Longing for the sun

My "winter blues" treatment plan

I haven't seen the sun in days.  Weeks, maybe.  It's not that the sun doesn't rise; I'm not that far north. We've just had 100% cloud cover for almost the entire month of November.  Sure, there was one sunny day 2 weeks ago.  I admired the blue behind the clouds as I rode the bus to church, and then, peeking out the window during the service I saw as the sky gradually cleared.  By the time I left church around 1:30, the sky was completely blue.  As I walked to meet a friend for coffee, I stopped in the park to turn my face to the sun and marvel at how warm it felt, even on a cold wintery day.  We sat near the window to enjoy the blue sky, but by the time we left, 2 hours later, it was already dusk, the sun setting for the day.  


But since then, I've only caught a glimpse of the sun 3 or 4 times, peeking out from behind the clouds.  I may or may not have squealed, "my shadow!" out loud a week or so ago, when the sun peeked out long enough for me to cast one.  It might help if there were snow, and we have had a couple of days of white loveliness everywhere, but then it warms up to just above freezing, and there's nothing but mud and dead brown and grey everywhere.  Every day.  Except when it's dark (which is about 18 hours a day) Every morning, when the sun finally "comes up" around 9, I open my curtains, hoping for a glimpse of blue.  It's usually the same view:

(In case you're fooled by that glowing, lighter area in the clouds, that's not the sun.
That's the reflection of my lamp through the window)

It's hard to deal with that kind of weather, day after day, week after week and wonder if it will stay this way til March.  I've been feeling extremely tired, lethargic, drained of energy, of hope, of ambition.  I was starting to feel like maybe there was something wrong with me, til I got together with friends the other night.  Turns out we all feel the same way.  Going out at night (which right now means anytime after about 4 pm) takes a sort of battle of the will.  Getting out of bed in the morning requires another (if it's the weekend and I have to turn on the light in my bedroom to read, it's not really light enough to get up, right?  Oh, wait, that means I have to stay in bed all day) I'm fantasizing of moving to somewhere warm and sunny.  I've heard the weather is great year round in Guatemala. . . But since I have a pesky matter of a thesis to finish I guess I'll just have to deal with it.  And take my vitamin D supplement and eat chocolate, and drink a glass of wine now and then.

And hostess of the year award goes to. . .

The banana bread had about 5 minutes left to bake when my phone rang.  My first guest had arrived a bit early and the front door of the apartment building was locked.  I ran down to let him in and it wasn't until we got back upstairs that I realized I'd shut the door behind me.  I was standing on the landing in stocking feet, no one was home, more guests were going to show up any moment, and we were locked out.  Oh, and the banana bread was close to burning in the oven.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and looked at it hopelessly.  Somehow I keep neglecting to ask my roommates for their numbers, so I couldn't even call and see if one of them was nearby.  As I was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and contemplating entertaining my guests on the landing, the automatic timer on the hall light went out, leaving us in the dark.

Li flicked it back on as I kept trying to come up with some solution, any solution that was better than the stairs in the dark.  And then, I thought of something... when my flatmate left, she had the bag she takes with her when she's headed to sauna.  Maybe, just maybe, she was at the sauna.  And maybe, just maybe, if I knocked on the door she'd hear me and lend me her key.  So,  I left my guest, shoeless and coatless, stranded on the landing, as I ran off through the dark in his much-too-big-for-me shoes and jacket to knock on another friend's door. With her keys in hand (so I could get into the locked building where the sauna is) I headed to the other side of the complex.

I pounded on the door, calling my flatmate's name.  If it really was her in there, I  hoped she'd hear me. And if it wasn't her in there, I really hoped no one would answer.  No response.  But my banana bread was burning and more guests were on their way, so I tried again, and then, wonder of wonders, the door opened.  And it wasn't an angry stranger, but a confused flatmate.  A quick explanation later she handed me her keys, and I dashed off again to let my guest into my apartment.

"Make yourself at home" I said, and then immediately ignored him as I flew to the oven to take out the banana bread.  "Sorry to be rude" I said, and then headed back into the night (this time with 3 sets of keys), leaving him sitting alone in my apartment (hey, at least this time the lights didn't keep turning out on him).  Keys returned to both lenders, I made it back before any other guests arrived, and guess what?  The banana bread didn't even burn.

The Turku Public Library

One thing that brought me to Finland was its stellar education system.  According to their PISA ranking, Finland was educating a nation of readers, and since since developing literacy is one of my first academic goals with my students, I wondered what they were doing to be so successful.

Well, no education success story is complete if you only look at the classroom.  Finland is a nation that values reading.  In a 2002 survey by the European Commission, Finland was the country in Europe where library visits are most common.  It was also the top country for reading magazines and daily newspapers, and 2nd for leisure reading.  

So perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise that their library system is superb.  Just a few blocks from me is my local branch library.  I've actually never been in since the main city library is really close to campus and completely gorgeous.  The original library was built in the early 1900s, and a modern addition was added in 2007.

The historic exterior of the Turku City Library

I like to walk in through the historic side.  The ornate wooden doors that look as old as the building never fail to make me happy as they swing open automatically as I walk up to them.  Just inside the front doors, a curving double staircase goes up to the music collection.  Unfortunately, I didn't take a picture, so you'll have to imagine a room full of CDs and music magazines on one side of the circulation desk, and on the other side, another room full of scores and songbooks.

This is where adult fiction in Finnish is kept.  I love the dome.

