If you live in a different culture for a while (even just a month), you'll probably start to see the world from a different perspective. Once you get used to different ways of doing things, you may find yourself adopting those new ways as your own. When you reenter your own culture, you may experience what's known as reverse culture shock. Your home culture will seem strange. You may become frustrated because you've become accustomed to your new culture. You may wake up in your own bed and not know where you are. You may forget how to do things, or you may try to do things according to the rules of your new culture. This can be embarrassing.
I only spent a week in Panama, so I haven't had too much trouble reentering my culture here in the U.S. There were a couple of things though that I noticed today, and I've had lots of experience reentering my culture after spending lots of time in other cultures.
First, I had a hot shower, which is something I never had in Panama. It seemed really weird that the water actually got hot. Cold showers in Panama weren't a big deal. It was so hot and humid all the time that cold water felt great. The hot shower was amazing, because I have been freezing my butt off since my plane landed at 9:30 last night, in a very brisk 40º. I was used to the weather in Panama, which was 95º and very humid. Remember back in January, when 40º felt like summer? Not any more.
I started to turn the stove on this afternoon, but I couldn't find the matches. Wait, what? What do you need matches for? Stoves in Panama are not self-lighting; you have to turn on the gas and then light it with a match or a lighter. Since I had been cooking nearly every day in Panama, I just got into the habit of reaching for a match to light the stove. On the positive side, I don't have to worry about singeing my eyebrows off any more.
Those of you who had me in class today might have noticed that I was a little tired this afternoon (traveling for two days straight really takes it out of you). I went to the vending machine to look for something with caffeine. I pulled change out of my wallet, only to realize that I only had Panamanian coins! Panama uses U.S. bills and U.S. coins, but they also mint their own coins. Panamanian coins are in the same denomination as U.S. coins (one cent, five cents, ten cents, twenty-five cents, and a dollar coin which is quite popular), and they work in machines exactly the same as U.S. coins. The problem was that I only had dollar coins, and the machine didn't take them (I really love dollar coins, by the way, and I much prefer them to dollar bills--one of the things I love about other money systems). I had similar problems when I came home from Mexico; I had a pocket full of centavos, which didn't do me any good. I was really frustrated when I realized that I had become accustomed to a different money system.
In the same vein, even though Panama uses the same currency as the United States, there are some differences in how money is used. First, no one will accept anything bigger than a twenty dollar bill. In some places, people won't even accept bills that large. Second, you'll be expected to have exact change, or at least something close to exact change. In the U.S., no one expects you to have change, and most people have a jar somewhere in their house full of pennies. Spare change is often considered a nuisance. In addition, prices in other countries are round, and in the U.S. prices tend to end in .99. When I came back to the States, I bought a bottle of water in the airport that was $1.99. I stood at the counter, trying to dig up 99 cents, because I was used to making exact change for everything I bought. Needless to say, the woman at the counter was not happy, and the people behind me were a tad exasperated. I finally realized how absurd I was acting in my own culture, and I sheepishly handed over $2.
I've also had some trouble using English again. I spent a whole week speaking Spanish, and even though English is my first language, I find myself forgetting words, making mistakes, and mixing in lots of Spanish. When I came back from Mexico, I forgot the words for peach, watermelon, dust, and dish. In Panama, I had some trouble in the middle of the week trying to explain different kinds of foods to two Canadian girls I met. They asked me the difference between a batido and a licuado. A batido is made with ice, fresh fruit, milk, and sugar. It's not exactly a milkshake because it doesn't use ice cream, but it is cold and creamy and quite tasty. A licuado is similar, but with no milk. You can also ask for a licuado "natural," which is just fresh fruit and ice with no sugar. The problem is that I was looking for English words for both of these things--no English word exists for either one ("smoothie" is the closest thing, but it doesn't show the difference between a batido and a licuado, both of which are a bit thinner than a smoothie).
Then the Canadians and I decided it was empanada time. Empanadas are dough with some kind of filling that are then fried. They're a little different everywhere, and the ones we bought in Panama were made with a corn dough, which I'd never had before. There were several choices of fillings: queso, pollo, res, or bacalao (cheese, chicken, beef, or "bacalao"). I ordered bacalao; I love bacalao. The Canadians asked me what it was, and I couldn't remember the English word. It's a kind of fish, and I could describe it, but I couldn't remember the name of the fish at all. It's cod, by the way, that has been salted and dried, then reconstituted. It's really fabulous. Even if you can't remember what it's called in your first language.
Finally, I experienced something that I've experienced in a lot of other countries. I tend to stick out a lot when I travel in Latin America. I am very pale and I have very European facial features. People tend to look at me a lot. In addition, in some places it's customary for men to make comments to women in the street. That can be unnerving, but after a while you get used to it and it's not a big deal. The problem I had was that I had really become used to people staring at me, making eye contact, and making comments to me. When I came home, I went to the grocery store and I felt like everyone was being rude to me! No one made eye contact, no one looked at me, no one said anything to me. I felt like everyone was ignoring me. Their behavior was perfectly normal for our shared culture, but it was very strange for my new culture. I eventually got used to grocery store interactions again, but I've never forgotten the feeling of being out of place in my own culture.
The really cool thing about experiencing other cultures is that you often find new and exciting ways to do things. You might find that there are things about other cultures that you like so much that you begin to adopt those practices. That's exactly what's happened in my family. My brother and I speak Spanish to each other, despite the fact that we both learned the language as adults. We watch "El Clásico," a soccer match between Barcelona and Real Madrid, every time it's on TV, and we eat tapas de jamón ibérico y manchego, a kind of food from Spain. Those are simple examples, but they are things that were definitely not part of our home culture.
The process of entering and experiencing a new culture, then returning to our home culture is difficult, but it's the kind of experience that helps us appreciate our own culture even more.
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