Stages of Culture Shock

I wanted to this post right, I really did.  I was going to do a bunch of research and cite sources and integrate quotes from sources, and go all out.  Instead, I started to read the first scholarly article about culture shock that appeared on Google, and I got overwhelmed.  Mostly by the nonuserfriendly format, but also by the realization (after skimming a few paragraphs) that this was one of several theories on the stages of culture shock. I regoogled for a simpler format, and the next article I saw was titled Plasmodium falciparum erythrocytic stages in culture.

All of that to say, the information I bring you today will be based largely on personal experience and Wikipedia.  You are warned.

According to Wikipedia, there are four phases of Culture Shock: 

• 1.1 Honeymoon phase
• 1.2 Negotiation phase
• 1.3 Adjustment phase
• 1.4 Mastery phase

The Honeymoon phase is exactly what it sounds like – the idealized and exciting beginning of your new relationship with a country (in this case, Korea).  Everything is so fascinating and so thrilling and different and you're so happy to be out of your homecountrywheretherewasnotrueappreciationofyournaturalabilitytospeakenglish.  You very seriously consider kidnapping a few of the local children who are unbelievably adorable.


The Negotiation phase happens around three months in, when you start to realize just what you've committed yourself to – a strange land where people stare at you and eat stupid food and speak some sort of nonsense dialect and can't even properly replicate American fast food without adding their own twists (corn on pizza???).  Your life is filled with slow motion shots: You shaking your head as your students cannot remember a single word of yesterday's lesson; your co-teacher tapping you on the shoulder to tell you about a surprise meeting; the chicken guy staring at you blankly as you try to explain your order.  Everything is frustrating. 


The Adjustment phase (month 6-12) is when life starts to normalize and you accept your routine and other parts of the experience.  Kimchi starts to grow on you, you've figured out some functional communication skills, and you've made friends – friends, mom! – and you no longer get lost on every form of public transportation you use.  You shrug off or smile down the stares, and you learn how to use local ingredients in your toaster oven to make tasty creations.  If it doesn't feel like home, it doesn't feel so foreign either.  


The Mastery phase occurs when you are fully comfortable in your new culture.  Thinking about your life in your home country feels distant, and it almost feels strange to go back.  


**

You stick out as an expat.

Those were my interpretations of Wikipedia's descriptions as applied to Korea.  While, like most theories, they serve as a useful general guideline, they definitely haven't corresponded with my time here yet.  I think they vary greatly from person to person, but I also think that they are extremely fluid – at any point in your new country you might feel like a mix of all four phases.  For example, I still feel positive and enthusiastic about being here (phase 1), while occasionally getting frustrated (phase 2), and feeling strangely adjusted (phase 3); and my old life feels very far away (phase 4).


But, of course, I personally have had some advantages.  I have lived overseas before, I have lived away from family before, I was blessed to meet some great people early on, and I have an unnatural amount of endorphins or something – I generally enjoy myself.


Still, the whole business of working/living overseas is a strange one.  It's hard to describe – especially to people who have never traveled aside from vacations and destination weddings and class trips.  Committing to something for a year or more is enormously different than visiting somewhere for a week, or even a summer or semester.  A year is a countable fraction of your life.  It means decorating your apartment and joining a gym and figuring out bargains when grocery shopping.  There might be an end in sight, but it's four seasons away.  It's Thanksgiving, Christmas, Independence Day, birthdays, and weddings spent away from family and friends.  And working in a foreign country is different than studying or vacationing – it's communicating with locals, and dealing with different corporate practices, and getting a bank, cell phone, internet, etc.  


We probably all need therapists

Because living overseas is a crazy mix of emotions that don't make sense, and are hard to sort.  Also, most of us are kind of weird.  Like not just "leave your country for an adventure and money" weird, but fully, certifiably, "couldn't make friends or date in my home country so I'll test out Korea and they'll accept me because they'll attribute my weirdness to my foreignness" weird.  OK – I actually haven't met too many crazies, but I hear they're out there.  


Back to my original point: I generally feel conflicted when I stop and think about my life here.  I really like it.  I like my job.  I like Koreans.  I like most of the food.  I like my apartment. I like my friends. I could make a giant list of what I like.  But I miss a lot of things. And some of them are identical to my like list: I miss food variety. I miss my friends. I miss my non-early morning job. I miss my family.

And then, this is where it gets confusing: I know that the things I miss are not real things. They are memories of things.  My non-early morning job was parttime and was not cutting it.  My family is absolutely nuts. My friends have their own lives now.


Also, I know that the things I don't like aren't so different than in the States.  9-5 office jobs in the States are soul sucking.  Though my co-teacher springs last minute things on me, I like her and she is far better than having a nasty boss back home.  Things in Korean culture that seem bizarre or illogical are totally trumped by every DMV experience I've had in America.


I really do miss food variety though.


My experience has been a generally positive one.

Sure I get scared by the constant yelling in the supermarket and the drag racers who moonlight as local bus drivers.  I get tired of the language barrier and overwhelmed by the difficulties of everyday tasks like reading menus and hunting down baking soda.  But I'm learning so much about myself, about culture, and human nature.  I've met a spectrum of Koreans – wonderfully kind, very nerdy, strangely rude, shy, friendly, etc. – the same people you meet everywhere.  It's hard to imagine how different life here would be if I understood the language and could communicate with my neighbors and co-workers, and read the local news, and navigate effortlessly.  

I know that there are many legitimate horror stories about both public and private positions in Korea; contracts constantly changed, non-existent co-workers, schools that insist on hunting you down at the hospital if you take sick leave, etc.  On the other hand, there are many wonderful jobs that offer a great quality of life and working conditions.  I think the majority of jobs lie somewhere in between: good benefits, decent co-workers, but some annoying conditions that are livable.  That's life.  

If you are reading this as a homesick foreigner, cheer up.

Things could be worse.  You could be in my situation – I don't have a home to miss.  I grew up in six different countries, went to college in California, and my family is currently in Europe.  When I miss things about America, I'm generally referring to California, in which I have lived a total of four years.  My driver's license is Texan, my grandparents are in Connecticut, and my siblings are in the Midwest. 

Posted in: culture shock korea, Korea, Korean Culture, My Personal Experience, stages of culture shock, tcks