fish out of water

I'm googling stuff about culture shock. It is somewhat ironic that I may not be able to finish my research and blog post on this topic before the electricity goes off.

Here is what I've found out. Culture shock is like a disease! There's a cause (duh!), symptoms (duh!) and finally, a cure. I'm not sure what the cure is though. Acceptance? Memory loss of your life back home? Going home?

The first phase is the "honeymoon phase"!!! Doesn't that sound exciting? Of course I'm always in the honeymoon phase with the sexy and handsome Pastor (today is our 14 month anniversary). So the honeymoon phase is fun, right? Actually, our honeymoon phase on this trip involved about 40 hours of travel. I guess once you survive that, much like surviving a wedding, it's easy to breathe a sigh of relief.

The 2nd phase is the REJECTION PHASE. The "everything is completely awful here" phase. Check! This is where you complain and whine about things and only notice the bad stuff. Check! That's easy enough, I do that at home! Hey, it's hard to notice the good stuff when you're in a freakin' third world country! One of the missionaries we are with described this place as "not even a third world country - it's more like a 2/3rds world country!" I'm still not sure if that means this is better or worse than your typical third world country. Hmmmm.

Then there is the regression phase. Everything about your home country is fondly remembered as fabulous. Duh! Duh! Duh! I'm an American in a 2/3rds world country! Of course everything back home seems fabulous! See how much fabulous stuff I can rattle off: 1. Mexican food! 2. Starbucks (like this wasn't going to make the list) 3. electricity, 24/7! 4. Water that comes out of the tap without dirt. 5. a closet full of stuff (they don't even have closets here!) 6. Mexican food! 7. Animals slaughtered in PRIVATE 8. Mexican food, mexican food, mexican food! Mexican food times infinity!

Blah, blah blah. I know! I am a big spoiled baby.

The next phase is the recovery phase. You are finally at peace with things like the constant blaring of Sitar music from across the street, strangers feeling free to lick you and people who exist without toilet paper.

The final phase is reverse culture shock when you get home. I will apparently go home and find it odd that none of my trashy neighbors butcher animals in their yards and will not understand why hymen repair is not the most popular surgical procedure around town.

We'll just see about that.