Reality check

Today I felt like I was drowning. Not in the lake/ocean/stream/bathtub sense, but it was definitely like drowning. It was strange, but I think that I understand culture shock a little better all of a sudden. Now that I know what is, I'll be better prepared for things in the future. The family that I'm staying with is amazing, very kind and eager to get to know me. But things are different here, as I knew they would be, and once in a while that catches up with you. And by you, I mean me.

There's a saying over here that the guest is like a god. Unlike many sayings in America, this one is pretty much universally followed and earnestly believed. They've given me the best of everything, and it makes me feel both grateful and ashamed as I subconsciously compare the sleeping mat, about one inch thick, with the towering pile of cotton and fibers that I sleep on every night without a thought. My shoulders and hips ache today, but it's worth the mental trip that I've taken a result of my quasi-sleep last night. Showers consist of water poured from a bucket. They don't use hot water, but the mother woke up early to turn the water heater on, despite my protests of the previous evening. I'll be honest. I wish I were a better person whose mind wouldn't even register these differences between my life here and my life at home. But I do. I blinked rapidly for about five minutes yesterday at the prospect of not using toilet paper, regardless of the nature of the visit to the toilet. These things have weight, but I don't have to remind myself that they're not important. If I'd wanted pristine porcelain and sanitized water, I'd have taken my semester in Chicago. Or maybe certain parts of Dublin.

But the technological adjustments aren't what are getting to me. I feel guilty, since I generally feel uncomfortable having people do things for me. I can't stand asking for help finding something in a store, let alone allowing a family of three to sleep in the living room, giving me the other room in the house for my own use (yes, THE other room). I couldn't care less about the size of the house or the family's income, but I just feel like they're going to have to stretch to accomodate me, and they shouldn't have to do that. They've hosted students before, so they know what they're getting into. I just hate to be a burden to anyone, let alone such a kind family who I've just met. I'm guessing it's just my Western expectations that cause me to assume that the family would care about sharing a room or having a little less for dinner. It's probably just the contrast between the American and Indian ideas of basic comforts.

I showed my host family photos from home last night, since we had been talking about my family. They immediately noticed my tattoo and didn't say much about it, besides the dad sort of teasing me about going through pain to get something inked onto my skin. I do see his point. So I grabbed the photo album that I had mostly intended for my use, and whipped out pictures of my family on luxurious Lake Superior, followed by photos of our house. We don't live in a mansion, by American standards, but it's a house in suburban Minnesota... I think that sums it up decently. I don't know if it was my own awkwarness as the differences or if the family felt the same way. Nothing was said, and it's most likely that nothing like that was felt on their part. I just want them to know how grateful I am to be staying with them, and that I don't expect or even want something like where I live at home. Our advisor/professor from the US told me that often times people don't make comparisons the way Americans do. That's what I hope. If I can get my Western, rich-by-Indian-standards girl thoughts out of my head, I'll be on my way. But that might take some doing.

Love,
Sarah