Culture shockin'

I've done this before, you know, this moving country lark. Of course, that was 14 years ago when I was a good deal younger and it was to a country that spoke (a version) of my mother tongue and had a culture that wasn't a million miles removed from the one I had grown up in thus far.

This move is something quite different.

I've been here for four weeks now and I'm just starting to get a handle on what it means to live here. The language. The culture. The masses of people and profusion of concrete. Driving on the other side of the road - not just a trick for young players who are also trying to drive but a hazard for newbies trying to cross the road who are used to looking left, then right then left again. The proliferation of all kinds of signs in neon and flashing lights. People staring at me because I'm the only white woman in a 5 mile radius. Yup, I've got a case of severe culture shock.

Apparently, according to anthropologist Kalervo Oberg (1901-1973) there are four stages to culture shock:

1) The Honeymoon Stage - Where everything is new and exciting.

2) The Crisis or Culture Shock Stage - Reality hits! Everything is overwhelming and you're insanely homesick.

3) The Adjustment or Recovery Stage - Things become a bit more normal and you feel somewhat more settled. This stage is not a clear stage as it involves a bit of oscillation between Honeymoon stage excitement and Crisis stage depression and frustration but hey - it's progress.

4) The Adaptation Stage where you've come through the darkness and made it out to the other side and you feel settled and comfortable in your new environment.

Figure credit

At this stage I'd estimate myself to be in the third stage. I'm excited to be here but on occasion I just want to curl up in a ball and hide. The main anxiety for me is going out alone without the hubby in tow. As he's originally a local, fluent in the language and culture and has been living here for the past 2ish years, he can translate for me, guide me across roads and gently guide me on issues I'm unsure about ("what on earth is THAT?!") Not to mention that when I'm with him and people stare at me I don't really mind but when I'm by myself, already feeling self-conscious and awkward the last thing I want is to think people are witnessing my awkwardness.

I was thinking about what culture shock means to me personally the other day and basically I boiled it down to complete and utter DIFFERENCE. You come to a place with ideas and expectations only to be met with a completely different reality. It's not just the big things like "I can't understand a damn word that person just said!" it's the small things too. In fact I think the small things are sometimes the ones that make bigger cracks in your ability to cope as they're usually things you never realised would be an issue.

Small things like going to a public loo and there being no tissue supplied, or not being able to flush the tissue down the loo and having to stuff it into the bin provided (ill-attended public toilets on a hot day - not advisable). Things like going for a walk and there are no pavements in one half of the town. Going to the supermarket and the layout is completely different and confusing and it takes you three times as long to find what you wanted. Sometimes you don't find what you wanted. The constant smell in the air - not necessarily a nasty smell, just a smell of something or other. My favourites are when you go shopping and you are blatantly reminded that you're just not in Kansas anymore, Toto, by seeing some of the things that are sold. For instance vodka on the shelf next to the magazines at the local 7/11. Or a wide and interesting array of sex toys (including items for gentlemen) at eye level in aisle six alongside the stationery at your local supermarket.

It's things like this that are culture shock to me. The things I didn't expect and couldn't possibly have anticipated. The things that blow your mind and leave them in a forever-expanded state. This is what travelling is about, after all, right? Seeing things that make you go "Wow!" or "Gross!" or "Who knew?!" It's coming home with a armload of "You'll never guess what!" stories. It's knowing that you've been there and experienced that.

I just wish it wasn't so damn hard is all. Mind you - I guess nothing worth achieving was ever easy... or so they keep telling me!

E-Book vs actual book

Photo credit: Here

I learnt a new word today: Kindle.

Kindle /'kIn-dəl/ (n)

The device upon which e-books and other digital media may be viewed. Weighs about the same as a light paper back and can (without additional storage devices like SD cards) store about 200 non-illustrated titles.

I heard about this on The Strand, the weekend edition of the BBC's global arts and entertainment programme, last week. Immediately I was driven to wikipedia to find out what on earth this thing was all about and see for myself the very thing that was apparently threatening to wipe out my beloved paperbacked friends and the havens that shelve them. I found this article - apparently the Kindle and other devices like it such as the Sony Reader are the "iPod moment" for the publishing industry according to Miguel, an assistant in a London bookstore being interviewed for The Strand. He said that he thought this was "the future of literature" as books were clearly not sustainable due to the amount of paper they require and how many trees have to be cut down to meet this demand. And yes, I admit, thats a very large amount of paper, sure. But what about the negative environmental impact of manufacturing this device? What about when it breaks or is no longer useful - everything mechanical has a limited shelf-life and I'm pretty sure it won't be so easily passed on or recycled as an old book.

