This may seem like a strange title, but that's because it's a somewhat murky topic that's going to be the subject of this post. Before reading ahead, let me assure you that I'm not crazy or anything. I'm trying to recount some of the emotions that I've experienced since returning to America, and at times my descriptions fall desperately short of encapsulating whatever I was feeling at various times. I suppose some may call it reverse culture shock or just getting used to being home again. Either way, it's an odd sensation. The first feeling that I remember was when I was waiting in the Rome airport for my flight home and it was easy enough to recognize: exhaustion. It felt like four months of tiredness hit me all at once while I sat there, surrounded by American tourists returning home from weeklong vacations. I just felt weary.
When I finally landed in the Dayton airport and was walking back to greet my family, I felt so overwhelmed that I was almost in tears. At the time, I thought that it was just excitement to see them all again. Now, though, it seems like that couldn't have been all of it. I've been away from my family before (though not for quite this long), but if anything I tend to get emotional when I leave them, not when I am reunited with them. I think that it had just been so much living since I'd seen them. I remember when my younger brother started college last year, our mom came to visit us at Pitt in October (just two months since we had last seen her). But when my brother saw my mom, it was much more striking and surreal for him than it was for me. So much in his life had changed since he had last seen her, whereas my life at Pitt hadn't changed very much. It must have been something like that. I know that I'm failing to describe this adequately, but the prospect of seeing my closest loved ones was absolutely overwhelming as I made my way to the baggage claim.
Re-entry into the U.S. only gets stranger once you've been back for a while. Random things that I got used to in Bulgaria are now striking when I encounter their contrasting American counterparts. Examples? Cashiers in Bulgaria never give put the money directly in your hand when they give you your change; they always put it in a small tray. Having the clerk at a drugstore put bills and coins directly into my palm feels so strange. In Bulgarian restaurants, the waiter brings out each dish as it is ready, even if it means that some people at the table have their meals 20 minutes before the last person is served. Here, waiters bring all of the meals out together, or if they don't there's some sort of explanation given for some unusual delay. These may seem like trivial things, and they obviously are. But the point is that the sum of all of these trivial things is some creeping feeling of alienation in a world that is simultaneously so...familiar.
And it is familiar. It feels like nothing has really changed since I left. Sure, everyone has some new stories; Birthdays have passed, there have been new developments in family and friends' lives, and appearances have changed. But it doesn't feel different. It feels like the same place that I left (both Dayton, with my family, and Pittsburgh, with my friends). That's what makes it so strange. It seems like time was operating differently while I was gone and so much more time elapsed in my life than did here. Now, this is clearly a mindset that views everyone else in relation to myself; I'm sure that for each of my friends, it seems like a lot has happened over the last four months. But it just doesn't feel that way for me. It feels like my old life was just hanging out waiting for me to return, like the boxes in my bedroom filled with shoes and clothes waiting for me to get back from Europe and reincorporate them into my wardrobe.
But I feel so different. And not in any way that I can understand neatly. I wish I could sum it up in some succinct way and claim a greater understanding of other cultures, a deeper appreciation for some universal nature of mankind. Not a chance. I can barely find an answer for "How was your semester? How was Bulgaria?" I can't even come close to explaining how this semester abroad changed me (or if it even did). All I know is that right now, I feel like Dorothy at the end of the Wizard of Oz (need to refresh your memory?). Her family is surrounding her, and she's trying to explain everything that happened, but they just tell her it was a dream.
Now that it's over and I'm back, it feels like the whole semester was a dream and the second i got back, it was like none of it had ever happened. Except unlike Dorothy, I can't get over it so quickly. For me it ends here:
"It wasn't a dream; it was a place...This was a real, truly live place. And I remember that some of it wasn't very nice. But most of it was beautiful."
But I can't shake the feeling that I need to convince everyone (or at least myself) that it wasn't a dream...
Sorry for the disjointed chronology. I'll do a few more posts in the upcoming weeks about my trip to Istanbul, last weeks in Bulgaria, and traveling in Italy after the semester.
When I finally landed in the Dayton airport and was walking back to greet my family, I felt so overwhelmed that I was almost in tears. At the time, I thought that it was just excitement to see them all again. Now, though, it seems like that couldn't have been all of it. I've been away from my family before (though not for quite this long), but if anything I tend to get emotional when I leave them, not when I am reunited with them. I think that it had just been so much living since I'd seen them. I remember when my younger brother started college last year, our mom came to visit us at Pitt in October (just two months since we had last seen her). But when my brother saw my mom, it was much more striking and surreal for him than it was for me. So much in his life had changed since he had last seen her, whereas my life at Pitt hadn't changed very much. It must have been something like that. I know that I'm failing to describe this adequately, but the prospect of seeing my closest loved ones was absolutely overwhelming as I made my way to the baggage claim.
Re-entry into the U.S. only gets stranger once you've been back for a while. Random things that I got used to in Bulgaria are now striking when I encounter their contrasting American counterparts. Examples? Cashiers in Bulgaria never give put the money directly in your hand when they give you your change; they always put it in a small tray. Having the clerk at a drugstore put bills and coins directly into my palm feels so strange. In Bulgarian restaurants, the waiter brings out each dish as it is ready, even if it means that some people at the table have their meals 20 minutes before the last person is served. Here, waiters bring all of the meals out together, or if they don't there's some sort of explanation given for some unusual delay. These may seem like trivial things, and they obviously are. But the point is that the sum of all of these trivial things is some creeping feeling of alienation in a world that is simultaneously so...familiar.
And it is familiar. It feels like nothing has really changed since I left. Sure, everyone has some new stories; Birthdays have passed, there have been new developments in family and friends' lives, and appearances have changed. But it doesn't feel different. It feels like the same place that I left (both Dayton, with my family, and Pittsburgh, with my friends). That's what makes it so strange. It seems like time was operating differently while I was gone and so much more time elapsed in my life than did here. Now, this is clearly a mindset that views everyone else in relation to myself; I'm sure that for each of my friends, it seems like a lot has happened over the last four months. But it just doesn't feel that way for me. It feels like my old life was just hanging out waiting for me to return, like the boxes in my bedroom filled with shoes and clothes waiting for me to get back from Europe and reincorporate them into my wardrobe.
But I feel so different. And not in any way that I can understand neatly. I wish I could sum it up in some succinct way and claim a greater understanding of other cultures, a deeper appreciation for some universal nature of mankind. Not a chance. I can barely find an answer for "How was your semester? How was Bulgaria?" I can't even come close to explaining how this semester abroad changed me (or if it even did). All I know is that right now, I feel like Dorothy at the end of the Wizard of Oz (need to refresh your memory?). Her family is surrounding her, and she's trying to explain everything that happened, but they just tell her it was a dream.
Now that it's over and I'm back, it feels like the whole semester was a dream and the second i got back, it was like none of it had ever happened. Except unlike Dorothy, I can't get over it so quickly. For me it ends here:
"It wasn't a dream; it was a place...This was a real, truly live place. And I remember that some of it wasn't very nice. But most of it was beautiful."
But I can't shake the feeling that I need to convince everyone (or at least myself) that it wasn't a dream...
Sorry for the disjointed chronology. I'll do a few more posts in the upcoming weeks about my trip to Istanbul, last weeks in Bulgaria, and traveling in Italy after the semester.
