Finnish Interlude

It's been awhile since I posted about my language learning, and since I've had some moments that made me excited, I figured I'd share.

Finland is spoken by a grand total of about 5.4 million people and almost all of them live in Finland, so, in some ways, it seems a bit silly to spend time learning Finnish.  After all, once I graduate when on earth will I ever have a chance to use Finnish again?

Cue scene number 1...

I was at the top of the mountain at Plitvice Lakes National Park in Croatia.  I was a bit lost, since after paying a lot of money to get in, I refused to buy a park map for more money on the principle of the thing.  But finally, here at the top, was a map of the park.  I angled over to get a better view, but the map was blocked by a large group of tourists.  As I waited for their tour guide to finish her spiel and move on her way, something started to sound familiar.  I was recognizing words here and there... was she speaking Finnish?  It didn't sound quite right, but she had definitely said some words I recognized.  So, finally, I braved it and turned to the woman next to me and asked, in Finnish, "Are you Finnish?"

Ok, it might not be directly related to the post, but everyone loves photos, right?  These are falls at Plitvice Lakes National Park

Turns out she was Estonian.  They're fairly closely related languages and have a lot of similar vocabulary, much like Spanish and Italian, which is why I'd understood some familiar words, but still didn't feel like the language sounded right.  But anyways, once we'd established that she was Estonian, we continued chatting for a bit- where I was from, why I was alone at the park, why I spoke Finnish.  I'm still not sure if she switched to Finnish, or if those words are similar enough in Estonian that I could just follow what was going on.  All I know for sure is I was speaking something resembling Finnish.  Just when I thought I'd never use Finnish outside of Finland. . .

Cue scene number 2....
It was a beautiful morning on the Camino de Santiago.  We were passing a bed and breakfast when two women came out. This time, there was no mistaking their language.  Finns for sure.  I bravely stopped them to say hello too and introduce myself in Finnish.  My companions on the trail that day were impressed with my multilingual language skills.  I might have even been impressed myself.

And now that I'm back, I'm branching out and trying Finnish in new situations.  I had a first the other day.  I was at the sauna with an international group, but mostly Finns.  At one point, all the Finns had left the sauna to cool down, and when I joined them in the other room, they were all speaking Finnish.  I sat and listened, they forgot I was there, and then when they were getting up to go back in to the sauna, they suddenly remembered me and apologized for continuing to speak Finnish.  "Oh, that's ok", I told them, "you were talking about his apartment, and how much his rent is, and how far it is to bike there. .. "  They looked at me, surprised.  I was surprised too.  I've caught words before in conversations, but this was the first time I ever actually followed what was going on.  Progress my friends, progress.

Going Solo

Split, Croatia

August 19th

I have a secret, one that most people don’t realize when they look at my life and the things I’ve done.  I’m afraid to travel alone.  Seeing as I’ve gone off alone to all the corners of the earth, that might come as a surprise, but the thing is, even though I always got on the plane alone, I knew there was someone waiting for me at the other end.  I never had to navigate my way to a new apartment or to a hotel completely alone. And I knew I wouldn’t feel alone for long- I could count on new classmates or new coworkers becoming friends. 

So this summer, I stepped outside my comfort zone to take my first solo travel adventures.  After a full day exploring the Plitvice Lake National Park, I arrived in Split after dark.  I was looking for bus 10 to take to my hostel, but the warm night air and the beach town atmosphere seduced me.  Instead of searching near the bus station, I followed the crowds toward the center.  Families strolled along the waters’ edge and vendors sold swimsuits, towels, sunglasses and hats in stalls lining the street.  I hadn’t gone far when I saw a sign for Diocletian’s basement.    I turned down the alley and walked into history.  The walls around me were built 1700 years ago to support Diocletian’s retirement palace.  Despite the upscale souvenir stalls lining the corridor, I still stared around me in wonder at the arches and columns.  At the end of the corridor, I stopped in surprise.  A row of sandaled feet was at my eye level at the top of the stairs.  As my eyes scanned up, bare calves were followed by red skirts then plate armor, topped of by a helmet. Shields rested on the ground in front.  Curious as to what Centurion soldiers would be doing at the top of the staircase, and since there didn’t seem to be any indication that I couldn’t proceed, I went up to peep between their soldiers.  Some even more adventurous souls slipped behind the soldiers, so I followed them.  There seemed to be some sort of performance going on, and somehow, I’d ended up behind it.  I followed the people in front of me, feeling rather lost as someone gave us some sort of direction in Croatian.  I walked quickly through some more passageways that seem to have been converted into a back stage area, until I was back out into the twisting network of streets.  I decided to snake around until I made it out to the audience side of the performance.  

