Dictionary.com describes
culture shock as, "a state of
bewilderment and distress experienced by an individual who is suddenly exposed
to a new, strange, or foreign social and cultural environment." We
were told in orientation that culture shock would set in about month three,
then we would get over it for a time, before it would return in month six. For
this reason the Global Missions at the ELCA strongly recommends that we stay in
Japan for our first full year, without returning to the United States, in order
to overcome this hurdle. Of course, like most mental stresses, culture shock
affects everyone differently. That is never more evident than when Morgan,
Laura, and I are sitting around at say dinner or a coffee shop and discussing
our thoughts on the matter. I won't betray their confidence in detailing their
reactions, but I will detail mine below.
Before I begin I should
insert a disclaimer. I love Japan. I am having so much fun and every day is a
new adventure. I have discovered wonderful friends, fabulous food, and an
incredible culture and history here. However, culture shock affects everyone
thrown into drastically different situations, whether you move from the country
to the city, or across the world. I now have an incredible empathy for those
moving to the United States for the first time. How overwhelming it all must be!
So to begin....
What
Culture Shock Means to Me:
- vIt means incredible and gut wrenching homesickness. For anything and everything about home, but most importantly a desperate desire to be hugged by my family.
- v It means immediately looking around whenever I hear someone speaking English.
- v It means constantly watching all the people around me to discover what I am supposed to be doing, whether I am at the dressing room in the mall (do you take off your shoes or don't you?), or at a tea ceremony.
- v It means I would kill for a steak and mashed potatoes.
- v It means looking forward to being crazy busy once we start teaching so that I will have less time to stew about things.
- v It means being incredibly self conscious about what I look like when I leave the apartment because I know I stand out in a crowd.
- v It means that in order to be polite, I have to do things that in Nebraska would be rude. Like not making eye contact and saying hello to random people that I meet, in say, the elevator. This isn't always true of course, and I have had several strangers strike up conversation, but in general I try to respect that space.
- v It also means struggling to be polite in general. I say "thank you" and "excuse me" a great deal, because there are different ways to say "Please" and "I'm sorry" and I'm not always sure which is which.
- v It means that I can get Mexican food, Chinese food, and Italian food, but it is Japanese Mexican food, Japanese Chinese food, and Japanese Italian food. The thought of American Mexican food, American Chinese food, and American Italian food makes me drool.
- v It means asking that God explain why He decided to send me to a foreign country where I do not speak the language.
- v It means going to karaoke and belting out all my favorite English songs listed, while dancing around like a madwoman.
- v It means putting on my headphones and running till my legs wobble.
- v It means that some days I really don't want to leave my apartment because it's my own personal 25.29 meters of American soil. Like the Embassy. Only smaller.
- v It means yelling about why Japanese is so insanely hard to learn and then sighing when I realize that my students feel exactly the same about English.
- v It means wondering why I am here and what I can possibly bring to the table.
- v It means asking questions. Lots and lots and lots of questions.
- v It means spending too much money at the import store for American Doritos.
- v It means going to McDonald's a lot. Not because I really want McDonald's, but because I am guaranteed that a double cheeseburger and fries here is EXACTLY the same as a double cheeseburger and fries in Omaha. Ditto Starbucks. And Baskin Robbins. Obviously not the healthiest of choices, but homesickness doesn't really care.
- v It means, if you haven't noticed yet, that food and culture shock go hand in hand for me.
- v It means learning how to use a squat toilet.
- v It means breaking every fashion rule I have ever been taught because I have to wear slippers in school. With my suit on some occasions. Haven't gotten over that one yet. Luckily, I am not alone.
- v It means working up the courage to ask a question in Japanese only to be bewildered by an answer that cannot be understood.
- v It means learning that care packages should only ever be opened when Skyping with those who sent it to you. Otherwise you are crying alone in your apartment as you simultaneously jump for joy that someone sent you Kraft Mac and Cheese and your Gilmore Girls DVDs.
- v And most importantly of all, it means learning how to
laugh at myself and how to forgive myself. Being in a new culture demands that
you will make mistakes. In Japan, they have what they call the Gaijin pass. Gaijin
means foreigner, and this basically means that you are not Japanese so you are
not expected to understand everything. Obviously you should try, and try hard,
but it is important to remember at all times that mistakes will be made. In
these instances you must pull yourself up, dust yourself off, laugh at
yourself, forgive yourself, and move on.
Like I said before,
culture shock affects everyone in a variety of ways. The severity is different
for everyone too. There are a couple things that have helped me stay afloat
during all this. The first is prayer. No matter how alone I am, God is always
right next to me. All I have to do is tune into His presence. After many an
embarrassing or funny moment that I have experienced while on my own, I will
find myself telling God about it, "Did you see that?" or "Come
on, now. Why didn't you stop me!" and laughter ensues. Or sometimes to
remark on the beauty of his creation here. Or to laugh about the antics of a
small child and how they are the same as back home. He is like my adventure
captain and commander and He never leaves my side, for which I am intensely
thankful. He lets me forge on ahead and make my own choices and mistakes, but
He doesn't judge, He just waits for me to glance over at Him and ask His advice
and assistance.
Second, is the gift of
Skype and Facetime, for which I will be always thankful to the inventor of
video calling. I Skype home often, whether to family or friends, and
it is a
great blessing to be able to see home and chat with them for free. I think I
could have survived without Skype or the iPhone, but technology does make it
easier.
Third are the marvelous
friends I have here. We have been made so welcome, that when we are out and
about with friends it is impossible to feel disheartened. The international
service is part of this, and being able to worship in English is a blessing as
well.
This isn't an easy stage
in the adventure, but I think I am holding myself together as well as I can.
There is no guidebook for this thing I am doing. Sometimes I really wish God
would talk to me directly. Maybe not through a burning bush, I think that would
really freak me out, but a text or phone call would be nice. Or He could stick
a map in the mail with detailed English instructions for how to get through the
next two years. However, as much as I wish He would, I am just as grateful that
He does not. Because, let's face it, if I knew exactly what to do and when to
do it, then there wouldn't really be any adventure, would there?
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