Photo credit: Here

It got me seriously thinking though. Would I ever consider buying one of these things? At their current price (around US$250) it's a definite "Are you kidding?!" from me, but let's imagine for a moment that money is no object.... Nope, I still wouldn't want one unless there was a really good practical reason for it like I was about to be marooned on a desert island where I could not take any books (but there was, handily, a power source) and I had no other human contact for a month. I mean, it's not like I'm a technophobe. I have a much loved iPod and regularly purchase music from their iTunes store. I've even downloaded a couple of audiobooks onto my iPod but I never seem to finish them - it's just not the same as reading the book proper.

Reading a book is an experience. It's not just about the plot or the characters. It's a journey that starts with choosing a book at your local library or bookstore - two places I absolutely adore. Going into a library or bookstore is like coming home. You can smell the books, see the covers and run your fingers over shelves of untold reading delight that awaits you. Walking around a bookstore you discover things - a cover catches your eye or you see a "Our Recommendations" tag and hey presto, you pick up a book and you're pulled into a world you would never have known else. The journey continues when you get home and your new book makes it's way onto the bookshelf, nestling alongside all of the other books (if you're like me) you've acquired over the last however many years. Well worn favourites live alongside those you have still yet to read on the ever-burgeoning "Gotta read that!" list.

Then, of course, is the experience of reading. Nothing can quite beat the feeling of settling down in your favoured reading location with your new acquisition or a battered copy of a book you've read a million times but always get something new out of. Nothing can beat the smell or feel of the pages as you open the cover. Nothing can beat the hot cup of tea by your side as you plunge into a new world or revisit a well-trodden road, which more often or not I look up at an hour later to find cold and untouched - the hallmark of a good book. You see - it really isn't about the story. And I think those that claim that soon enough books will be outdated and merely a relic of a past time are wildly underestimating the strength or extent of the love affair between that exists between bookworms and our beloved books.

Photo credit: Here

The Kindle and the Sony Reader and other inventions like it are all well and good but will never ever truly replace the book. At least not as long as I'm alive.

Susan Boyle shows 'em how it's done

I love Edward Monkton!!

For more fantastic pearls of wisdom, check out his website here

It's pure genius. 

Now that makes me feel a bit better...

Image Source: Here

This article on Stuff has alleviated a little of my constant book anxiety.

Allegedly, 2 out of 3 Brits lie about which books they have read - no doubt in an attempt to not seem lazy/uneducated/unknowledgeable. I recognise the desire to answer "Yes" when asked if I have read one of those books that you know you 'should' have read... but I never do it. For the simple reason that what if that person asking me has actually read it. How stupid would I feel if they were to say to me 'Oh really, what did you think about such and such character and their reaction to such and such event in the novel' or something similar? Then I would look even more ridiculous than if I simply told the truth that I'm working on my dream of being more widely read, have a thousand books I want to read but am constrained by the brutal fact of having very little time.

The top ten books that those surveyed claim to have read are:

1 - 1984 by George Orwell (42%)

2 - War and Peace by Tolstoy (31%)

3 - Ulysses - James Joyce (25%)

4 - The Bible

5 - Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (16%)

6 - A brief history of time by Stephen Hawkins (15%)

7 - Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie (14%)

8 - In remembrance of things past by Marcel Proust (9%)

9 - Dreams from my Father by Barack Obama (6%)

10 - The selfish gene by Richard Dawkins (6%)

Of these books I have read only some sections of The Bible. I own War and Peace but have yet to open it and once got Midnight's Children out of the library - I ran out of time to read it, I had too much stuff on and I didn't make the time for it as I could/would/should have. I can tell you with confidence I will never read Ulysses by Joyce nor will I tackle Proust's seven volume epic. I would like to read Madame Bovary, 1984 and Dreams from my Father, maybe even Hawkins' book one of these days. But all in good time.

I guess the relief is that perhaps when someone claims to have read something you haven't they might not have... Being widely read takes time after all and I have plenty of reading years ahead of me.

Change

You don't quite notice it until you have to climb out of it, but occasionally you get into a rut in life. Maybe "rut" is too harsh a judgement on it. Maybe calling it a "groove" is better. Currently I am in a groove. A nice, comfortable groove. One that fits and feels secure. One where no nasty surprises lurk and no major challenges can find me.

I am about to be thrown out of this groove in royal fashion this year. It's already started. I resigned from my job today. A job I have been in for five years, since I was 21 years old. A job I created (I was the first person to do it so I essentially made it what it is) and a job I love. A secure job, well-paid. And I just resigned and am throwing myself out into the wilderness of a climate of economic uncertainty. Doesn't sound like a smart move I know. But, I know deep down that I was never going to stay in this job forever and I had to leave before I started to become grouchy and intolerant of it (as you can do in certain roles after a certain period of time). And I'll be frank. I needed a really good reason to leave otherwise I would have just stayed. 

