A different kind of culture shock

With almost six years of living abroad under my belt, I sometimes think I have this living in different countries thing down.  I have this rather broad mental category called "Latin America" that helps me navigate my way around here.  I expect to ask for what I need from the person behind the counter at little stores, instead of finding the item myself.  Flagging down whatever public transport I'm using wherever instead of waiting at a stop is normal.  Not worrying about the time too much (except for getting to work) because it probably won't start on time anyway is the status quo. I know to look for contact lens solution at the pharmacy instead of the grocery store, that dish soap isn't liquid, that mayonnaise comes in a bag, that yogurt is drinkable, that eggs don't go in the refrigerator and that it's best to have a good supply of bills worth less than the US equivalent of $10 if you want to be sure the person you're buying from will have change.

But sometimes, my expectations fail me.  Take, for example, my bag of milk.  Now, that milk comes in a bag does not surprise me; I always bought bags of milk in Colombia.  But, the problem with a bag of milk is that it does not sit upright, which is a bit of problem when it's opened.  So, the first few times I bought milk here, I bought milk in a box, but I decided I didn't want to spend the extra 50 cents every time I bought milk just for the box, so I bought the bag and figured I'd get the container that you put it in, like I had in Colombia.

Milk in a bag (also, it doesn't need to be refrigerated before opening)

I was mildly surprised they didn't have the container in the section with assorted kitchen stuff at the grocery store, but it's pretty small, so I figured I'd try at the plastic store on my way home.  The plastic store, in case you don't happen to have one where you live, is a store where they sell everything made of plastic- hangers, tupperware containers, plastic buckets, office organizers, garbage cans, fly swatters- if it's made of plastic, it's there.

I asked the girl working there if they had boxes to keep a bag of milk in once it was opened.  She looked at me as if she had no idea what I was talking about.  I explained a little more, "you know, so it doesn't spill when it's in the fridge after you open is".  "Oh!  Liquid milk!" she answered (I think powdered milk is most common here), but she still looked a bit confused.  She led me over and pointed to what looked like a child's sand bucket.  "How about this?"  Somehow it seemed like we still weren't communicating.  "No" I explained. "It's rectangular, and it fits in the door of the fridge, and the bag of milk stands up in it and you can pour it."

She looked at me blankly.  "No, sorry.  We don't sell those." Now, surely I can not be the only person who doesn't use an entire bag of milk at one sitting.  There has to be a solution to the bagged milk problem.  So I asked what people here do. "Oh, they fold over the opening a few times and clip it shut" she told me.  

Mind blown.  Just when I thought I had things figured out, turns out they go and use bagged milk here in a completely different way.  

(I bought a one liter plastic pitcher with a lid.  That seemed like a better solution to me)

( THIS is what I was looking for.  Oh well, my pitcher will work just fine I suppose)

A different world

Spring has been struggling to arrive in Finland- the buds are coming out on the trees, but for every one spring-like day that made me think spring had surely arrived, there were a half dozen days of "takatalvi" a Finnish word for the winter that comes back after you think spring has arrived.

So, Tuesday night, I was walking through a snow shower, bundled in my hat and scarf and gloves and coat, and now here I am sitting barefoot in a hammock with tropical plants blooming around me.  It's been a rather dramatic change.

Finland

Guatemala

It isn't just the climate that's changed. The architecture, the flavors, the colors, the people, the language, everything around me is about as different as you can get.

Finland

Guatemala

Today I walked up a hill overlooking Antigua and sat to enjoy the view.  An older woman was sitting next to me. "It's a pretty view, isn't it?" she asked, then proceeded to tell me how she and her brother were visiting Antigua for the first time and were from a village on the other side of the volcano.  She asked where I was from, what I was doing in Guatemala, how long I would be there, then wished me a pleasant stay in Guatemala when I wandered off to take photos.  She's not the only one.  I've learned bits and pieces of the life story of half a dozen people here and they've learned bits and pieces of mine.  Quite a change from Finland where I can count the social interactions I had with strangers in 2 years: one conversation with a stranger in a bank, a brief introduction from a stranger on the bus, and 2 people asking for directions.  I'm pretty sure I'm in a different world. And while Finland is a wonderful place, I'm incredibly happy to be here in Guatemala now!

