On culture shock and the internal life of a student outside the United States
Of the myriad cultural differences that exist between Boston and Sevilla, the one that stands head and shoulders above the rest is the pace of life. Many Bostonians exist in a state of constant stress; we rise at the crack of dawn to chug a coffee and begin our daily drudgery of checking tasks off the to-do list. For us, the only thing more stressful than stressing about our efficiency is facing any obstacle to perpetual productivity. By contrast, sevillanos rise later, indulge in the notorious mid-afternoon break known as siesta, and congregate late into the night around bottles of wine. When I first moved to Sevilla, the drop in urgency to get work done certainly made me happier, but it also took its toll on my productivity and well-being. While it was difficult to maintain a rigid American schedule (one that included classes, activities, and homework) in the midst of such a relaxed culture, it was easy to fall behind on rest. At times of the day when most ciudadanos could catch up on the sleep lost to their late nights, we had to remain alert for tours or homework. It was a bit easier to maintain some academic and professional motivation in Barcelona, where most citizens do not partake in siesta – or if they do participate, they do so for half an hour at most.
The bottom line? Especially in programs designed to immerse students completely in a different language and lifestyle, personal desires and actions can be largely swayed by the norms of a new culture. It may be difficult, but it is important to strike the perfect balance that maximizes the immersion experience without sacrificing personal well-being or the quality of one’s work.
On the subject of culture shock, here are some brief excerpts from my inner monologues during my own personal journey through the four phases (honeymoon, negotiation, adjustment, and mastery) as they relate to my time in Sevilla:
Honeymoon: “I’m in love with this city, and I’m getting so much conversational practice that I bet my Spanish will be perfect by the time we leave. After I graduate from Northeastern, I want to practice here as a bilingual speech pathologist – or, I’ll just work wherever they’ll hire me because I want to stay forever.” Cue the aggressive googling, which included queries such as “requirements to teach ESL in Spain” and “speech pathologist jobs in Spain.”
Negotiation: This stage set in around the beginning of the second week, when I fell ill with a cold and faced the challenge of obtaining the appropriate medication from a Spanish farmacia: “Why don’t I know the Spanish word for cold? Is NyQuil a universal drug? Why is this pharmacist looking at me like I have three heads?”
Negative self-talk was a prominent feature of this phase: “If you’re struggling to buy medicine in Spanish, what makes you think someone would hire you on for a full-time job?” Ouch – this stage is a brutal one.
Adjustment: For me, this stage involved adjusting my expectations of myself alongside my expectations of the culture: “A month probably isn’t enough time to become fluent, but my listening and speaking skills have improved greatly during this trip. Maybe I can return for a year after graduation to truly master the Spanish language.”
Mastery: “I like my coffee cortado, but sometimes I just want a big American breakfast. I can get on board with the idea of siesta, but I also like being in bed by midnight because I feel better the next day. I like things about both cultures, and that is perfectly okay.”