Then I'm getting married. Which is awesome and I can't wait for.

Then, of course, comes the major shift to live overseas for the overseas experience section of my life. With a totally different language and culture. Well that's subject enough for a blog by itself. In fact I'm thinking of blogging my way through my first forty days of Taiwan. Track how I feel, challenge myself to be honest and write something every day even if it's just a few lines. It's like travel writing crossed with emotional journey stuff. The finding of the inner self. Or something. We'll see. 

And it's not just me. My good friend McNerdy (check out his blog here: Scarfie Med Student) is launching himself out of his comfy groove also and is off to Med School. Five more years after already doing 6 years at uni. Madness or the brave pursuit of a long held dream? I vote the latter with an inevitable pinch of the former to spice things up a bit. 

These are indeed interesting times, globally and personally. I do like how my major sea change is going to be set against the back drop of one of the most important and pivotal years history has seen for quite some time. It's almost poetic. Or coincidence. Either way it's neat. 

Here's to change: the good, the bad and the ugly of it. May we come out the other side better people, all of us. 

Unashamedly JAFA

I was stuck in traffic on the Southern Motorway this afternoon on my way back from Parnell when I was suddenly struck with how much I love Auckland. Which, I admit, is not the first place you expect to be when caught by this kind of realisation, but there I was, on an on-ramp, waiting behind about 50 other cars for the ramp signal to turn green for me. It obviously helped that it was one of those stunningly flawless Kiwi summer days where the sky is startling blue and the sun is searingly hot even through the windscreen. Undeniably, on days like this Auckland is at her best.

It's funny how much you take for granted when you get used to a place. It's really struck me this time upon my most recent return from overseas exactly how bloody lucky us Kiwis are to live in this country. There are a stack of awesome countries out there but on the beauty front, I think good ol' Noo Zulland has it. I was on the MOTORWAY for the love of God. Possibly the least attractive place in all of Auckland, or even the whole country... but still gorgeous.

Those of you who live in this mighty city and those who live in the rest of NZ - I strongly encourage you, next time you are out and about to look again. See it like you're seeing it for the first time. If you can't do this, you need to get out of the country to come back and truly appreciate it. Those of you who don't live here - come and see it for yourself. If the motorway in the biggest city looks this good - imagine the rest. 

The day they chose hope over fear: 20-01-09

Barack Obama courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Surely Barack Hussein Obama has one of the least likely names for a United States president. His middle name, Hussein, is the last name of the much-loathed dictator of Iraq whom American forces deposed. His last name rhymes with the still hunted Osama who was supposed to be behind the 9/11 attacks. These two names are inextricably linked to some of America's darkest moments in recent history. Yet isn't it wonderfully symbolic that the man with an unlikely name and of unlikely origin stood before us and promised to lead the way out of these dark days and into the light of a hopeful future. The man "whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served in a local restaurant." The man who is half Kenyan, half white, 100% American. The man upon whose shoulders rest not only the hopes of a nation but the entire world.

Watching his speech this morning on the TVNZ website (slept through the live coverage, oops) I was compelled to make notes. It's one of he most quotable speeches I have heard in a very long time. It mixed the exact amount of patriotism with the right amount of progressive thinking and had wisdom and inspiration sprinkled liberally on top. I'm not American, but I'll tell you something for free - I was inspired and moved by this speech. 

So much of the speech resonated for me personally. The two main quotes I noted were:

"To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are the wrong side of history; but we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist."

"...also it is a parent's willingness to nurture a child that finally decides our fate."

These have been dark days. Not only for the USA but for other countries around the world. Wars have ripped countries, lands, villages and families asunder. Poverty has struck at the very heart of even the most wealthy nation in this world. Natural disasters have brought so many areas of the world to their knees. This is not the first time nor will it be the last that a series of bad things have happened in a certain period of history, but I firmly believe that the interpretation of these events is seen through the lens of the morale of the people. 

The morales of the people of America have surely taken a severe beating over the last eight years. Has global opinions of the American people ever been so low? And to be honest, this bad rep wasn't entirely fair for most of them. The Americans the rest of us in the world were actually beating up on were Bush, Cheney and that crew. And anyone insane enough to vote for them a second time. The slump in the world's shoulders when 'four more years' was announced was clearly visible. Thank God and reason and faith that enough voters got smart this time around. 

