Defeating the curve

This entry is not about battling scoliosis or the evils of the oppressive bell curve grading system. On the contrary, it's about wrestling with culture shock, based on my 10-month tumultuous residence in this island-continent.

I remember in my Intercultural Communication class last semester we had an in-depth academic discussion about the culture shock phenomenon. What I particularly remember is that certain scholars have come up with models to represent the various phases of cultural adaptation one undergoes during a long-term stay overseas, and two of the more famous ones are the U and the W curves. I've had a few drinks tonight and so I am not too keen on getting into the nitty-gritty details of it, but for the uninitiated, clicking on the links should provide a fairly good explanation of things.

Friends who know me rather too well are aware that at several stages of my stay here I have found myself on the verge of giving up, for various excruciating reasons. There have been quite a few instances when I thought I was already on the higher levels of the curve, but every so often I'd be crestfallen since I'd repeatedly find myself plunging back to the its very abyss. A few months back someone asked me how I was doing, and the immortal opening lines of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities came to mind: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. To my mind then it was always more of the latter than the former though.

As I write this I believe it is of no consequence anymore whether I am currently at the apex or the depths of the curve. Life is far too short and too exquisite to waste agonising about that. All I know is that I'm working towards achieving some semblance of normalcy and contentment again, and that I am friggin' bigger than any curve.