They seemed to be doing some sort of reenactment, as the emperor read a proclamation (or something to that effect) and I shifted a bit on the ground where I’d found a place to watch.  Maybe I should leave, seeing as nothing really seemed to be happening and the only words I knew in Croatian were “hvala” (thanks), pivo (beer) and kremšnita (custard), none of which figured significantly in the emperor’s speech, surprisingly.  But then, the gladiators came out; the slave ones, who fought with nothing but sticks and nets.  As the one with the stick vanquished the one with the net, the emperor asked the crowd if he should be shown mercy or not.  There’s still hope for the world, I thought to myself as I headed back out towards the street to find my hostel.  All of the children in the crowd, unprompted, were granting the man mercy. 

The next day, I headed off to the beach, where between the warm Adriatic Sea and my book, I kept myself entertained for hours.  Finally driven back into town desperate for some food, for the first time I felt a bit at a loss in my own company.  The conversation I had with my waiter ordering food was the first time I’d talked to anyone all day, and I found myself resisting the impulse to suggest he should stay and talk with me while I ate.  I decided to people watch instead, probably a more socially acceptable past time than keeping waiters from doing their job anyway.  Somehow, I made it through that meal alone, and then, another day of exploring solo.  By the time I got back to Nada’s the next night, I was anxious to have a conversation, but I was thrilled with the experience.  I had done it and found that traveling alone was nothing to be afraid of.  Sure, there were moments when I would have liked some company, but I also enjoyed my private adventures, the solitude and room for thought, the ability to do everything at my own pace.  Now a whole new world is open to me since I’ve realized that I have nothing to be afraid of as a solo traveler.   

Getting good at this wedding crashing business

Zürich

August 8^th, 2014

You may remember last January, when I crashed a wedding (sort of) in Venezuela.  Well, apparently wedding crashing is a bit addictive, because when my friend Johanna told me that the dates I suggested to visit her worked out with the exception that she had to play for a few hours in a wedding reception one afternoon, I decided that was perfect.  (Well, really, when you are coordinating visits/travels with friends in multiple countries, you can’t be too picky.)

Almost the first thing I noticed walking into Johanna’s were the Alphorns taking up half the living room.  I stared at them in fascination.  I’d seen some at a festival in Bavaria earlier that year, but I’d never heard them played before.  So, when Johanna said I was welcome to come along to the reception if I wanted, I didn’t hesitate.

Of course, when I got there, I realized one tiny detail.  I didn’t know anyone, other than Johanna and her mom and they were busy setting up their horns and getting ready to play.  I also don’t speak Swiss German.  Mingling with the other guests was pretty much impossible. “Oh, hi, I don’t know you, or anyone here, or the bride or groom for that matter, just wanted to hear the alphorns, so what’s your name” doesn’t seem like the best conversation starter.  Especially when you’re saying that to someone in a language that is foreign to them.  So, I just waited on the fringes of the crowd, awkwardly.

But, as they started to play, and I relaxed, enjoying, the music, the blue sky, the atmosphere, I had one of those blissful moments I sometimes have when traveling and visiting locals.  This is an experience that can’t be bought.  I may be the outsider standing on the edges, but still, I am really here, in a Swiss Village, at a wedding reception, admiring the beautiful bride and listening to my friend and her mom play alphorns.  I think those moments, the ones that are real, the ones that go off the beaten path and tourist staples, are the ones that draw me back, time and again to travel, to learn, to make new friends, to tentatively try to communicate in languages I’m just beginning to know, because those are the moments that change me somehow.  

