I was supposed to leave for England later this month in order to begin a year abroad at St. Peter’s College, Oxford. Yes, I was mere weeks away from gowns, tea, cake, cloudy weather and all of the other attendant debauchery of the U.K. experience when I made my decision to cast it all aside in favor of other pursuits, the first of which is a few weeks abroad at a little place called my parents’ house in Denver.
I have been here for only a few short days, and although it is a little bit strange and different than my cozy Georgetown environs, I feel confident that I will be able to adapt fully and make the most of my time away from Georgetown.
I have, for starters, decided to make the short-term sacrifice of foregoing “off-site housing” in favor of a full-on homestay. Although this selection imposes some limitations on my freedoms, and obligates me to be at home for one meal a day, it seems that the overall benefit of being truly immersed in my host culture, absorbing the language and rhythm of daily life in this alien environment will be an enriching experience. Aside from a few little hiccups, such as being forced by my host “mother” to take out the garbage and feed the dog, my transition into the household has occurred almost effortlessly. I have my own room and bed, which feels eerily familiar and cozy, have taken a comfortably ambivalent stance towards my host “brother” (I have already gotten into the habit of taking his CDs and making him drive me around town) and I help cook meals several times a week. I have already learned how to make local cuisine such as spaghetti, Rice-a-Roni and grilled burgers and hope to expand my culinary reach in order to further incorporate the regional cuisine into my life at Georgetown. I have also introduced my “family” to some personal favorites of mine, including tofu, miso, bibimbap and Jamba Juice. Although they are (sometimes grudgingly) taking to my nutritional regime, I feel that they are not yet ready for the Chicken Madness.
Since my host family spends most of the day at work and school, I have been left to my own devices in my quest to integrate into local culture. I think that I have done well for myself thus far, and have already become quite adept at local forms of recreation, such as DVD-watching, cruising on Federal Street and smoking-up in the parking lot of the nearby 7-Eleven. I have also made friends quickly, particularly with the area youth, who feel that the lack of compunction I feel buying them cigarettes and other age-prohibitive products is “bitchin’.”
I plan to spend this weekend with my host family, who assure me that they will give me a real sense of their culture. Planned stops include a visit to both Super Target and Costco warehouse, the Cherry Creek mall, the Wadsworth Street Blockbuster and, with any luck, a stop over at a friend’s barbeque for conversation and unbridled alcohol consumption (a traditional favorite, I am told).
Despite the overwhelmingly positive atmosphere in which I find myself, I must admit that I am experiencing a fair deal of culture shock. After all, I am geographically, culturally and (sadly) often linguistically removed from my life at Georgetown?a jarring experience to say the least. The lack of coursework, deadlines, cramped, dorm-style living and perpetual feeling of crushing anxiety is disorienting to say the least. The lack of both Wisemiller’s and Booey’s has been a difficult reality to come to terms with as well. Perhaps most disturbing is the informal approach many people in the Denver area take to dressing themselves. Indeed, I have seen precious few people garbed in either Prada or Dolce and Gabbana products, particularly in the early hours of the morning or outside of a nightclub setting (a painful and unsettling reality check). The memory of oversized, colored aviator sunglasses generally forces me over the edge into teary-eyed reminiscence of those halcyon days of my first and sophomore year.
I keep telling myself that it is just for a few more weeks, and that soon enough, I will be thrust back into my angst-ridden, materially-centered urbane existence with all the comforts of late-night study sessions, Village B parties and sweet, sweet keg beer.
In the meantime, I plan to make the most of my time away, and am confident that the support of other American students in the area and lifelines of continuity such as Survivor reruns and Mystikal CDs will bring me through, more enriched and with many new perspectives on myself and life in D.C.
Ian Bourland is a junior in the School of Foreign Service and an associate editor of The Georgetown Voice. Like a fine wine, he improves with age.
