About 9 months ago, I sat in one of Northeastern's older lecture halls with every other NEU student going abroad in Summer or Fall 2011, being talked at by various faculty. One of the central themes was culture shock. I sat not really listening to the Australian professor tell us about how she coped with culture shock, thinking it was foolish that they bother to tell a sprawling hall of students, who were in large part going abroad to party, about the stages of culture shock and how to cope. I knew I would be heading to Morocco with an extremely open (and excited) mind, and I also knew exactly when I would be coming home. I presumed that culture shock affected those staying in foreign places for indeterminate amounts of time, or for good, so didn't really bother with it all.
Stupid me.
The culture shock here has been (and continues to be) an interesting roller coaster ride, though thankfully it never dips too low. I find it mostly arises when I feel most out of place, which isn't generally when I expect it to be. One of the moments I was hardest hit by it was in a giant Maroc Telecom store, looking to buy a USB modem so I could have wifi at home. I walked into the store and had absolutely no idea what to do. I didn't understand the signs, whether I was supposed to wait in line or sit on the benches, or who I should be talking to, and I had no way of communicating my frustration. A minor (internal) freak-out ensued, after which I was completely successful in buying a USB and even in the process mused with the Maroc Telecom representative about the universal language of exclamations (Aaahh! Ok!).
There are also moments at the other end of the spectrum, the times I really enjoy being here and feel comfortable in the culture. My host mom and I have finally worked out a good balance to our "Kul! Kul!"/"Ana shabaat! Alhamdulillah!" ("Eat! Eat!"/"I'm full! Thank God!") exchange, which happens at every meal we eat at home. These moments have been occurring more often that the former, but my general state seems to be evolving into attention to but peace with the culture around me. And that's a pretty good place to be.
Stupid me.
The culture shock here has been (and continues to be) an interesting roller coaster ride, though thankfully it never dips too low. I find it mostly arises when I feel most out of place, which isn't generally when I expect it to be. One of the moments I was hardest hit by it was in a giant Maroc Telecom store, looking to buy a USB modem so I could have wifi at home. I walked into the store and had absolutely no idea what to do. I didn't understand the signs, whether I was supposed to wait in line or sit on the benches, or who I should be talking to, and I had no way of communicating my frustration. A minor (internal) freak-out ensued, after which I was completely successful in buying a USB and even in the process mused with the Maroc Telecom representative about the universal language of exclamations (Aaahh! Ok!).
There are also moments at the other end of the spectrum, the times I really enjoy being here and feel comfortable in the culture. My host mom and I have finally worked out a good balance to our "Kul! Kul!"/"Ana shabaat! Alhamdulillah!" ("Eat! Eat!"/"I'm full! Thank God!") exchange, which happens at every meal we eat at home. These moments have been occurring more often that the former, but my general state seems to be evolving into attention to but peace with the culture around me. And that's a pretty good place to be.
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