Last week, my husband was able to watch an amusing "show" while we went to a barbeque that my adopted father's (long story, I do have a real family to whom I am very close, but was "adopted" upon moving to Israel) girlfriend and neighbors had.

We, my adopted family and I are Anglo- Saxons. Some of the kids were born in Israel, but there are still some very American things about them. The neighbors and their family were Tunisians. Not only are these two totally different cultures with different attitudes, societies, beliefs, you name it; but also within the Jewish religion we are coming from two very different, yet equally accepted traditions (the Anglos/ Europeans are Ashkenazi and the Jews hailing from Spain, Portugal and the Arab countries are Sepharadi).

Anyways, my husband, by watching as a non-American and non-Tunisian, saw two completely different cultures coming together, and all of the differences that came along with it. The differences were cute, I put a napkin in my lap, they don't; I say my opinion, they strongly state their opinion; I don't care about something, they will fight it to the death. There is no right or wrong, just differences in cultures.

My husband found all of this very amusing and told me about it when we got home. He recalled actions, statements, attitudes, all of these things that, when looking at us from the outside made us so different. It was funny, I admit, to hear him recall the afternoon. What I thought was really interesting, though, was not this little movie that my husband saw, but the fact that I (and I don't think anyone else did, either) didn't even notice these differences. The thought that we were different at all did not even cross my mind.

Even though we were two completely different cultures coming together for a meal, we all shared some common bonds (as does each and every human being), whether we realized it or not, which made us immediate friends and equals - no more, no less.

Anyways, we didn't even have time to notice the differences, we were too busy eating!!!

When I was in high school in Northern Virginia, almost ten years ago, my family watched very little TV, and what we did watch was "geek" TV: National Geographic, PBS, and so on. Oddly, this is actually some of the only television worth watching, but that's neither here nor there for now.

There was one TV show that I watched religiously that was outside this framework. It was shown on the local channel and it was called Culturevision. Unfortunately, it is no longer on the air and its website seems to have mysteriously disappeared some years ago. Culturevision, to the eyes of this young and somewhat dreamy then-teenage girl, was the best thing in the world: two back-to-back half-hour sessions of music videos from all around the world. I already knew Spanish pretty well at that point and was quite familiar with the Latin music world and so a lot of the Spanish-language videos were familiar to me. However, songs from other parts of the world were entirely new and I watched them eagerly, trying to get a sense of the place from which they had come.

To this day, my iTunes list still contains an entire category which I have titled "songs from Culturevision." Some of the songs I remember seeing as videos on Culturevision were the following: Chaka Demus & Pliers' Every Kind Of People (Caribbean), Wes' Alane (Bantu, South Africa), Millie Corretjer's Emociones and Sola (Puerto Rico), Eros Ramazzotti's La Cosa Más Bella (Eros Ramazzotti is Italian, as you may have guessed from the name, but he sings also in Spanish), Buju Banton's Untold Stories (Jamaica), Dodawa's Sister Drum (Korea), Cheb Khaled's Aicha (Algerian Rai), and so on. Such was the life of a young girl attempting to immerse herself in a world totally different from her own.

My current iTunes list contains hundreds of songs in at least five languages, if not more, all thanks to the introduction to world music provided by Culturevision all of those years ago.

I love being different. Often we try so hard to be the same, but I don't really understand why. My example of this is the "skinny jean". In my opinion, the butt ugliest piece of clothing I have ever laid eyes on. Well, that's not true, let me take it back. The jeans are ok, on a hanger. The second they are put on a woman's body, they make even the prettiest, skinniest of girls look fat by making the skin fold over the low cut waist of these pants and every curve looks wrong. I have until today, not seen one girl who looks good in them.

Yet, they were probably the top fashion fad of the summer. I spent the whole summer wondering if the fashion industry was testing the public to see how far they can be pushed? I'm dead serious.

So, why do we want to be like that? I'm a pretty skinny girl, but I can assure you, after trying on those pants, I will feel very fat. Why do we want to be so like each other?

Culture is an amazing thing, but sometimes it is taken too far. When one has to work so hard to be just like their counterparts, something is definitely wrong. It is important to have some similarities in which to create a cohesive group feeling, but to lose oneself (or as in the above case, to embarrass oneself) just to belong? It seems to me that that would be high time to find another group. We are either contributing to or negatively impacting our cultures and our lives. Which are you doing?

One of the most unforgettable experiences that I have had the pleasure to know was being in a Muslim country during the holy month of Ramadan. Although I will not get to deep into the holiday, in one sentence, Ramadan is a month where the Muslims do not eat, drink, have intercourse, etc? from sunrise to sunset in devotion to Allah (God- just in Arabic [by the way, for all those who have been so single minded up until now to say that the Muslim Allah is a wrong/false God, or whatever- just to set the record straight, if you were speaking of your own God in an Arabic speaking country, you would call him Allah as well, duh. The words are interchangeable, they are the same God])

Anyways, back to the story. As I was a guest in a foreign land with a different culture, I decided to be respectful and not eat in the middle of the day, as those serving and selling me food would themselves be fasting. Plus, what better way to understand a culture, than to attempt it yourself?

At first it was a bit difficult, I would often think about food and drink during the day, but soon enough I began to forget the food and enjoy the experience. I was on a higher spiritual level then normal, which made my Morocco visit even better, but the best part was the evenings.

As soon as the fast would end, every restaurant (even the ones for tourists) would serve the same general break- fast. A bowl of amazing soup, a glass of orange juice, a hard boiled egg, sweets indigenous to Morocco/ the Mediterranean, and mint tea with tons of sugar. The beauty of this was the any Muslim anywhere, did not need to worry about running home and preparing food, they were all welcome to any restaurant that was nearby to enjoy their break- fast with fellow fasters for an extremely cheap price. I would watch the tourists eating their dinners at other places, their lamb, chicken and beef, and realize that they have absolutely no idea what they are missing, and probably never will. Poor dears. For an overpriced meal they missed out on the real Morocco and the feeling of unity that comes along with it.