Culture Shock

I was wary of writing for SO LONG because my life isn't *fabulous* and Korean anymore, and what if more people read my blog because they found it on facebook, or less people read it because there is no longer any news, however, there is still news, and I'll keep it up. Still writing in it is almost an admittance (Katie and I pondered over the validity of that word) that I love people in other places, and it's scary because the more places I go the more I end up leaving behind! If you never leave somewhere, you have nothing to miss! Sentiments behind, I'm forging ahead.

I have been in the country for a month. I was thinking this thought as I drove over one of the many bridges in Charleston, my windows down, the salty smell of the marsh blowing in and the sunset splashing gold and purple and pink across the sky. Things are predictable here. I know that when it rains, it will rain for days, and it will thunder, and lightning, and if I drive my car in the wrong place, it'll start floating. I know that it will stay warm until November, and that I can swim in the ocean until October. I know that when it's not raining, the sky will be an ostentatious shade of blue, the kind a lot of photographers create in Photoshop.

I know that if I ride my bike, I can run red lights downtown, and get where I'm going ten times faster than if I was walking or driving. I know that if I go to the grocery store, I can find cheese. I know that I can drink the water from the faucet, and while it won't taste good, it won't subtly poison me.

I feel like I have an imaginary friend and that friend is gratitude. OR that I birthed a baby and it's always with me and that is gratitude. Either way, almost everything I touch, or smell, or taste, or see, or hear, floods me with gratitude. About five seconds of a falling in love sensation, and then I adjust.

Culture shock is different depending on where you are going to or returning from. I returned from Nepal disgusted at our sexually confused and materialistic culture. I returned from Italy with a disdain for all the food in America. But this, returning from Korea, is like nothing I've ever experienced. Last week I went to the farmer's market. Even though it's late September, everyone was in tank tops and sandals. Vendors stood calmly by their produce, warm and willing to chat it up with me about where it came from. The strings of a bluegrass band whirled out of some speakers. I tried candied pecans, sipped homemade barbecue sauce from a little paper cup, ate a spoonful of ginger-infused goat cheese, pretended to be interested in the origin of some peaches I was trying, and bought a heavy styrofoam container of macaroni and cheese, squash casserole, green beans, and cucumber salad. I gave my friends forks and forced them to eat it with me. At 6:00, the sunset was a subdued gold that dusted everything under it. I went back today with Meredith. A skinny man with crooked teeth waved us over and then started talking really fast about all his vegetables. I liked him so I bought a pound of string beans and tomatoes. The farmer's market was still awesome, but this time it didn't feel like my heart was going to hyperventilate with hapiness.

It's been pouring rain for two days. I love it. I love when it rains in Charleston. I love how it pours down in an almost passionate anger. This is my sixth year living here and I still haven't bought rain boots. And I probably won't. I remember walking to class in a flood up to my knees, holding my flip flops and squishing my purse tight against my arm so my phone wouldn't be ruined. Rainstorms here leave people looking like they've just jumped in a swimming pool with their clothes. And for those of us who don't look at the weather forecast, they're completely unpredictable. Yesterday I sat in my office writing verses on neon-colored paper and trying to memorize them. It was dark grey outside.

ANYWAYS. Two hours have passed by and I am now surrounded by lots of people and a soccer ball and a 19 year old boy who just kicked a soccer ball and broke a glass. I love my job. More on that later.