I am sitting here with the central heating on, eating a big salad (with spinach!), two things I hope never to take for granted again, and I thought it might be time.
I am back in the U.S. Not in my home, Berkeley, but in this limbo place of Stamford, CT. Limbo because I am here for a month between Mexico and California, and limbo because Stamford itself is largely a bedroom community for New York.
I have been through reverse culture shock before. Most notably, I spent my junior year of college in Spain and had to go through it twice -- once when I returned to Berkeley and again when I headed back to Columbia for my senior year. So, I recognize the signs. In reverse culture shock, you are back home, and you are familiar with your surroundings, but you have gotten used to the place you were (where you experienced some sort of culture shock, probably) that now you have to readjust. You also mourn for your other location. You feel out of place. People are happy to see you and you are not sure how you feel, or you feel happy to see them but torn because at least part of you wishes you were still away. You might miss how things are done where you were, and maybe at the same time you rejoice in the return to your home's customs. You have changed, but your home has not, at least much. It can be kind of funny, kind of sad, and usually disconcerting, but people around you don't see it, because you can play it off.
This time around, it is a mix of culture shock and reverse culture shock. I am back in the U.S., but not somewhere I know. I have to adjust to a new town while knowing some of the basics of American living, and also adjust back to the U.S. culture and all that comes with it.
Little things kind of make me chuckle but also feel confusing. I keep pausing on the toilet -- my body wants to throw the toilet paper in the trash, and I have to consciously stop myself (twice I didn't) and put it in the toilet. Funny, but confusing that it still happens a few days in (I always have this adjustment back and forth to Mexico -- I suspect most travelers do). The first time I owed someone $5.33, I felt like I should recount the five 1-dollar bills I pulled out and felt a mental block when I handed over $5.50 -- was this right? I felt giddy when I used a $20 bill to pay for something inexpensive and the clerk didn't ask if I had something smaller (as they nearly always do in Mexico), but also sad. I still prepare in my head when I have to speak to a stranger, even though it's my native tongue (sometimes I translate it to Spanish just for fun).
And then there are the politics -- I saw two Tea Party protesters on a street corner here. They were in front of a library and I wondered how they felt about their hard-earned money going to pay for such "houses of learning". Would they have a sign that said, "We Hate Libraries!"? They did not. It was a hard-to-read sign that said something about Income Tax and "Healthcare Tax" (though I seriously doubt either of them is going to get hit by the taxes to pay for the healthcare bill). We listen to NPR on the way to and from work and I feel overwhelmed sometimes.
I both love and hate that I am driving again. I wanted to keep up my walking, and was planning to take the bus and walk home from work every day (David drives us there, but then he and Peter stay late every night). After doing this twice, we rented a car: a cute little blue Nissan Versa. The thing is, the walk is BEAUTIFUL. I love it. Running streams, blooming trees, giant lovely houses, big grassy fields -- all very East Coast scenes. However, there is no sidewalk and there is one small stretch where that feels very dangerous. You have to walk really in the car lanes on a busy stretch next to some freeway on/off ramps. Both times I have done it, I mentally begged the cars not to hit me. Not ok. Plus, the car gives us much more flexibility -- the only shop on the way home from work is expensive and not very good, and with a car I can go to the regular supermarket with better prices and a decent organic selection. Stamford is not made for pedestrians, really. Welcome back to the U.S. Oh, and the driving feels so good!
When I was leaving Guanajuato, I just didn't feel like I was really leaving. I could not answer people who asked how I felt. I knew I really needed to get to Peter again, but apart from that, I wasn't sure. Now that I am here, I am mourning it. Mourning the slower (and unemployed!) lifestyle, having our dollars go a lot farther, my friendships there, hearing Spanish all around me, and the Mexican culture.
And, of course, now that I'm back in my home country, there are things I rejoice in. The aforementioned spinach and greens, grassy areas, the ease of all-in-one shopping, the lack of roof dogs (it is so silent and dark at night in our cottage! I sleep like the dead.), a comfortable bed and down comforter, seeing Jews around (there are some black hats here) and the diversity of cultures and races, Asian foods (which I will get to enjoy all over again when we get back to the Bay Area, with the better restaurants), a great all-clad pan in our kitchen here, having an oven again (plan to use it tomorrow night), earning money, and - best of all - being back with my husband, and supporting him while he works really hard.
Oh, also, if you want to see what we are working on, check out fed-tax.net
The photo is me on the day I "graduated" from Escuela Mexicana, with many of the teachers (between us, Peter and/or I had all of those teachers).
