Olympic dreams dashed, but Chicago’s still a world-class city

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It’s been a tough weekend for those of us Chicagoans who dreamed of bringing the 2016 Summer Olympic Games to our fair city. Friday, we found out that years of preparation came to naught when the International Olympic Committee ousted Chicago in the first round of voting, along with Tokyo. We longed to share our Midwestern American city—one filled with incredible architecture, home to people from dozens of nationalities and languages, not to mention innovative cuisine that rivals anything Los Angeles or New York City have to offer. But alas—the Olympic dream wasn’t to be, despite the passionate presentations of President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle in Copenhagen last week.

As a native Chicagoan, though, I like to think the city’s exposure to the global community over the past few years have exposed more of the world to the treasures here. Perhaps instead of foreign visitors automatically setting their sights on New York and Hollywood, they’ll spend their holidays and valuable tourist dollars here in the Windy City, a cultural gem underrated far too long.

But good for Rio de Janeiro. May they host a memorable 2016 Olympics, one that will showcase the amazing and gorgeous diversity of the Brazilian people. If we in Chicago couldn’t take home the gold, I’m just glad that Brazil—and South America, for the first time—will get a chance to shine on the world stage.

Black women traveling abroad: Learn a foreign country’s social mores, customs before you go

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During our trip to Florence, Italy, my friends Carol (far left), Karen (far right) and I embraced the Italian way of life. And as you see here, we found ourselves embraced right back by the super-friendly waiter at Grillo Parlante, a small, locals-only restaurant.
During our trip to Florence, Italy, my friends Carol (far left), Karen (far right) and I embraced the Italian way of life. And as you see here, we found ourselves embraced right back by the super-friendly waiter at Grillo Parlante, a small, locals-only restaurant.
Visiting a country like France, Italy or Spain? Stop into a local market, like the bustling Mercat de la Boquería in Barcelona -- but ask FIRST before handling the merchandise. In many cultures, touching the produce -- or the designer bags and shoes before first asking permission -- is seen as rude.
Visiting a country like France, Italy or Spain? Stop into a local market, like the bustling Mercat de la Boquería in Barcelona -- but ask FIRST before handling the merchandise. In many cultures, touching the produce -- or the designer bags and shoes before first asking permission -- is seen as rude (and in the case of food, simply unsanitary).
Knowing the social mores of a foreign country or city -- especially when it comes to dining, shopping and socializing -- can make or break your overseas trip. Here I am, finishing lunch at the famed Laduree tea salon in Paris.
Knowing the social mores of a foreign country or city -- especially when it comes to dining, shopping and socializing -- can greatly impact the experiences you have when traveling abroad. Here I am, finishing lunch at the famed Ladurée tea salon in Paris.

At the recent Travel Blog Exchange conference in Chicago, a fellow blogger and I found ourselves discussing why African-American women—even those with the financial means and interest in traveling abroad—don’t do it more often. I often think about this, as I always feel it would be GREAT to see more sisters when I’m running around Italy or Spain either in a group or solo.

For many of us, it’s fear of the unknown. We don’t speak the language; we don’t know anyone in the country we’d like to visit. But in countless conversations I’ve had with African-American women over the years, it comes down to wondering how we’ll be perceived as black people. Even without realizing it, being black in America—whether dirt-poor, comfortably affluent like “The Cosby Show” Huxtables, or “movin’ on up” like the Jeffersons—means wearing the subconscious burden of potential discrimination on our backs like the latest designer dress.

Any time a salesclerk at a store is slow to help us, we often assume it’s because we’re black. Get a bad table in a restaurant? The hostess must be a bigot. Living in America, we spend more time than we’d like to admit wonder when the legacy of centuries of racism will smack us in the face. So there’s little wonder that when we DO leave the United States those of us who can afford to travel would rather jet off to the Caribbean, where islands teem with brown-skinned folks just like us, rather than potentially inviting discrimination (and in languages we don’t understand, no less) by flying off to Europe or South America or Australia.

But after countless trips abroad, I’m convinced that one reason we sisters sometimes feel we’ve been slighted overseas is because we don’t understand “how to be” (I’m borrowing this phrase from the book penned by author and Ebony Magazine Creative Director Harriette Cole) or understand how other folks ARE.

