Culture Shock: The Condensed Version

I am an English as a New Language teacher. One aspect I love about my job is learning about the cultural and linguistic differences of my students. I am intrigued by the stories of their lives before coming to the U.S. and I love the tidbits of language, customs and food that I get to experience through establishing relationships with their families. I can have such an optimistic and curious attitude about all of my students' differences because I am still able to retreat back to my comfortable, American, middle class way of life. As an ENL teacher, I know the signs of culture shock in my students. I have a harder time recognizing them in myself.

There are researched and identifiable stages of culture shock (Adler & Pedersen), but these stages usually happen over several months. Since we are in India for 21 days, these stages have been condensed and maybe even intensified. I have traveled enough to know that I will eventually hit a wall as far as my ability to remain upbeat, inquisitive and patient. The moment I hit that wall is indelible; it's like a shade being drawn to darken a room. In China in 2009, that moment was standing on the train platform from our town in Jiangxu province to Shanghai, which was seven hours away. I saw a train that I thought we were going to be riding in (it had no glass in the windows, people were crammed into it and it was a double decker). After weeks of walking 3 miles a day to and from school in the tremendous heat, inhaling foul smells and pushing through a demanding teaching load, I couldn't hold it together. I started laughing and crying at the same time and couldn't stop. It was a complete emotional release. Afterwards, I got a grip and faced the rest of the trip with a settled inner peace.

On the platform getting ready to board the train to Shanghai in 2009. I'm trying hard to keep it together in this picture. 

Likewise in India, there is no retreat to the comfortable or predictable, even though our hotel is nice, our host has been kind and most of the people are friendly. However, the novelty, excitement and intoxicating otherness of the place soon wears off. Despite my desire to be an evolved and sophisticated traveler, I find myself feeling wistful. For meat. For going out in public and NOT being stared at or touched. For clean streets and traffic rules.

I have had my moment in India. I'm at the stage where "excitement may eventually give way to unpleasant feelings of frustration, and anger as one continued to experience events that may be perceived as strange and offensive to one's cultural attitude. Language barriers, stark differences in public hygiene, traffic safety, food accessibility and quality may heighten the send of disconnection from the surroundings" (Mavrides).

I have made peace with the food differences; there are things for me to eat and sustain my energy (rice biryani, bananas, pineapple, naan, tikka masala, coffee and veggie burgers). I have made peace with hiccups in communication; I am used to, and even enjoy,  using simple English and gestures to get my point across with folks who have little English. 

Traditional Gujarat-style thali (a meal made up of a variety of dishes). Rice with daal (a lentil stew you ladle over rice), ladyfingers (baby okra),  roti bread (unleavened and made from stone-ground wholemeal flour), papadum (a crispy bread), kansar (a sweet, made out of wheat flour, sugar, butter and cardamom), pickled beets.

At the Golden Arches.

It's hard to know what to choose on a menu. I usually try to ask what a few things are each time I order. 

But... there is a flip side. I realize that at this stage of my trip, I am viewing everything through my own personal filter, instead of observing as the objective outsider and learner. My personal filter is less tolerant of the smells, the casual attention to time (jokingly referred to Indian Standard Time), the constant staring and elbow ribbing/laughing at us when we are in public. I have talked to Licia (my travel bud) about these feelings and she pointed out that where we are both from, we have diversity and as educators, an ingrained sense of professional, if not personal, acceptance of differences. I know this intellectually, but the affective part of me is stubbornly refusing to acquiesce. 

I travel BECAUSE it takes me out of my comfort zone and challenges me in a way nothing else can. It is the fortitude and stoicism that I find inside myself that is the reward of this experience. I am humbled by how much I don't know about the world.  

The frustrations I feel now will undoubtedly turn into humorous stories and treasured memories once I get back. I'm still not going to feel bad about wanting a cheeseburger, though. :-)