The Honeymoon is Over

Culture shock. I'm assuming you've heard of it. And maybe you've experienced it. But if not, let me enlighten you. Culture shock is basically what you feel when entering a new culture. There are four phases: honeymoon, frustration, understanding, and acclimation. The names pretty much speak for themselves. 

Here's the thing:  I think we missed the honeymoon phase.

Yeah…I'm pretty sure we jumped immediately into phase 2 without any honeymoon. Now, I could tell you that we're spending our days learning language with eagerness and loving the food and city and that we basically can't wait to get out of the house every day to explore this exciting new world. I could tell you that. But I'm not going to, because honestly, there have been moments this week when I haven't been able to think of one thing I like about this place. It has been a hard week. There have been tears this week…and anger…and a desire to hide away in someone's suitcase headed to England. And there is an empty jar of Nutella on the counter, its contents consumed in the span of about three days. The bright side? We haven't yet researched the cost of plane tickets home. That's a good thing.

There's a lot I could say here, and there are numerous reasons for our cultural frustration. The dirt, the traffic, the food, the noise, the concrete, the different ways of doing things, etcetera, etcetera. But this is all just part of culture shock, right? Eventually there will be understanding. And then acclimation. Right? Sigh. Right.

So here's a little synopsis of our second week. I began language classes, which means I'm away from my babies for three hours a day, plus transport time. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but for this former stay-at-home mom, it is a really big deal. I also know that three hours a day of language study, five days a week, doesn't sound like a lot. But it's three hours of no speaking, just listening…me and the teacher…for three hours. And every day, I learn about 30 new words. Which means I've learned 150 words this week. And I have no idea if I remember any of them. The bright side? I now know the words for butterfly and rat and man and woman and teapot and toilet. And lots of other things. I think.

Also this week…we moved out of the hotel and into our high-rise apartment. We're still living out of our suitcases, since the homes here don't come with closets. And we're still trying to figure out how to buy some mattresses. Thankfully, we have a pack 'n' play for A to sleep in. But right now, E is sleeping with me on a mattress that is akin to sleeping on a plank of wood covered with a sheet. We did buy some blankets, which is a blessing in the cold weather. And next week, we'll have bars installed on all the windows, which became a non-negotiable after our landlord told us stories of children falling out of them. We're also taking lots of little trips to the stores, picking up what we can carry home, and slowly but surely, trying to make our house a home. It's definitely a challenge setting up house again, especially since we don't have the convenience of receiving items as wedding gifts this go-around. And since I can't go anywhere by myself (hello…I only know the words for butterfly and teapot), we have to go on our shopping errands as a family, which isn't much fun for the girls. But…there is a bright side. We are living in the biggest apartment we've ever lived in, complete with Western toilets (yahoo!!). We're meeting people on our errands. And the living room came with this light fixture:

Try not to be jealous.

Here's something that, so far, has not had a bright side. The staring thing. I am so tired of people staring at me, like I'm wearing a purple cat on my head. Walking down the street? People turn and stare. Eating at a restaurant? People stand around our table, watching us eat. Going to the store? People gather around us and ask to take pictures of our girls. One lady actually walked away with A the other day. Seriously…I sometimes just want to scream out loud. Or stare back and let them know how it feels. But I don't. And as much as I want to, I won't. Sighhhhh.

But here's the kicker. My low point of the week. I'm sitting in a bare room, uncontrollably crying while I Skype with my sister who is in the hospital, in labor. And she's crying. And for a moment, all you can hear is the sound of our tears. I can't remember that moment now without my heart just aching. I so longed to be there. I longed to be with my sister, who is more dear to me than words can express. I longed to welcome my niece and hold her and sing to her and love her. That day, knowing my sister was in labor and me having to start language and live life in this foreign place, was so difficult. I wanted to be there, not here. 

But here's the happy reality in the midst of frustrating culture shock. There is a little girl, on the other side of the world, who is not yet one week old, and she is beautiful and healthy, and I get to call her my niece. After 21 hours of labor, my sister gave birth to her third daughter, and from what I can tell via Skype, she is just about the sweetest little thing. I can't hold her or kiss her sweet face, but I can love her. And I do love her…so very much. Did I mention she has my name? Juliette Abigail. My sister and brother-in-law surprised me with this blessing, and I am honored and humbled and overjoyed. What a ray of light in a world that has seemed so gray and gloomy as of late.

That's what I have to remind myself. Life won't be gray forever. It won't be frustrating forever. And I won't scratch my brain trying to think of something I like about this place forever. I just have to wait and persevere and hope. One of the most difficult things about being here is the loneliness. We desperately miss our family and friends and our local body community. But the loneliness won't last forever either. Stay with me, friends. My blog posts won't always be so gloomy. In the good moments, when I'm not controlled by my emotions, I remember to hope. And I remember that this place is not the homeland we seek. 

So yes...we're still in phase 2 of culture shock. But there are phases to come...better phases. And every day, I get to look into the faces of these sweet darlings who are a daily reminder of how very blessed I am.

Now that's a sight that would brighten anyone's day.