Culture Shock

When I think of culture shock, I think of the pounding headache I get when I've been straining to speak in a second (or third language) for too long. I think of creepy, European cheek kisses and carbonated juice. I don't think of loneliness and neglect or lies. Nor do I think of my complete, existentially challenging lack of cognitive dissonance—that my brain cannot reconcile itself to the body’s location, nor does it wish to. I like to think of cartoons that don't make sense even if I understand the words, of new dances and foods and twisting streets. I still do not know where my homesick/life path/culture shock border defines me and this journey.

All I know is that in my two-month stay I've seen a lot of excellently dubbed American television, well translated American novels...even the Twilight series is here. And most of their music countdown is our music countdown and that while my students constantly thought I was from the UK, they carried around Batman and Dora bags.

Part of me is inspired by the fact that so far away from home, I'm drowning in Americana. They're watching the cartoon that we watch to learn Spanish for the sweet love of G-d. And while few experiences in my life will feel more absurd than hearing the full seven minutes of “Thriller” on the radio in the filthy, cold bus station of Vigo, where people get it on in the bathroom...to “Thriller”? I am kind of proud of my country. Yes, we were aided by history forcing English as a language upon most of the world and the moderately modern politics of the USA's world power status but I do not believe that this is at least entirely, the result of force-feeding our culture; I honestly think they just like it.

So I can sit there and listen to a very didactic and condescending lecture on French or Galician culture and how they think this way or act that way. I really was just trying to get the word for “riot” without leaving Spanish...oy ve. And as I listen, your kid is trying to sneak “Bob esponja” on the tele.

It does make me a little sad because I worry about the loss of various European cultures as my own infiltrates but as no one really asked me a single question about home, I know I am not the culprit and probably do not have the power to stop it.

And please don't speak to me as if I, as a poor, deprived American, am uncultured. I come from a place with almost too much culture. Not only do I have the culture that has resulted from my crazy-ass, stubborn, often-douchy country, I have all the cultures that inspired and shaped it. I can speak whatever breed of Spanish I want, with native speakers, without using my passport. I can walk through the forest and not run into a house after 20 minutes. I have 2/5 oceans at my disposal. And while, I am guessing due to the less than five hours of chaotic classroom instruction, your students can't name the capital of France, having visited it, even my hick friends who barely speak English can.

The only culture shock I think I've really experienced is how much I might like my own nation, despite my ironic and frequent lack of rights, the hypocrisy, and the fact that we're mostly stubborn assholes. You know what? Your healthcare wasn't that good anyway because in the end, we all know that while USA trumps Europe....everyone is Canada's bitch.