Instead of walking upstairs, we'll do what I usually do- walk straight through to the prettiest part of the library, in my opinion.  Here under the dome all the Finnish language fiction is stored.  I always veer off to the left though if I'm looking for fiction for myself.  

Adult fiction in foreign languages.

After walking through a section of Swedish language fiction (Swedish is the other national language in Finland and spoken as a mother-tongue by around 5.5% of Finns), I get to a section that delighted me when I discovered it- the adult fiction section in foreign languages.  A full three aisles, both sides, are dedicated to English fiction, more than enough to keep me occupied the whole time I'm here.  There's even a section of Spanish fiction, and though not as extensive still more than I'll manage to work my way through.

Kirjasto= library in Finnish.  This is a section of the modern addition to the Turku city library

I'm not always headed to the library for pleasure reading though.  I come at least as often to look for children's books to practice my Finnish.  They're in the modern side of the library.  After walking through the reading room (again, no pictures- I felt bad taking photos with people in them, and this area is always busy.  The center of the room has racks with newspapers, and all along the floor to ceiling windows there are tables where people sit and study.  The other side of the room has comfortable chairs looking out onto the library courtyard) I make it to the children's section. 

Looking out over a section (I think this is Swedish picture books) of the children's area of the library

 It took awhile for me to navigate my way around here.  There are separate sections for Finnish and Swedish, fiction and non-fiction, easy readers, picture books, and young adult books.  And of course, the children's section wouldn't be complete without their own foreign language books section.  All of the most commonly spoken languages in Turku are represented here.

This is the foreign language children's books section

It's an amazing library with wonderful resources and a beautiful, welcoming atmosphere.  I wish I had felt comfortable taking photos of the study and reading areas, because in both the children's and adults' sections they're really nice.  There's also a 2nd floor on the modern side where the adult non-fiction is kept.  I don't wander up there nearly as often, unless I want to study up there, but they usually have some sort of rotating cultural or photography exhibit there as well.  

There's a connection here.  A society that values literacy is a society that values libraries.  Not only is this  library beautiful, a library card is free (not the case in Colombia) and people take advantage of the space to study and read. On Friday around 5 pm when I was there all the study tables were occupied and I'm not sure there was a single computer free at the computer station. So the libraries themselves in turn encourage literacy, creating, in a way, a self-perpetuating cycle.  

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.

Sometimes

Sometimes, when it's 50 degrees and rainy, and the wind is blowing in my face as I bike back home, and my hands are freezing where they grip the handlebars because I didn't think it was cold enough to need gloves, sometimes, I allow myself to think about what life would be like if I'd never left the States.

I imagine myself- this would be my 10th year teaching.  Would I still be at Lincoln?  Would I have an established set of friends that I'd known for years?  Maybe I'd even have met someone and gotten married.  Possibly I'd have had a kid.  Surely by now I would have bought a house and I'd be making mortgage payments.  I would have a car; rain and cold and late dark nights would only be minor inconveniences.  I'd have a paycheck automatically deposited in the bank every 2 weeks.  I wouldn't have to worry about exchange rates and international money transfers.  I'd have a living room.  And probably, in my kitchen, I would have things like cupcake tins and casserole dishes.

As I'm biking, cold and wet and miserable, I envy that imaginary self, the one who never left. The imagined security and coziness, the imagined roots.  But then I stop myself.  My life might not be rich in things right now, but I don't want to measure my life by things.

Glancing at my shelf, the latest children's books I borrowed to practice Finnish catch my eye. Along with Moomins, the Finnish children's cartoon I watch while I eat my breakfast, they're my fun way to learn Finnish.  I am rich in opportunities to learn.

Fanny's living room was cozy, and the 6 of us sat around, our conversation zig-zagging from the past to the future and back again, until we decided it was time to cut the cake and sing happy birthday to Jhania.  I am rich in friends.

On Sunday at church, I sang How Great Thou Art in 3 different languages.  There was something about the beauty of a familiar song in an unfamiliar language surrounded by my brothers and sisters in another country that almost brought tears to my eyes. I am rich in fellowship.

I was a little nervous leaving Switzerland as the passport control officer looked suspiciously at my passport. "How long have you been here?" he asked.  "In the Schengen zone?  Since January, I think. . ." I said, quickly fishing for my German residence permit so he'd know I hadn't illegally stayed past the 3 month tourist limit.  He waved me on, and I headed off to Croatia, officially my 24th foreign country to visit.  I am rich in travel adventures.

Later this week I will take a walk to a nearby pine forest to look for pinecones.  The leaves are changing colors and the river glimmers with reflected lights when I'm downtown after dark.  I am rich in beauty.

Most of all, I am rich in grace.  This journey that I've been on across continents has shaken me to my core.  I'm not the same person I used to be.  I am sometimes bitter, sometimes cynical, and often discouraged.  But, I am always being filled and refilled with grace.  And because of that, because all these unmeasurable riches have made me who I am today and because, most days, I like who I'm becoming, I'm glad I took the risk.  I might not have a fully stocked kitchen.  But I am rich.

What are you rich in?

Scroll down!

I've been adding posts about my summer adventures, and pre-dating them to the date they took place.  So scroll down to see newer posts that happened at an earlier date, or click on the links below  :)

July 12th- Little Things and Misadventures

July 15th- The Turkish Baths

July 20th- "The Most Unique Sound of Music Tour"

July 22nd- Lost in the Labyrinth

July 25th- A Working Holiday

July 28th- Let Prague Find You

August 1st- Home(less) (This post isn't new. It was actually posted on Aug. 1st)

August 8th- Getting Good at this Wedding Crashing Business

August 19th- Going Solo

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.