Ugly: reverse-culture shock

 They say the cross-cultural experience doesn’t end once you step foot in your home country again. It takes awhile to re-adjust. This is called reverse culture shock and it’s one of my least favorite things. Here’s a little insight into how ugly it can be:

My first couple weeks back have been filled with small disasters. After taking my car out for a spin one afternoon I decided to indulge a months-long craving for onion rings. So I headed  over to the local Sonic drive-thru.  As I was about to order, I looked into my wallet to make sure I had enough cash and to my unpleasant surprise, all I see are 7 Lempiras. I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t have any money with me, at least none that would be accepted here.  I hadn’t yet replaced my Honduran currency in my wallet for U.S. dollars. So I headed home in disappointment, onions rings will have to wait for another day. Upon coming home, I searched the car for the remote to the garage. It wasn’t there. After I parked outside the house,  I headed to the front door only to realize that I didn’t have a house-key. I don’t even have a cell phone yet, so I’m forced to drive to my mom’s office and borrow her key.

Being the proud mama that she is, she quickly and enthusiastically introduced me to all of her co-workers. They all ask “how was your trip?” and “what was Honduras like” as they pass me in the hallway, one after the other, after the other. They were all very kind , but I struggled to sum up my experience in a short sentence. I managed to be gracious to all of them except for one. This man seemed a little annoyed for some reason and I picked up on the bad vibe at once. He found out I spoke Spanish and tried to say something to me. After adulterating the Spanish language he then asks me in English,  “So will you be finding a real job now?” Being ever so polite, I respond that I am currently looking for employment. But I am deeply insulted and in my head I explode:

Excuse me?! A real job? What is that  supposed to mean? Do you think I’ve been on a vacation for the last  year or that this was some youthful act of rebellion, an avoidance of responsibilities, a sowing of my wild oats? Do you think I sat by the beach all day or sung songs by a campfire while passing around the communal peace pipe with the villagers?   Déjame decirte una cosa, I worked my tooshie off! I worked 6-days a week, with no job description and no one to tell me what I should do first. That may sound easy, but it’s not.  I had to prove that my profession actually has a place in a hospital setting and that it was worth-while. Is that enough of a real job for you?  That’s what I wanted to say at least…

I understand that people don’t really know what I did or what I do and that it’s up to me to educate them. But it’s just a little overwhelming when you first come back. There are too many things to adjust to. You’re pretty much expected to pick up right where you left off as if nothing ever happened, but you’re a little shell-shocked, trying to get used to new technologies and trends. All the while you’re still processing your experiences, missing your friends and trying to figure out a way to apply the life lessons and new habits  you’ve developed and learned.

 Eventually you reach a breaking point, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Mine occurred a couple days ago when I was craving some fresh fruit and trying to make a smoothie.  I pulled out the blender and add all the ingredients. I plugged in the blender and turned it on. The blender just whimpered as the blades turned in slow motion. None of the buttons could make it speed up. I unplugged it, reset the outlet, re-plugged it and tried again. Still didn’t work. So I dug through the cabinets and found a food processor. I poured the lumpy ingredients in and again pressed the on button, but nothing happened. The machine wouldn’t start. By that point I was very upset. I hit the machine, as if that would intimidate it into working. It didn’t. Why won’t it work, I don’t get it!  I whined out loud.  I then noticed a small hand-held blender plugged into the wall and I immediately cheered up.  The third time’s the charm, I thought to myself. Except it wasn’t. The hand blender wouldn’t work either. 

I was desperate. I was frustrated. And that’s when it happened, my lip quivered and I started to cry.  I looked around at the now dirty and cluttered kitchen filled with appliances that I couldn’t use and I felt useless and out of my comfort zone. Inexplicably the first thought in my head was, how am I supposed to find a job if I can’t even make a stupid smoothie? It’s irrational, I know. But that’s reverse culture shock. Cooper, (the dog)  quietly came over, sat by me and licked my leg to make me feel better.  A couple hours later my dad came home from work and showed me tricks to using the food processor and the hand-held blender. It was really easy once I knew what to do. “I guess you forgot how to use this technology while you were gone,” he said.  He was right, my blender in Honduras was held together by prayers and tape...

tina, over and out.

Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change.

-Thomas Hardy