Record-Breaking Culture Shock


The would-be-driver, making sure the “poisonous berries” get appropriate recognition on our river hike.

It’s not that I thought my six year old nephew was going to drive us home from his Wyoming school. So why did I try to jump in the passenger seat? This time last year I was making the same mistake in the left-hand world of New Zealand. Thanks to my time there, I think I may have permanently confused my brain. Will I forever have moments of panic when I’m the only car on the road? Will I ever stop hesitating when turning in front of oncoming traffic?

I’ve clocked six weeks back in ‘Merica, after the longest stretch I’ve ever been away.   The cultural expectations that don’t belong have mostly melted away, and I’m no longer weirded out or excessively delighted by mundane things on a daily basis. Oh, but I was, Things like:

  • Being able to talk to strangers in English. At my normal pace (I’ve been accused of being a “fast talker.”) Ordering at Subway my first day back blew my mind.
  • Real food not available. Seriously? I can’t even find real yogurt. The granola at the  health food store is LOADED with sugar. It’s like the entire American food system is plasticized. Nothing unadulterated, all adjusted in the name of dubious financial gains — mostly for corporations – with the cost being national physical health. I am hugely sad about this. I’ve studied food science, food politics, and food economics and I still struggle to find healthy food and put it in my body. How can any American unarmed with any of the former knowledge expect to be anything but overweight and disease prone?
  • Making pizza with lil’ dude.

    Driving. On the right! I think most of my left-hand re-programming and associated panic moments have subsided. I am still adjusting to the huge amount of road space — especially in Wyoming. I had a major senior moment when parking in my cousin’s cul-de-sac. In… I-can’t-remember-where, the thing to do is to park your car as if it is a wheel spoke of the cul-de-sac. I knew as I pulled up wheel-spoke-style that something was off, but couldn’t — for the life of me — think what else I should do. Thankfully, instructions were forthcoming from cousin’s wife.

  • Overflowing grocery carts. The majority of people in the places I’ve traveled shop with half-sized trolleys or hand baskets, shop more than twice a month, and buy things from local markets. It took three weeks before I was desensitized to the massive carts of 75% of shoppers filled to the brim, and with mostly processed food of course. Weird, weird, sad, weird.
  • People so friendly I want to cry. Granted, this may have more to do with Wyoming than America, but I am still loving amicable, genuine chats with strangers and an outpouring of courtesy. In my first week, I almost teared up when a sweet old cowboy stopped a puzzled-looking me on the sidewalk to offer help. Twenty minutes later, a cute old couple at the store lectured each other on the need to ‘get out of the way’ so I could pick out my salami. Tears of joy.
  • I joined the frumpy ranks as soon as I got my hands on the box of clothes I’d left behind.

    Frumpville USA — when returning from Brazil six years ago, I re-entered at a Texas airport. So I already knew American waistlines were going to prompt double-takes for awhile. New appearance shocker: having come from Europe where it seems like  everyone wears clothes that fit, seeing the masses in billowy garments felt like watching a comedy. Also in fashion: the standard color of American/Wyoming blue jeans doesn’t match black flats. And I’ve been in the tropics/European summer so long, I don’t have anything but my running kicks for “winter” shoes.

  • Being affected by advertising: This is a privilege I’d rather leave than take. Probably only 20 days had passed before I was absentmindedly humming jingles. Sadly, the commercials haven’t gotten less cheesy. On the bright side, I can now understand the information contained in the 30 or 60 second spots, which sometimes comes in handy.
  • Sticker shock: living in Croatia these past few months, I’ve gotten used to being able to eat a meal out for around $5. I balked at the Mexican restaurant’s $9.99 burritos. This is America! Where is the massively subsidized cheap food? (Oh… at Wendy’s?) Also, I’ve had to think in so many different currencies, my value-estimating skills have withered.
  • Totally bought these microbrews from the local liquor store (bottle shop).

    Conscience vs. Wallet — My funds are quickly approaching the red zone, as one would expect after more than 19 months with no income. So it’s hard not to take my shopping dollars to Wal*Mart. Since I aspire to be a small business owner, and since I’d rather put money in the pockets of neighbors than the coffers of a corporation, I’ve been repeating this mantra, “When you buy from a Mom&Pop business, you are not helping a CEO buy a third vacation home. You are helping a little girl get dance lessons, a little boy get his team jersey, a mom or dad put food on the table, a family pay a mortgage, or a student pay for college.”

  • Wyoming weather — it was t-shirt weather, sunny and 70’s, for days. Then a cold snap hit and started dumping snow October 3rd. We froze for a week, then returned to gorgeousness. What is this strange place? The cold snap, however, lined up exactly with the first illness I’ve had in a year — courtesy of my nephew. Definitely kicked my immune system’s ego down a notch.
  • Stinky dish soap — Do you use Dawn? I recommend stopping. I grew up with said brand. Returning to my sister’s kitchen sink, I smelled a nasty dish rag for the first time in years. After doing dishes in dozens of homes around the world, I have finally figured out the culprit. Kiss your Dawn goodbye and never smell a stinky sponge again!
  • Happy Mom wants to know why her mail sometimes doesn’t arrive until 7 p.m.

    Collapsing postal system — my sister complains that her mail never gets delivered at the same time or by the same person. The post office workers complained to me about organization inefficiencies that make their jobs maddening. Holding down the fort at my friend’s house one afternoon, I was shocked to realize the man on the front steps in blue-jean carhartts, neon green heavy metal band t-shirt, bad-ass biker sunglasses, and beer gut hanging over his belt was the postal carrier. Guess uniform funding has dried up, too.

  • Electronic signs — this is a uniquely American thing for me — scrolling lights announcing the time and temperature everywhere I go. Awww…
  • A consistent phone system! – I’ve become accustomed to never knowing how to call Australian Anna’s phone that she bought in Serbia, or Martin’s Czech phone if I’m calling from Germany. Add a one? Drop a zero? Do I have to dial the 3 if my phone is local? What’s Italy’s country code? I’d estimate my average is three experiments before I can get a call to go through. A wave of nostalgia and shock accompanied the first landline phone call I made. Seven simple numbers, no uncertainty required!

Ready for adventure. Always. Usually.

Conclusion: I’ve had lots of time to think as I driven myself back and forth across the state of Wyoming — a past time I’m pleased to discover I still enjoy (thanks again, A!). One of the benefits of extended travel that I thought about often is that I am finally used to not being used to anything. I do need a week or two of routine here and there, and a day alone at least three times a month. But I’m thrilled that external factors, no matter how much they change, don’t chip away at my sanity anymore.

I

Stuff to Know About Food 101

‘ve had a great time seamlessly slipping between my sisters’ houses and those of Wyoming friends. I feel incredibly lucky to have gotten to spend so many hours with my young nephews (ages 8 and 6) reading, doing homework, being silly, hiking, carving pumpkins, teaching them kitchen skills, playing games, bike riding, explaining how things work, flying kites, and hopefully helping shape their character. I’ve also played housewife for their mothers, and strangely loved every minute. I think I am ready to be a mom! And of course life wouldn’t be complete without a few evenings of sister time, bottles of wine, microbrews, and classic Wyoming karaoke.

Now I’m off to Arizona for several weeks to visit my parents and grands and hopefully sort out some source of income. Wish me luck?! ♣

Pumpkin carving, puddle-splashing-air-jumping action shots, a rare Wyoming sky and other goodies on this Facebook album.



1 ping

Make A Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.