The Life and Times of the Curious Cockroach

Location: Vancouver (!!!)

This summer, I made a “Cockroach Chronology” and glued it to my closet door. Really it’s nothing more than a bunch of stickie notes and pencil marks, but it serves as mental map for what I’m going to write about, and in which order. So this week, according to this Cockroach Chronology, I am supposed to write a nice, soulful post about my return to Vancouver from my exchange abroad. I spent a good while simply staring at my closet door, unsure of what to do. Since the door flatly refused to give me any kind of hint or idea, I set about gathering excerpts from different sources (my journal, emails, letters, etc) and tried to figure out how to mush them together into some sort of coherent whole. It was only yesterday that I realized that the task is impossible. Leaving a country, coming back home, seeing everything with fresh eyes and going through reverse culture shock — there’s nothing neat or coherent about it. It’s a bumpy, awkward process with many different emotions at play, and trying to stuff the entire experience into a catchy thesis statement simply wouldn’t be true to the story.

So I’m going to be true to the story. Here are the excerpts — edited, but essentially undigested.

“The Arrival”

Letter to Brussels housemate:

Dear Georgette,

It feels so odd to come back home. Imagine, yesterday on the plane I saw Vancouver for the first time in ten years! I mean, really saw Vancouver, with fresh eyes, like I did when I immigrated here from Ukraine. Only after a long absence was I able to do it. I think it’s because surroundings stop affecting a person when they’ve lived in the same place for a long time. Colours blend together and become indistinguishable. As do all the different smells. I remember my last walk around Vancouver, before flying to Brussels. I asked myself: “what am I leaving behind?” I didn’t even know.

Yesterday, after nine long hours, the airplane finally began to descend. It penetrated the layer of clouds, and at that moment, something magnificent opened up before my eyes. Imagine grey-blue mountains around a valley. Completely wild nature, from afar. As the plane continued its descent, rivers began to appear, glistening under the sun, their silver arms breaking up the valley into a mosaic. After a few seconds I saw that each of the mosaic pieces was in turn broken up into perfectly neat blocks, this time by highways and railways. Then, out of these squares and rectangles, skyscrapers stretched up towards me, one by one, like crystals growing in fast-motion … And seen hundreds of meters above ground, everything had a blue hue — from the mountains, the water, the trees, to the bridges and glass buildings. So there you have it, Georgette. One of my reasons for leaving Vancouver was to find it again. I did, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Already missing you,
The Curious Cockroach

“Home Sweet Home”

Text message to friend:

Oy, Gulliver. Back in Van-city. Am so fuckin’ happy. Have been gorging myself with sushi for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Stomach feels wonky but spirit feels good! Spirit more important than stomach, anyway. If Gandhi said it, it has to be true. – Toodles, Roachy.

“A Second First Impression”

Report for Brussels sociology student and friend:

As promised. Here are my notes so far:

1. 1. roads are really wide…and so are the people.
   1. everything more spacious — never noticed it before! Local library ceiling looks higher than ever.
   2. cheapy dollar stores everywhere. Ugh.
   3. fewer cafes. Ugh.
   4. fewer public spots to lounge around and do nothing. Ugh.
   5. less cigarette smoke: lungs feel cleaner already. Yay!
   6. sushi: so much cheaper! Yay! Though also “Ugh”, because this is dangerous for people with no self-control. Especially those who misquote Ghandi for the purpose of continuing stomach-debilitating sushi marathon. Ghandi would not approve.
   7. customer service: bafflingly good! Sales people actually greet customer and offer help?!
   8. general style of clothing: lumberjack parade meets yoga slumber party. Men wear baseball caps and obscene amounts of plaid. Women wear yoga pants combined with leather purses and Ugg boots. Ugh. Can’t understand it, just can’t.

“Reverse Culture Shock”

Text message to friend:

Where am I. Who am I. Where do I come from. Am a plant without roots. A ship without anchor. A snail without shell. (Thus, slug?!) Got lost downtown today and took the wrong bus home. I knew Brussels like the back of my hand, Gulliver. Feel like I know Vancouver like the back of my neck. And am not one of those people who look at the back of their neck very often. Would have have to be seriously vain (and flexible) to do that. Later – Roachy.

“Personal Development”

Email to friend

Dearest Anaïs,

I’m feeling quite jolly, thank you. Great to hear you’re safe and sound back in Rotterdam.

University is going well. Though I’ve become a bit of a circus pony in my first-year French Literature class because I’m one of the only people with any kind of attempt at a French accent, and to my classmates I may by some miracle sound like an authentic francophone. I’m talking about a pretty big miracle, here. Evidence of my new position is  the way my classmates turn around to look at me in zoo-like curiousity every time I utter some sort of response to the professor’s question, even if that response is a monosyllabic “oui”.

Must be off, there are geese all around me and they’ve just spotted my egg sandwich. The merits of eating outside.

Hugs and kisses,
The Curious Cockroach

“Nostalgia”

Journal Excerpt

It had to happen sooner or later. Riding the bus home after my evening classes, I found myself sitting beside two young women who were speaking in a foreign language. After a few minutes they abruptly switched to near-flawless English, addressing at least ten other people around them. Then the entire group launched into an intense discussion about topics such as Swedish government and the country’s infrastructure. I was blown away! It definitely wasn’t the usual jabber a person hears while riding the bus. No, there was something different about this group. Most of them had slight accents, were dressed a little differently, and listened to each other’s comments with a kind of fresh, almost naïve, curiousity. There was something so painfully familiar about the way they interacted…and suddenly I realized that I was surrounded by exchange students. Oh, the memories! How they started flooding back to me! Not so long ago, I too rode on buses and sat in pubs with hoards of other international students, and listened, wide-eyed, while they spoke of their respective cultures, receiving the same kind of undivided attention when it was my time to talk about mine….

So I sat there, sandwiched between these exchange students, and for a minute or two, pretended that I was still one of them.

* * *

 

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“Final Question Answered”

Letter to Reader (of blog)

Dear Reader,

The Curious Cockroach would like to thank you, from the bottom of its heart, for reading about and commenting on its adventures abroad. The time has come to wrap up the Brussels chapter of “The Life and Times of the Curious Cockroach”, but rest assured that there are other exciting chapters to come.

There is, however, one final matter to settle. If you can recall, upon its arrival in Brussels, the Curious Cockroach set out to answer one, very important question: “can the Curious Cockroach survive in a new environment?” Ten months later, the answer is yes, yes it can. In fact, while adapting to the Brussels life-style and cuisine (beer, waffles, chocolate, and fries are the local specialties), the Curious Cockroach did more than survive — it almost doubled in size. The Curious Cockroach admits, with a slight tinge of pride, that it took two weeks of consuming nothing but lemon juice in order to get back to a recognizable shape.

The Curious Cockroach hopes you’ve enjoyed the stories.

See you next week!

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