Home(less)

It's been an interesting 48 hours.  After 3 weeks of traveling in Europe with a friend I hadn't seen in 5 years (more posts to come about our travels, hopefully!), I finally returned home to Regensburg.  And it felt like coming home- pulling back into my familiar train station, taking the bus I always take, running into friends before I even walked in my door.

But I was going "home" to Regensburg for the last time.  In a 20 hour whirlwind, I packed, cleaned, washed and ironed the sheets I'd borrowed from student housing (they're the ones with a penchant for ironed sheets, not me) and got ready to leave again.  Moving internationally should become some sort of competitive sporting event.  I think I'd be pretty good at it.  I somehow manage to compress an entire room into a suitcase, a hiking backpack, and a regular backpack, which is talent enough, but my real skill shows through when I then manage to transport that.  After a trial run, I realized that if I place my suitcase against a column, then hoist my large backpack onto that, I can get my backpack on without falling over.  Then, smaller backpack stuck on front of me, all that's left is to drag my suitcase behind me, transporting roughly my weight in luggage.  And then, since this is an extreme sporting event, that means you have to use at least 4 unique forms of transportation. The first leg of my journey was easy for me- a friend offered to go with me to the train station, so I didn't have to walk the 10 minutes to the bus stop looking like a human turtle or load my luggage onto the train by myself.

The Human Turtle with her weight in luggage

But then, I was on my own.  All was going smoothly until I tried to get off of the train.  One of the straps on my backpack got caught on something going through the door.  I tried to turn and look behind me, but I couldn't turn far enough to see whatever was keeping me from moving.  I turned futilely back and forth a few times, flailing around a bit (possibly looking a bit like a turtle that's landed on its back) til someone behind me took pity on me and unhooked me and handed down my suitcase.  I then trundled it all off to the next bus that took me right to the airport.  I breathed a sigh of relief as my backpack and suitcase were whisked away and I was assured that they would go through to my final destination.  But of course, there's no such thing as final in a trip like this.  Final just meant last flight.  I flew into Helsinki, which is still 2 and a half hours outside of Turku.  So, once again, all my luggage loaded onto me, I looked around for the right bus, where at least the driver did me the favor of sticking it into the luggage compartment for me.  And then, finally, finally back in Turku, it was too late to take a local bus back, so I had to catch a taxi, because even I won't walk 3 kilometers with my weight in luggage at 1:30 am.


And then, there I was, "home" again in Turku.  Except, even though many of my friends, most of my earthly possessions, and my studies are all here, I don't actually have a house.  My lease doesn't start until September.  So here I am, at "home", but homeless.  It's an interesting feeling, really.  I've spent quite a bit of time the past few years pondering what home means, and well, being here reminds me that home, for the moment, is here.  Home is where the heart is, they say.  And that's part of it, but I've left bits and pieces of my heart all over, so then home could equally be the US, or Colombia, or Germany.  And in a way, going to any of those places right now would feel like going "home", but not quite the same as coming home here does.  I'd say home is where your stuff is, but that sounds way too materialistic, and besides, then my home would be Paulina's storage locker, and that certainly doesn't seem right.  But home is where you come back to after traveling, where you pick up the pieces of your life where you left off, slip back into the same routines, are comforted by the familiar.  And that's why, for me right now, Turku, Finland is home.  In Colombia, and the US, and Germany there's no picking up where I left off right now- no job waiting for me, groups of friends have changed in my absence, there are no routines looking to be slipped into, just routines looking to be remade.  So it's good to be back, and after a wonderful semester abroad, feel that I am indeed, home.

At least, for the moment.  But then, on to my next adventures!  I'm homeless by choice so I can travel and visit friends all around Europe until I have an apartment at home in Finland next month.

