When "Going Home" Feels Like Going Abroad: Melissa's New England Cultural Honeymoon From the Translate This! Podcast California-born, Spain-based, with a childhood stint in Upstate New York—Melissa's relationship with "home" is complicated. So when she returned to New England for an extended visit, she expected familiarity. What she got was a full-blown cultural honeymoon phase, complete with the kind of reverse culture shock that catches you completely off guard. The Honeymoon Phase At first, it was everything you'd imagine from a New England fall fantasy: The fall foliage was spectacular—those famous leaf peepers suddenly made complete sense. Watching the leaves change felt like nature's personal apology for every mediocre sunset you'd ever endured. The craft beer scene delivered on every hop-forward promise, and cider houses dotted the landscape like delicious, fermented pit stops. Farm-to-table wasn't just a trendy phrase; it was a way of life. And the maple syrup? Watching the process from tree to table was both educational and deeply satisfying in a way that's hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. The nature trails offered the kind of soul-feeding escapism that makes you forget about email for entire afternoons. Everything felt authentic, grounded, and refreshingly analog. Then came the parts the tourism board doesn't mention. Ticks. So many ticks. The constant vigilance required just to exist outdoors was exhausting. Bears made casual appearances, reminding Melissa that nature here doesn't just provide aesthetic backdrops—it actively participates in your daily routine whether you're ready or not. And the humidity? Spain had not prepared her for the kind of moisture-laden air that makes you question your clothing choices, your hair products, and your life decisions all at once. But the most disorienting part? The consumer overload. Walking into a Target after months in Spain felt like sensory warfare. The sheer volume of choices—47 types of cereal, 30 varieties of toothpaste, entire aisles dedicated to products she didn't know existed—was cognitively overwhelming. This wasn't just shopping fatigue. This was her brain trying to process a level of consumer abundance that she'd completely adjusted away from during her time abroad. Welcome to Reverse Culture Shock What Melissa experienced is textbook reverse culture shock—and it's often more disorienting than the original culture shock of moving abroad because you don't see it coming. When you move to a new country, you expect everything to feel different. You're mentally prepared for confusion, adjustment, and the steep learning curve of navigating unfamiliar systems. But when you return "home"? Your brain anticipates familiarity. It expects comfort. Instead, you notice everything with fresh eyes, and nothing feels quite right. The customer service interactions that used to feel normal now seem overly formal or strangely cheerful. The pace of life feels rushed or inefficient depending on where you've been. Even the physical spaces—grocery stores, shopping malls, parking lots—feel foreign in their scale and abundance. What does this have to do with Barbier? At Barbier, we specialize in cultural training precisely because these experiences are universal, complex, and often invisible to people who haven't experienced them firsthand. Understanding the phases of cultural adaptation isn't just academically interesting—it's essential for: Global teams managing employees across multiple locations Organizations supporting international assignments and repatriation HR professionals creating better onboarding and offboarding experiences Individuals navigating their own cross-cultural journeys Families supporting loved ones through transitions Culture shock and reverse culture shock are normal, predictable, and manageable when you understand what's happening and why. Most importantly, Melissa's New England honeymoon phase is a reminder that cultural adaptation isn't a o