Welcome to the wonderful world of reverse culture shock. That's what they should have put on the Sydney airport signs. I should have seen it coming after seeing the sunrise twice, once over Antarctica and the second in the airport at Auckland. This land is very different.

When a traveler flies from a highly developed or westernized country to a lesser one, the impact is often referred to as culture shock, as many of the comforts or conveniences that were previously available are now either missing or cumbersome. This would be an expected phenomenon for those who leave from the USA to visit Paraguay for example.

Strangely enough, there exists also the converse, reverse culture shock, when one travels from a country they have adapted to for several months and then visits a developed country in which everything appears excessive and expensive.

There's my textbook analysis of culture shock, something which to me always sounded plausible in one direction, and inexplainable in the other (reverse) direction.

I'm now in Sydney, Australia, preparing my journey north. This is my second dose of reverse culture shock, the first being my return to the US after New Zealand. Now, moving from Argentina to Australia makes the first seem patently minor. I miss South America terribly. Spanish is an ecosystem that nested in my head, and everytime I look for an "Abierto" sign on a storefront door and instead see "Open", some of that ecosystem dissolves away. I've accidentally said "gracias" at least three times. I've said "listo" when I was ready to leave. I've asked a clerk how much something was in Spanish and very nearly asked someone what something was called by saying "como se dice?" For dinner, all I feel a craving for is some Mexican food, for some outlet of speaking this language that sulks in the skull.

Of course, it's not that Sydney is American. I do recognize differences and I do want to give Australia its own experience, but I'm afraid for the next few days it's just not possible. My mind has grown happily accustomed to the crumbled walls and jagged sidewalks of Buenos Aires; Sydney appears artificially clean. Everyone on the street is stylishly dressed. Lattes and cappucinos are everywhere. People drink them stonegazedly and busily bus wherever they are headed to. Everything here is as expensive as American prices, and sometimes more. Empanadas are gone, replaced with meat pies, which cost as much as a full dinner would in San Telmo.

I miss being known and knowing others.

But then that first day also included a visit to the Sydney Opera House, a structure I can contentedly admit is something all its own when visited in person. To reach this icon, this metaphor, after twice before planning on visiting Sydney, is a satisfaction that has no words to explain. All I had to do was sit on the grass and watch it for about a half hour, to remind myself of all that has lead to here.

All said for, Sydney is a highly developed city. Not necessarily Americanized, because it is cleaner, with a stronger infrastructure than any American city I know. Were not for its expense, it's a very livable city, and the people are friendly once you have the opportunity to approach them. I should also admit that now that I don't have to use my novice Spanish skills, everything is much faster, complex, and more efficient.

On this wave of complexity, I decided to visit two museums, one was the Museum of Contemporary Art. There were some very creative exhibits, one including a motion sensored goldfish bowl, where the entire room's lighting and sound was determined by the fish motion. Later, I went to the Museum of New South Wales. Both of them had some fantastic recent pieces from the "Aboriginal artwork" category that is quickly becoming harder to define. As one piece was narrated:

"Imant Tillers argued against the search for a distinctive Australian art form through aboriginality, seeing this as a form of 'cultural colonialism'"

Another piece was "merely" a collage of photographs, but the selection and arrangement portrayed a signficant message of the aboriginal mixture with westernization. Next to the work was the statement:

"Members of aboriginal communities are advised that a number of people depicted in photographs in this room have now passed away."

Such a disclaimer is necessary, I was told, because some communities destroy all photographs of deceased members, and cannot speak of them for five years. Should the person's name include descriptions of nature, such as the sun or a lizard, entirely new words might be created to explain these everyday things.

With this as inspiration, I'm excited to begin my long-overdue experience in Australia. Today I'll see if Oz Experience will help provide some of my transportation. Should I receive a positive answer, this will greatly aid my travels.

That's all for now. More later. Hasta luego, mis amigos. Me te extrano.

Update: Looks like the OzEx is going to give me the ticket. Crikey!