Reverse culture shock: Observations on being back in Sydney

After a year of travelling through Latin America – since I came home (a month ago) – I’ve been experiencing this surreal kind of reverse culture shock.

I’m still saying, “Como?” instead of, “What?”’  I nearly drove down the wrong side of the road yesterday. I’m putting far too much salt & hot sauce on everything. And it’s like I’m seeing things for the first time.

Flying in over Sydney I was struck by what a beautiful city she is… the Opera House, a pearly jewel in an emerald harbour. I did do a little ‘I get to live here!’ dance in my seat.

It made me happy to think my folks & Scott would be waiting for me at Arrivals. I was salivating at the thought of yum cha. I wanted to see what the swell was doing at Bondi. And I was dying to cuddle 5 new babies & catch-up with old friends in the flesh.

Sydney is so clean, safe and quiet. No ravaged bags of garbage piling up in the gutter. No hazardous holes in the footpath for me to fall into. No colossal sound-systems in the shops.

We have so much personal space over here. Colombia fits more than double of our population into 5% of the space. I reckon we could squeeze a few more folks in, no worries.

More room to move might be one reason that we’re a lot less pushy & shovey. But I do think we could take a leaf out of their book and actually listen when we ask, “howzit goin’?”

We’re so busy being busy – we’re getting lazy. We’d rather text than talk. We don’t RSVP to invitations. We drive to the gym. We use electric pepper grinders, for crying out loud.

We’re obscenely wasteful. Latinos live by the ‘waste not, want not’ philosophy. They can’t afford to chuck perfectly good shit out. They fix it, refurbish it, reuse it or turn it into art.

I was utterly inspired by the creativity I came across. All the cafes, bars and homes I visited, reflected the unique personality of the people who occupied the places.

We need to stop looking to stylists of magazines & chain stores as the source of our inspiration. We need to tap into our own creative juices.

Think more like my friend’s 3-year old, who likes match fairy wings with bunny ears and oversize blue sunnies with knitted scarves. Just for a regular day out, like. Bless her stripey tights.

Don’t think you’re creative? Doesn’t matter. Whatever you like & throw together will be a true expression of you. I want to see you in your home – not the Head of Homogeneous at Ikea.

I am going to buy more 2nd-hand stuff. It just makes sense. Especially cost-wise. Can someone please tell me – when did paying $38 for a few pies & drinks become the norm?

It’s not all bad. There’s a lot of things I love about being home. Our public transport is roomy, clean and timely (you are allowed to remind me of this, next time I Bitch-Tweet about ShittyRail).

I feel extremely fortunate that I can drink water from the tap, have a hot shower and have access to a toilet. Did you know that nearly one billion people (1 in every 8) lack access to clean water? More people in the world own a mobile phone than have access to a toilet.*

I love how multicultural Sydney is. I’ve been spending a bit of time out at my parents’ place: If you took a cross-section of the world and stuck them all into one place – you’d have Fairfield. It’s like travelling without going anywhere. I love it! And it smells so good.

I’ve put on so much weight since coming home. French cheese. Swiss chocolate. German bread. What do I feel like eating tonight? Korean, Nepalese, Turkish, Brazilian? So many choices!

But best of all is having really good friends, to share those meals with. I have said about travelling that ‘people make a place’. And that is definitely true of anywhere you go in the world – but especially about being home.

 

*Source: http://water.org/
Image  borrowed from http://www.shambhalacards.com.au