Living cross-culturally part 1.

Emily and I arrived in France 767 days ago. Be sure to check out my photo-a-day blog. Living in France has been an incredible experience, one that has eternally changed me. It has been one of the most transformative choices we have made. It has been one of the most challenging choices we have made. I have learned so much from our time here, working with truly incredible people, and living in this wonderful place. And the bread here has ruined me for bread outside of France.

Our experience has been exactly what many other missionaries living in Europe had told us: living cross-culturally is extremely hard and you never get over culture-stress. Culture shock is the sense of confusion and frustration that engulfs someone when the "honeymoon” period of living in a new place fades. It is the utter disbelief at how another culture could function so differently from your home culture. Why can't people form a line to wait for the bus or the cashier? How is it possible in Grenoble, a metropolitan area of 500,000 people, for only one branch of our bank to accept cash deposits? The branch on campus opened our bank accounts, sold us renter's insurance, gave us our debit cards, PINs, and chequebooks, but the teller (not the atm) could not accept the 20€ I wanted to deposit for activating my new account. Instead, I had to go to the main branch in downtown to deposit cash. Thankfully, culture shock does pass; it takes time and perseverance, but it does not last forever. 

Culture stress is the fact that I am a Californian living in Grenoble, the fact that I am the stranger in a foreign land. Anytime there is a misunderstanding or conflict, it is the French culture which wins. I understand that it would be ridiculous of me to expect the French people around me to conform to my American ways. But it is hard that every day, with every misstep, I am the one who is wrong. It can be upsetting when, on top of the normal stresses of life, a cultural mishap thwarts your plans and leaves you feeling ridiculed for your cultural ineptitude. Someone is rude toward you and it's your fault for creating the awkward opportunity for them to be rude. It is not about logic or reason, it comes down to the fact that I am not at home here and everyone knows it the moment I open my mouth. Culture stress is described as a low-grade fever you never get over, and I must confess that after 767 days that is how it feels. I know that in time, perhaps on the order of years or decades, this fades away. 

One of the fruits of living here in France is the humbling process of culture stress. Being the person who does not know the culture, the language, or the customs puts you in a very dependent position. I need others to help me if only to verify that what I said in French actually makes sense. Being the outsider wears on you over time. The choices become either never leave your house, leave France, or humble yourself to your host culture. Humility is a hard concept to learn, I am very much still in progress, but living as a stranger in France has helped me along in this process. It has also made me extremely appreciative of the rare person who is kind and understanding toward me; who is patient with my less than perfect French skills, and who puts in extra effort to help me navigate life here. When we return to California, I want to find every opportunity to be like these gracious people and help others who are strangers and outsiders.