Let Prague Find You

Prague, Czech Republic
July 28, 2014

I stopped in my tracks and pointed out the metro sign to Alex as I giggled, “Look what was right in front of us.”  Two nights before, dead tired after a train-ride to Prague, we’d been sitting at an Italian restaurant, celebrating my birthday, barely talking to each other in the haze of post-travel weariness.  We left the restaurant with every intention of going straight back to our hostel, but we couldn’t for the life of us find a metro entrance.  As we tried to retrace our steps, we found ourselves accidentally hitting every tourist site in Prague- Charles Bridge with its view of Prague Castle, and then later the square and the astronomical clock.  It was only after wandering blindly through the city for half an hour, pulling out a map and then putting it away in frustration because we couldn’t figure out where we were, that we finally hit upon a metro entrance and found our way back.  Now, once again wandering haphazardly, we were back at the same restaurant where we'd had diner two nights before. The biggest irony of all- there was a metro entrance visible from where we’d been sitting that first evening.

We learned to not even try to use a map in Prague.  “Let Prague find you” became our catchphrase.  For some reason, maps defeated us.  But when we just wandered, when we let Prague find us, we found some delightful surprises.  One day we stumbled upon the Prague Parliament building.  Away from the oceans of tourists that congregate around Charles Bridge and in the square, it was a quiet oasis, where the peacocks roaming the grounds were an added bonus.  Another day our wanderings led us to a park on the hills surrounding the city with spectacular views.

We waited, fruitlessly, for a random stranger to ask us for directions.  It didn’t matter where to, we had our answer ready.  I contemplated buying hippy pants and getting dreads, just to make myself more believable.  But, once they asked, we would look them in the eyes, and then, with our most solemn voice say, “Let Prague find you.”

A Working Holiday

Slovakia

July 25th, 2014

Paws, Amber’s Portuguese waterdog, scampered ahead of us into the field.  I climbed the rise and stopped to admire the view: rolling farmland, a couple of farmhouses nestled near forest edges, and windmills cutting into the sky.

After 3 cities full of beautiful churches, lovely rivers, interesting museums, amazing architecture, and miles upon miles of sidewalk in 90 degree weather, Alex and I were ready for a change of pace, which is just what we got at the Good Book Oasis.  Amber runs a guesthouse there for missionaries, and we had come to spend a few days helping out.

It felt good to break with the tourist routines.  We took a visit to Ikea and the local version of Home Depot for some supplies.  After spending considerable time in Ikea in 4 countries now, I think it’s safe to say it looks pretty much the same wherever you go.  Housing supplies stores have a bit more variety.  What intrigued me most about this one was their pet section, including live fish for sale.  Home Depot doesn’t sell fish, does it?

Maybe we needed some good, honest work after the dissipation of being tourists.  We weeded the front flowerbeds and transplanted some bushes in record time.  In the afternoon, covered in sweat and dust, I nodded in satisfaction as a nail disappeared into the board I was nailing to the wall of a storage shed to make a helmet rack. 

After tearing through the to-do lists during the day, we truly enjoyed movie and game nights with Amber in the evenings.  One of Amber’s Slovak friends came over one evening and taught us how to make halušky.  She showed us how to mix flour, water, and egg until it was just the right consistency, and then run the dough back and forth over a tool that looked like a mix between a strainer and a cutting board.  The dough fell in small pieces through the holes into the boiling water, where we let it cook.  The finished product (a kind of homemade noodle, basically) we mixed with sheep’s cheese and bacon.  Think of it as the Slovakian version of macaroni and cheese, comfort food at its finest. 

