Reverse Culture Shock?

I didn't really experience reverse culture shock coming back after our year in the Netherlands. But what reverse culture shock I did encounter struck before we even set foot in the U.S. Walking to our transfer gate in Reykjavik, I knew immediately when I was back among The Americans.  First clues: flip-flops, abundant iPads, and the startling realization that I could eavesdrop on conversations again.

So when we landed, I started to keep a list of what seemed most striking about life in the U.S.  For example:

• Pick-up trucks 
• Free and ample tap water at restaurants
• Doggy bags
• Maple syrup
• Panhandling
• Passing in the right lane
• Prices exclusive of sales tax and gratuity (drat it, rusty math skills!)

Then there were the more qualitative differences, like how friendly (whether real or fake) clerks are in stores; the feeling of decision fatigue as soon as you set foot in a Target; and the quality of the roads (way better in western Europe). 

But now we are in the NW and, frankly, working through yet another round of culture shock. Looking at the list I wrote two months ago in DC, some of it simply doesn't apply anymore. Take "diversity," of which there's not - sadly - much in Portland. Or "people are more fashionable" - here in Portland we're just as bad as the Dutch. I guess this only reaffirms my earlier conclusion: Portland is just like the Hague, except with way more iPads.

Land of Cuisine-ary Opportunities

Back in Europe, many of our friends insisted that the U.S. has no food culture, no cuisine.  I beg to differ.  In fact, there is only one sense in which I will concede they were right: America doesn't have a cuisine, it has cuisines.

From the crab cakes of the Chesapeake to the unparalleled flavor of wild NW salmon, our cross-country drive last October was in large part a culinary sampling of the United States. Often we relied on the advice of our local foodie friends, like Alithea in Austin and Jason in San Francisco. In the vast in-between parts of the country, however, our primary map was Roadfood, a down-home food guide compiled by Jane & Michael Stern.

Calling it out at the Beacon Drive-In

Roadfood took us to the Beacon Drive-In in Spartansburg, South Carolina, with orange formica booths, pulled-pork sandwiches, gallons of sweet tea, and colorful order "callers" ("And make that hot, hot, hot ... like me.").  There were stops at Marvin's for fried chicken in Montgomery and the Wheel Inn outside of Los Angeles for real roast turkey and mashed potatoes.  And of course, while in California, we made the mandatory pilgrimage to In & Out Burgers (slightly disappointing, but then again it was 10:30 in the morning).

The Chiles of New Mexico

Several of our food adventures merit special mention.  The biggest eye-opener of the trip: New Mexican cuisine. Neither Jeff nor I had previously understood that New Mexico has its own unique style of cooking, based heavily on New Mexican red and green chilies. Unfortunately, we only had one real meal in New Mexico, at Nopalito's in Las Cruces (310 S. Mesquite St.).  I also unfortunately lack the vocabulary to describe what made this so good. Think Tex-Mex for the general contours, but with fresh house-made ingredients, intense and complex flavors, and the gentle heat of the smoked chilies permeating throughout.

Moving Adventures: I'm a DMV Dropout

Once upon a time (a long time ago), I passed the Oregon DMV's driving test and got my very first driver's license.  This fact was good enough for the Commonwealth of Virginia, which simply exchanged my Oregon license for a Virginia one, no questions asked.  The Commonwealth of Massachusetts and the District of Columbia were similarly trusting of my driving skillz.  But the fact that I originally took my driving test in Oregon was not good enough, it turns out, for the State of Oregon.

I know for a fact (because I saw it) that I am still in the Oregon DMV's database, complete with a rather cherubic picture of me at 15. Regardless, when I went last week to get my shiny new Oregon driver's license, I was informed that I would have to re-take the knowledge portion of the driving test. All I had to do, they told me, was get 27 questions out of 35 right - not a big deal. Until I saw the questions.

Some of the questions are obvious: you should come to a full stop at a stop sign; don't wear headphones while driving; move over for emergency vehicles.

Some of them involve admittedly important information, like the legal limit for blood alcohol levels or that, at least in the wild west, you can turn left at a red light from a two-way street onto a one-way street (not that I would do this - but at least now I won't flip out if other people do).

But then there are questions like:

• Your car breaks down on the freeway. You can pull over to the side of the road and turn on your hazard lights if you can be seen from behind by what amount of distance? (Answer: 200 feet)
• What is the greatest cause of accidents involving motorcycles? (Answer: Turning left in front of an oncoming motorcycle)
• You are on a country road, following someone on horseback, and that person waves at you with their left arm. What does this mean? (Answer: I still have no frickin clue)
• You are behind a vehicle, like a tractor, with a slow-moving vehicle sign. What is the greatest speed such a vehicle is capable of achieving? (WARNING: The answer to this question is not in the Oregon driver's manual)

Needless to say, I failed.  When I reached the very last question, with 26 right and 7 wrong, I did not know that slow-moving vehicles can go - not 15 mph, not 25 mph - but 20 mph. To put this into perspective, I haven't failed a test since advanced algebra sophomore year of high school. I was, shall we say, discombobulated.

Long story short,* I retook the test the next day and passed. But it still smarts a little. 

I will say this, though, in the Oregon DMV's favor: I am grateful they allow you to proofread your personal information before they print out your license. This is a simple and obvious concept, yet for some reason it is not a standard practice at all state DMVs. It would have prevented me from having the wrong street address in Virginia, a misspelled middle name in Massachusetts, and the wrong birth date and gender in DC.

Thank you, Oregon DMV, for making me a woman again.

* As they say, "too late."