From southern Kyrgyzstan to suburban Maryland

On Christmas Eve 1995, my wife, Stephanie, picked me up at Washington’s Dulles airport. After almost a month in Central Asia, I looked forward to returning to the United States. Instead, I experienced, for the first time in my life, reverse culture shock. One of the blessings—but also one of the curses—of international air travel is that in the space of a few hours (or, in my case, about forty hours) you are transported from one world to another. The place you leave and the place where you arrive differ not only in the predictable ways—the skin color and features of the people, the landscape, architecture, language, food, and money. More fundamentally, the everyday concerns of people are usually completely different. My first experience working in a developing country made a deep impression.