Wandering Footsteps: Wandering the World One Step at a Time » A travel journal following a family on their overland trip around the world.

Travel Lessons 102: Getting Past Culture Shock

One of the things that many travelers talk about is culture shock.  I, myself, have never experienced it in its full-blown, debilitating form.  But I have also not ever traveled the way I currently am, from nature reserve to national park, and desert to isolated coastal beach.  I haven’t been in a city in months…. Until a few days ago, when I visited Durban.

Had Bruno been alone, he would have bypassed Durban entirely.  He’s not a city man.  But I saw an opportunity to visit a new place, and asked that we at least go into town on a day trip.  I was especially interested in seeing how the large Indian population living in the region has integrated and transformed itself in this African setting.  Bruno graciously agreed, but not without a few jokes about gigantic crowds, traffic whizzing by, and foul smells polluting our noses.
We decided to take public transportation into town in order to avoid driving through congestion.  We missed the train by 30 seconds, so we thought we’d try taking the bus, but it seemed we were not at the correct bus stop.  Loads of minibuses whizzed past us, and we figured they’d all be headed to central Durban.  Just as we were discussing hopping onto one and seeing, a sketchy looking Indian man approached us and tried engaging us in conversation.  He asked us where we were from, where we were going, and then warned us to be incredibly careful in Durban as it was very unsafe, especially for tourists.  In the next breath, he asked us for our phone number so he could invite us to dinner.  We politely declined, and opted to avoid mentioning the irony in his request.  He nonetheless decided we were his responsibility, and loudly announced to the minibus driver that we were tourists and would he kindly take us to our destination and take good care of us, etc.   What that really meant was that he was going to follow us into the minibus, attempt to get a free ride into town, and then follow us around all day.  Bruno had to firmly lecture him a few times before he got the hint and got off at the next stop.  We laughed about the tricks people try and how naïve they must think we tourists are.
The driver, who had witnessed this exchange, smiled knowingly.  When we were near the Indian market I wanted to visit, he told us to get out and pointed in the general direction of where we were going.  Well, this, folks, is where my culture shock set in.  We were dropped off in the central market area, with people literally everywhere, streets as wide as highways running in every direction in front and above us.  People were hawking every good imaginable.  Garbage was strewn about on the streets, in gigantic piles, as though garbage trucks had exploded.  Sirens, horns, car engines, and shouting people flooded my ears.
We tried walking in the direction of our destination, but we were so overwhelmed we couldn’t even look at the map properly.  We stopped to ask for directions several times, but it was almost impossible to hear the responses because by now we had wandered into an area with speakers blasting from multiple music stalls at once.  Each stall was attempting to overpower the next, to the point where several of the subwoofers were busted.  Eventually, it became clear that in order to reach our destination, we had to go through a covered bridge which was even louder and more crowded than anything we’d seen yet.  As I walked through the crowd, I felt I was having an out-of-body experience or that I was on some sort of hallucinogenic drug.  The music was so loud and the chaos so intense that the passage through that bridge seemed endless, and I felt I was swirling through the tunnel and somehow becoming the music and the people…
This is where my culture shock could have gone very, very wrong.  But, as we emerged into the daylight and the relative calm of the streets (ha ha!), we tried to see the humor in it all.  We walked through the Muti (medicine) Market, which wasn’t at all what I expected, for it was filled with plants chopped up into little pieces and placed in large blankets or baskets on the ground for sale.  I took it all in and smiled at my Western preconception.  We reached the Indian Market and laughed again at our misconception.  Most shops here weren’t selling spices or incense at all, but instead, Zulu crafts and clothing or cheap Chinese household goods! 
As we wandered the market, we noticed that a man walking past us had done a complete roundabout and was now just behind Bruno and the backpack he was carrying.  I whispered to him to be careful, but he was one step ahead of me – he was already telling the guy he had nothing in his bag worthy of stealing, and that the man was free to look inside if he wished! The man was so shocked he quickly walked off, much to the entertainment of the surrounding shop owners.
Bruno and I decided that our market experience was over, so we continued our walk through town, through the noise, people, traffic, and garbage.  Our next destination was the largest Hindu Temple in South Africa, a 30-minute walk north.  As we turned the corner onto the street of the temple, we could do nothing again but laugh – before us was a temple smaller than a modest home, surrounded on one side by a Toyota dealership and behind, a tall Coca-Cola skyscraper!  Not exactly the large, grand temple I was expecting, and certainly not a place of great peace and meditation!
So far, Bruno and I had been on our Durban adventure for 3-4 hours, and already so many shocking and not-so-humorous things had happened.  Yet, we consistently chose to laugh and joke in the face of our culture shock.  There was a moment, early on in the morning, when I felt so overwhelmed that I was ready to suggest to Bruno that we head back to our campsite right then and there.  But then, I wouldn’t have experienced the attractive beachfront promenade (my only picture, for it was the only time I was truly relaxed and comfortable enough to whip out the camera), a series of small beaches backed by the skyline of Durban.  I wouldn’t have gotten to eat a delicious Indian lunch or take my first train ride in Africa.  No, it wasn’t the smoothest day of our trip so far, and Durban will likely not go down in the history books for my favorite city of all-time.  But by getting past our culture shock with a smile and a few light-hearted jokes, we had a fun, interesting, and eye-opening day.