Yes, it does.
In Lesotho, without any refrigeration, I've become used to my milk being at room temperature. This milk from the fridge here chills my teeth now, but my mom wants it even colder. I saw her putting ice cubes in her cereal the other morning.
I never was articulate, but damn if I can't utter a single English sentence right now without first thinking it over for fifteen seconds. I feel so slow-minded. Everyone around me seems to speak a mile a minute. I barely even participate in conversation because while I'm still considering how I might comment on something everyone else has already moved on to another topic.
People wear colorful rubber bracelets and carry their music around in little white metal boxes.
Everyone's chatting on their cellphones instead of acknowledging the person standing next to them.
In Lesotho, the whole school I teach at prays together and sings a hymn each morning. However, from what I've seen in the newspapers here in Los Angeles, in another few years children are going to be expelled from schools if they admit their family even attends a church.
Customer service is wonderful here in America compared to Lesotho. There you have to flag people down to get help, but here you are welcomed upon entering a store, offered help all the time. I was pleasantly stunned by it for the first few days.
My gut feels weird. Food is everywhere. It's coming at me from all directions. I can't be ungrateful, so I've stuffed it all down my throat. Before leaving Lesotho I had a feeling this might happen, so I weighed myself: 64.5 kilograms upon departure. I told the nurse I would come back at around 75, and I think I'll make it.