Second of all, something you should know about me if I blog here with semi-regularity: I use the word “shalom” a lot. I’ve been assured by my Jewish best friend that it is not offensive so… again, shalom.
Third of all, I think you should know that I come to you from the comfort of my family sofa, watching my ninth episode of “The Mindy Project” in the past 24 hours, as I battle a psychiatric disorder known as “reverse culture shock.”
That’s right. I am a week and a half into my return to America after four months of studying abroad in Barcelona. For those out there who might also suffer upon their return from Europe, I want to share all that I have learned throughout this long and trying readjustment to American suburbia.
Binge eating American food can literally and figuratively fill the void tapas and pinchos once did.
I’m not going to lie, tapas qualify as one of the top three greatest culinary innovations of all time, right next to sausage-wrapped-in-pancake-on-a-stick and Chipotle burritos. But take solace in the fact that the top two things are American and you are now cultured enough to be able to rank European food with confidence. And if you don’t know what pinchos are, I pity you. Go to Spain right now and try some.Binge watching American television on a big ass American flatscreen helps replace the constant European adventuring you recently did.
Climbing mountains, partying on a rented yacht in the Olympic port, and regularly hanging out on the beach are fun. But like TV watching is also equally as fun. I’m actually not kidding… Constant adventuring can be very exhausting. Your mantra abroad was “carpe diem,” but at some point in the day, the seizing of the day had to end and all you really wanted to do was watch some dumb American show in your dumb American language nestled on your couch. Welp, now you can. For HOURS on end. It’s like, shalom America, pardon me while I catch up on the entire last season of “Scandal.”
The coffee is not as good and not as strong in America.
I’m sorry. That’s just a reality you’re going to have to deal with.
When you come home, everyone is going to ask you if you found love abroad.
It’s hard for others to believe that, in terms of people, finding love in Europe is actually kind of low on the priority list. Honestly, being single in Europe is one of the best feelings in the world… You’re beholden to no one and nothing. It’s just you doing you in whatever country Ryan Air can fly to.
So when everyone at home asks you if you fell in love, just say no, because it takes too long to explain that yes, you did find love. You found it in every god damn nook and cranny of Europe. People always told you love was “limitless,” and now you know it’s “true.” (Another thing about me... I overuse quotations and I blatantly misuse ellipses. This is not Grammar Girl’s blog.)
You felt your heart expand when you fell in love with the castles in Prague, the pubs in Ireland, the gelato in Italy. You got those butterflies in your stomach when you climbed to a foreign mountaintop and surveyed the earth below your feet. And you knew it was love at first electronic bass note when you sauntered into your first European club. But that is hard to communicate in casual conversation, and explaining you fell in love with a continent as opposed to a person might really weird some people out. So just stick with, “No.”
Ignore to do lists. Continue to live life in a surreal state of zero responsibility.
Do I have thank you notes to write? Month-old voicemails to answer? A suitcase or two to unpack? Yes. Do I choose to believe they will all take care of themselves? Yes. I do. Sorry I’m very sick with reverse culture shock and Netflix is the only person who understands me.
The ultimate cure-all for reverse culture shock: Lawrence, Kansas.
Specifically, the Wagon Wheel. After everywhere I’ve been, I can still say the Wagon Wheel is the happiest place on Earth, and my family and my friends are the best people on Earth. They are the Pepto Bismol to my American culture indigestion.
So not to fear, fellow former study abroad students! Europe really is all it’s cracked up to be, but I have to say, Dorothy knew what she was talking about when she clicked those red heels together. There really is no place like home. She is from Kansas so she would know.
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