vulture shock – n. the nagging sense that no matter how many days you spend in a foreign country, you never quite manage to step foot in it – instead floating high above the culture like a diver over a reef, too dazzled by its exotic quirks to notice its problems and complexities and banalities, while drawing from the heavy tank of assumptions that you carry on your back wherever you go.
I guess not technically a word, but two. However, as someone that has enjoyed and loves traveling, this hits home.
My wife and I have made it a point to visit other countries, aiming to see a new one each year. In the last five years, despite the pandemic, we managed 11 countries outside the US, perhaps 5 new ones.
As we travel, we’ve tried not to do too many tourist things. We do a few, but we’ve enjoyed renting an AirBnb in a neighborhood and living for a week like we might if we resided there. It’s been neat to walk around, to shop in groceries, to experience life in small, quiet sections of cities and towns.
At the same time, I often feel foreign. I’ve grown up as an American for most of my life, and its culture is very ingrained in me. My habits, my languages, my preferences, my food, it’s very colored by my US upbringing. While I do try to experiment and try new things, everything I do is compared against my American-centric thoughts.
An example. In Seattle recently, we went to a Filipino diner for breakfast, where I had Sinangag and Longganisa with eggs. I enjoyed it, and I need to make some, but it was strange not to have a more American breakfast, to not have something sweet, to not have a more salty sausage. I was in the culture, but not in it.
I’ve felt the same thing in Greece, in France, in Portugal, in India, and other places. Even i the UK I feel somewhat immersed in and outside of the culture. Floating above it like a diver over a reef.
From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
