Culture Shock

We had lots of year abroad meetings before we were sent out on our merry ways to different countries. One was dedicated to logistics, detailing that one person had actually died on the year abroad. Grimaces were pulled and the slideshow went on to insurance matters. The next comprised lots of sheets of paper and strict instructions on the number of credits and year abroad essays to write. Another offered leaflets and explained how to deal with that thing called 'culture shock'.

Truthfully though, I don't feel like culture shock was a big thing on my year away. Yes, getting up at 6am every morning for school was definitely shocking. The rude Berlin attitude was also a bit unpleasant. The bureaucracy was a nightmare, but at least it gave a sort of framework for arrival and departing. I never found that I felt totally lost because of the different culture.

The last selfie of my year abroad

Que my return to the UK, and I was suddenly at a loss of how things were done normally. I halted at a red man to be pulled along by my companion: 'Hurry up!' he said, appalled that I was obeying the high way code. One day I was walking home and really wanted a chocolate croissant, but there was no friendly neighbourhood bakery to be found. It was odd being surrounded by voices I could automatically understand - to the point that I heard German near the university and paused, astounded by the language that had suddenly turned into a rarity. My wardrobe had acclimatized itself to German standards and now it has to spruce itself back up again and look nice. Not needing to make myself understandable for foreign friends and flatmates, I have reacquired my usual fast-paced speech and my Sheffield(ish) accent. In conversations I sometimes just want to say the German word (who needs 'airport' when you can say 'Flughafen'?). Nevertheless, there are surprising effects of culture shock: lots of things are so much easier. The Germans never got used to 'How are you?' at the beginning of every conversation, and I can now make small talk knowing what I am saying is grammatically correct. Every road sign I see makes sense to me (well - not that much sense for me to have passed my driving test), which used to be baffling in Berlin, when trying to navigate the city by bike. One of the things I miss most is the excuses. There's no excuse to look silly any more because I'm 'that english girl'. I can't walk into chemists holding up wikipedia on my phone and demand medication which may or may not be correct. I can't barge into the busiest library in the city and sit where I'm not supposed to. I can most definitely not cycle around Sheffield in the daytime with my flashing helmet and lights and fluorescent workman's jacket just because the roads scare me. It's strange being expected to know how to do everything again.

Arriving at a new place was so simultaneously scary and exciting that these feelings acted as a buffer. But now, trying to dissect my year and its events, I going through the shock of not knowing which culture I am supposed to be in.
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