Reverse Culture Shock part 二

So, it just occurred to me how horribly depressing my last blog post was, and how very little I explained about reverse culture shock. I apologize for that. In return, I will provide some examples for your enjoyment (or pain... depends on your perspective. But I don't really know why you would keep reading if this was really all that painful) about various scenarios in which I realized... I wasn't in China anymore.

Shopping
Back in Hangzhou, I honestly HATED shopping for clothes. People are constantly staring at you because you're white, and I swear shop keepers were disguising themselves as coat racks or something because they would pop out of NO where and ask me if I liked that color, or wanted another one, or they tell you how pretty it would look on you, when REALLY the only reason you even bothered to look at that shirt was because it had weird English on it and you were laughing at it. So I developed this Speedy McSpeedster way of shopping. Basically, you speed walk through the whole store, making mental notes of things. You can look at things, but not for longer than two seconds. Use these two seconds to make life altering decisions. Will this cardigan really improve your wardrobe? Will that t-shirt really be comfortable? If nothing fazes you, or you can imagine a potential future without those earmuffs, then just get the crap out of there man. Leave.

You can imagine the anxiety attack I had then when I came back to New Jersey. I really needed a pair of jeans from Kohls, and it took me a week to actually have the mental strength to go out in public. I'm not even kidding you. The thought of going out into society physically made me nauseous. But I knew I had to do it sometime. I forgot how much I loved shopping actually. No one was staring at me, and it was great. I didn't feel like people were watching my every movements, telling me I should try on what was in my hands, that they will give it to me for a good price.

Horns
I'm sure there are other countries besides China who also use their horns constantly, but in Hangzhou people were always using their horns, but just as a sort of warning to other people. It's more like a "I'm coming through watch out!" as compared to our American horns that sound more like "WHAT THE FRICK YOU ##$%@ DRIVER". I was recently honked at on my way to Houghton, but it didn't even faze me. Whatever man. I WAS IN THE RIGHT.

English
Obviously, back in China, everything is in Chinese. I had gotten used to not being able to read anything, and just trying to figure out what the place was by looking inside. Since I've been back to the states, I have this irrational fear that the signs will suddenly turn into characters, and I won't be able to read anything, and I'll be confused, and I'll have to go cry in some corner of some room and contemplate my life for all it's worth... but that's the gist of it. I thought I would be excited to see English again... but it just freaks me out. I KNOW it's only a matter of time before they morph into unreadable Chinese characters.

Asians
When we got off the plane in Chicago... it was so weird seeing so many Westerners. It was still weird for me actually after a week or so. I would catch myself unnecessarily staring at people, just because they were white. But everyone in China always stared at white people... and that was a habit I also began to take on. Now I guess I'm used to it... but I just wish I saw more Asians man. I watch K-Pop music videos (like right now. Super Junior IS playing.) just so I can see Asians. Is that creepy?... Whatevs man. I feel like I might go crazy if I just see white people all the time.

...I wonder if that's racist.

I could go more into detail, but honestly I should REALLY be working on all the homework I suddenly have (whoa! and I need to do both my jobs today!). I didn't even realize a semester could be this busy. I need Hermoine's time turner. Badly.

So have fun with your life and stuffs people! Until the next time I decide to blog... it may or may not be about China. Seeing as how I'm back in boring old America.