Lost in the Labyrinth

Vienna, Austria- Schönbrunn Palace
July 21st, 2014

We could see our goal in the middle of the labyrinth, but every twist and turn seemed to take us farther away from it. We were almost convinced we’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and were tempted to follow some of the people ahead of us, who had taken a shortcut through a break in the bushes. However, since this wasn’t actually a maze, but a carefully designed labyrinth path with only one route, we stuck to it, sure that eventually we’d arrive at our destination. Another turn brought us out into a central area, where there were musical tiles placed in the ground, by jumping on them you could play a tune. We played for awhile, gratified by the surprise in our path, before continuing on, where it seemed we were even more lost, the paths gradually spiraling farther and farther from the center. Just when we were almost sure that we’d done the impossible and gotten lost in a maze with only one route, we suddenly veered back towards the center, until we finally reached the kaleidoscope mirrors we’d been trying to get to the whole time.

Sometimes, lately, I’ve felt a bit lost in a labyrinth in life. I see what I think is my goal, but the twist and turns I take don’t always seem to lead me closer. In fact, sometimes they seem to take me farther away. I think about taking “shortcuts”, or maybe changing my goals to something easier to meet. And yet, wandering that labyrinth reminded me of something. I trusted the labyrinth maker that however far we felt we were straying from our goal, whatever the detours we seemed to take; we were always getting closer to the destination. I might not have been able to see how it all worked out. I might not have known what was around the next turn, or how long we would be wandering, feeling lost. But still, I trusted.

Can’t I do the same in life? Trust that even though I can’t always see how I’m progressing towards my goals, that doesn’t mean I’m not progressing? Trust that there is one who sees me in my “labyrinth” and knows the route I’ll take to reach the goal? Trust that sometimes what feel like detours lead to surprises just around the corner?

“All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:16b

"The Most Unique Sound of Music tour"

Salzburg, Austria

20^th July, 2014

In my mind, it goes like this.  As we board the bus we’re handed lyric sheets and, pulling out to the first destination, we’re already belting out “My Favorite Things”.  One of our first stops is at the fountain, where, those of us who want, are given old fashioned suitcases and empty guitar cases so we can prance around singing “I have confidence”.  In St. Peter’s Graveyard, the inspiration for the scene at the end of the movie where the Von Trapp family hides from the Nazis, only the fact that it’s a graveyard keeps us from playing hide and seek.  In the Mirabell gardens we draw straws for the parts of the children, and then reenact the Do-re-mi scene on the stairs.  And then, finally, the crowning moment: we pull up to the gazebo.  There, a costumed actor, dressed as Rolfe, is waiting for me.  We dance around the gazebo, singing the duet “I am 16 going on 17”.  That’s not too much to ask for, is it? 

Unfortunately, perhaps, it seems my expectations were a bit too high.  No costumes, no suitcases, not even a lyric sheet.  The biggest disappointment of all though, is not only is there no Rolfe to dance with, I can’t even dance around the pavilion alone.  The interior is off limits to the public.

I made the most of our “Most Unique Sound of Music Tour” despite the disappointments.  Outside of Salzburg, the scenery in the Austrian mountains was breathtaking.  An ice cream cone in the town of Mondsee (where Maria and the Baron get married in the movie) was a perfect end to the trip.  And even if I didn’t get to dance around the pavilion, here are Alex and I in front of it. 

The Turkish Baths

Budapest, Hungary
July 15th, 2014

The light was dim, there was a quiet splash of water, and from somewhere, hard to identify because of the way the dome overhead filtered sound, there was a low murmur of voices.  But overall, it was so silent and still, that the atmosphere reminded me of a church.  We settled in up to our necks in warm water in the octagonal pool and looked around.  The building we were in had been built in the 14^th century by the Turks, who occupied Hungary at that time.  Light filtered through the cupola of the dome and a window set high in the wall looking out towards the street.  Smaller rectangular pools were set around the walls outside of the circular pool.  We ventured into the hot one next, relaxing after 3 full days of sightseeing and walking for miles.  As it got too hot to stand, we decided to try the “cold” pool.  At almost 80 degrees (27 c), we didn’t think it would feel cold, but compared to the pool we’d been soaking in, it gave us a shock.  I sat along the edge, dipping my feet in, until I finally worked up the nerve to dip underwater.  It didn’t take long until I started shivering, and we decided to check out the mysterious door that several people had opened next to the cold pool.  When we opened it, a wall of steam almost blinded us, and a scent of eucalyptus filled the air.  I was simultaneously delighted and overwhelmed. From the wooden benches along the wall, I could barely glimpse the door through the steam and soon the heat drove me out.  After cooling down in the cool bath again, I was ready to try the normal saunas.  My Finnish sauna experience stood me in good stead here, and bypassing the 100-120 degree F (40-50 c) sauna where most people were choosing to sit, I headed to the hotter sauna in the back, still a cool 120-140 degrees F (50-60 c).  We spent several hours, rotating through the different pools and saunas, immersed in history, until all the tension had left our bodies. I left completely relaxed, and determined to take better advantage of opportunities to use the sauna in Finland. 

