Reverse culture shock has been a regular visiter at my apartment this summer. In my opinion, culture shock (or reverse culture shock, for that matter), is not the surprise of first arriving to a place, but rather occurs six to eight weeks (give or take) after getting to a place. It's around this time when everything that was new and exciting and novel and quaint becomes reality. It's this point when you realize that this isn't somewhere you're visiting, it's somewhere you're living. The quaint and fascinating can become annoying, and the people with whom you were fascinated (or who were fascinated in you) become less fascinating (or fascinated). It's when you start to realize that you're all alone and perhaps that people don't understand you. It's a lonely time, and it sucks, to put it
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