This fall, I wrote a column about a weekend I spent in the home of my Egyptian roommate. But… This fall, I wrote a column about a weekend I spent in the home of my Egyptian roommate. But recently, I’ve come to immerse myself even further into Arabic culture than by tasting her mother’s Egyptian food.

Recently, I, along with several other girls on my floor, have been spending our Friday nights with a group of young Saudi-Arabian men.

When I mention this to friends and family from home, the response is usually something along the lines of curiosity. Admittedly, the dynamic of our group – which is composed of a Jew, an Egyptian, a Puerto Rican, an Irish Catholic, an Asian and our Saudi-Arabian friends – is unusual. A lot of the eyebrow-raising I receive doesn’t even stem from why I would choose to hang out with them, but from curiosity as to what exactly clicked between us in the first place.

Their hesitation and mild confusion is understandable. I, myself, find it interesting that we face cultural differences, and yet, these Saudis are still the people I confide in about my love life and class work. When people want to know how all of us connect so easily, I tell them that it’s because they have love lives and homework, too. We complain about the stupid stuff. We debate foreign policy. And in between, we laugh. I can easily say that these guys are some of my favorite people – not only in Pittsburgh – but in life.

A certain amount of our connection is attributed to the specific personalities of each of these individuals. I cannot argue that all Saudis are good guys, just as I can’t argue that all Americans – or Koreans, Australians or French people – are good guys. But anyone with a remote interest in or any experience with world politics or foreign cultures already knows that the differences we expect to cause friction between two cultures are usually the ones that provoke the most interesting and eye-opening conversations.

Mostly, though, what fascinates me about our group’s dynamic is how each of us learns from each other. Like many, I am aware of the stereotypes held against Muslims and Arabs in this country in the aftermath of 9/11. Therefore, I never fail to be surprised at the upbeat and lighthearted manner that my Saudi friends choose to deal with it.

I’m quickly learning that snapping at bigots does not solve any problems. Laughter acknowledges the idiocy of bigotry and is probably the best way to effectively handle prejudice.

One night, several of us headed to an Indian restaurant to grab dinner. Upon approaching our table, the waiter shook his head and said, “I’m sorry. We don’t serve terrorists here.”

My jaw dropped. I think I actually gasped out loud – which is what caused the Indian waiter to turn to me and say “No, no, it’s okay! I’m Muslim, too.” Laughter rang out all around.

I am also surprised, impressed and confused that my friends so easily brush off the random search that they will automatically endure at airports because of their forest-green Saudi-Arabian passports. “On my passport, it says S.S.S.S.,” jokes one friend of mine, “and that stands for, “Special Special Special Search, ” (It actually does stand for “Selected for Secondary Security Screening.”)

I’d like to think I would automatically react the same way if I was put in the same situation, but I know from experience that their maturity is something that I’m absorbing slowly.

This summer, I spent a month in France. By the end of my trip, I was so sick and tired of being judged by my American accent that I actually considered myself “ready to leave.” I spent four weeks enjoying myself but also losing patience time and time again because of small comments made about my nationality, which, in retrospect, was a shame.

I guess it actually is a small world, after all. And it is rather amazing how much the world’s citizens have in common with each other. What really gets me thinking here is not so much my own ability to get along with my Saudi-Arabian friends – all of us are civil, educated human beings – but their ability to laugh at themselves.

I would advise following suit. Appreciate opportunities to laugh at yourself, since that’s what helps. Stereotyping and prejudice are serious issues, but perhaps the best way to minimize them is not to lecture on them, analyze them to pieces or shove political correctness down each other’s throats.

Some may think it’s inappropriate that my friends see loose change on the sidewalk and automatically turn to ask me, “Hey, Jew, you wanna grab that?” But I disagree. Laughing at attitudes like that is preferable to pretending that no one ever possesses them. And if there is one thing I’m learning from the time I spend with my Saudi-Arabian friends, it is just that.

E-mail your cross-cultural experiences to Carolyn at [email protected].