The Last One
This morning I woke up in a delusional panic, worrying that I had overslept for a flight to Incheon before I fully came to my senses and remembered that I'm not going back. So I figured now is as good a time as any to write this last post.
People talk about reverse culture shock like it's something that hits you immediately once you come back home. Maybe things don't feel quite the same, the people look different, the social norms are strange, and then eventually all that fades and everything's back to normal. I've been in the U.S. for about a month now and to a certain degree, that's how it's happened. But I think it's also a little more complicated than that.
My last moments in Korea were spent at Incheon, one of the most well-organized airports in the world. The attendants were all in crisp uniforms and smiled as they politely directed everyone into their respective lines, and like most places in Korea, the majority of people were well dressed and looked as if they just stepped out of a salon. While waiting for security, a lot of women around me touched up their red lipstick or checked their hair in little hand mirrors. 15 hours later, JFK customs was practically a different world.
I have to admit, it was pretty refreshing to be surrounded by all kinds of people and all kinds of body types and to see that most of the crowd looked as visibly tired as I was. For the first time in a year, I was in the midst English speakers that I couldn't easily tune out. The mass of travelers was chaotic, and every few feet there was a JFK official shouting various commands in an effort to get everyone in the right place. I realized that if I hadn't spoken English, I would have had no idea what was going on.
That was probably the single most obvious moment of culture shock, but every now and then something else catches me off guard. On my first visit back to New York, the subways felt a lot smaller and a whole lot dirtier than I remembered, but the architecture also struck me as beautiful compared to uniform gray blocks of Korea. While getting together with friends, I became really stressed out and overwhelmed from trying to decide which fancy salad I wanted from a restaurant called Greens On The Go. I thought I had pretty much gotten the social norms down until last week I found myself, once again, giving a bartender a slight bow as I walked out the door.
The thing is, a year in another country is not a long time. Home has not become an alien place, and I don't know if I'll really go through a huge adjustment period. That being said, I'm also wondering if my time back in the U.S. will look a little something like this graph (let's pretend the UK is Korea):
People talk about reverse culture shock like it's something that hits you immediately once you come back home. Maybe things don't feel quite the same, the people look different, the social norms are strange, and then eventually all that fades and everything's back to normal. I've been in the U.S. for about a month now and to a certain degree, that's how it's happened. But I think it's also a little more complicated than that.
My last moments in Korea were spent at Incheon, one of the most well-organized airports in the world. The attendants were all in crisp uniforms and smiled as they politely directed everyone into their respective lines, and like most places in Korea, the majority of people were well dressed and looked as if they just stepped out of a salon. While waiting for security, a lot of women around me touched up their red lipstick or checked their hair in little hand mirrors. 15 hours later, JFK customs was practically a different world.
I have to admit, it was pretty refreshing to be surrounded by all kinds of people and all kinds of body types and to see that most of the crowd looked as visibly tired as I was. For the first time in a year, I was in the midst English speakers that I couldn't easily tune out. The mass of travelers was chaotic, and every few feet there was a JFK official shouting various commands in an effort to get everyone in the right place. I realized that if I hadn't spoken English, I would have had no idea what was going on.
That was probably the single most obvious moment of culture shock, but every now and then something else catches me off guard. On my first visit back to New York, the subways felt a lot smaller and a whole lot dirtier than I remembered, but the architecture also struck me as beautiful compared to uniform gray blocks of Korea. While getting together with friends, I became really stressed out and overwhelmed from trying to decide which fancy salad I wanted from a restaurant called Greens On The Go. I thought I had pretty much gotten the social norms down until last week I found myself, once again, giving a bartender a slight bow as I walked out the door.
The thing is, a year in another country is not a long time. Home has not become an alien place, and I don't know if I'll really go through a huge adjustment period. That being said, I'm also wondering if my time back in the U.S. will look a little something like this graph (let's pretend the UK is Korea):
The honeymoon stage has been pretty obvious for me - I'm surrounded by trees and beautiful parks, I've been able to spend a lot of time with friends/family I really missed, I never have to worry about communication, and I can eat good bagels all day long if I choose to! The disintegration could definitely happen as well, but it's hard to know what stems from being in the U.S. and what stems from having no clear-cut next step in my future. There were also times this past year when I wasn't sure if I didn't like Korea or if I just didn't like being out of college.
What I can definitely say is this: it's hard to boil a year of experiences, some crazier than others, down to a few talking points. A lot of people like to tell me that it must have been amazing, which is off but not 100% wrong. And a lot of people like to let the word "scholar" roll off their tongues as if I just returned from Oxford (sorry but I think you're looking for my friend Sarah, who just returned from Oxford).
I miss my students and I miss good kimchi, but it's also really nice to be back. For those of you who are still reading, thanks for sticking with me through this past year.
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| (Photo credit and all around love to Hazel) |
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