, there was a hugely popular and long-running TV show about a group of friends that met in a cafe every week. Does it ring any bells?

Thanks to the influence of Italian immigrants at the turn of the 20th century coffee is always espresso; filter coffee is sacrilege in these latitudes. A very few places offer “cafe americano,” as filter coffee is called here, but it doesn’t seem to be very popular. It is served in “pocillos” (demitasses) or “jarritos” (stemmed glass cups with a handle.)

Patrons can choose between “café,” “café doble” (a large coffee), “café con crema” (coffee with a dollop of whipped cream), “cortado” (three quarters coffee, a quarter milk), “lágrima” (a quarter coffee, three quarters milk), “capuchino” (coffee, a drop or two of milk, milk froth) and “cafe con leche” (cafe au lait.) The price generally includes a small glass of soda water (maybe orange juice in more upscale places) and a small sweet treat, like a cookie.

The social and cultural influence of cafes is such that fifty-three of the oldest establishments have been declared part of the cultural and historical heritage of the city of Buenos Aires. Many of them were founded by Italian and Spanish immigrants in the early 20th century. Cafe Tortoni (Avenida de Mayo 825), perhaps the most popular with tourists; and Confiteria Ideal (Suipacha 384) are just two of them.

Wood panelling, brass fixtures, marble tops, and tango music playing softly in the background conspire to take one back to a bygone era when artists, writers, musicians and intellectuals met to discuss ideas over (what else?) endless cups of this sexy dark beverage.

A warm welcome to Ana, who is going to be writing about Argentinian culture on PocketCultures. Ana was born and raised in Argentina, and she keeps close links with her country, despite being currently based abroad. You can read more about Ana’s experiences living abroad on her blog.

Read more:
Italian cafe culture: when to drink cappuccino
Submarino: another Buenos Aires classic
Argentinian blogs on Blogs of the World

In Romania we usually associate the 1st of March with the begining of Spring. Even if the weather looks sometimes more like autumn or winter. But, sunny, cold or rainy, on this very day we always celebrate Martisor.

The name Martisor is the diminutive of Martie (the Romanian for March). Its beginnings are not very well known, but they are usually connected with ancient Rome, where New Year’s Eve was celebrated on the 1st of March.

Among the myths about Martisor, there is one I like most:

On the first day of March, beautiful Spring took a walk in the forrest and during her stroll noticed a snowdrop that was trying to emerge from under the snow; she decided to help it by taking away the snow. Seeing this, Winter got mad and called the wind and the frost to destroy the little flower. The snowdrop got frozen immediately. Spring covered it with her own hands trying to warm and protect it, but her hands were injured. A little drop of her blood touched the flower, bringing it to life again. This way Spring defeated Winter and the white colours of the Martisor string symbolize her red blood on the white snow. White is also the symbol of the purity and delicacy of the snowdrop, the first spring flower.

Over time Martisor has changed its shape, aspect and meaning.

Martisor can be a little decorative object (a flower, an animal, etc.) or even a piece of jewelry and it is sometimes accompanied or even replaced by a bouquet of spring flowers. While some of them are real art objects, there are kitsch ones too.

Producing and selling Martisor has become a real business and many little retailers wait for the big Martisor Fair profits.

On the 1st of March, men usually offer Martisor to women (mothers, sisters, lovers, friends, colleagues and so on); buying the most appropriate one for every person on the “list” it is a genuine struggle for them. Most of the women wear nearly every Martisor they are offered pinned to their blouse on this day and up to two weeks. Ocasionally women give Martisor to men too.

Let me offer a virtual Martisor to all PocketCultures readers and wish you a beautiful Spring!

Read more:
Back to Bangsaen: Thailand retro festival
Summer rituals in New Zealand
Holi colours around India: today Romania celebrates Spring, while India celebrates Holi

Thanks to Anina2007 - aka Ana - for sharing this! She says: the “alfajor de maicena” is made of two layers of cookies (made with corn starch, eggs, etc) stuck together with lots of dulce de leche and sprinkled with grated coconut. A perfect match for cafe au lait.

Do you have interesting food photos you’d like to show on Pocketcultures? Join our Food of the World Flickr group where we are always on the lookout for new images.

Read more:
Check back for more stories on Argentina by Ana - coming soon!
Panes de queso y mate - another treat from Argentina
Eating in Buenos Aires - follow that taxi!
South American blogs on Blogs of the World

I am a huge fan of anything retro. I collect film cameras and I wear clothes my grandmother thinks are fashionable.

So I was ultimately crushed when I heard that there will be a Bangsaen Retro Festival this coming weekend (Feb 26-27), the very weekend I am on assignment to the opposite side of the country.

To help me cope, I’d like to share with fellow PocketCulturers about this interesting event, just in case you or someone you know will be in the country/town this weekend.

Bangsaen is a small beach town in the province of Chonburi, in the same province as the infamous Pattaya. Popular more among locals than tourists, Bangsaen is many locals’ first choice of a beach getaway as it is close to Bangkok and it doesn’t carry the same stigma as a scandalous destination as Pattaya.

