Traveling from Morocco to France

When I came back from Morocco in mid-December, I was ready to undergo what many refer to as "reverse culture shock." This curious phenomenon occurs when a traveler returns home, and it can actually be much worse than the initial trauma of adapting to a foreign setting. It's harder because coming back to friends and family who don't understand the experience of studying abroad can be frustrating and isolating, at least at first.\nHaving been warned, I was ready to take it on. To my surprise, I found that in the short two weeks I had back in Terre Haute, I didn't have time to stop and experience any shock at all. The holidays were as hectic as always, and after a whirlwind of friends, family and Christmas shopping, I hardly noticed the days pass. What I should have been worried about was not the United States, but France, where I am spending the spring semester. \nThe first thing I noticed was how easy everything is in France. Classrooms are numbered, streets have signs and prices are the same whether you can bargain or not. Phone cards are cheap, so is wine, and faxes don't cost ten dollars a page. French is also a heck of a lot easier than Arabic, and everyone knows a little bit of English anyway.\nThere are, of course, things that are worse in France: Everything except wine and phone cards is more expensive. That is the main adjustment, and I hear the exchange rate is even worse in England. There are some small cultural adjustments to be made coming from Islam to Catholicism, even though France is largely non-practicing: getting used to having a glass of wine with dinner, having no idea what time it is because there is no call to prayer and stopping myself from saying "God willing" every time I use the future tense. \nStill, the most striking thing about France is how many Moroccans there are here! There is a huge North African immigrant population dating back several generations, so it is not uncommon to hear Arabic spoken in the streets. If you take the bus to Marseille, there are gigantic neighborhoods of Arabs with their own traditional markets, languages and mosques. They are called Maghrebins, and their French children are known as Beurs. Couscous, a coarsely ground semolina pasta eaten in many Arabic countries, is a favorite at French tables, and I see Arab restaurants, shops and faces everywhere I turn. Sometimes I'll meet someone who notices the Moroccan flag on my notebook and I have to explain myself: "No, I'm not Moroccan. I'm an American studying at the university here. Linguistics, French and Arabic ... yes, I speak a little. I spent last semester in Morocco."\nIt's sort of hard, but at least it makes French seem easier.