The honeymoon phase of culture shock

On an ordinary spring day in Arlington, Virginia, we were plucked up like Pegman and dropped into the fairytale village of Wassenaar in the Netherlands. Here everything is green and the flowers are in bloom. The temperature is moderate and it’s bright out until ten o’clock at night. Two people pass down our street on horseback. Expansive beaches and countryside surround the town. Sand dunes give way to low key family-friendly beaches. Small forests open up to fields of wildflowers where picturesque cows, sheep and horses graze. Cygnets (baby swans) and ducklings have just hatched and trail their parents around the local ponds and canals. You can buy flour at the local windmill and fresh milk at the neighborhood farm. Biking is a primary way of life. And all this charm is experienced whilst shuttling our children on our “bakfiets” or cargo bike. This can't be reality.

In my pragmatism, I’m reminded of a one-sheeter I was given a few years ago at a training for new foreign service families about “The Stages of Culture Shock.” A diagram with a large curve filled the page (see Fig. 1). Stage one: The honeymoon phase. Following a severe downward plummet into the base of the curve that is stage two: uncertainty/doubt or culture shock. Sigh.

Fig. 1

Currently though, I’m basking in the glory of this beautiful time outdoors with my husband and our kids. I’m soaking in the highs of the honeymoon phase until phase two, which is most likely inevitable. Deep sigh.

I'm sure of its inevitability because, well, life isn’t a fairytale...but there is a woman in Wassenaar living in a cottage in the woods who sits outside and paints the wild flowers. You're welcome to bike past and watch her work.