Paharganj, Delhi

Returning home after an extended trip abroad means putting down your backpack one last time and realizing you now have the option to unpack it. Suddenly everyone speaks your language. They all look oddly familiar, yet not quite what you’re used to: YOU are used to being the different one. You’re home, but somehow you feel like you don’t quite fit in. Reverse culture shock is normal when returning from a long, international trip. In our case, after almost a year in Southeast Asia and India, there were some things that had become completely natural.  It wasn’t until we got home again that we realized just how different even some of the basics were.  Had things changed while we were gone? Had our travels changed us?  Why did everything seem so odd?

“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.”
–G.K. Chesterton

Recognizing Reverse Culture Shock

It’s the second time we’ve returned after a big trip, but this time we had the advantage of almost a month of readjustment in the UK before returning home. While still different, this certainly softened the blow of going straight home from India. Before we continue, please understand: we love the US and we love being home.  These observations are in no way intended to reflect negatively on any country, place or group.  Our greatest joy comes from learning from just such differences, and returning with a fresh perspective.  This way we appreciate things we missed from our own culture even more (hot water!, things happening on time, ever-present electricity), while being able to take advantage of what we learned abroad to make adjustments to the ways we do things back home. Below is a list of our initial reactions.

Students in Pingyao

Almost Famous

You don’t want my photo? How about an autograph? In most places in Asia, people are more homogeneous: dark hair and eyes, similar ways of dressing, less extreme variation in skin tones. A traveler with light hair and/or eyes can be quite a novelty, especially in rural areas. Depending on the country, people had different approaches on how to react. Some just stare (China, India). Some try to sneak photos with their cell phone (South Korea).  Some gather ’round chanting, “Photo, photo.” until you oblige. This can be fun or tiresome, depending on the day, but you get used to dealing with it. Back at home there is an amazing diversity. People are towering or tiny, wide or narrow, lily white or dark as night. Hair color spans every shade. While feeling a bit less special ourselves, this diversity is a wonderful part of being home, and we find we truly value it.

Varanasi Barber

I Guess I Should Have Had that Haircut When it Cost $1

Abroad, you have to resist the urge to translate back into your home currency. (Of course you should buy one more hand-woven purse you don’t need, it’s only $1.) The same should apply when returning home. (There’s no WAY I’m buying a block of cheese–true story– for $7, that’s a night’s lodging in Cambodia.) That being said, it’s very difficult to get used to the cost of things back home. A night out could support us for a week in Southeast Asia. Ouch!  Donny’s first haircut at home was about 25 times what the previous one was. (See about halfway down the Statistics page for haircut costs abroad.) Another example: we walked through a Marshall’s the other day and saw T-shirts for about $10 on the CLEARANCE rack. $10? And they were made in Cambodia or Vietnam? I should be able to get eight for that price. (Or a night’s lodging!) While I know I will have to clothe myself, I will certainly not be buying $10 T-shirts any time soon. Bottom line: we need to stop viewing everything in terms of what it would have bought us in Southeast Asia. We are no longer there. BUT it’s still a good reminder not to spend frivolously on stuff you don’t really need.

Rooftop Riders

Time after Time

After traveling for a while it’s easy to pick out short-term holiday-makers from those who are on a longer journey. Example: the bus is scheduled to leave at 1pm, yet it’s now 1:40 and the driver is still outside smoking or sipping a tea/coffee/chai.  Typically, a Westerner starts looking at his/her watch, questioning when the bus might depart.  A seasoned traveler knows the answer: most likely, the bus will depart when all the seats (and often aisles) are filled, and then some.  It makes sense that the driver doesn’t want to leave half-full.  Of course he will also have the opportunity to pick up all the people who flag him down from the roadside, but those fares are gravy.  There’s always a plastic stool to be wedged in some crevice for one more. What a difference from London where we boarded a National Express bus bound for Coventry that left exactly on time with the coach only 1/3 full. A truly different system. For a detailed look at some of our longer journeys, see The Road to Tagong (Western China) or Never-ending Story (Indonesia).

