A Long Process

August:  “Hi, I’m Chelsea.  I plan to teach in South Korea.”

September:  “Yes, that sounds lovely, but I’m going back to South Korea for sure.”

October:  “I mean, like, South Korea or Turkey.”

November:  “Saudi Arabia?!  Of course I’ll go there!”

December: “Just getting ready to go to Saudi Arabia.”

January:  “Still waiting to go to Saudi Arabia…”

February:  “Fuck it, I’m going to Turkey!”

March:  “I just signed a contract for China.”

April: “They said I’d have an invitation letter…like…a week and a half ago…”

May: “No, It’s fine.  I’m sure they’ll have a visa for me soon.”

June:  “Fuck that.  I’m going to Russia.”

July:  -ignored visa worry while in Taiwan-

August:  “I’m definitely going to Russia.  When?  Oh.  Tomorrow.”

PRE-TRAVEL

Yes.  Tomorrow.  It has been a long process which much more drama than listed above (and certainly more f-bombs).  But my passport has a visa and my plane leaves tomorrow.  I’ve started my regular pre-travel process already.  Said process has progressed as such:

                First, I tell myself that I have plenty of time.  I need not worry.

                Next, I worry.  But, I don’t yet do anything terribly productive.  Maybe I pack a bit here and there.  But for the most part I just daydream about my trip and drool a bit on my Lonely Planet.

                The next step involves the complete preoccupation with all the things I’ve yet to do.  I can’t hike or write or sleep or eat because I am too busy thinking about how I should be doing things.

                Finally, I start doing things.  I copy my important documents.  I pack.  I weigh my bags.  I unpack.  I repack with fewer items.  I weigh my bags again and unpack again.  And then, and this is an important step, I sit among my things and cry.  If you are following my step-by-step guide, please allot plenty of time for this portion of the process.  It tends to drag on.

                I repeat the phrase “I’m not freaking out.  I’m fine.  I’m fine.  I’m not freaking out.”  This is my mantra.  I asked my boyfriend the number of times one can say said phrase before they must admit that they are indeed freaking out.  Seven was the answer.  Since my quota was more than filled, I began to actually and seriously pack.  This time with an eerily detached attitude and a feverish sort of speed.

                And that brings us to bed time last night.

                I woke up this morning and threw a few more things in my bag before heading to my local coffee shop (is this the last time I’ll be here?).  In trying to write this post, my gaze continually wanders out the window, taking in the view of my hometown.  Though I can write that these are some of my last glimpses of it for a long while, I can feel that the realization has not entirely hit.  Because once it does, the pre-travel portion will have ended and the travel portion will begin, marked by the final zipping up of my luggage and the chattering of my teeth.

TRANSIT MODE

                I don’t know why I shake.  I don’t feel scared.  But maybe I don’t feel scared in the same way that I don’t feel stressed.  I don’t know that I’m truly stressed until I’m stressed enough that it is hard to eat and my muscles ache and I grind my teeth at night.  I never acknowledge the stress, but my body lets me know that it is there once it is too much to bear.  So maybe I feel scared in the same fashion.  I’m too simple to realize that I’m scared until my teeth are chattering on the way to the airport and whoever is driving me turns up the heat thinking that I must be freezing.

                By the time I reach security I will have entered transit mode.  Which is to say that I will have become entirely useless.  My transit mode should be studied as it is a strange and new defense mechanism.  Much like the fainting spell of the myotonic goat.  I enter a trance-like state of simply existing in order to deal with the boredom of long flights and layovers (this time 5 hours 6 minutes PDX to JFK, a 7 hour 53 minute layover, and then 9 hours 5 minutes JFK to VKO).  Which it a normal thing to do.  Because I’m not freaking out.

                I’m fine.

                I’m not freaking out.

                By the time I land I will have convinced myself that I am fine.  I’m calm.  I’ll be ushered to my new apartment.  I’ll claim the better room (sorry, Morgan, should have gotten there before me), crash for at least ten hours, then wake up ready for the next step.

