Taking Shock

The written word has long let me experience life vicariously. Never mind seeing that hit movie; I know who's in it and the general idea from reading the newspaper. Rather than approaching a new band's CD with an open mind, I tend to first check out a review online. Yes, I even read cookbooks that don't have pictures sometimes because the writing is, well, scrumptious in its own way.

This background may give me a slight advantage in trivia games or light conversation, but when we move beyond questions for points or first impressions, I sometimes feel like the proverbial jack-of-all-trades: master of none.

I'd read a fair amount about culture shock, both in the pre-departure materials and through my Anthropology material, and took the time to read about the very different environment that lay ahead. From these, I falsely concluded that my experience would be different; having lived in a foreign culture already and stuffed my brain with factoids was supposed to grant me immunity after the initial adjustment phase.

For a long time, it seemed I had calculated things just right. Even as the excitement of getting by with a foreign language dimmed into routine, the excellent food and time with host families kept things interesting but not overwhelming. My English-language church and Internet contact with folks back home were safeguards against feeling isolated or marooned.

Even so, when school let out for two months in February and March, a thread of the blues snaked into my mind. The dorm quieted down as people went home and I settled in to enjoy the routine and pursue a few personal goals (writing, language study), but before I knew it those dreams had gelled into lethargic inactivity. And as the doldrums set in, my Japanese suddenly seemed totally inadequate given the length of time spent in-country. I began rewriting my time here in my head: if I had only joined this club or taken this opportunity...

Looking back on that too-long season, what scares me most is how in pride I assumed truly frustrating culture shock would never happen to me and didn't even let myself affix that title to what I was experiencing. Even anthropologists get homesick sometimes, but only the honest and humble ones admit it.