Cycles and stages
Ah, this is going to be a personal growth entry; I can just feel it. It's so funny how 90% of the time over here, I feel great. I feel like (lack of Marathi skills aside), I've figured out how to live over here. I consider myself at least passably capable most of the time. But once in a while...
One of the girls in the program forwarded us an e-mail that one of her friends sent her. Her friend sent her a quote from Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, a European writer who married an Indian man and lived here for a while.
"India reacts very strongly on people. Some loathe it, some love it, most do both. There is a special problem of adjustment for the sort of people who come today, who tend to be liberal in outlook and have been educated tobe sensitive and receptive to other cultures. But it is not always easy to be sensitive and receptive to India: there comes a point where you have to close up in order to protect yourself. The place is very strong and often proves too strong for European nerves. There is a cycle that Europeans--and by Europeans I mean all Westerners, including Americans--tend to pass through. It goes like this: first stage, tremendous enthusiasm--everything Indian is marvelous; second stage, everything Indian not so marvelous; third stage, everything Indian abominable. For some people it ends there, for others the cycle renews itself and goes on. I have been through it so many times that now I think of myself as strapped to a wheel that goes round and round and sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down."
I think I understand. No... I know I do. In the past six weeks I've seen people who I consider to be incredibly strong just break down. It sounds dramatic, but there's not really any other word for it. Part of it's probably the infamous culture shock, chasing us down on the street and tackling us with its ethnocentric claws. But that's not the worst, since that's something you can identify and deal with. The other part is the way we berate ourselves for not handling things better. I was just talking with one of my close friends on this trip, an incredible woman with a good deal of life experience and an open mind. She has done an unbelievable job of dealing with life over here, dodging the crankiness and weepiness that hits most of us about bi-weekly. But today, she just couldn't do it. College students (in my mind, ACM students especially) are so used to handling everything that life throws in our direction that when a curve ball hits us smack in the face, we're not really sure what to do. Do we get all introspective and write an insightful journal entry? Do we turn our helplessness into a metaphor-laden poem in iambic pentameter? Do we order a double-venti mocha and converse intellectually with a friend about our experience? Well, I've tried all of that, and it doesn't do a thing. Sometimes you just need to cry.
I had one of those moments the other day, actually. (Isn't this a touchy-feely, emotional blog? No objective travel journal for this girl). Anyway, I wrote an e-mail about it to a close friend, describing it something like this:
"I usually have my stuff together, either because that's just how I am or I feel like I have people relying on me. Either way, it usually takes something fairly significant to wear me down. The few times I've gotten upset here were brought on by tangible, shocking things. This was different, since nothing was really wrong. I was just... tired, I guess. Not just sleepy tired, but emotionally spent. I've been doing so well, but I get worn down. The hardest thing is feeling like certain things over here are just plain WRONG and then yelling at myself for being culturally intolerant. But women are oppressed here. Stray dogs roam the streets and get hit by cars who won't even slow down as the drivers see them cross in their path. It's hard, since even though I know these things also exist in America, I don't see them. It's ignorance on my part, sure, but it helps me sleep easier.
"I came to India to experience these things, knowing that it wouldn't be a walk in a park, or even in a monsoon. I knew that I'd lie awake, both from thinking about what I'd seen and also from those damned rickshaws honking at my window at two in the morning. But that's the point, really. That's why I'm here and not in Chicago or even in London. It's a growth experience, and I need it. I just get reminded once in a while that it's not going to be easy."
There you have it. I'm strapped to Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's wheel, with each India-happiness cycle growing longer and longer. I'm growing used to some things, so the "India is awful" stages are shorter and further between. If that pattern continues, I'll be totally adjusted to life here in about... oh, right around the time I leave. But hey, in the mean time, life is definitely interesting.
Love,
Sarah!
iPod: "Blue Monday," Orgy
One of the girls in the program forwarded us an e-mail that one of her friends sent her. Her friend sent her a quote from Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, a European writer who married an Indian man and lived here for a while.
