Despite my already having previously been in Kurdistan for 6 months, it seems as if I am again struggling with some initial frustrations. At this point it would be false nomenclature to call it culture “shock,” but there are certainly abject feelings to deal with. Even if you know what to expect, when and how it is coming, sometimes it still manages to add to a state of melancholy. Perhaps I am just having a bad day, but there is no doubt that this is stemming from being in the US, where I am entirely comfortable, and coming back to a place with cultures and traditions I may never completely understand.
To say that I am free-spirited would be an understatement. I take great pride in perpetually trying to do whatever I want whenever I want. Clearly, it has gotten me into trouble sometimes and led to some foolhardy decisions, but overall I have crafted a life that suits me. I thrive in situations of great freedom, whether personal or professional, and steer clear from those who try to impinge upon my laissez-faire lifestyle. However, in some situations, like being in another country, there are nuances you cannot control.
A micromanaging boss can be found anywhere, but a micromanaging boss 6,000 miles from home in a place where other cultural constraints are placed upon you is compounded. Even having to deal with this situation made me slightly peevish after today’s meeting. Things would be better if I had a companion here to spend time with, vent to, or get to know on a personal level. However, even trying to have that relationship with a female is all but impossible. Girls cannot really be seen in public alone with guys or, “people will talk about them.” Social constraints create a situation where the nascent stages of any relationship are forced into secrecy or suppressed entirely. There are two ends of the spectrum: marriage, and nothing. There is no middle.
Clearly, I have been dealing with this for months now, but not even being free to talk to those of the opposite sex without worry is frustrating to say the least. Granted, these are not life or death situations by any means; but coming from home back to here is certainly more difficult when the comparison of the two is still fresh in your mind. So, after eating some delicious shawarma I decided to go to the liquor store. Then, my friend who I rode with told me that, on principle, he could not give me a ride home if I had alcohol in the car. Although odd since he isn’t drinking or even touching it, I said whatever and tried to get a taxi. The first taxi I get hears the clank of my beer bottles, sternly says some things in Kurdish, and motions for me to get out of the cab. Now I really want to drink.
None of these situations are even that big of a deal, but I have only been back for a few days and it will, evidently, take some additional time to re-adjust. For now, a Budweiser and “Anchorman” will have to do. As much as I think America can improve in sooooooo many ways, there’s still no place like home.
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