I think about a trip to Paris some years ago with two close girlfriends, when we often found ourselves stared at by Parisians in bistros and on trains. We laughed and talked loudly everywhere we went; after a meal, we’d whip out our compacts and lipstick and powder at the table. I figured those Parisians just couldn’t keep their eyes off these three beautiful black sisters out on the town. I later found out—probably years after the fact—that French women rarely reapply cosmetics in public. Instead, they slip out to the toilette to prettify themselves. And in a country where privacy is prized, conversations—even animated ones—are kept to a much lower decibel so that an entire room isn’t privy to a stranger’s every word.

That’s why I love Ricki Stevenson of “Black Paris Tours.” Besides showing folks on her half- or full-day tours where Josephine Baker, James Baldwin, and Richard Wright used to live, write and perform, she ALWAYS gives a little social primer first. She advises her guests to say, “Bonjour, madame” or “Bonjour, monsieur” upon entering a store or restaurant, and to always say “Au revoir” upon leaving. It seems like a small thing, but it’s HUGE to French people who pride themselves on their civil society. And like it or not, we do represent “our people” and our country when we travel abroad, so why not become positive ambassadors while we’re there?

But back to the confab between my fellow Travel Blog Exchange seatmate and me. She told me about some black friends who’d recently visited Paris and came home feeling they’d been ignored and treated rudely by the French. But she and I wondered: Did they do the small things, acknowledging the salesclerks when entering and leaving a store? Did they walk right into boutiques or up to a food market and start touching the merchandise without first asking permission? (I know—it sounds foreign to us in the States, but that’s what EVERYONE does in countries like Italy and France as common courtesy.) Did they at least TRY to speak a few words of French before launching into questions in English? (But Lord knows it’s not just us black folks guilty of doing that overseas!) And did they realize that just because waiters don’t hover over your table or return frequently as they often do in the States, they’re not being rude but giving you unhurried space in which to slowly savor your meal?

Just as we don’t like it when foreign tourists stand too close to us on American buses and streets, we should do a mental role-reversal when we travel to OTHER folks’ lands and try to find out what’s appropriate and what’s not before we board that plane overseas. Now if we TRULY feel we’ve been discriminated against, then we should by all means speak up and complain. But let’s not automatically assume that every perceived slight has a racial tinge to it. A little understanding can go a long way to shrinking global differences—and to ensuring that your trip abroad is a fabulous one!

I’d love to hear from you: Have you ever unwittingly found yourself violating some “social code” overseas? How did you find out that your behavior was outside the norm—and were you able to change it during that trip? We’ve all been there, so please share!

Have black Americans REALLY traveled until they’ve visited Africa?

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Over the years, I’ve visited nearly 30 countries in North America, South America, the Caribbean, the Middle East and Europe (where I’ve traveled so many times I’ve completely lost count).

But I’ve never been to Africa. And as an African-American, that sounds pretty pathetic.

Places on the continent are always on my mental “to-do” list, West African countries like Senegal and North African ones like Egypt and Morocco. But I haven’t made it there yet.

I started thinking about this during President Barack Obama’s recent trip to Ghana. Sure, he was there to send a message to the African world about the United States’ ongoing support—albeit with conditions that included self-responsibility—but what impressed me most about this native son’s return to his father’s home continent was the fact he took his wife Michelle, daughters Sasha and Malia, and First Mom-in-Law Marian along on the trip.

While we know the Obamas have visited Africa before—going to Kenya to meet the president’s relatives—this trip had to have especially important significance for First Lady Michelle, her mom and even the girls, as all are the descendants of both African-American slaves and white slaveowners. Visiting the “Door of No Return,” where mothers, fathers and children were violently and permanently separated from their homeland and shipped across the Atlantic as chattel, must have been mind-blowing. It’s a horribly painful part of American history, but as black folks, it’s ours. And it’s important for us to own it—and in the process, make that reconnection to the continent that often feels far away and foreign to many of us.

Which brings me back to my original point: Can we black Americans really feel well-traveled if we’ve never set foot on African soil? I’m starting to think “NO.”

While unlike President Obama, who knows his ancestral country and village, most of us don’t know specifically from where our foreparents hailed. We generally assume it was someplace in West Africa since that’s where most slaves sent to the New World lived, but can’t claim that direct connection to Senegal or Guinea or The Gambia. Still, many black folks who have traveled to these places describe a sense of feeling “at home” once they arrived, as if those centuries-old mystical links broken during the Middle Passage somehow felt restored.

But I’m curious what you guys think. For those of you who HAVE visited Africa—and I’m talking anywhere on the continent—how did it change you and your outlook on who you are? Did you feel like you had “come home?” And how important was it for you to make that reverse trip across the ocean?

As for me, I think I’m going to start planning that African journey now.