Finland

Guatemala

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.

The End of Euphoria

I'm taking a course on multicultural education this semester since it is one of my absolutely all time favorite topics.  It's interesting to read about students adjusting to school in a new culture since I'm experiencing that adjustment at the same time.  In today's reading, one section was about stages of cultural adaptation.  There's generally a period of euphoria, followed by a period of culture shock, followed by a period of adaptation.  

I definitely experienced the euphoria (or, as I've seen it referred to elsewhere, the honeymoon stage).  

But there's always an end to euphoria.  Life happens.  It's not all a vacation, and sometimes "different" loses its charm when you're no longer on vacation and you can't do things the way you're used to.  So right now, as the semester begins, I'm experiencing culture shock.  The Finnish system of higher education is decidedly different from the US system, and as of right now, I'm having a little bit of trouble coming to terms with that.  First of all, there's the schedule.  This week, I have 13.5 hours of class scheduled, next week, only 7.5.  We're 3 weeks into the semester already, and one of my classes still hasn't met.  Even classes that follow a set schedule meet in different classrooms on different days of the week.  All of that means it's pretty impossible to get into a routine and if I ever lose my day-timer I'm in deep trouble because I do not have 15 weeks of different class schedules memorized.  

And then, there's the classes themselves.  In some way they're a lot like American classes- lectures with power points and hand-outs, classroom discussions.  But there is one noticeable difference- the only class I received a syllabus in was the class taught by a visiting American professor.  Assignments (which so far have been ungraded) are haphazardly mentioned at the end of class, "oh yes, and send me a half page, or maybe one page, write up of your possible research questions.  Maybe you can talk about the methodology you'll use, and if you have the time to do any research you might share something about the articles" was more or less one of my assignments.  

And what's fascinating to me about it, is that the Finnish viewpoint is "we're treating you as adults, responsible for your own education," but from my viewpoint, it's just the opposite.  A clear syllabus with a schedule of what assignments are due and when makes me responsible and able to do the work given to me independently.  I can work ahead, or choose to procrastinate, or decide which weekend would be a good one to go to Sweden since there are no tests or papers due the next week.  As it is now, I feel completely dependent on the teacher and unable to make choices and control my educational environment.  

I think, as I adjust, it won't be so bad.  Maybe expectations aren't clear and assignments aren't graded because this is about the learning process right now, not the outcome.  The professors genuinely don't care what exactly I turn in as long as I'm engaging with the material, processing what we are covering, and demonstrating that in some way.  So, if I can get used to the mental unease of not knowing what's expected, I think I'll be able to embrace that aspect of my education here.  I have, after all, always been a rather self-guided learner.  What makes me nervous though, is that eventually I do have to prove the learning outcomes and I get the feeling my entire grade comes from the final exam (or written work, in one or 2 classes).  And that makes me nervous, because I'm used to having time to calibrate professors expectations to make sure that my work adheres to their standards.  Oh well.  Time to stop worrying, because worrying never changed anything.  I'd be better off studying Finnish or reading some journal articles instead.  :)

reverse culture shock

I was out the other day, running errands, it was lunch time and I was hungry, and already in a grocery store, so I decided to buy myself a snack.

I thought to myself that I'd get some raisins and peanuts, and maybe a yogurt.  I headed to the aisle with the nuts.  There were no raisins and peanuts.  Do we not eat them here?  You know, mixed together, in a little bag?  That's my number one go to snack when I want something healthy and cheap and with enough protein that I don't get a headache. They almost always sell them in the checkout line.  I settled for a trail mix with raisins and peanuts along with other ingredients, and headed towards the yogurts feeling a bit disoriented.

I hadn't even gotten to the yogurts when I realized I had a problem- I'm used to drinkable yogurt.  That's the norm in Colombia.  They didn't have even one drinkable yogurt at this grocery store.  And I was reasonably sure that unlike Colombia, where they have disposable spoons at the checkout that they give you if you ask and have something like a yogurt, they don't do that in the States.  I stared at the yogurts, wondering what to do with a non-drinkable yogurt and no spoon when I thought of the deli department.  Problem solved with a spoon where they were selling soups, I was on my way, but still feeling not quite at home in my own country.