Coffee Maker Bangkok

Snack Attack

We’re finding it hard to eat. That may sound crazy, but having become so used to grazing on small, quick meals throughout the day, that sitting down for a meal sounds even more crazy.  In Vietnam, it seems people never stop eating: every few feet is a new set of plastic chairs filled with people snacking. Thailand is tops for fresh fruit on every corner. Indonesia’s food carts feature literally everything from soup to nuts! Portions are small, but meals are frequent.  Isn’t that supposed to be the healthy way to eat?  Another aspect is freshness. Refrigeration is not a given, and while that could be dangerous for long-term storage, it can also necessitate fresher ingredients.  In many restaurants there is a “runner.” When you order, this guy (usually a teenage boy) is sent to the market to fetch whatever ingredients are needed to make what you asked for.  In India, we once wanted to add something to our meal. The waiter was in the kitchen just starting to shell the peas from the bag the boy had brought back, the main ingredient in our main course. Fortunately, we had already learned to plan three hours for dinner.

Getting Around Saigon

You’re going to walk where?

The doorman in London couldn’t believe we were contemplating walking from the hotel to Victoria bus station. He kept asking if we meant to the nearest Tube or bus stop. The bus station was less than two miles away.  In Southeast Asia we spent entire days walking or riding bikes. Everyone does. Streets aren’t necessarily made for it, but it’s the norm. Longer distances are for bikes or motorbikes (and anything less than 3 people to a motorbike is unheard of unless you’re carrying something BIG). In town or to the neighbor’s: walk.  It might be unrealistic to envision walking very far in cities like LA or Atlanta, but with recent gas prices, a motorbike might not be such a bad idea…

Yes, you can even reuse this!

Save It

Travel truly encourages economy.  Sometimes it’s a result of being exposed to extreme poverty.  Seeing people who have almost nothing make use of EVERYTHING (usually at least twice) inspires us to conserve.  Garbage and littering are also huge issues, and of course there’s the traveler’s own desire to keep expenses down.  Paper products are a great example.  Any flight we took, I kept every moist towelette I was offered. Man, those things came in handy later.  In Japan, where they handed out pocket-sized tissue packs as promotional items, we horded them for later use in China where toilet paper was seldom provided. (In Indonesia we even gave toilet paper up, but that’s another story.) In restaurants and cafes in Vietnam, if there was anything to wipe your hands on, it was a single-ply roll of toilet paper on the table in a plastic dispenser with cartoon characters on it. A proper napkin was an extra charge (and this option only available in finer tourist restaurants). Back at home, my Dad gave us a hard time about not throwing away the thick, fancy paper napkins each night after dinner. We just couldn’t do it.  A sticky crumb or two? Fold it the other way, and use it again tomorrow…and maybe the next day.

Too many choices!

Choices, Choices

There are WAY too many.  I have found visits to the grocery store and drugstore at home to be extremely stressful. In Thailand I  struggled only to find a deodorant whose benefits didn’t include underarm whitening. (My pits are plenty white, thanks).  The local CVS nearly gave me a panic attack with the overwhelming selection of colorful, shiny bottles and jars. I needed toothpaste. Should it be Colgate, Crest, Aquafresh, Tom’s, AIM? Should it whiten, prevent plaque build-up, fight cavities, curb sensitivity? Paste or gel…or the stripey one with both? Stand-up tube or traditional squeeze? And if you can’t find what you need at the first spot, there is a Walgreens across the street and a RiteAid within walking distance, just in case.

Xi’an Train Station

Don’t Stand So…Don’t Stand So Close to Me

This one applies to many countries. For Donny, on his first trip to South America, he was a bit freaked out by how close people stood behind him in line. He asked, “What’s this guy’s problem? Every time I move up he just closes in the gap. Doesn’t he get the idea?” Well, no, he doesn’t. And neither will any man, woman or child in most of the rest of the world (barring Europe, Australia and NZ).  In China you can’t slip a piece of paper between you and the next person in line.  In India you will get knocked out of the way if you don’t stand your ground at the ticket window at the train station.  On the other hand, sometimes comfort with physical closeness can be quite nice to see. Indian men sometimes walk hand in hand. In Cambodia groups of boys and girls display friendship with their arms around each other.  In Latin America people of both sexes greet each other with kisses and hugs. It’s remarkable how chilly the West sometimes seems with the bubble of personal space that must be maintained.

Pushkar Sunset

So one again we find ourselves (temporarily) unemployed and homeless, welcomed back warmly by family and friends, but struggling to adjust to life back in the US. We look back on our trip with warm feelings of nostalgia, the difficult, frustrating aspects dulling with time. We spend now appreciating our time at home, and treating it like the next phase of our journey rather than its end. We look ahead to continuing the adventure.