Counter Culture Shock

It always happens each time I return to the states.  I am certainly not alone in this, as just about every long-term expat I know goes through the same process of re-acculturation.

You might think that it is strange for someone who grew up and was schooled in a certain country’s culture would even have to experience such a thing.   It is a phenomena that takes awhile to feel somewhat readjusted again.

When what you grew up with, now feels strange, out-of-place, very different and even “foreign” is exactly what you experience in counter-culture shock.  You are thrown into it, immediately upon arrival at customs, upon hearing announcements  “Welcome to the United States”

The continuous sound of American english around you suddenly seems a little weird at first. Unavoidable mental intrusion from this amounts to being unable to totally turn off the constant streaming of background english as I can quasi do amongst the  French.

Standing in line at passport control, I appreciate that my American personal space is respected again, but feels funny not having someone breathing down my neck as the French do, which I have to admit I have never gotten use to.

invariably when I am in line in France, the normal American personal space I maintain behind another person is always taken as a break in the line to dart through,  provoking questions to the order of “are you in line?’.

Queuing up in America can also be an occasion for others to strike up conversation with you, and this  immediate familiarity, that one hardly ever encounters in France, catches me off guard, however pleasant I find it.

My sweet cousin, who picked me up at the airport in Houston, insisted I needed something to drink and after pulling into a drive through, orders a “medium” size iced tea, only to be shocked with being given an extra giant size cup that held over a liter of tea!  Is this just Texas?

Suddenly, everything looks so much bigger and spacious again, in comparison to Parisian standards.   Cars, homes,  streets, refrigerators, come to mind foremost.  Nothing so far gives any impression of a crippled America or reportedly “shrunk” economy.  Is Houston just an exception?

Boarding a domestic flight to get to St Louis, I am blown away by the blatant casual dress  seen on most fellow American passengers that would shock any French citizen.  Shorts, tee shirts along with flip-flops, baseball caps and neon colored sneakers looks like they are heading to the beach, rather than boarding a plane.

Another typical American trait that I have come to find very annoying is the loudness of speech, which is generally several decibels higher than the French, who prefer to speak in public settings with a subdued voice.   Loud speech is considered impolite in public settings and frowned upon in France.

I was also taken back by the over familiarity and colloquialism, when a simple hello to the passenger seated by the window, before I proceeded to sit in my aisle seat next to him, provoked a southern laced “well, come on in” as if I was being invited into his boudoir!  This was not some hick dressed person, but a suited lawyer who was over going his brief.

Eating in a Mexican restaurant in St Louis offered another stark cultural contrast as to the  lack of manners, and sloppiness of the clients who left multiple paper napkins and pink packets of sweet and low strewn on the floor, which one would rarely find in any French restaurant, even in very modest eateries such as this.

Once again I was floored by the humongous portions of food served, frankly enough for two or three people!   If this is the norm these days , no wonder Americans have overly stretched stomachs.

When I read that Americans are losing the battle with obesity, I can vouch from my own general observation, that is seemingly true.  We are not talking about heavy reared matrons or beer bellied retirees here, but  unfortunately many children and young teens who have crossed the border of plumpness to morbid obesity.

A pleasant observation is the general politeness and slower paced drivers, who are not hell-bent on imitating race drivers, as seen much too often in France, be it Paris or on French highways.  Germans and Swiss are worse though, and down right frightening most of the times.

In crowds, there is much less bumping into one another here, but when it happened, I caught myself blurting out “excusez moi” or “pardon”, like one does parrot style navigating around Paris. I really enjoy the friendliness of local cashiers and clerks , that is often absent in Paris.

What is lacking in flavor in American fruits and vegetables, is made up with eating fresh gulf shrimp, blue crab, catfish and soft shell crabs found here.  American salty bacon, however soaked in nitrites, tastes familiar and good to me.  Being deprived of the glories of French breads and cheeses is tolerable enough but will be one of the first things I will head for when home.

All in all it is nice to reconnect to the American spirit at the source.  The famous American ingenuity, the propensity to think outside the box, the quick smiles, the open friendliness, and the willingness to help find a solution, even when they do not know the answer; rather that just saying,” c’est pas possible”.

Saying hello to someone who you do not know in passing is treated normal, especially in the south.  Likewise, I enjoy being able to mention God or even saying “I hope you have a blessed day” without being looked upon strangely.

There is so much good here, that I find it very sad that, due to the ever-present possibility of violence, I am much more tense in public places, and much more vigilant.   What seemingly looks like a safe and peaceful place to venture here can be in an instant, an eruption of deadly violence. Wanting to walk to the park with my grandchildren was met with much reluctance, anxiety and fear that I never would have experienced in Paris.

Coming home to one’s roots, after being away for a long time, is not needed for me to be reminded that I am American , as I feel well enough americanized despite living abroad for all these many years.   I am certainly not deprived in any way of fellow Americans who are fairly abundant in Paris.

Just because I adore living in France for many various reasons, does not make me in French,  despite having double nationality.  I am proud of  my roots and  very happy and appreciative of my adoptive country and the chance to live in the most beautiful city in the world.

People, despite cultural differences derived from their nationality, are all basically the same and have the same fundamental needs of peace and well-being.  America was built upon an amalgam of various nationalities and still welcomes with open arms those who are oppressed, where each with a determined will and hard work have the possibility to live the American dream.

Living abroad gives one an opportunity to see their birth country in a different light and perspective, than when submerged day-to-day in the culture within one grew up.   For me, that extra gift of insight is a true blessing.

All American expats are in minute ways an ambassador, and whether intentionally or not, hopefully reflect the positive aspects of our culture.  Being open to embrace what is good and welcome in our adoptive countries, and celebrating their glories too, builds bridges rather than divides; and for me, this is what I set out to do spiritually and professionally.