Little things and Misadventures

Turku, Finland to Budapest Hungary
July 12, 2014

Once upon a time, I was a control freak and I stressed about everything.  When I backpacked in Europe 8 years ago, I remember we packed peanut butter crackers and decided to eat them on the Chunnel- the train connection through the channel tunnel that connects England and France.  I started worrying out loud to my sister that maybe someone on the train would have a peanut allergy and go into anaphylactic shock and it would be our fault.  Fortunately for me, she was a lot more laid-back then I was, and convinced me that I didn’t need to go borrowing trouble.

Three years living as a missionary in a less than predictable place taught me that I am not in control, that stressing doesn’t change things, and that usually it all works out in the end.

So, this time leaving for a 3 week backpacking trip, I was much more laid-back, and had a lot less planned in advance.  I knew where I was meeting my friend and where we were staying in Budapest, after that, well, everything was fairly open to change. 

Even so, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a bit nervous.  Three weeks, 4 countries (3 of them where I didn’t know a single word, or only one), 1 friend. There was a lot that could possibly go wrong.  So, backpack on, I headed towards the bus station, trying to remind myself that usually it all works out in the end. 

And then, hanging on a railing, something caught my eye.  I’d been out with friends the night before, having one less farewell get together.  We’d had chilly weather lately, so when I left the house I had a sweater and a scarf with me for when the sun went down.  When I got home though, I realized I’d dropped the scarf somewhere along the way. I was sad- it was a birthday present, and I really liked it-but I was leaving the next morning, there wasn’t much I could do about it.  And there, that next morning, was my scarf, hanging over the railing, waiting for me.  It seemed like a smile from God.  “See, I care, even about the little things.” he reminded me. “You don’t need to worry about all the things that could go wrong”.

Several hours later, I found myself at a train station on the outskirts of Budapest. I had to change to a local train to get the station where my friend was meeting me.  My ticket didn’t list the platform number, and I had only 7 minutes to make my connection, so I lost no time in making my way to the board where departures are listed.  Only one train was leaving at the time I was looking for, so I headed to the platform, still slightly hesitant because I had a feeling the local trains might leave from a different area of the station.  But, the train pulled up, the sign on the door said the name of the station I was supposed to go to somewhere, so I got on and hoped for the best-I should be there in less than 10 minutes.  I didn’t have long to get comfortable.  When the conductor came and asked for my ticket he looked at it and just shook his head.  My stomach sank.  I was on a train in Hungary headed the wrong direction and I didn’t even have a valid ticket.  He could tell from my distraught face that I had made an honest mistake, and very kindly told me how to get to where I wanted to go, and didn’t charge me for the train I was on.  He even wrote a note for me in Hungarian “one ticket to Budapest Deli with the student discount please” in case the person at the ticket counter didn’t speak English.  As he left I settled in to wait for another 45 minutes- of course I had to pick the wrong train that didn’t stop ANYWHERE for a full 45 minutes. Two hours later, after my train ride through sunflower fields, a bit of phone tag with a friend of my friend in Budapest to pass the message on to her when I would be arriving, and waiting around in the Budapest-Deli train station lobby I finally met up with my friend. And see, I was right, things usually all work out in the end.