Stages

Immersing oneself in the lives of others is much like entering a new relationship.  The first few months are almost blissful.  You find yourself marveling at almost everything: the smell of food from street vendors, the architecture of the buildings, the way that people speak and the music they listen to.  In comparison to the monotony of your day to life, these new stimuli are almost refreshing.

Then you have your first argument.

The new and exciting becomes foreign and unfamiliar.  The quaint simplicity of your new surroundings become wearisome and stressful: Why doesn't anyone here use driers??? Why the hell does my lasagna have chicken in it??? What do you mean there's no wifi and why do I need to pay to use a public restroom? These same complaints equate to leaving the toilet seat up and the socks on the floor.  Try as you will to be diplomatic and open-minded, there will be a time where everything your significant other does will piss you off, and you really don't care if it shows. At which point the banality that you were initially tired of is now a source of comfort.  The new, cheap, fresh from the farm cuisine that you can purchase on the side of the street pales in comparison to a $5 footlong from Subway...which, by the way doesn't exist in places that don't do business in dollars or measure in feet. You also learn that Subway, along with McDonald's are sort of like luxury items here; the equivalent of a footlong will cost you roughly $7-NOT including chips and a drink.  

Much like the initial period of showing your partner who you 'really' are, both you and your host country are forced to remove your 'tourist' faces.   You see the shortcomings, you have to hear them complain about you not speaking enough of their language as they straight up butcher yours.  You'll have to meet their parents, and their cousins, and their brothers and their sisters who will all undoubtedly ask you all of the same questions: "How long have you been here?",  "Where are you from?", "How do you feel here?", "How much of my country have you seen?", "Do you like the women here? Would you like to date, buy and or marry one of the women here?" (I wish I were making that up).  You find yourself wanting to get back to a place where you wont have to explain anything to anyone.  Fantasizing about your own country becomes akin to remembering your singleness and how much easier it was or reminiscing over your ex(es).

Fortunately, if you work at it long enough you find a point of acceptance.  The absence of English channels on television are no longer such a pain.  Those ignorant (and they will be ignorant) statements about your color, your country, your food or your ignorance of their culture seem to matter less.  You educate those who care to listen and make it a point to accept those who don't.  You stop allowing others to have leverage over you emotions and you realize that frustrations rarely act as more than clutter; in the same way one learns to organize a messy room, you can rearrange a cluttered thought process, ultimately seeing others for what they are: people.  Moreover, you begin to forgive them for it.

I'd like to think I've reached that point.