Recently, a lot of web pages have been surfacing about what to do if you are beginning to fall out of love with the city you live in. And the truth is, they couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I remember seeing a graphic describing culture shock many years ago when I studied abroad in Martinique. There’s the initial spike of absolute love and fascination with the country and its culture, then a sharp drop where your mind overcorrects and you begin to resent the new place where you are living—eventually the love plateaus and the magic of the new place wears off, becoming the simple ups and downs of everyday life in any culture.
I remember thinking, “that’s ridiculous, it won’t happen to me.” And I also remember after about two weeks, beginning to resent many of the cultural differences between the United States and Martinique. Although I recall my time there fondly, and would love to return one day, I remember that when it was time for me to go home, I was ready to go home.
Throughout the year, this blog has been a place for me to share my honest impressions and reflections of my time here. In keeping this blog, I’ve discovered that I have opinions, thoughts, and things to say about issues that I had previously kept quiet. And I’ve shared them here, to an extremely supportive and positive readership. So if I’m going to be honest and share my opinion, the truth is—I’m ready to go home.
Ever since I got here, I’ve heard people repeat the same mantra: “Living in this country is hard.” But in the beginning of the year, I wasn’t living here—I was exploring, learning, playing, experiencing. After the High Holidays and a few wrong turns in my search for some paying work, I have fallen into a routine. Granted, it’s a flexible routine that can easily be changed, manipulated, or overturn, but it’s a routine none the less. And somewhere between waking up at the same time each day, and doing the same thing each day, I found myself with about two months left of this experience, exhausted, frustrated, and ready to go home.
There are days when I don’t feel like getting out of bed, or when I spend the whole day in my apartment, feeling sick. I’m frustrated with many aspects of living here—the expenses, the healthcare, the culture of the people around me, the fact that I don’t speak this language. I’m sick of the clothes I’ve brought with me, and I’m ready to get back home to the clothes I left in the States. I’ve hit a slump, and Jerusalem, for me, has lost its magic.
Does it mean that I’m wasting my time here, if I’m not doing something new and exciting every day? I don’t think so. Andy and I did a lot of exploring in the beginning of the year—and now we, and our wallets, are worn out. Jerusalem is no longer our playground; it’s our home. We’re here, yes, to grow, to learn, and to explore, but mostly, we’re here to live. And that’s what we’re doing. We’re comfortable in our surroundings and our experiences—instead of being new and exciting, much of Jerusalem is just like any other city I’ve lived in. A city I live in. And living here is hard.
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