Culture Shock

I had the opportunity to take some extra days during our Christmas holiday and head to the U.S. for my good friend Stephanie's wedding. So I spent about 3 weeks in America, visiting friends and family and enjoying life on that side of the ocean. As I expected, the two most difficult parts of visiting the U.S. were that I struggled with being continuously transitional (read: I slept in 10 different beds in 21 days) and that I found it exceptionally difficult to get on the plane back to China. The joys of visiting the U.S. over Christmas... too many to list - and not what I'm trying to say...

But, because of the first difficulty with visiting, the second wasn't quite as painful as it could've been. To come back to China, to me, meant coming back to regular life. A life where I have a bed, a routine, a job, a closet (well, more accurately, a wardrobe - there aren't closets in China). I knew that coming back would be difficult - saying unwanted goodbyes, realizing I'd miss my best friend being pregnant and having a baby, having to end vacation and get back to work, missing all the goings-on of my state-side loved ones' lives for 6 months.... But I didn't anticipate the intensity with which I'd wish not to be here. It felt like it took effort for me to remember that I enjoy my teaching job, that I love laughing and venting with my friends and coworkers here, that I am fortunate to eat fresh strawberries in January, that I am beyond blessed to get to build relationships here that allow me to see the world from another point of view. And I was frustrated that I wasn't appreciating all that I used to appreciate. I just kept thinking, "I wish I were in America." "In the U.S. I could just go to the grocery store to get what I need; it's too hard to cook here." "I hate that I can't communicate well here; in America, people understand me." "In America, I am not helpless like I am in China."

The week after I got back to China, I got the stomach flu. While never fun, this was quite the flu. It was when I started thinking, "I wish I was in America - I never got this sick there," that I realized. I had, have, culture shock.

It took me a year and a half, but I should've seen it coming. Maybe it took so long because I work - and tend to live - in such a western environment. Last year it was easy, for the most part, to look past the negative and focus on what an amazing opportunity I was able to have to experience living and working in this place. Even this fall, coming back to a lot of change, it was easy to remember all the things that I sincerely love about living in this city in China. But, this time, the things I love - the market, the bike riding, the people always and everywhere - became frustrating and bothersome.

With the realization of culture shock, I've been able to give myself some slack. I feel ok with being frustrated sometimes, because I realize, it's just culture shock; it'll pass. And it does, and it has, for the most part. When it comes, I breathe and try to do something to distract myself, and when it passes, I get to enjoy the things I love, like a breakfast of erquai or watching the sun rise on my bike ride to school or picking out fresh fruit from the market. After all, culture shock is just a feeling; it doesn't have to be my reality.