Obama is the ray of hope that was needed. And perhaps, just perhaps, America needed to hit the rock bottom of the last four years to truly appreciate the genius that I believe Obama will display in his leadership. Maybe it was the walk through the Valley of the Shadow of George. Whatever it has been, it is thankfully over. Bush left the office with an approval rating of 22%. Only one in five people actually thought he'd done a good job. Ouch. Doesn't look like he'll be on the Inspirational Speakers Circuit unless he's touting "How not to be a President." It'll be interesting to see where he winds up. 

No matter. The past is gone, hustled out by the fizzing buzz of pure anticipation of today's inauguration. Their work is cut out for them but with Obama at the helm, Americans are finally able to start the task of picking themselves up, dusting themselves off and looking towards the horizon of their new future. I congratulate you, America. You've picked a star. 

Resolutions - you make 'em to break 'em

Well, some people do. Surely. I hear all sorts of crazed plans for the year, the likes of which I have heard in several years preceding, which have never made it to fruition. Usually those poor saps making these wild plans end up despondent by mid-Feb and start to resent the new year before it's really had a chance to prove itself.

I've been there. Many times. 

"I'm going to drop 2 sizes this year!!"

"I'm going to be completely tidy this year!"

"I'm going to get an A+ average!"

And many other things that never seem to happen if I promise them at the beginning of the year.

I find I am far more likely to achieve something like that if I begin at some obscure and non-eventful time of the year, like Mid-September for example. Or if I don't make a weighty claim that places a huge expectation on my shoulders. Letting yourself down is the worst kind of failure as you really, at the end of the day, can't kid yourself or offer any of the half-cut excuses you can try and get away with to others. Start with a realistic goal and expand from there as and when success comes your way.

So upon reflection of what this year is likely to contain for me (massive change, a fair amount of stress, crises of identity etc) I figured that the best resolution that I could make for 2009 would be to be kind to myself. To roll with the punches and not sweat the small stuff. To enjoy the experience of this year as much as possible but to know when to sit quietly in a room with nothing but my iPod and a mug of tea. 

This is the resolution I have made for 2009. This has got to be the most humane resolution I have ever made and then again the most important one yet. Being kind to yourself is not technically difficult but can be hard to achieve for certain personality types (mine included)  - the types of personality who are constantly hounded by the "Should Monster". The Should Monster is a hairy, loud bastard of a monster who bullies its targets into feeling bad for all of the things that they haven't done and inflicts amnesia upon them about the things that they HAVE achieved. It's a mean and insidious S.O.B. 

But no more! This year I am banishing the Should Monster back to its cave. It's time for a new type of resolution and a new approach to a new year. I can't do absolutely everything and I am not Super Woman. But you know what? That's O.K. with me. 

A book never smelled so good...

Perfume: The story of a murderer by Patrick Suskind was published in 1985, originally in German. It is quite unlike any other novel I have read in recent memory, and is considered by some to be a 'modern classic'. It was recommended to me a couple of years ago by a good friend of mine, and so once this academic year finished and I went on my end of semester book binge I made sure that this book was among those I acquired. 

Grenouille, the protagonist of this novel, was born into the most rancid and unwelcoming of environments - under the table of a fish gutting stall in the middle of 18th century Paris. His mother, not viewing him, her fifth unplanned pregnancy, as a "real child", simply birthed him and then got back up to get on with her life leaving him for dead amongst the fish offal and blood on the ground. Unlike her previous four children, however, Grenouille refuses to die in such undignified circumstances. 

He has no personal odour to speak of, yet has an unsurpassed sense of smell. In fact, smell is the only thing that exists for him. Although one might be tempted to sympathise with a baby born into such unfortunate circumstances to such a callous mother, it is soon abundantly clear that Grenouille is only out for himself and his own gains. He does not care for the company of others and in fact actively avoids it, going to extreme lengths to do so at one stage. The only thing he is interested in getting from  human society is a certain smell... the delicate fragrance of a virgin girl. 

I find this novel an interesting blend of the historical novel and a character study. Grenouille is a truly fascinating character, one who inspires only fear and repulsion from the reader - or me at least! I'd be interested to know if anyone who has read this novel feels any sympathy for this guy. He's sub-human, and yet super-human. He lacks a souls, but possesses an amazing gift. There is literally nothing to like about him, although I guess one could wonder at and perhaps admire his determination and will to survive. 

One thing I have noticed since reading this book is that it has deepened my appreciation for my sense of smell.  Suddenly I have started taking note of things that I had previously not given a second thought. It's opened my nose - something a book has never done before!! Opened minds, yes. Opened eyes to unknown things, yes. My nose? This is a first! 

A book never smelled so good!