cuture shocking

The volunteers arrived home in the States early this week, and have been sending me emails to let me know they are safe and, of course, how they much they miss their family and home in Paraguay. Several want to come back, others are just out of sorts; all are experiencing culture shock in one form or another.

From experiencing travel adjustment in several different places at various stages in my life, I've found that the actual "shock" people describe is, more generally, a reaction to living a lifestyle that is relatively different than the one in which the individual previously found his/her self. So culture shock can occur when you move from one city to another, or even when you've just gone through a job change or a change in your living situation. Often the harshest shock comes when, after adjusting to a completely new place, one returns to their former lifestyle where everything is still "the same" (i.e. reverse culture shock).

The adjustment after Amigos is not just a spatial or cultural one, but largely it is a personal one. From my vantage point, I see the volunteers returning to the US as completely different people. They are adults who have managed community projects, found their way around the country-side in a foreign place, started conversations with complete strangers, and learned to speak two new languages. They are a thousand times more confident having been in the most uncomfortable of situations and found their way through them. It is to be expected, then, that going back to their parents' house and hanging out with friends who also still live at home, enjoy their summer air conditioning, drive themselves to school, and use washing machines and automatic dryers (to name only a few lifestyle differences) would be a difficult adjustment.

I, myself, am experiencing the first tinges of the painful adjustment process. This past weekend I attended a party hosted by a few Peace Corps volunteers in Asuncion. There were bands, a keg of light beer, and lots of 20-somethings chatting and standing around. In general a great party... but I found myself slinking into a corner. Its been a while since I was around people my age, let alone English-speaking Americans in numbers that large. It was actually quite daunting.

Earlier this week, I traveled to Puerto Iguazu, Argentina and was overwhelmed by the Argentinian accent, fashion, and restaurant menus. I felt like I was in Europe, and I honestly could not tell who were Euro/American tourists and who were native Argentinians. The town itself looked every bit like a typical Colorado ski village, it was insane.

At this moment I am sitting on a stool at the modern bar table in my hotel room in Asuncion.
The air conditioner is on, and a hot shower and foot soak await me when I finish this entry. But even as I write these words, a few tears come to my eyes. I haven't had a hotel room this luxurious, all to myself, since my Deloitte days, which were so long ago - in time and from where I feel I am as a person now. I think about going back to the States with this fear, wondering if I'll fall back into the creative rut I had finally left. My good friend, and travel mate, Bess had these words of consolation: "Don't think of [the States] as a rut, but as a wonderful shiny place with a rut in it somewhere. You just got stuck in it but you don't have to get stuck again." She's wise for a little 20-year-old.

I know the travel bug can carry a dangerous "disease" which one should avoid; that being the tendency to go somewhere different in order to be different. If you latch on to that way of thinking, it becomes very hard to be happy anywhere. Ideally, travel should inspire, not frustrate.

Well folks, Brazil - and a whole new adjustment experience - awaits. Its time for my telenovela.