I'm absolutely prone to occasionally (or quite often) thinking back fondly on home. I long for my mates. I long for my loved ones. Goodness knows I long for proper Mexican cuisine. I've discovered it's fairly straightforward to yearn for American food and culture given how alike it is to Australian culture. Please don't take offence at this remark and let me expand on it:
They're alike in that European colonists arrived, claimed the land from its indigenous inhabitants, and established it as their own. With people from every corner of the globe and a robust European heritage, there aren't a great many things that are uniquely Australian (much like there aren't a great many things that are uniquely American). Naturally, there are numerous distinctions between the United States and Australia. If you'd like to learn more about them, please click here or here. Yet at the end of the day, both are pretty substantial cultural melting pots.
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They're alike in that European colonists arrived, claimed the land from its indigenous inhabitants, and established it as their own. With people from every corner of the globe and a robust European heritage, there aren't a great many things that are uniquely Australian (much like there aren't a great many things that are uniquely American). Naturally, there are numerous distinctions between the United States and Australia. If you'd like to learn more about them, please click here or here. Yet at the end of the day, both are pretty substantial cultural melting pots.
I'd just come back home for a brief stay. When I stepped off the plane at LAX, well, actually it was SFO, I reckoned everything would be the same as when I'd departed. People in Australia often mention how American I still seem. What caught me off guard was returning to America and being told how Australian I'd turned out to be. Once I'd cleared the plane, I headed over to a bar, caught the bartender's eye, and said "g'day, how are you going?". The expression the bartender gave me was like the one you'd get from someone when they shout at you in a language you don't understand. To me, there didn't seem like much of a gap between "hey, how are you" and "hey, how are you going" because I'd let slip from my mind how peculiar this phrase sounds to Americans.
I reckoned my peculiar run-in with the pub worker would be my final brush with my Australian side poking through during my American stay. That wasn't how things panned out. Mates and family constantly ribbed me about my Australian accent. They kept saying I ought to bring an interpreter along since they couldn't make sense of what I was on about. Come on, is shortening words and basically tacking an -ie or an -o onto the end really that different from the way Americans have mangled the English language? I certainly didn't reckon so. My mates and family wanted me to drop the Aussie act and blend in more since I was in America. But here's where I was stuck—I was only going to be in America for a short while. Back home in Australia, I'd copped flak from mates and strangers for sounding too American. I head to America and then cop it for how Australian I sound. Though I didn't shift back to my American ways (because I was keen to dodge getting ribbed when I returned to Australia), when I made it back home to Australia, folks commented on how much more American I came across as. Yeah, I know I've got this weird hybrid American/Australian accent now. It doesn't make me odd. It makes me a bloody bicultural unicorn princess of brilliance.  |
| I'm quite partial to a nice visit to SF |
Yet the linguistic disparities weren't the sole reason I felt like an outsider in my native country. I also grappled with everyday matters such as which side of the road Australians drive on. I recall being frequently alarmed when I initially arrived in Australia and was riding in a vehicle. It never occurred to me that I'd return to America and experience the same alarm. Cultural nuances and social conventions were equally foreign to me. Folk seemed considerably less outgoing than those in Australia. My mates and relatives kept informing me that I shouldn't do (insert random action here) because it posed a threat. This genuinely perplexed me. Had America become that precarious in the 2+ years I'd been away? I'm still the kind of person who walks with keys clenched between my fingers from the station to my place even though I reside in an exceptionally secure area. I still regularly glance behind me whilst walking and avoid strolling after dark unless my fierce, protective canines accompany me. It was remarkably peculiar.
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| My fierce, protective pup at home |
I've recently found myself in an unusual in-between state: I still consider myself American, yet my home is now in Australia. I've made efforts to embrace the local culture, but I often feel caught between worlds—too foreign to return home comfortably, yet not quite Australian enough to fit in seamlessly. I anticipated some degree of cultural adjustment when relocating to Australia, but I hadn't anticipated experiencing similar disorientation during trips back to America. I'm certain I'm not the sole person who's gone through this.
For my fellow expatriates, have you encountered reverse culture shock on trips back to your homeland? We'd love to hear your stories in the comments section!
For my fellow expatriates, have you encountered reverse culture shock on trips back to your homeland? We'd love to hear your stories in the comments section!
Until next time...
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