Culture shock?

Apparently there are people out there who never get culture shock. Unfortunately, I am not one of them. And really, I don't  know how people operate who say they never get it. It seems like the most logical thing: a couple months in, you realize that you've lost your past life, you've become sore with the constant abrasion between the cultural norms you are routinely operating on and the ones you're confronted with, and you've run out of steam, because in spite of all the energy and effort spent trying to get settled, you are not (yet).

I had culture shock (or re-entry shock, but that's really the same cake with a slightly different frosting on it) after every move overseas, and in retrospect, I know that after my first move away from home, from Admont to Vienna, I had it, too. When I arrived in Seattle, I was warned and prepared by the nice people from the University of Washington's "Foundation for International Understanding through Students". Culture shock arrived, I dealt with it by seeking out stores that sold German/Austrian food, my mom sent me Austrian newspapers and a few of her watercolors (which made me cry like a baby), I was missing home, but I wouldn't actually have wanted to go there, because I loved Seattle. I waited it out, felt good again after a month or two, and went back to Austria a few months after that. Where, after another couple months, I had re-entry shock, which sucked. It's one thing feeling disoriented in a new culture, it's another to feel at odds with your home country. But there it was. I went to Starbucks a whole lot, dressed like an American college student, and listened to KEXP online. I waited it out and things were good again. I went to Tucson a couple years later, in July of 2007. I went through a pretty rough time the following January, and it took a little while to come to grips with Tucson, but eventually I settled into years of normal life, with all its ups and downs. Big ups and downs, mind you, but part of normal life. Actually, I just realized that the only place I lived in continuously for longer than in Tucson is Admont.

So, "going home again" this time, I was dreading getting hit by culture shock in a cold, dark winter, with no Steve around to cheer me up. I tried to heed some people's advice to not expect it too much, to avoid a self-fulfilling prophecy. But I still prepared: before I left Tucson, I made sure I had a supply of ground dried chiles from Native Seeds, I moved my 1702 pint glass as a high priority item, and I bought those cowboy boots at "How Sweet it Was" on 4th avenue not just to show off.  As with the last return to Vienna, I am amazed at how easy it is to get re-oriented here, shopping inconvenience and orchestra heartache notwithstanding. Just last week, I was swayed into contemplating that maybe, this time, I am getting away with it, that maybe, I have become a cosmopolitan who can just move and feel at home anywhere on the planet. Or, failing that, someone who has gotten sufficiently familiar with the cultural differences between the Western US and Austria to be able to move specifically between those two places without too many issues. Or that maybe I've grown out of it, now that I am on the other side of 30.

But now I am not so sure anymore that I am getting away with anything. Since a couple of days, I feel sore and sad, my energy is low and there's also a dash of negative outlook in the emotional mix. I am a little fed up with yet again trying to get a foothold in this city that's obsessed with the past and happens to also be full of my personal past. All I want to do right now is go back to Tucson to hang out and play a boardgame with my old friends, ride my old bike, talk to my old boss, stop in for a chat with Dr. B, go to Trader Joe's to buy my food, go to SASO rehearsal and have some ridiculously intense stout at 1702 afterwards, dig through a thrift store for dirt-cheap black concert shoes (there's no such thing as cheap shoes in this country), and plan a camping trip with Steve somewhere in the desert for the weekend. I want to get back to what I have known to be business as usual in the last few years. The "dash of negative outlook" comes from the fact that I know I won't be able to do just that ever again - because even if I went back to Tucson as soon as possible (even under most conducive circumstances, that could not happen until years from now), it would not be the same thing anymore, it would be another new life to get used to. There are also some irrational things that are puzzling to me even while they happen. Ridiculous small things can make me cry. Life seems bad even though everything is going well. It suddenly becomes important for me to drink my beer from the 1702 glass, my cowboy boots somehow make my walk through the day a little easier, and the chicken fajitas I cooked using some of the ground chile from Native Seeds mean a little more than "finally some spicy food". All of it sounds suspiciously like culture shock. It seems a little early to me, though, it's only been 6 weeks. Maybe I am just in a bad mood because many Viennese routinely are, but I would absolutely hate to think that it's that contagious. Perhaps I can parse how much of this is darkness-related by getting my hands on some vitamin D supplement…