Saturday, March 2, 2013

What Culture Shock Means to Me

I woke up yesterday in tears. I had just had a dream. It was a simple dream really. Mom, Claire, Anna, and I were in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. We were around the island counter baking chocolate chip cookies. Dad came home and insisted on "testing the quality" as is his dad duty. I don't even remember what the discussion in the dream was, because it was simple, day to day conversation. And then I woke up alone in my apartment, 6,552.8 miles away from that kitchen and the family I love so very much.



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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