Merry Christmas - Celebrate the Spirit of Christ

Whiplash

There's this thing called reverse culture shock. I don't know a lot about it, since I lost my AFS Culture Trek password. So I've just been winging it.

Coming home, after my initial run-in with the bakery, felt totally natural. I felt like I had been stretched out, and I had finally bunched myself back up. I felt comfortable and relaxed. It was hot (Iowa gets toasty!) but not unreasonably. My life filled up with friends and busyness, as I have a habit of doing. I didn't feel like I had changed... except the speaking-German thing.

My first adjustment was with my friends. I had to find out and evaluate my relationships - which weren't affected at all by my absense, and which ones just didn't work anymore. I feel sad to admit that I've dropped some people, but it was for my own well-being. I can't hold on to something that is giving nothing back. I ended up with more friends, actually - one boy randomly adopted me in band. I guess he figured he was my friend since he was already friends with all of my friends? Whatever. I'm cool with it.

I also had to evaluate my German friendships. Which were worth keeping? Which wouldn't keep no matter what I did? Which ones could I not go without? (I think this person knows who she is.) And then I discovered something - I wasn't all nicely bunched up. I was more together than before - my center is where it's supposed to be - but I still have arms stretched back to Germany and Bonn. I've been giving presentations, like a good AFSer, in which I have more trouble taking stuff out than putting stuff in, and I appreciate now how much Bonn is my city much more than Jefferson was ever my town.

I still remember with clarity the day in October when I exited the train in Bonn - Beuel and looked up: the trees were perfectly colored. The cobblestones were coated in a happy layer of leaves, and the air smelled and felt like autumn. I walked slowly to my German lesson, 15 minutes earlier as usual. I detoured into the cemetery and found a bench to sit on. I just soaked it in - I was in Germany, it was fall, and everything was perfect.

German class was hard that day, and I was still with my first family. But in that moment I discovered why I went to Germany in the first place.

School started this August. I was really excited to be there, probably the only kid in my class to feel that way. THIS is how high school is supposed to be done. There are a lot of juniors in my classes, but I can handle that. My schedule was suddenly PACKED, though. Who knew the difference only having school till 1pm made? Getting home at 4pm after cross country practice seemed like the whole day was already gone. I work at the theater now, so there went my evenings. Fridays were for football. How can American teens balance these crazy-filled life? And they actually expect me to do my homework here! Probably because I speak the language.

It's been a few months now. I got a letter from AFS the other day; there was a certificate congratulating me for completing my AFS experience. I think you get that just for catching the right plane home. Also included was a reminder that AFS is here for us as we're going through Re-Entry.

Hah! I scoffed. Little late for that, isn't it? I thought.

Nope. I was sitting on the piano bench, trying to think of songs for Sacrament meeting (my unofficial calling) and I ended up having to get my German hymnal. Then I was listening to a musical and decided I liked the German version better.

While I was using it, the German language seemed awkward and hard and kind of complicated. Now my mouth misses forming German words, and my ears miss hearing it.

It seems as if Germany finally punctured my hard heart. Who'da thunk?

Greasy.

I think our traveling experience is a great example of the cultural difference and how we students were changed by it. We checked our extra bags in Frankfurt (after Dieter, despite my having a train ticket, drives me there for fun), said bye to our host families, were sent through the Security gate, and ... that was it. No chaperones or anything. We came to the waiting area and everyone bought a parting Bier, that they chugged before we had to get on the plane. 

Plane ride was boring and long, but I enjoyed playing with my mini-screen and watching movies. Monsters Vs. Aliens isn't one of Pixar's best, by the way. Food was pretty good.

Then we got off the plane, went through Customs ("What was the purpose of your visit? Are you bringing any alcohol home with you?"), got our bags, and then stood around ... wondering what to do next. We were reluctant to show that we are not actually as independent as AFS says we are, but the fact was, we didn't know where we were supposed to be sleeping that night! Eventually our good friend Ned showed up and proceeded to apologize for not being able to find us, give the overview of the day, give it again in case we didn't hear, give it in paper form, and then lead us to where the Hotel Shuttle was, apologizing the whole way for the inconvenience of making us walk so far and having to go in two shifts.

As opposed to what we are used to, which is being told our instructions once, then being expected to follow them and to do whatever it takes to follow them, no apologies and no 'Questions Comments Concerns' forms. Also, orders given as orders and not as suggestions.

So we all start looking at each other. Is this normal? Did we miss something? Do you feel kind of coddled? Does the air smell funny to you? 

All very legitimate questions. 

We get to the hotel and after  negotiating individual schedules for the morning, we all went to Wendy's and had to pay with either money leftover from September or with credit. We sat down with our greasy masterpieces in the empty Wendy's and then began to be astonished - the Ketchup is free.

Somehow I scored having my own hotel room, which I enjoyed to the fullest. My clock was a few (6) hours off, so I watched an awful lot of History Channel. I couldn't sleep very well anyway, because the air was an odd quality and was blowing out of this strange box under my window. So like any good German, I turned it off and went to open the ... nevermind. The window doesn't open. 

The next morning I had to take a cab from the hotel to Union Station because there was neither bus nor subway. How odd. And there were police officers everywhere. And they were chatting. In English. 

And then the kicker came - I found a bakery and walked around and couldn't find a single Brotchen in the whole place. So I had to buy a bagel.

Welcome to America.