The Four Stages of Culture Shock

         And so it begins...           

         It’s been approximately two weeks since I was shuffled through the tiny airport in Helena, Montana, unsure of what to expect from the world for the next four and a half months. For having never ventured beyond the western United States, I was surprisingly calm, almost indifferent to the fact that I was headed to the other side of the world. The few concerns that did tumble through my consciousness largely revolved around my navigation of the airports. 

          “Am I on the right plane?”

          A lot has happened since my arrival in Tbilisi and it feels as though I have been in Georgia for much longer. Speaking with my fellow volunteers has revealed that many of them feel the same way. We’re all in the same storm-tossed ship that, for me at least, feels as if it is about to sink. As a result, my thoughts have been revolving around the four stages of culture shock that we learned about during our week-long orientation. Naturally, they are multi-faceted  and vary depending on the traveler in question. In a nutshell the 4 stages are:

          1. The Honeymoon. Everything encountered in the host culture is shiny-new. This state of unfamiliarity breeds either excitement or fear in the traveler. 

          

          2. Rejection. Everything is still strange and unfamiliar, even backwards. The traveler begins to long for home. This stage can lead to a sense of superiority over the host country.

          

          3. Acceptance. The traveler has reached a good level of understanding of their host culture and has accepted the way things work.

         

          4. Acclimation. The traveler begins to unconsciously adopt aspects of the host culture and may even experience culture shock upon their return to their home country. 

I can’t personally testify to stages three and four as I am firmly lodged in stage two at this point in my adventure. However, I’m more than happy to reflect on my experiences thus far.

          During our training, it sounded to me as if the traveler only experienced fear or excitement while in the first stage and nothing in between. If I had to choose one of those extremes to describe my feelings that first week in Georgia I would say... fear. I can’t say that I lived in a constant state of paranoia during my movement through the first stage, by any means. I also can’t say that there weren’t moments when I was excited; that would be an over-generalization. I found myself feeling mostly indifferent, as if I hadn’t yet realized that I was in a new country. Everything felt and sounded like I was being pulled through water. I wasn’t fighting the current but neither was I doing anything to move myself in any one direction. The times that I did surface, it was fear that overtook me, more often than the alternative. 

         The first time I remember feeling afraid was upon my arrival at the Tbilisi airport. I had just retrieved my luggage and stepped beyond the gate. I was expecting representatives from Teach and Learn with Georgia to be waiting for me; I did not expect said “representatives” to consist of one man holding a tiny sign with my name on it, the TLG logo in the corner. I followed him outside and he loaded my luggage into his car. All I could think about were the comments that more than one of my well-meaning friends had made before I left Montana; something about being sold into sex slavery... With a short, internal pep talk and admirable courage (if I do say so myself) I climbed into the front seat of his car. What followed was my first encounter with Georgian drivers but I’ll save that story for another time...

          Of course, I was only being paranoid and everything was fine. He spoke a little English and a few minutes into the drive to the hotel my head slipped back underwater. He was very helpful, even checking me into the Bazaleti Palace Hotel and showing me where my room was. Orientation also went very well; I was excited to find out where I would be teaching (Ozurgeti) and eager to explore Tbilisi with my colleagues. I especially enjoyed arguing over the cost with cab drivers and learning the Georgian phrases I needed to successfully convey my distaste for their attempts to cheat the foreigners.

         “Ra ambavia?” 

This time was peppered with moments of fear,

        “Why are they staring at me?”

Mostly, I felt as if I was just along for the ride, content to follow my impulses and allow Tbilisi to wash over me.

         The second stage of culture shock began to stir when I left Tbilisi. I was bound for Ozurgeti and my host family. Approximately 24 hours later, the beast had fully awakened and I was firmly rooted in stage two. 

         Being in the middle of it, it’s hard for me to reflect on stage two without bias. I will be able to speak with more honesty once the second stage is behind me but, for now, I will say that I miss Western toilets.