Reverse culture shock report

Happy New Year everyone! It's been just shy of three weeks since I returned stateside, and I've finally gathered my bearings enough to share a few thoughts on the home reintegration process.

The first thing I'll say is that I totally underestimated the extent to which reverse culture shock would affect me, or any short-term traveler for that matter. Heading into my trip, I anticipated - as much as any foreigner can - to feel overwhelmed and inexperienced in my new surroundings. I read the obligatory books on culture, customs and climate, familiarized myself with Southeast Asian geography and history, attempted to learn the basics of Thai and Khmer language and eagerly completed my online orientation. I received the appropriate vaccines and stocked up on every and all recommended medications (to those headed abroad - I highly recommend charcoal pills, and to all my pals who relied on my overabundant supply, you're welcome!)

Three months of preparation later, I felt both physically and psychologically ready for my adventure, while attempting to keep any pre-established expectations to a minimum. I embraced the anticipated sensations of disorientation and awe, confusion and fear, homesickness and powerlessness. More importantly, I was excited to be thrown entirely out of my comfort zone and for the learning experiences and personal growth that would ensue. I adopted a "can-do, bring it on!" attitude, which, quite honestly, was necessary given my choice to fly solo to the other side of the world. Having this mindset certainly didn't make everything easy upon arrival; I faced my fair share of challenges abroad, some of which I've alluded to in past posts. However, a lack of expectations and a profusion of pre-trip research did make things easier, especially in regards to the emotional intensity of culture shock. The days when I wanted to yell or cry or say something wildly judgmental about my host community, I could take a breath and recognize that this was all part of the process, all part of what I had prepared for, and better yet, there were twenty-five others experiencing it alongside me. I was not alone or unequipped to handle my situation, and coming back to this truth always managed to soothe my anxiety.

But coming home was a whole different beast to wrestle with, mainly because I didn't anticipate the prospect of any wrestling. Living in Cambodia for the second half of the semester challenged me in ways that I could never have imagined: testing my patience, my independence as a woman, my mental toughness in confronting uncomfortable and often unsafe environments and in witnessing the devastating aftermaths of genocide. I began to fantasize about the luxuries of my life in the U.S.; all the basic privileges and autonomy I have come to normalize through my young adult years. Despite, or perhaps as a result of, the incredible relationships and life-altering experiences I had in Cambodia, I convinced myself that I would have no cause for complaint when I returned home. Everything, I thought, would feel astronomically easier in the US given my new worldly perspective.

Wrong. Coming home was exciting in some ways, primarily in getting to reunite with family, friends, and obviously (if you know me at all), my dogs(!!). But it wasn't blissfully easy in the way that I had envisioned. Nobody had changed all that much, yet nothing felt the same. I felt alienated in my own country, full of knowledge and memories, both traumatic and tremendous, that I was at a loss for how to convey. In the course of a fortnight, I was expected (or so I thought) to resume my regular, insulated life. I had to unpack my experiences, in my mind as much as my suitcase, and somehow figure out what to do with everything I carried home. This process, which I am still moving through, has been much less straightforward than I expected.

Life for all my friends and family, of course, went on as usual while I was gone. And when I got back, I watched everyone carry out their daily routines as I stumbled haphazardly through the days, thoroughly schedule-less but with an endless list of tasks to complete. I slowly realized that nobody, save for those I traveled with, could possibly conceive of my life in the past four months, and although many have tried, I find that few know how to ask in-depth questions. But what did I really expect? Most of the people in my close social circle haven't traveled to Southeast Asia, and if so, they've spent time in Thailand, but definitely not Cambodia. This made my experiences hard to conceptualize, and even harder to relate to.

Still, I got tired of answering the same generic questions: "how was your trip? What was the best part? Did you like the food? Do you miss being abroad?" Etc. In truth, these are the same questions I would have asked a friend returning home, so I do not bring this up as a criticism so much as an observation. I guess my struggle is with the broad and non-specific nature of these questions; I could spend hours answering any one of them and my audience would likely lose interest in fifteen minutes. Most of you can't relate, and that isn't a cause for shame or blame; it's just fact.

