“Excuse me,” I said in my barely passable Spanish to our waiter, “might you have anything for breakfast more appropriate for a young child, perhaps some fruit?”
“No,” answered our waiter flatly, as if coffee and bread wasn’t the perfect breakfast for children of all ages.
It was early morning, at least early by Andalusian standards. 9 AM. We were in Seville, Spain. My wife, one year-old child and I. Sitting at an outdoor cafe hoping to find something for our boy to eat that might, err, well, help counter the distinctive lack of fiber in the Southern European diet. Coffee, bread, beer, cheese, ham, olives, wine, fried potatoes and olive oil might suite the Iberian digestive system, but for us three Americans, a bowl of muesli and plate of spinach was badly in order.
“But I just noticed a dozen ripe bananas in the counter, next to the ice cream?” I asked innocently enough.
“Not possible,” she replied. “We only serve bananas with ice cream.”
“Okay, then,” I felt like we were getting somewhere, “how about an order of ice cream with banana?”
“Not possible,” again, answered our waiter, without the slightest stitch of irony. ”We don’t serve ice cream before noon.”
Though our waiter didn’t find a thing funny about her comment, my wife and I burst out in uproarious laughter. It was the quintessential American-in-Europe moment. That inevitable showdown with a surly waiter, who, not motivated by the necessity of working for tips, is far more interested in conserving energy and enjoying her own coffee than in providing anything beyond the most basic modicum of service – even for an adorable and constipated one year-old!
What struck my wife and I as doubly funny, is that the situation was not at all comic to our waiter. Had she not seen this exact scene replayed in dozens of movies and TV shows from her country and ours? Was not the humor of our interaction and our ensuing laughter somehow able to transcend the ocean, language and culture that divides our two nations?
This is exactly the question posited by the author of this piece, about how in Russia, “Everybody Loves Raymond,” the decade long hit TV show, became, “Everybody Loves Kostya,” in which every comedic value of Raymond was changed. His sloth, absentmindedness, bufoonishness and complete reliance upon his wife – in fact, the whole original premise of the sitcom – was translated in both cultural and comedic terms to suite Russian tastes. I would have thought that such modern male archetypes transcend culture. Evidently not.
“Exporting Raymond” is a documentary of the process the show’s producers took to bringing this sitcom to Russia, and it airs this Friday, April 29.

So tell us, intrepid and worldly man and woman of international business, might you have a story in which a comedic moment transcended or reinforced cultural differences?
Adam
RW3 CultureWizard