Reverse Culture Shock - I Think Not

You know, so many people have blogs about the countries they are in – some are wittier than others –some more adolescent – some both - but they all provide a similar feeling and information which is useful when you are considering whether to go abroad. However, given that my own hometown is much like a foreign country to me, I thought, hell, I might as well write my own blog about what it’s like living in a rural part of New York. That way, people from Korea or Japan who are considering a move to my town can get a feel for what it might be like for them as well. This isn’t to say that I am anything like a Korean or Japanese person (except for the same desire to not have my kinesphere invaded –note: this only seems to be true in Japan when not on crowded trains in which case any part of your body could be invaded, so wear protection). Still, the information may prove to be useful to any person not familiar with the great small town ambience of the good ole U.S. of A. Also, people use their blogs, not just to show off and feed their egos, but also to let their friends and family know what they are experiencing. So, if I write this blog, this will help my friends and family know what I am experiencing: Some call it “reverse culture shock”, but, let’s face it, it has always been a shock to me and unless I get run over by an 18-wheeler and lose the functions of both hemispheres, it will always be a shock to me.

Let’s take today, for example. I checked out the local paper tonight to find that the weekend line up at the local fair includes a Tractor Pull, a Demolition Derby, and Bull Riding. At least they don’t have the Wet T-Shirt contests anymore and the Moped Toss has long lost its allure. Now such exotic events don’t occur in everyone’s hometowns out there, do they? I highly doubt that in Oaxaca, Mexico they are planning for the big Tractor Pull Event. I dare say that in Takamatsu, Japan they probably aren’t preparing for Bull Riding, either. And did I ever see a Demolition Derby advertised in Paju, South Korea? Anniyo No! But is this my idea of good time? I dare say, no. It’s a good time if you make fun of it, though. Where’s my overalls?

Being an English teacher makes it particularly easy for me to understand and cringe at the natives of this area. Since when has, “You don’t got to,” been acceptable English? Did publishers of grammar books start taking acid? And people...THIRD PERSON SINGULAR!!!!!!! He/She DOESN’T, not “he/she don’t!” And, I know this is hard for a lot of you, but we do things WELL, not GOOD. We are good doers and we do well. Okay? Got it? And “So don’t I” as a form of agreement is not acceptable. I know, I know, I have been saying it my whole life, too, but IT DOESN’T (note the 3rd person singular) MAKE SENSE. No one outside of 60 miles in any direction will know what is wrong with you if you use this phrase Trust me. I have been there. It wasn’t pretty.

Since, being an English teacher, I have also learned the importance of form as well as meaning, I should comment on the shape of the peoples of this region. Since most of them are middle aged – I would have to say that the men all look pregnant and their high school sweethearts have turned out to resemble football quarterbacks with cellulite. The younger generation, which you can still find at the Mall, all resemble archaic barbie dolls. The girls have bleach blond hair with horrific highlights, and they wear tight jeans and too much make-up. The boys all wear jeans, Ts and baseball caps. Nothing new to report here after 20 years, I’m afraid. Oh wait, that’s not true. The girls have fake boobies now. I swear they just get smarter! Did you want to read something about meaning? There is no meaning. These people live meaningless lives for the most part. They are merely consumers. The rest are addicted to Crystal Meth…and will rob you blind and eat you silly.

Oh yeah, and how come I leave the country for a little over a year to find that I can’t even buy Sudafed without an I.D? They literally have to track the frequency of my pseudo ephedrine purchases? My ghod, people, just how much Crystal Meth were you making while I was gone? And how easy was it? I probably could have made a fortune! And today, to make it worse, I wanted to go Jet Skiing at the Lake and they told me I now need a license and have to take a safety course just to ride a JET SKI! Apparently, while I was gone, a bunch of people on Crystal Meth were riding their Wave Runners over small children and into various sized boats and maiming people. So now we all have to pay the price. I suppose I will have to take a safety course and get a license to float in an inner tube and buy an ice cream cone at the corner store. I mean, Jesus, people, why do you have to ruin everything FOR ME? I can’t leave you alone for a year!

Now, I hate to do this to you, but it’s time for a trip to Walmart. Don’t worry, this will be short. The first word that comes to mind when I think of the people shopping at Walmart is simply ENORMOUS. ENORMOUS. I just had to say it twice. It’s not entirely their fault for being so big because as I looked around, I found it difficult to locate sidewalks. Where the hell did you guys put the sidewalks? Without sidewalks, people can’t walk off their disgusting rolls of fat now, can they? Naturally, these Walmart shoppers are politically and socially incorrect by MY standards, but I have to admit that I am going there tomorrow. Not to do more research on how obese the people are, but to get my prescription filled. Somehow Walmart bullied someone somewhere to make my medicine for cheaper. I don’t know what’s missing from it or how many four-year olds it took to make it, but I am buying it and taking it. I am, afterall, just as real and full of contradictions as the rest of you. And really, I probably am much less of a hypocrite than most of you on any given day, so let it go. Just (Inhale)… let it gooo (exhale).

On a high note, I was thinking about how it’s awfully nice that we don’t park our cars in the living room.

Nighty-night, or as my non-English-speaking luvuh used to say, “ninety-nine”!

Fondly,

Ima T. Bagger