Avant-Garde Japanese Singer and a Film Festival in Kunming
One of Kunming's more interesting spots is Nordica, an art gallery/artist loft with a decidedly Scandinavian bent. Recently, Nordica played host to Kunming's first international film festival, consisting of films from over thirty different countries. Due to being busy with school and teaching gigs, I was only able to make it on the last night and even then only caught part of one short film. I did, however, catch a performance by the well-known Japanese avant-garde singer Tujiko Noriko, a waifish woman whose music can be described as being for people "in altered states".
Alas, I was sober (which is also an altered state to some I suppose), but even still I enjoyed the performance. She played for about thirty minutes, all the while choosing beats on her laptop computer. Behind her was a large screen that showed distorted images of the performer, leading to cool photo opportunities such as this one I snapped:
Reverse Culture Shock
Recently I've been helping a friend who is currently writing a dissertation concerning how foreigners interact with Chinese people and each other in Kunming. Part of her research comes from interviewing me and others. In our last meeting, she asked me whether or not I endured deep culture shock upon coming to China. I thought for awhile, and said no. She was shocked. I clarified that there have certainly been many occasions when I felt overwhelmed or confused by something in China, but I couldn't classify those occasions as resulting from culture shock. In fact, I added, I've found "reverse culture shock" to be far more difficult to handle than the shock of arriving in a new country.
What is reverse culture shock? Simply put, it's the sensation of returning to your home country and finding it, well, foreign. The reason I didn't experience culture shock in China was because I knew everything would be different. I was prepared to be shocked, in other words, so I wasn't shocked at all. While in China, I have always been deeply conscious of my status of a foreigner immersed in a new and different society. What I hadn't realized, of course, was how being in China was changing me. Any change of this sort is naturally gradual, so it tends to escape notice. Yet it's undeniable that while I've adjusted to life in China, I'll have to re-adjust to life in the US.
Last September, I returned home after more than a year spent entirely in Asia. I remember thinking that, compared to China, American life was almost unbearably quiet. The streets were clean and largely devoid of people, and all commerce was safely ensconced in orderly shops. Traffic flowed seamlessly. There were far fewer horns, construction projects, random loudspeaker announcements, and the other characteristics of typical urban life in China.
Another odd realization was how regulated life in the US was. There's an impression that China is a far more restrictive and repressive country than America, and in political terms this is true, but on the street level just the opposite seems to be the case. In China you can walk down the street and drink a beer, something that would get you arrested within five minutes in California. Taxis veer wildly and run red lights, smokers light up anywhere and everywhere, and people jabber loudly into their cell-phones at every opportunity. It's funny how a country known for its conservative, conformist culture has a far more free-wheeling atmosphere than the Land of the Free.
I would think a Chinese person would go through something similar after a year in the US. It'd be interesting to find out what, exactly, he or she found most difficult readjusting to in China.