However, there is something special about a person who attempts to engage with your experiences on a deeper level, which requires a certain level of geopolitical and cross-cultural familiarization. When a person asks me, "what is the political landscape like in Cambodia given the impacts of genocide and the Vietnam War?" or, "what was it like in Thailand when the King died and how do people feel about the new King?" or, "I read your blog post about the lifestyle of your Cambodian host family and I'm curious what it was like having a mom who couldn't speak English?" I may sound like a brat right now, but it's so refreshing to be approached with specific questions because to me, this correlates with specific interest. I have so much information to share, much of which I've realized is going to remain strictly personal, but I've also attempted to use this blog as a medium for knowledge and personal anecdotes across a wide variety of topics. I am all for talking about my experiences, and I will answer any question tossed my way - general or not - but I think it's important to note that as a society, myself included, we often lack the interest, or forego the opportunity to fully understand another person's journey. In short, our Western, individualistic lifestyle can sometimes produce insensitivity and ignorance; an inability to communicate meaningfully with those who don't or haven't been living in the same way as us. And this phenomenon can produce a feeling of acute isolation for the integrating individual, a feeling that is difficult to understand until you're engulfed in it.

Some of you are probably reading this and thinking how completely overdramatic I'm being. Tons of people travel and go abroad, indeed for much longer periods than I did. I'm not unique in that regard, and have no reason to elicit sympathy. But the truth is, I did have a fairly untraditional abroad experience in that I traveled to two countries - one of which hardly any students go- and I'm not here to attract attention or make you feel guilty. I am writing honestly because it's cathartic, and because I hope that others who have studied abroad will read this and realize they were, and are, not alone in experiencing reverse culture shock. I didn't take it seriously until it hit me in the face. For the first week, random things would cause me to burst out crying. Life was hard abroad, specifically in Cambodia, but I missed it so much. The people, the food, the cultural surprises and conundrums that I encountered on a daily basis. Life in America still had its obstacles, I realized, they were just different ones. Whether you are in a developed or developing country, challenges will face you, and fantasizing about what life has or could be will not help your cause. As Buddhist philosophy goes: better to live in the present than in an impermanent and undetermined future.

I want to wrap this post up by compiling two lists: one of things I appreciate about being home, and one of things I wish I had appreciated more while abroad. My mind has been in cultural comparison mode since arriving home, and as I slip back into my school routine (yes, I'm finally finding my rhythm again guys), I want to make sure these reflections don't forever slip my mind. Not only because they're important for perspective building, but also because they're amusing.

Things I appreciate about being home

- Trashcans

- Traffic laws and the ability to operate my own vehicle

- Non-salty toothpaste

- Putting toilet paper in toilets

- Mexican food

- Walking in public with a purse and a phone and not fearing theft

- Reliable wifi

- Not having a curfew

- Taking my dogs on walks through the woods (ain't no woods in Thailand or Cambodia)

- Knowing that anywhere I go, someone will speak English

- Being able to use a credit card almost anywhere

- Not being stared at for being blonde and blue-eyed

- Salad (I missed US vegetables so much)

- Sleeping in places where I won't be woken up by booms, crashes or drunken screams

- And of course, spending time with my incredible family and friends

Things I wish I had appreciated more while being abroad

- My Cambodian mothers delicious chicken (and all her cooking, but especially the chicken)

- Conversing with people in another language (very empowering)

- Having unpredictability in my schedule as nothing was ever planned until the last minute

- Walking into a bar and meeting at least two people from countries I had never been to before

- Sugarcane juice and coffee with condensed milk (heart attack inducing but so delicious!)

- Admiring temple architecture (never thought I'd say this) and observing / speaking with monks

- Being taken on excursions by some of the kindest folks I have ever met

- Joking around with my Cambodian sisters who always treated me like one of them

- Traveling sporadically and dealing with logistical things I never thought I could handle

- The richness of my interactions and the connections I made with people from all over the world

- And finally, the extent to which I was learning, growing and thriving each day

I spent the past week skiing in Maine with my family, which was a total blast but also quite a shock to the system after acclimating to 90 degree weather for four months. I've been dealing with incredibly dry skin, a problem I didn't have while abroad. While I'm happy not to be sweating every day, my body is definitely missing the saturated air (I guess this could be added to the appreciation list..) I also find it much easier to sleep at home due to the cold; at night I can bask by the wood stove while cozied up in blankets and be asleep in minutes. In Cambodia, I would run my head under the cold shower before bed in the hopes that I could stay cool long enough to fall asleep. Overall, climate readjustment is another facet of reverse culture shock that I all but discounted prior to experiencing it.

All this being said, I am happy to report that life back in the States has gotten easier with time. I'm feeling pretty comfortable again and have made some personal lifestyle changes that I believe will serve me well in the coming semester. Given that I'm jumping back into school full-time, I'm not sure of the next time I will post, but I don't intend to let this blog die out completely. I hope you've enjoyed reading about my adventures as much as I've enjoyed writing about them. And if there's anything you're curious, critical or confused about in any of my posts, please get in touch!

May you all have a fruitful, peaceful and healthy 2017!

All the best,

Amy