"India reacts very strongly on people. Some loathe it, some love it, most do both. There is a special problem of adjustment for the sort of people who come today, who tend to be liberal in outlook and have been educated tobe sensitive and receptive to other cultures. But it is not always easy to be sensitive and receptive to India: there comes a point where you have to close up in order to protect yourself. The place is very strong and often proves too strong for European nerves. There is a cycle that Europeans--and by Europeans I mean all Westerners, including Americans--tend to pass through. It goes like this: first stage, tremendous enthusiasm--everything Indian is marvelous; second stage, everything Indian not so marvelous; third stage, everything Indian abominable. For some people it ends there, for others the cycle renews itself and goes on. I have been through it so many times that now I think of myself as strapped to a wheel that goes round and round and sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down."
I think I understand. No... I know I do. In the past six weeks I've seen people who I consider to be incredibly strong just break down. It sounds dramatic, but there's not really any other word for it. Part of it's probably the infamous culture shock, chasing us down on the street and tackling us with its ethnocentric claws. But that's not the worst, since that's something you can identify and deal with. The other part is the way we berate ourselves for not handling things better. I was just talking with one of my close friends on this trip, an incredible woman with a good deal of life experience and an open mind. She has done an unbelievable job of dealing with life over here, dodging the crankiness and weepiness that hits most of us about bi-weekly. But today, she just couldn't do it. College students (in my mind, ACM students especially) are so used to handling everything that life throws in our direction that when a curve ball hits us smack in the face, we're not really sure what to do. Do we get all introspective and write an insightful journal entry? Do we turn our helplessness into a metaphor-laden poem in iambic pentameter? Do we order a double-venti mocha and converse intellectually with a friend about our experience? Well, I've tried all of that, and it doesn't do a thing. Sometimes you just need to cry.
I had one of those moments the other day, actually. (Isn't this a touchy-feely, emotional blog? No objective travel journal for this girl). Anyway, I wrote an e-mail about it to a close friend, describing it something like this:
"I usually have my stuff together, either because that's just how I am or I feel like I have people relying on me. Either way, it usually takes something fairly significant to wear me down. The few times I've gotten upset here were brought on by tangible, shocking things. This was different, since nothing was really wrong. I was just... tired, I guess. Not just sleepy tired, but emotionally spent. I've been doing so well, but I get worn down. The hardest thing is feeling like certain things over here are just plain WRONG and then yelling at myself for being culturally intolerant. But women are oppressed here. Stray dogs roam the streets and get hit by cars who won't even slow down as the drivers see them cross in their path. It's hard, since even though I know these things also exist in America, I don't see them. It's ignorance on my part, sure, but it helps me sleep easier.
"I came to India to experience these things, knowing that it wouldn't be a walk in a park, or even in a monsoon. I knew that I'd lie awake, both from thinking about what I'd seen and also from those damned rickshaws honking at my window at two in the morning. But that's the point, really. That's why I'm here and not in Chicago or even in London. It's a growth experience, and I need it. I just get reminded once in a while that it's not going to be easy."
There you have it. I'm strapped to Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's wheel, with each India-happiness cycle growing longer and longer. I'm growing used to some things, so the "India is awful" stages are shorter and further between. If that pattern continues, I'll be totally adjusted to life here in about... oh, right around the time I leave. But hey, in the mean time, life is definitely interesting.
Love,
Sarah!
iPod: "Blue Monday," Orgy
posted by Sarah! at 3:04 AM
2 Comments:
I have definitely seen those stages in you; the quote describes it to the T. Hoepfully the last stage is always shorter than the other two. Keep it up. I'm not sure I could do it.
Hang in there, Sarah. You will clearly arrive home a different person than when you left. What I wonder if]s if the stages are repetitive- It seems like it woudl be rather easyto go thru the 3 stages, over and over again... where are you today? love, M
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