Culture Shock

October 20, 2007
Time to backtrack a bit to my initial travel day in the State -- October 8. Actually Saturday the 6th I was stopped by the Honduran police at one of their checkpoints and the man carefully scrutinized my passport and tried to tell me it was expired. I pointed out that I still had 3 days and finally he let me pass. A little ways down the road I realized that technically I only had until the 7th since two of the previous 3 months had 31 days but I prayed that customs would not bother counting. They did not, and I left the country without a problem.
I flew into Dulles Airport in DC, and it was not until the night before that I actually had all of my travel plans lined up. I took a bus from the airport to a metro station downtown (the Washington Monument loomed in my view both as I entered and left the country), the metro to another bus station, and then another bus to BWI. At BWI my cousin picked me up, delivered me to her house in the city and then an aunt picked me up from there. And I arrived in Lancaster that night. And of course I still got up at 5:11AM the next morning to play basketball. I hate to miss the opportunity to play though with the lack of practice in the previous 3 months and lack of sleep, I might as well have stayed home.
Taking public transportation in the States is a fairly new venture for me and so I double checked with some of the people on the bus to make sure I was headed the right direction. The woman sitting beside me graciously offered to show me where to buy the ticket in the metro. During the bus ride we got to talking and I learned that she is from France and had just returned there for a visit. I asked her if she experienced culture shock each time she went back, and she said “no,” the culture shock for her came each time she re-entered the States. Apparently she has been here for 12 years teaching French, mostly because she lost her job in France many years ago. She struggles with the differences in culture and is not fond of DC, where she is currently living. As I listened to her talk I realized that it would be hard to be in another country because you had to be. I have experienced culture shock in Honduras and frustrations with the differences many a time. If I was there only for a job, I would probably give up and return home. But thankfully I have the Lord to rely on and to turn to in those tough moments when everything around me is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I know that my being in Honduras has a greater purpose than paying bills.
As for culture shock while back in the States, I pretty much avoided it. I did discover myself saying “Gracias” to a man who stopped his car so that I could cross the street in Harrisburg. I also reached many times to hit the horn, since I have learned to use it while here in Honduras. The one time I did use it as a gentle reminder to the person in front of me that the light was green and had been green for a while, the guy was not too impressed. I managed to obey the no passing signs and not pass on the stretches of road that would be considered “wide open for passing” here in Honduras but in the US are clearly marked with a double yellow line. So all in all, the culture shock was not too bad. I think though that a week and a half is barely sufficient for really re-entering a culture.