Monday, 21 December 2020

Culture Shock

In 1982, when Diane and I decided to move to British-Columbia from our small rural village of Papineauville, Quebec, we assumed that we could make the transition easily. BC and Quebec are in the same country after all. Little did we know that the culture shock would be as jarring as if we had moved to China. Had we gone to a foreign country, we would have at least expected radical differences and have been psychologically prepared for them.

We both spoke English well (even though I did drop the occasional "h" and words like "heart" sounded like "art" to my anglophone friends!) and communication should not have been an issue. What we did not expect however and what especially confounded us was that we encountered a very different way of relating to each other than the one we had come to expect in our previous environment. Describing this difference in abstract ways would be difficult. I will therefore provide some concrete examples instead.

In Papineauville, our doors were never locked. This was not only because we never felt threatened by potential thieves or intruders, it was also a state of mind, an openness to let others enter not only into our living space, but into our lives. We had friends dropping in unannounced (and the odd stranger who needed a meal or a place to stay) on a regular basis. Diane would always cook more than was needed for our family. It was not unusual for someone to drop in in the evening and we would ask them if they had eaten and serve them a meal if they had not. We would sit down with them and chat, sometimes for several hours. They became part of the family for the time of their stay with us.

The people we met in Kelowna were truly kind to us and they were very good people. We are grateful for all that they did to make us feel welcome in their community. However, we initially felt a certain distance between us and them, a separateness that was strange to us. We were used to tighter community links and what we saw was a greater focus on individuality. 

One incidence stands out in my mind as a perfect illustration of this difference. It was the first time we had been invited for supper at the house of a couple who attended the same church we did. Other couples had also been invited. Diane and I were delighted and eager to meet them. When we arrived, we discovered that the supper was a “potluck” supper, a concept we had never heard of before. We had brought nothing. The invitation must have specified that it was a “potluck”, but that word had no meaning for me and never registered in my mind. It was, to say the least, very embarrassing! But I must confess that I also felt a bit scandalized by the very notion of bringing ones own dish. For us, a meal was meant to bring people together, not to amplify the differences by having individuals preparing widely different dishes. It was also a symbol of hospitality joyfully offered by the hosts and received by the guests.

We have since grown used to potlucks and enjoy them. It is now a widespread practice here as well as in the West. I have come to see the rich symbolism behind the sharing of diversity that it exemplifies and would not knock the practice for anything in the world. I only provide this as an example of the cultural adaptation our move to BC required of us. There were many other such examples. The very fabric of relationships in Kelowna was different than the one we knew. It was not bad nor worse nor better in any way, just very dissimilar and “shocking” – culturally speaking that is ­ – for us.

One of the many things that we learned by moving to British Columbia was that the way we eat, celebrate, buy and sell, seek entertainement and how we work vary from one culture to the next, and all of these affect how we perceive others and interact with them. That awareness was a great gift! And, even greater, was the gift of learning to let ourselves be tamed by those differences, which at first feel strange and unconfortable, but turn out to be wonderful treasures!

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