Spending nine months in another country does a lot to change one’s outlook. Particularly if… Spending nine months in another country does a lot to change one’s outlook. Particularly if it happens to be the same country many Americans love to hate. Yes, folks, we’re talking about France, where I holed up to weather the coming international storm, concocted lovingly by W., brewed from a recipe of certain American foreign policies.

I went to school, consumed vast amounts of wine and cheese, and continued to lead my otherwise uninteresting life in Grenoble, nestled among the French Alps.

Leaving one’s country of origin is, inherently, an experience that changes one’s perception of all things social and cultural. Contrary to popular belief, the norms of American society are not necessarily embraced or exercised worldwide.

For those strong enough to adjust to – and absorb – a new culture, a part of their very identity changes as they critically reappraise aspects of their own way of life.

When I realized that I had stumbled into a country whose greatest writers are revered as much as our current professional sports stars, I felt an immediate affinity bud for that culture. On a similar note, having sampled French cuisine, I discovered that ranch dressing is an utterly tasteless condiment.

What people tend to underestimate is how this change in perception affects the road-weary traveler returning home. After the immediate joy of seeing friends and family, and tasting with relish all the snack products you’ve so missed, a handful of niggling questions start to invade your otherwise pleasant homecoming.

For me, the questions boiled down to this: America, did I change, or did you?

The answer is, most decidedly, both. A large number of such questions as, “Were Americans always so willfully stupid?” or observations like, “Gosh, there sure are a lot of fat people wandering around,” can be chalked up to an increased sensitivity to such things on my part, having now acquired a basis of comparison.

However, American culture has unquestionably changed within the past few years. After all, how else could this country, which decried a former president for lying about having sexual relations with a certain intern, blithely ignore the lies and propaganda used by our current president to rationalize a war?

Undoubtedly, there are many aspects of American culture that will always be a part of my identity, not the least of which are my indelible marriage to 24-hour instant gratification and my unconscionable love of American metal artists such as Slayer.

Now, though, I regard our nation through a lens tinted by the knowledge that, across the Atlantic, there exist people whose culture is as tangible to them as ours is to us.

At the same time, while I was abroad, Americans’ perception of themselves – and the role of their nation in the world – has altered. So I find myself home, but also in a country slightly foreign.

In addition, I sometimes find myself in the midst of a conversation regarding the evils of France and the virtue of Freedom Fries.

So, both America and I have changed in profound ways within the past year. And I am constantly challenged when sorting out why I notice certain things more now than I did a year ago.

In the meantime, my typical emotional responses to those things that have always bothered me about American society have shifted from mild irritation to almost visceral rage. Things like crappy R’B, FOX News, Ann Coulter books, anti-intellectualism and athletic scholarships now send me into apoplectic fits where growling and muttering used to suffice.

J.P. Fridy is a columnist for The Pitt News.