Culture shock abroad and at home

When I was little, my dream was to be the equivalent of Dr. Doolittle with people, able to converse with and understand individuals from all over the globe. As I grew older, this untenable dream focused into an intense desire to travel — one that I've pursued extensively these past two years. My parents' pocketbooks depleted with each passport stamp collected — Italy, Israel, Uruguay, China — as I immersed myself in a veritable Babel of languages that I struggled to master.

I soon realized, however, that even when I could chat with a new acquaintance in his mother tongue, my command of the language was often not enough to ensure complete communication. Too many subtle but significant cultural cues always reduced me to what I truly was: a clumsy foreigner pretending to pass as a native.

This inability to bypass societal differences in perception and practice is culture shock, the constant travel companion. If you're an exchange student, they warn you early and often that he will probably join you on your trip, making you unable to really relax in a foreign place. Now you understand why the taste of certain foods makes you cry, you search for corners in social situations and you're never quite comfortable until you're on the plane home again.

If you're just visiting for a week or two his presence may be obvious only from a feeling of disorientation, a sense that everything around you is slightly strange. In Italy, it was the slang; in Uruguay, fall weather during spring break; in Israel and China, the inability to read street signs.

Even more tricky are places where you speak the language but don't. A friend on exchange to England had to learn to respond to a greeting that seemed to ask, "How are you?" with a simple "Hey." All of these tiny differences add up to a significant sense of being overwhelmed.

It's therefore not hard to imagine that, in the transition to Princeton campus life, newly arrived freshmen may fall victim to culture shock. Never-before encountered words such as "eating club," "Beast" and "Dinky" pepper conversations containing otherwise perfectly clear English. There are new abbreviations to remember, new place names, new powers that be, all particular to this tiny green realm of central New Jersey. The difference between the experiences of the freshly immigrated frosh and the American abroad is that in setting foot upon campus, you enter a culture that seeks to adopt you as its own.

Unlike most foreign countries, Princeton conscientiously endeavors to assimilate its new arrivals. Legions assigned to naturalize you smooth your transition to local customs. You're schooled in our ancient nationalisms. The titles of the principalities of Harvard and Yale are invariably followed by "sucks!" You're showered with maps, advice and financial assistance.

With class numbers attached to your name, you further this university's regal lineage. You are therefore immediately expected to become productive members of society — witness the activities fair — and to play your part in precept, refraining from any action that would make upperclassmen look bad or yourself stupid. You're inducted into the sacred rituals of opening exercises, reunions and the P-rade. All doors are open, in fact, from the day you receive your acceptance letter.

As freshmen quickly learn the lingo and mimic the gestures, subscribe to the 'Prince' and set their biological clocks to Prospect time, they achieve what everywhere else is unachievable. Within a semester, it becomes difficult to tell the newbies from the more experienced inhabitants of Old Nassau – the ultimate sign of triumph over culture shock. Each time I board a plane I'm jealous that such success cannot be replicated universally. Emily Stolzenberg is a sophomore from Morgantown W. Va. She can be reached at estolzen@princeton.edu.