The festival will take visitors back to Bangsaen’s glory days before the cluttered beaches and rows of concrete hotels. People are encouraged to dress up in 1960s fashion and there will be old school activities such as ballroom dancing by the beach and orchestra concerts, as well as exhibition of art and photographs and antique store booths available.

So if anyone is planning to head to Pattaya this weekend, take a detour to Bangsaen instead for something different and refreshing.

For more information and photos from last year’s event, check out Tourism Authority of Thailand’s website (in Thai) or a writeup by Pattaya Daily News (in English).

Read more:
Explore four regions of Thailand in Pattaya’s floating market
Thai takeaway: iced tea in a bag
The real Phad Thai: all you need to know about Thailand’s most famous dish

“Doe maar gewoon, dan doe je al gek genoeg”

Act normally, that is crazy enough - is a favorite Dutch expression.

The Dutch landscape extends beyond the tulips, cheese, dykes, canals and windmills as anyone living in The Netherlands for some time would vouch for.

Having spent the last 1.4 years here in expatriation, I have come across many of the traits from the Dutch character set - some apparent, some needing an observing eye.

The Dutch Way

• The Dutch are firm believers in equality in all spheres of life. Nobody has an undue advantage over the other.

• They are friendly people - kind, polite and helpful to tourists. They become your guiding force during the initial days of expatriation.

• Moderation is the key to a successful living for the Dutch. Show-offs are not encouraged in any field.

• There are probably more bikes than people in Holland. It is the most prized possession of the Dutch. This reflects well in their fitness and healthy lifestyle.

• The Dutch are very good planners - week days as well as the week ends are planned, well in advance.

• The Dutch lifestyle is regulated by diaries. It is probably the single most popular gift on the new year!! Everything is jotted down religiously in the diaries from meetings to leisure time.

• The Dutch seek consensus whether it be a meeting or discussion. They live by the principle of agreement and harmony.

• The Dutch enjoy a great family life and firmly believe that money cannot buy happiness. The personal and professional lives are kept separate.

• They are a private bunch and emotions are kept under check during dealings with strangers.

• Weather is the most discussed topic in short conversations. The Netherlands weather definitely merits this, what with it showing all colours from snow, to rain, to wind, to sun.

• The Dutch like to practice their English. As soon as you start off in your broken Dutch, they start speaking to you in English.

• Thanks to their spirit of openness and frankness, humour resonates well with most of them.

• ‘Koninginnedag‘ (Queen’s Day), and ‘Zomer Carnaval‘ (Summer Carnival) are the most awaited holidays, perhaps for their colourful splendour and unique attributes.

What do you think? Let us know in the comments!

This is Arwa’s first post for PocketCultures and we’re very pleased to welcome her to the team. Arwa is originally from India and is now based in the Netherlands.

We’re looking forward to reading more about Arwa’s comparisons between Indian and Dutch culture. In the meantime you can find her on her blog Orangesplaash.

Read more:
The famous Italian cappuccino rule: fact or fiction?
There’s life outside Istanbul: what do you think about Turkey?
Navigating Chicago’s cultural stew: diverse cultures of Chicago

Swim between the flags by Shanti, shanti

“Swim between the flags” is a phrase you often hear in New Zealand. It’s quite difficult to warn visitors of the dangerous nature of New Zealand beaches and so they’ve come up with an easy to understand system. If you arrive at a beach and you cannot see any surf lifesavers, who wear the ubiquitous yellow and red uniforms, it means the beach is unpatrolled and somewhat likely to be unsafe for swimming. Patrolled beaches have a core of lifesavers who keep watch on the swimmers, but also on the ever-changing water.

How to spot a rip by Shanti, shanti

There are strong undercurrents known as rips that can pull unsuspecting swimmers under the water and out to sea. The pull of these rips is beyond even the strongest swimmer, so it is important to take precautions in order to have a great day at the beach. There are signs on many beaches with a picture that shows you how to spot a rip and where it is safe to swim. But the best thing to do when you’ve chosen your beach is to spot the lifesavers and the yellow and red flags. You also need to be aware that the flags are moved as the water changes.

So, keep an eye out that you are still in the safe zone if a little time passes while you are out in the water. Don’t be put off! New Zealand has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world and most are not crowded. With a little bit of forethought, a wonderful day out can be had.

Read more:
Summer rituals in New Zealand
Street style from Finland
Blogs from New Zealand on Blogs of the World

I have the luck of living and working in two of the most diverse neighborhoods not just in the city of Chicago, but also the whole USA: Rogers Park and Uptown. 

I was reminded of this fact by several people I met on a recent Monday night as I stopped into my favorite Rogers Park watering hole. It’s just a little neighborhood dive; cheap beer, pool table, dart boards, cracked tile, and the standard wood-paneling of any old-style American bar.

