Culture Shock?

I recently had a thought about my lack of reverse culture shock and my return from Mali in general. As I've been catching up with old friends and professors, I've been surprised with how unreal and foreign my experience sounds when I retell the story. It's almost like I didn't even go to Mali. Weird. Maybe it's because it was such a complex and deep experience that I can't sum it up in just a few sentences. Or more likely, it was just a completely different world that there is nothing here in my life in Ann Arbor that reminds me of Mali. No language, no food, no smells, no wandering goats, no music, no hot sun, no people, nothing. And so it becomes hard for me to be nostalgic for something if I'm never reminded of it's existence. That scares me a little bit because it seems like my experience exists solely in Mali, that I didn't changed my life enough to bring it back with me. Or maybe I have, you tell me.


On a lighter note, I'm watching the State of the Union address with my friend Karen. Our drinking game is to take a swig of beer every time she freaks out and stands up to yell at the TV. I think we're going to go through the six-pack before it's over.

I think all the clapping and standing up is ridiculous. I get tired just looking at it.

Favorite Karen quotes: “Stop it! Stop lying to the American people!”
“The HOLY LAND? Who ARE you? Where is the separation of Church and State in this speech?!”

I love Karen. (applause)