Culture Shock

Culture shock is a bitch. No other way to describe it. It hits at just the wrong time, in just the wrong place, throws all of your plans to crap, and leaves you feeling helpless and alone.

It hit me tonight as choir practice ran. Unfortunately for me, it came in small waves.

The first wave hit when we were in sectional (side note: because of the practice methods they apply, the first hour is sectional - the second is full group practice). We're singing a spiritual - "Soon ah Will be Done" by name - and we are taking apart this one section to figure out what we can do to fix the little things - fine trim to polish the piece. I took that time to mention that, when singing in English, consonants are important, and to make sure that when a ending consonant is there, to enunciate it. The overwhelming collective reply from the rest of the tenor section was, "Ok. In America. Anyway, let's keep going." This hurt, not only because they didn't take my advice, but also because (and this was probably the culture shock thinking for me) they didn't take advice from the Gaijin.

The second wave hit when we met as a group. We were lucky enough to have the City choir's director visit us and treat the session as a form of master class. As we were getting started, she looked directly at me, smiled, and gave this "hello, little one" wave. That hit me very negatively - as though she was thinking, "Oh, look. That's so cute. It's trying to sing. Let's throw it a bone." Again, the culture shock torturing my mind.

Needless to say, even though that was how I felt, I gave 125% singing tonight. By the end, I was sore, out of breath, and ready to collapse. Nobody really took notice of this, but I didn't expect them to. That didn't bother me too much.

The last, and probably strongest, wave hit when we were adjourning the meeting. We meet up as sections again to discuss what is upcoming and to get last-minute organizational details out of the way. By this time, I was so tired I could barely make out what they were saying, much less understand it. That's when it hit me: I don't need to understand it. They don't really want me here for my voice - I'm just the choir's pet. Their little plaything; something for them to amuse themselves with. While everyone sat and talked after we all adjourned, I walked back to the apartment tired, offended, and most painfully, alone.

I understand that I'll feel better tomorrow, and that I'll probably feel bad for even thinking that way. However, it's my first real big encounter with culture shock, and it needs to be written down. A lot of it is probably my imagination running wild, and most likely 75% of it is not true in the least, but it still hurt, and I needed to get it out of me.