When someone asked how I was or what I was up to – I told them.
When I asked: “How are you?” I stopped and waited for an answer. Weird.
It gets worse. In London, I spoke to strangers on the Underground. Very weird.
You were probably hiding behind a newspaper at this point wondering whether to pull the emergency brake lever or call the transport police.
To be fair – it’s not quite the same where I live now. More time in a village to chat – or maybe it’s because we’re more likely to know each other.
Meanwhile I’ve put this topic out to consultation. Apparently I give my children culture shock. Especially when I say “wee” and “aye.” Hey – I’ve not lost it.
But that’s all fairly tame. Imagine the surprise/shock/horror of mySikh friend when he arrived as a child in London from northern Zambia. Everyone smelled of off milk. Dairy, cheesey, milky breath fuming up every railway carriage.
Can’t say I noticed myself. But his story made me think more about smell.
But don’t listen to me wittering on about Culture Shock – check out some alternative takes on the topic from the other members of the Loose Bloggers Consortium listed on the right hand side of the page.