Coming Home to Culture Shock

Let it be known that China does what it waunts.  Sometimes you’re told, “You must perform this Chinese song at a huge gathering in two days and embarrass yourself in front of all your new colleagues.”  But sometimes you’re told, “The students will have self-study for two weeks.  You don’t have to teach.”  And when THAT happens, good friends might say, “You’re only going to see your parents for two weeks this summer.  Get your BUTT over to Spain and visit them!”  And then you might say, “But moneyahhhidkmoneygahhh… ok you’ve convinced me.”  And just like that I flew to Spain last minute to surprise my parents.  Here’s a little idea of what went down.  If the video doesn’t work (for anyone in China, for example), let me summarize: worth it. 

Surprisingly, upon returning to the motherland (or…where my mother lives), I weirdly experienced culture shock.  For example…

-I heard Spanish…and I understood!

-I heard Chinese…and I understood!...like…more than I did 7 months ago. 

-I could drink water from the faucet!  Andddd I still looked for the water cooler.

-The subway seemed SO empty…and it was as janky as line 1. 

-THE SKY!! I could see it!  And it was blue!

-I could breathe!  And run!  And breathe while I ran! 

-I could flush toilet paper down the toilet.  Score. 

-I am (still) not as classy a dresser as the Spaniards.  I forgot to pack accordingly. 

-I swallowed the response “Ni hao” and “Xie xie” SEVERAL times.

-I could still speak Spanish!...but I definitely sucked a little more.  But at least my --Spanish is “mucho 

 mas mejor que mi chino.”  #facepalm #oneofthemanylinguisticfails

-I’m old.  The Seniors now were in 7^th grade when I graduated, and Julie, whom I’ve known literally

 since she was born, is officially taller than I. 

-The architecture!  You definitely appreciate Europe more when you don’t live there.  I took pictures

  like a tourist.

-Turns out, China makes awesome vegetables, Spain makes awesome cheese and bread, and America 

  makes awesome cheesecake.  This explains so much. 

In summary, when my friend Chris Kungfu asked me where home was, I responded, “Well…home is a vague term, but I’m with my parents in Spain, and that’s definitely up there as far as my homes go.”  See, I learned a while ago, that, as much as I love it, I don’t belong in Spain anymore.  Or Cedarville.  As Sara Grove so gracefully wrote, “The places that used to fit me can’t hold the things I’ve learned, and those roads have closed off to me while my back was turned.”  But it’s nice to know I can go back to any one of my homes and know that I still have a family there that loves me—Mom and Dad, ECADirksFieldsHumesSteffens, and the iglesia de San Fernando.  And it’s nice to know that I can go back to the place I currently belong and find the same thing.  This frolicking nomad is pretty blessed.  J