My multilingual life

I go to a Swedish speaking church.  "Why?", you ask. "Don't you live in Finland?"  Why yes, I do. Finland is officially bilingual though.  Until 1809, when this area was taken over by Russia, what is now known as Finland was part of Sweden.  Over simplifying a bit, but historically, the rulers and upper classes spoke Swedish, the peasants spoke Finnish.  Swedish is still the first language of a minority of Finns, about 5% of the population.  They have their own schools (from primary through university) and their own churches.  I just happened to end up at a Swedish speaking church because they translate to English every week, are really friendly, and are close by.  And hey, when you have to pick between 2 languages you don't understand, what difference does it make?

Ok, that was a really long introduction to say, it's amazing what our minds do all by themselves.  See, I'm not studying Swedish at all.  I see it around on signs, and hear it (and its translation) at church, and it has a lot in common with English.  Still, the amount I have learned through that caught me by surprise last Sunday. We had an English speaker, so the sermon was translated from English to Swedish, instead of the reverse. I was listening to the Swedish translation instead of zoning out, cause I'm a language nerd like that, and at one point the translator paused, looking for the right word.  "Helig" (holy) I thought, then nodded in support as that's what she said.  And then I did a double take.  Was I actually trying to translate from English to Swedish?

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My sister sent me a link to Duolingo, an online language learning site, the other day.  I'm headed to Germany in March, and the struggle I had filling out the application for enrollment form (WHY on earth don't they just send it in English like all the other forms, or at least include English directions if they want it in German?) was enough to convince me that I should know a bit of German before I go. So, I'm studiously working through the levels. It's fast at the lower levels!  I'm up to level 3 and can now say very useful phrases like "Ich bin eine Frau" (I am a woman) or Die Jungen trinken Wasser. (The boys drink water)

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My Finnish is slowly progressing.  I moved from Spot books to longer picture books.  I'm currently working on the Finnish version of Zen Shorts- the story is definitely more involved and interesting than Spot.  But it's too hard for me to read at one sitting and makes my head hurt.  :)  

My best Finnish moment came at the bank.  At Finnish banks you generally take a number and wait til it's your turn. An older gentleman sat down next to me as I was waiting.  He asked me what number I had and when I'd gotten there, and then commented on how long I'd been waiting.  I mostly understood him, and showed him the right thing (my ticket, my watch) in response, so I don't think he realized that I don't speak as much Finnish as your average 2 year old.  Finally, he asked me a question I couldn't answer.  So, I had to explain that I don't speak much Finnish.  That didn't deter him though, so we chatted, with me politely nodding even though I only understood a few words here and there, and answering his questions about where I'm from, where I study, and what I study.  It was great because it's one of the few genuine conversations I've had in Finnish outside of class.  "I'll have a hot chocolate please" "That will be 1.80€, Here you are." "Thanks" does not count.  

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And then there's Spanish.  There's something about sliding effortlessly back into Spanish that just makes me feel at home.  Spanish language circle has started back up for the semester, and as I sat drinking my hot chocolate (that I ordered in Finnish) and speaking in Spanish with people from around the world, I felt happy that I have something here that links me to my life in Colombia. 

I picked up a book at the library this week in Spanish.  It's a bit harder than the book I'm reading in Finnish.  It's by a favorite author of mine from Barcelona, Carlos Ruiz Zafón.  His book La Sombra del Viento was the first book that drew me in enough that I couldn't put it down, despite the added difficulty of being in Spanish.  (I highly recommend it, it's called The Shadow of the Wind in English) I haven't gotten very far into this one, Marina, but so far it hasn't disappointed.  

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Oh, and of course, there's also English.  But there's nothing really interesting to say about that.  

Winter is Coming!

When I first arrived in Finland, almost every conversation I had with a Finn went something like this,

Finn: "How do you like Finland"

Me: "Oh, I love it here!  I've been having such a great time, and everything is beautiful, and the weather has been so nice"

Finn: (In a foreboding voice, the kind of voice one uses to talk about Mordor, and Sauron and other Very Horrible Evil Things) "Winter is coming"


So, needless to say, I was a bit apprehensive about my first Finnish winter.  I was expecting snow in October, sub-zero temperatures, skating down the river.  Instead, we eased through October, November, and into December with only a couple of days dipping below freezing.  I kept bike riding and didn't get a bus pass for much longer than expected.  It was colder, and snowier back home than it was here.  I was beginning to think that Finnish winter really wasn't going to be anything to contend with (and that maybe we weren't even going to get any snow)

I did my best to bring the winter back with me after my trip home to the States for Christmas.  After all, several friends in Finland requested it.  And I must have done something right, because I got in on Friday, and woke up Saturday morning to snow falling outside my window.


Ever since, we haven't had temperatures above 20, and low teens seems to be the norm (by the way, extreme temperatures sound even more extreme when given in celsius.  Today, a chilly 10 degrees, was -12 in celsius.)  The river is freezing, the skating rinks are open (I skated this weekend!), and there's snow on the ground.  I think it's safe to say that winter has arrived.

When tears come

Most of the time, I love this adventure: making new friends, learning a new city, communicating anything in a new language, enjoying beauty all around.

But then, there are the moments when the novelty wears thin, where the frustration of never being quite certain rubs through.

Wednesday, I was supposed to catch a bus to the neighboring town where I watch 2 little boys and help them with their English skills.  When the bus arrived, it looked completely different than I remembered, so I asked the driver as I got on if it went to the town I was going to.  No, she told me. And then mentioned a different destination.  I got off, feeling a bit confused.  If that wasn't the right bus, then which bus was?  As the right bus didn't magically appear, I realized I should have taken the other bus.  But, it was too late now, and I didn't have any credit left on my cellphone to call and tell the family I would be late.

I headed off in search of an R-Kioski, a store where I could add additional time to my cell phone, and almost there, passed another bus with the same number.  Thinking I had a chance to fix my mistake, I got on, and again, asked if they went to the town I was going to.  Again, the answer was no.  The driver, who didn't speak English, started giving me a detailed explanation of his route.  A kind passenger translated for me, though it didn't keep me from feeling lost.  I didn't recognize a single place they said, and although it seemed that it's final destination was somewhere in the vicinity of where I wanted to go, they thought it would take 40 minutes to get there and I was still without credit to call to say I was going to be late.  Undecided for a moment, I froze on the bus, then thanked them for their time, got off, and walked towards the R-kioski.

Crossing the bridge over the river, tears rolled down my cheeks.  I felt powerless- unable to communicate fully what I wanted to in Finnish, unsure of which bus to take, unfamiliar with so many place names, and without the ability to make a simple phone call.  And, not only powerless, irresponsible- I had somewhere I was supposed to be, and at the moment, had no idea how to get there.  "If I were home, it wouldn't be like this" was my thought.  I'd have a car.  I speak the language.  I can add credit to my phone with a phone call and my credit card.  And if I were lost, all the local place names would at least sound familiar.

Fortunately for me, when I finally was able to make a call, the boys' mom was understanding, I was directly across from another bus stop, and the next bus came in 10 minutes.  I ended up being an hour late, but it was ok.  And I think, that's one thing I've been learning on this international journey of mine- it's okay to make mistakes, failure is not the end of the universe.  I try my best, give what's in front of me everything I can.  But sometimes, it might not work out.  I might miss the bus, or completely miscommunicate, or end up missing a rescheduled class.  But it's ok.  Life goes on.  I learn.