Weird SF market (CARE team)

So I was at the bar (not all my good stories start off this way) and someone tells me that I can find cheap shrimp at SF Market on Florin Road. So, I went.
First thing I thought when I walked in was "Wow! It really smells like fish or something in here." As I walked past the produce section I noticed no yellow bananas or grapes, but I did see lemon grass in its raw form. Not in the cut and twisty tie style I’d find at my local Safeway. Then I meander down the tea isle looking for a cool box oh Chai Tea, but instead I was surrounded in a sea of Asian characters on boxes I couldn’t read, dried mushrooms, and a box that read, "ground dragon’s teeth, and fungus." Yum. So, after fooling around and laughing at the funny things they had on the shelves I finally make it to the shrimp. I was fascinated by the live fish swimming in the large tank, the frozen fish you could scoop out of the middle isle open freezer, and the butcher’s bare hand on the fish as he struck them with large knives and mallets.
I stood in my perfect Bel-Air formation with my basket in arm and waited for someone to help me. (I didn’t see a line or number system). I stood for some time, before reserving to my other strategy. In my trained La Superior style I made eye contact, pointed down to what I wanted and again waited. Still nothing happened. "Is it because I’m wearing my SJSU rather than my CSUS hoodie?" (Yes, I can be that dense.) I noticed a lady somewhat laughing at me for not getting help. Finally someone approached me and I think he asked me what I needed. I’m not sure, it was difficult to understand his accent. In exaggerated fashion I pointed to the shrimp, and held up 3 fingers as I said, "Three pounds, please."
As if that wasn’t enough, I then ventured into the Chinese Herbalist next store. I figured since I was there I’d look for something to get my mom for her high blood pressure. As I walked in my eyes fluttered as all the different characters on boxes, packages, bags, and walls struck me. The man behind the counter smiled at me, and attempted to speak to me, but neither one of us could understand the other. "Ok" I thought, "I guess I’ll just look around." I smiled at the man, nodded, and walked away. As I walked about the little dark place I found a box with a very provocative woman with the words high blood pressure. I happily picked up the box, took it to the man, and pointed to the words with a broad smile on my face. He nodded and got to work opening drawers with funny characters, smashing ingredients into small pieces, weighing them on some silly scale, and packaging them for me in envelopes. He rang me up on an archaic machine, and gave me some candy.
In my car I thought to myself about my experience. "How weird." Was primarily what I thought with tiny chuckles at how differently they did things.
Then it hit me. "Whoa!" My smile disappeared and I stopped chuckling at the weird Asian market. I realized how stupid I was at assuming my way was the right way, and their way was "weird." They weren’t weird, I was. I was the weirdo. They knew what to do, and how to do it. I didn’t.
Then as a teacher I thought about my students especially my Hmong students. What do I do in my classroom to help my students pick up on our (American standard) cues like hand raising, individual testing, quiet lines, etc.? What can I do to help them communicate (like my ability to laugh at the ground dragon bones because it was the only thing I could read, or the high blood pressure box)? What do I do that seems "weird" to them? Do they give up on me when they can’t understand like I gave up on the man who wanted to help me? What is similar yet different to them (like the raw lemon grass)?
I want to go back to the Asian market, this time with more than shrimp on my shopping list. I want to see, feel and experience what I do to get what I want and need? I want to make my strategies available to my students to help them in any way I can.
Let’s be weird. Let’s get out and experience something different.