Proper, suffocating, sweat-inducing culture shock

We were in a crowd. A huge, jolly, Christmassy crowd. Kids running to get on a merry-go-round, mothers enjoying a sneaky glass of mulled wine. Gaggles of pensioners on a coach trip from across the water in Wales, poking at wooden ornaments on brightly decorated stalls, then suggesting a trip to the nearest warm coffee shop to get away from the winter weather.

It was raining – not hard, just that usual British drizzle. But it was cold rain, cold and damp, the sort that gets under your skin and you can’t warm up from.

Crowds and rain, shouting, noise, cars streaming down the road we were trying to cross. I held on to my daughter’s hand – she is nearly ten but I still fear traffic. People coming up behind us, pushing and shoving, joking amongst themselves. No-one in a bad mood, no malice or anger, just a typical busy British pre-Christmas shopping day at one of those festive markets that are almost obligatory in every town in the country these days. Everyone else was having a good time but I couldn’t bear it.

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This is culture shock. Or, in my case, reverse culture shock.

I remember this feeling from before, although it was different then. I think the things that affect us most when we return from living overseas reflects very much the situation in the country where we have been living. After coming back from Jamaica and St Lucia, I remember going into a shop and not knowing where to look. There was so much…stuff. My eyes darting around, up behind the cashiers shoulders, looking at all these bright, exciting goods. It was overwhelming and I didn’t usually buy anything. But I had just returned from countries where although there was plenty of goods in the shop, the overt over-the-top commercialism wasn’t so blatent. Perhaps they had what they needed and nothing else, unlike our ridiculously stuffed-to-the-gills stores where you really can buy just about anything your heart desires.

South Africa shops are similarly well-stocked, at least the ones we used. But what they have more of in SA is space. And although there were places you could go that were crowded, it was rare to find yourself in the sort of stifling, fear-enducing crush that you can get in this country.

It just makes me miserable, especially when I look around and everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves. But recognising it for what it is – reverse culture shock, getting used to being back here, readjusting to a different way of life, helps. It will take time and eventually I will again feel comfortable in a crowd, accept that I am only allowed a square inch of pavement to move on, get used to the noise and shouting, the cars on the road, the people in my way.

It’ll take a while but I will get there. At least, I will on the crowds. I am not sure I will ever get used to the dismal British weather.

Photo credit: Ley

Have you repatriated recently? Or even not recently? How are you finding it? Getting easier?

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Things I look forward to….

As the date fast approaches for our return to the UK I continue to put my head in the sand about us actually leaving. I love South Africa and our life here and if you follow this blog you know there are so many things I will miss (sunshine, wine, food, people, travel, wildlife, Channel 5 on the radio…)

But there is no point wallowing – we are leaving and I need to accept that. So in order to try and make things a little easier about the move home I have started to think not so much about all the things I will miss but the things I am looking forward to about being back in cold, damp, grey clean, safe, errrr, green Britain.

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So first and foremost yes I will appreciate being able to step outside my front door and simply walk. Walk whichever way I like, on my own, without thinking about whether my handbag is zipped up properly or if someone is following me. Even at night. Not only that but we won’t have to battle our way through a grill, double lock and security gates just to pop to the shops. Plus at night we can sleep without locking ourselves in a keep (which will be good for our dog, Cooper, in particular who resents being woken and dragged upstairs when we go to bed at night; I realise we could leave him downstairs and outside of the safe area but he is too precious to us to do that!).

Talking of dogs, and talking of popping to the shops, I am also looking forward to taking him with me. I am not yet sure if I will ever be confident enough to tie him up outside a shop like so many people do back home while they nip in for a pint of milk and a daily newspaper (ah yes! getting my news from a hard print copy rather than online, that will be a nice novelty too). But I like to think I will be able to take him out and about with me a lot more regularly than I can here. The Brits love dogs – they are even allowed in pubs. I will just have to remember that it’s an absolute no-no to leave any dog poo unbagged, even if he does it nice and neatly in a little bush out of the way where no-one can see it….

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And when I go to those shops I am looking forward to more choice. In all honesty, the food shopping in South Africa is fantastic and we really haven’t missed much. But there are some areas where they don’t do so well and where we in the UK seem to be world champions – like yoghurts and other desserts (so many types!), and bread. Ah, freshly baker bakers bread. And familiar brands that taste right rather than just slightly…wrong.

I am looking forward to seasons, to the smell of Autumn and the cold air of winter. To blackberries and apples off the trees. To watching our many excellent dramas or documentaries without having to download them first. Decent internet speeds. And lots more people to talk to about British politics.

There are of course many things I am not looking forward to (the rain, the lack of diversity, the expense of everything, the traffic….) but this isn’t what this post is all about so I will ignore all of those. In fact I will continue to put my head in the sand, my hands over my ears and say lalalalala for the next few months because otherwise I might just decide I’m not leaving.

And as nice as that would be for me, sadly for the reasons why we chose to go home in the first place it really isn’t an option.

Yup, the countdown is on – Blighty, here we come.

Photo credits: Green England – highlights6

Mini schnauzer – kawabata