The bartender that night was Cuban-American, and I ended up in conversation with 3 Sudanese refugees. One of the Sudanese fellows wound up talking to an ethnically-mixed gentleman who grew up in Hyde Park (15+ miles away) about politics, while I spoke with his two friends about Sorghum and Millet (two types of grain very common in Africa) and the resulting beverages one can make from them… among other topics.

We were suddenly interrupted by a Mexican-American gentleman… he was either perturbed by the fact that I was speaking Spanish to the Sudanese immigrants (I was doing my best Cuban accent for them and the bartender), or that I wouldn’t speak Spanish with him.

In any case, he had some choice Spanish words for me, and I decided to head home for the evening. I could have been upset, but the ludicrousness of the situation just made me laugh. There wasn’t a potential for cross-cultural misunderstanding… there was going to be cross-cultural misunderstanding. It was as if five drivers obeying five different sets of driving laws all ended up on the same road.

I returned the next day to watch a hockey game with some friends, and found six Montenegrin immigrants (former Yugoslavia) quite jovially singing traditional songs together.

I talked to the bartender, and neither of us could figure out what had made the one gentleman so upset the night before. The best part was after I left, he apparently was trying to ask the Sudanese refugees if they would “step outside… I got my people outside,” in other words, he wanted to fight. The Sudanese gentleman had been confused: “What’s outside? Why would we want to go outside?” The bartender and I had a good laugh over that one.

In the Uptown neighborhood where I work, the maintenance staff of our building is mostly Bosnian. There’s a refugee/immigrants’ services organization that operates out of our building, and it’s not uncommon to see people in full Hijabs, Burkas, traditional Afghan dress, etc. entering and leaving the building. This is juxtaposed with a slew of “native” Chicagoans, with backgrounds typically from Poland, Germany, Ireland, Italy and other European countries, as well as a sizeable population of African Americans, and newer Mexican immigrants (and native-born Mexican-Americans). There is “Little Vietnam” just north of my office on Argyle, where you’ll find a wide plethora of Asian immigrants, and the buildings East of Sheridan road along the lake where you’ll find large numbers of retired people and dog-walking professionals living in condos.

It gets confusing sometimes; elevator etiquette, for example. Many Americans would prefer to completely ignore people they see in an elevator, even if they may have ridden together dozens, or even hundreds of times. This is generally my preference too. However, there are certain US subcultures, who generally believe it is rude not to speak to people. So every so often, I’ll adopt my usual glazed-eyed stare at the wall while the elevator goes up, and I’ll hear a *cough*, and a “Well, how do you do today too sir?”, indicating displeasure with my failure to greet them or make eye contact. I’ll smile sheepishly, and say “Oh, excuse me, I’m fine, how are you?” and do my best to strike up polite conversation, usually about the weather, sports, or lately, the economy.

It’s inevitable. You can make your actions as contextually specific as you want, but there are simply too many cultures present at any given time to always be able to effectively communicate. You just try your best, and are prepared to laugh at the results.

Chicago’s claim to fame has always been immigration. In horribly over-simplified order: Irish, Germans, British, Scandinavians, and Swedes; later African-Americans, Czechs, Lithuanians, Serbs, Croats, Greeks, Russian and Polish Jews, Italians, Chinese, Koreans, and Vietnamese; and more recently Mexicans, Caribbeans, Central Americans, Indians, a new smaller wave of Eastern Europeans, Africans and Middle Easterners. 

Neighborhoods have changed drastically in terms of main ethnic group since the early waves of immigration as well: Mexicans have replaced once-Czech Pilsen, though the East Side of Pilsen has lately become gentrified with artists and other non-Latinos. The major Puerto Rican neighborhood in the city, Humboldt Park, was previously a Jewish and Polish neighborhood, and before that, was mostly populated with Germans. Rogers Park formerly had large Jewish and Cuban populations, but is now a mix of most everybody.

Both neighborhoods have historically been points of entry for various immigrant groups, and as a result, in the stretch of Broadway and Sheridan road between them, I can buy pretty much any food product in the world. Sometimes on a Saturday, I’ll pick a recipe from a country I’ve never been to (and never cooked), and just try to find all the ingredients on my way home.

In the summertime, everyone in Rogers Park comes out to the beach, and you can listen to music from every corner of the globe, and smell all the different foods cooking on the park’s grills. Kids play soccer, football, or softball; adults sit and talk, and a few local neighborhood characters who like to sleep on the beach drink beers out in the sunshine on park benches. We don’t always all get along, but we try.

All photos courtesy of Rogers Park in 1000 words

This is Sean Oliver’s first post for PocketCultures. Why not say hello in the comments?

Sean is a project manager for Language & Culture Worldwide, a cross-cultural training and consulting firm. Sean grew up in Ohio, ending up in Chicago after extended periods in Costa Rica, Chile and California. He now has no intentions of living anywhere else; Chicago is one of his favorite places on the planet. Sean will be writing on PocketCultures mostly about American culture, and drawing attention to the vast differences between Americans across ethnicity, class, gender, generations, etc.

Read more:
The year of America: do Europeans stereotype the USA?
A photo tale of 50 states: around the USA in photos
Global migration and Europe’s population collapse