Reverse Culture Shock

I’ve officially been home for a little more than a week, and I’m already experiencing reverse culture shock. There are things that I never thought about that are so entirely different from Ecuador that I’m constantly either annoyed or awed.

Such as:

• 38° is cold. I do not understand how everyone here thinks it’s not.

• I can now flush toilet paper. For so long it’s been drilled into my head that I can’t, that I feel like I’ll get caught whenever I do. My mom and sister have been subjected to frequent whoops from the bathroom because of it.

• I have realized that traffic lights are by far the most inefficient method of controlling traffic. Traffic circles make so much more sense. I never thought I’d say that, but there it is.

  

• People really do use the elevator to go to the second floor. I suppose I get annoyed because at 8,370 feet above sea level, I practically climbed a mountain and literally climbed 135 steps in order to get to my classes every day. (Unless I took the bus, in which case it was only 85 steps.)
  

  

• Everything is sweet here. I went to a restaurant the other day with my extended family and realized that my sister couldn’t taste the way the breaded shrimp was sickeningly sweet. She’s used to it; I’ve gotten used to salty things being salty (and just salty) and sweet things being significantly less sweet than they are here.

• I’ve come to the conclusion that lemon juice on my popcorn just doesn’t taste the same as lime juice.

• My mom has never had a tree tomato, and I have the niggling feeling that it’ll be hard to find a tomate de arbol anywhere around here. (Any suggestions?)

• There are no palm trees here. In Ecuador, it was a weird feeling not seeing pines. Apparently I got used to that, because now I feel like there’s something missing when I don’t see palm trees.

• Potholes, while not found exclusively in the States, were not something I missed.

• It’s fun to drive my own car, even if I do have to sit in traffic.

• Speaking of which, it’s actually nice to see orange construction cones again, as opposed to ones striped with black and sickly yellow. (Another thing I never thought I’d say: “Orange construction cones! How lovely!” Traveling abroad does weird things to you.)

• Air pressure was something I never noticed until there wasn’t any. Now it feels like I’m being squashed wherever I am.

  
  

  All of which, of course, mean that I'm ecstatic to be home, while at the same time missing Ecuador quite a lot. 

Five hours

It's 2:30 AM on Thursday, March 6th. I just finished packing my life for the past two months into two suitcases and a backpack. If all goes well, I leave Cuenca in five hours. It's such a surreal feeling, to know that the past eight weeks actually happened. Sometimes it seems like I just dreamed it all up. (Some things, however, even my active imagination could not have created.)

It's weird knowing that I'll pass people from the Ecuador group on campus, and we'll exchange pleasantries before continuing to live our separate lives. It's weird because we've spent so much time together over the last quad.

It's weird knowing that so much at home has stayed the same, and so much has changed. It's weird knowing that I have changed so much, yet I can't really tell in what ways.

This experience has been so beneficial, but I don't know how I'll adjust back to normal life after this. Normal has been one-way cobblestone streets and pigeons, Andean music and street performers, high altitude and stray dogs, for so long. I have a feeling I won't know what to do in a land where people generally obey traffic rules, where street vendors are not constantly crying, "Un dolar, un dolar, un dolar," or "Cerezas, cerezas." I honestly don't know how I'll adjust to not air-kissing everyone on the right cheek. It's become ingrained, to the point where we even do it among ourselves.

I'm scared. What if nothing is the same as I remember it? What if nothing changed? Either way, I can't really relate. Not at the moment.

But then again, in the words of the inimitable CH Spurgeon, the living are not given dying grace, and the dying are not given living grace. Applied to my situation, the returning are not given staying grace, and returning grace only begins when I step out on my next great adventure.

Random Homegoing Thoughts

I leave Cuenca tomorrow.

It seems like forever and no time at all since I arrived. And now I'm going to Peru. I'll be home in less than 10 days.

It's so strange.

I've learned so much here: about myself, about the culture, about all the things I don't know. I've learned that people really do love me for who I am, and not because I've got everything together or can do anything for them. (That's a nice feeling!)

Remember how I was so scared to come to Ecuador? Well, now I'm scared to leave. Ecuador has become my comfort zone. I know when I get back that no one will be able to relate to my experience, and it just won't be as important to them as it is to me. And there will be a "choque," a disconnect.

I'll leave CEDEI behind forever. I'll leave behind my host family. I'll leave Cuenca behind, this picturesque city nestled in the heart of the mountains.

I'll bring back memories and mementos. I'll bring back a stronger knowledge of Spanish, and of the Ecuadorian culture. I'll bring back a hint of the Cuencano "singing" accent.

I guess it's just so surreal that I'm actually going home. Home. There isn't a word in Spanish for home. The closest word is hogar, but even that is exchangeable with "house." But I'm going home.

Home!

Preconceived Notions Part 1

You can't really read this, but it's "Cuenca" with a heart around it at a soccer game.

Preconceived notions can be good and can be bad. 

Because some correct ones prepare you for things, they can help you get through the days when Ecuador just seems so off-the-wall that you want to hop on a plane. Because the discovery that some are incorrect is accompanied by relief so acute that it makes everything seem all right, they can help you get through the days when everything seems to be against you.

There are some things I was expecting when I came here. I was expecting Ecuadorians to eat guinea pig frequently. I was expecting traffic to be flipped like it is in Britain (don't ask me why; I've no idea). I was positive that hot showers would be readily available. I was sure that my room would be quiet at night. I was planning on faithfully attending a church not unlike my own.

I was wrong on all counts. But being wrong doesn't always mean being disappointed.

Take, for example, the guinea pig thing. I found out it's only for weddings and other special occasions. Whew. Here I was afraid I'd have to eat furry rodents all the time and I only have to do it once. That's not so bad. I will never understand, though, just what's so great about paying $25 at the very least to have a whole guinea pig to yourself.

Also consider traffic. Sure, it's horrendous. But it isn't flipped. Imagine my relief when I saw that steering wheels were on the same side of the car as in the US. There's a ton of one-way streets, though, which I'm sure are awful for drivers (and also for you, the first time you get in a taxi and don't have the faintest idea where you are). And seat belts exist, but the other side of the buckle just isn't there (you know, the one part that makes a seat belt a seat belt?).

But, then again, it's the oddities that make this place so great.