It is termed reverse culture shock
when returning home. Reverse culture shock is, to me at least, far more difficult to handle than the forwards variety. Regular culture shock is realizing, in Tanzania, this child really could be funded through school for the cost of a cup of coffee a day.
Reverse culture shock is realizing, in Montreal, this cup of coffee could be funding that child through school.
Every object is seen through the eyes of somebody who does not need it; every statement is heard from people who suddenly do not understand.
Before hitting home, I will be using my opportunity to travel. All I need are my beloved backpack, my deteriorating clothes, and my passport. I look forward to meeting with new places and friends and foods and musics. I will doubtless run into uncomfortable situations, and I stand no chance of learning the fine details of any other cultures: these certainties are but refrains in the song of life.
Ten days remain until the end of my contract.