Culture Shock in Reverse

Cultural Shock

Nancy and I have been home almost three weeks now. I’ve found employment and Nancy has begun a serious search for same. We’ve been welcomed home by friends and acquaintances and we’ve been busy putting house, home and farm back to our comfort level. Yet, there really is a culture shock, and in many ways it’s worse than the cultural differences of our first few weeks in Romania.

The reason for this, I think, is that when going overseas we expected things to be unusual and we were prepared to be surprised. In truth, we were amazed to find so many things so similar to the United States, but upon returning home, what is unsettling is that after 27 months away we had become used to a different lifestyle. The lifestyle we had gotten used to was less concerned with ‘stuff’ and more concerned with transportation, food and language.

For example, the other day I opened the silverware drawer and looked at all the forks. There must have been twenty-four forks. In Cluj we had started with two, then splurged and gotten a total of six. On those few occasions when more than four guests came to dinner, some were told to bring their own silverware and plates.

Soon after arriving home we started a big pile of yard sale material of the extra stuff we found we have no need for. We’ll donate it to our church or a community group looking to raise funds. Some one once told me if you haven’t used it in seven years you won’t ever use it. Well, as it’s been 2 ½ years since we’ve used most anything, and we have closets and a basement full of a life’s accumulation, that means it will be a pretty large yard sale consignment we’ll offer.

Not sure about the seven-year rule, though, as I was glad that 16 years ago our house builder put the left over roof shingles under the porch. We had a bad electric and windstorm last week and lost a few shingles from the roof, and now I’ve dug out their replacements. So seven years might not be the magic number but anything older than 16 years and still unused in that time definitely goes.

The farm is getting back into shape. The pastures look emerald green from the August rains that we’ve had. The aforementioned windstorm knocked a few trees and large branches down that I’ve been cleaning and cutting up for this winter’s wood supply. Thrilling Date, aka Momma, is still out on the pasture. She’s over 30 now, which is very old for a horse, thin and with a melancholy look, but she’s always had that look. She still jogs around with her field mate, Sparky, her youngest daughter. They’ve got 15 hectares of open grass all too themselves. I’ll attach a picture of the farm as it was before we left so you have an idea of our farm.

We are down to about a half-hectare of grapes. The fruit looks good this year, Chardonnel and Traminette varieties with perhaps three weeks to go before harvest. Brother Joe had been taking care of the vines in my absence and, time permitting, we’ll work together to rehab and renew that portion of vineyard where most of the vines are still growing. Perhaps we’ll add raspberries to go along with the grapes for next year.

I hope to continue this blog, perhaps with a different feel as the original purpose of letting friends know of our experience overseas changes to expressing opinions and observations of a life on a small farm in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. Maybe I should rename this blog “A Country Journal”, but we’ll wait on that until after the yard sale.