CULTURE SHOCK

                Culture shock is apparently a problem for some people.  I was told to expect something that looks like this:

                Honeymoon Period:  Everything, literally everything, is awesome.  (Lasts a few days to a few weeks)

                Rejection: The moment you realize that it isn’t awesome. A brief moment of language difficulty or cultural difference.

               Culture Shock Period: You realize, no everything is not great.  In fact, everything is hard and different, too different.  You’ll want to isolate yourself.  You’ll want to go home.  (Lasts several weeks up to two months).

                Adaptation Period: You come to terms with what is amazing and what is less so.  You’ll see the new place for what it really is and, hopefully, be alright with it. (You’re good from here on out).

                Reentry Shock: You go home and aren’t terribly please with it.  But I won’t be dealing with that for quite a spell.  So you’ll gloss over this.

If you would like a more eloquently put rundown of this I recommend this page.  It isn’t exactly what I was told, but not one article is.  I think this follows closely what a more normal person would experience: https://www.hthtravelinsurance.com/travel_center/stud_international/023.cfm

This is a long process.  Too long a process.  So I have, totally on purpose and not at all by simply being a crazy person, adapted an expedited version of the culture shock stages.  I follow this time.  It isn’t fun, but it is fast.  So I highly recommend it.

UPON ARRIVAL: (Honeymoon Period on Speed, lasts eight to twelve hours): 

You’re not freaking out.  You’re fine.  Really…fine…

                In fact, isn’t this the coolest, best place you’ve ever seen?!  I mean, yeah, it’s the airport.  But the best airport ever, right?!

Are they speaking [local language]?  Isn’t it cool that they’re speaking [whatever language obviously they ought to be speaking in this country]?  Don’t you wish you could speak [that language]?  Well you can!  You have watched like eight Youtube videos and have opened your pocket language guide on multiple occasions!  This will definitely not be a problem.  Ever.  You might skip the culture shock this time!  You said that last time.  But this time is different.

Whether you get on local transit or have someone picking you up, it is the best choice you could have made.  This is so easy.  And the view is great!  Are those buildings different from other buildings you might have seen previously?  Yes!  And only in the best possible way.

You arriving to your accommodations and, not matter what, they are the most amazing accommodations you’ve ever set foot in.  Toss your bags aside, take a shower and a power nap, you’re going out there!  Because, I mean, you’re basically as prepared as a native!

GOING OUT AND ABOUT FOR THE FIRST TIME (Honeymoon Period Continued, but not for much longer, lasts up to an hour):

                Going out within eight hours of landing was an awesome idea.  Good thing you learned so much of [language you don’t actually speak more than a dozen words of].  You’re definitely prepared for your adventure of [going to a grocery store/coffee shop/restaurant/bank/etc.].  You’re so smart.  This won’t end badly.

               Go ahead.  Greet the person working at this establishment.  You learned how to do that!  Oh, shit…they responded.  You didn’t learn that.

                Uh…uh…just point at what you want.  Fuck…what did they say..?

                Shit…shit…shit…they’re looking at you.  Say the right thing back.

                That wasn’t the right thing…

THE RETREAT (Let Culture Shock and Isolation begin, lasts four to twelve hours):

                Hurry back to your accommodations (man, do these accommodations suck).

                What were you thinking?  You don’t speak [local language].  You don’t know [local culture].  You should never have gone to [place you just ran away from].

                In fact.  You should have never gotten on that plane.  You made a horrible, terrible, irreversible, mistake.  Just crawl into bed.

                Why is this bed so uncomfortable?

                Why is this place so [hot/cold/humid/dry/whatever the climate happens to be]?  You hate [that climate].

                Don’t cry.

                Okay.  Cry.  But only for a few hours!

TOUGHEN UP

                Now go out again.  It wasn’t quite so bad as you thought.  No one was laughing or rolling their eyes or anything of the like.  If you want to have the full culture shock experience, then you can lollygag.  But if you want the expedited experience, get back out there right away.  Go and be stressed.  Realize that it isn’t so bad.  In fact, you were right to be amazed and excited at first.

At least I know that I’m in for a whirlwind sort of ride.

                Tomorrow…