Culture Shock
For the past few weeks, I’ve been living in solace from the events that transpired during my travels. I’ve only scratched the surface of what troubles face the world, which is both comforting and distressing. America is full of riches and grandeur, glamorous women and camp men, and diversity that I had forgotten could exist. However, with the conditions I had learned to live in, I am not the starchy person I was before.
One thing I had grown to rely on was the freedom to stop and enjoy the scenes around me. I took out a pencil and pastels and found repose in the fact that I was not a typical tourist. Most of the locals found it strange that I am a woman and chose to travel alone—so perhaps in their eyes I was a bit abnormal. Without my wandering eyes and open sketchbook I feel idle.
Heading back to Chicago, I realized everything has changed. The dive bars I frequented have been replaced with money-hungry clubs. My favorite coffee shops and boutiques have been commercialized or replaced by multi-billionaire chains.
Listening to ‘friends’ and new acquaintances, I watch their mouths move and I nod my head politely. Inside, my brain rests and I take nothing in. They don’t show me the same mannerless behaviour: they listen attentively and are taken aback that I don’t make eye-contact. In the West, eye-contact is a sign of attentiveness. In the East, it’s a sign of attraction.
The first few days I was here, I bowed after receiving change. I wore my trendy Asian clothes and collected scowls as people passed. I nearly had a panic attack at the supermarket when I realized the store was larger than my apartment building in Korea, and yet they still didn’t have anything I wanted. I went to a club and—although I didn’t get cursed at this time—didn’t even feel like dancing because the majority of people were sitting around with black or blank looks. I wasn’t ready to jump on a plane back to Asia, but I longed for—just as I did during my travels—for some familiarity. Without easy access to Shin-Ramyun, there’s little I can do.
When does ‘home’ start feeling like ‘home’?
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