So here I am. I feel like a tourist that wakes up in a lovely, eco-friendly B&B and decides, for no apparent reason, to go to a strange workplace, day after day. Jättekonstigt, as the Swedes would say. Freaky, as the English would say. Or friikkii, as the Finns would say. Surreal.
As surreal as big changes feel at first, I know from experience that they soon, slowly and unnoticed, without ceremony, become the new normal.
Today is my fourth day as a Swedish Finn, and my third day at work. Nothing major to report, really, the first days are always chaotic in a non-eventful way. Configuring laptops and mobile phones and the sorts. Boring but necessary to allow normality to kick in and life to flow smoothly. I felt much more relaxed and in control after sorting out a laptop - I paid some bills on my Finnish internet bank - and an affordable private mobile phone connection.
Upon my arrival on Sunday evening, I watched Finland lose the bronze and Sweden win the gold medal in ice hockey. On my first work day, I suspected that my new colleagues were unsure whether it was okay to joke about the outcome. So I broke the ice by saying that the Swedes played well and the Finns deserved to lose. Which was no joke.Fair enough, I also noted that the Swiss were very unlucky to lose like that in their first final for over half a century, and the Swedes were courteous enough to agree with me. They were lucky. But they were also good. What an annoying combination! That is, if you're not one of them yourself.
"Men jag ska överleva" - but I shall survive. My new mantra.
A useful mantra, too, when now and then I get hit by a shock wave of realisation: I am here. What the **** am I doing here? What the **** was I thinking coming here? This is no joke. There is no undo-button to push. All those things that made me happy - home, family, friends, hobbies, professional and social status - are back in Finland. And I am here, in Eskilstuna. I don't know a soul here. And no-one knows me. Oh well, better not to think about it. I thought about it when I made my decision and that's that. I'm here now. Get over it. Jag ska överleva.
More than anything, I was nervous about floorball. After all, it has been my preferred form of therapy for over a decade, non-stop. So if I enjoyed the office floorball sessions, I would have one constant left in my life to counter-balance the emphasis on work, at least in the beginning. If I didn't like it for one reason or another, I would have to find another channel for managing stress and sourcing pure, playful joy. To my deep relief, I really enjoyed it. It was relaxed enough to feel friendly and welcoming and yet fast-paced enough to serve as serious exercise and stress management.
Work started rather intensely with a 2.5-hour meeting on Monday and three meetings (plus two ad hoc chats in the corridor) on Tuesday. Just the way I like it. I am anxious to get to work, be useful and valuable. Right now, I'm just a nuisance that gets lost in the labyrinth-like corridors and understands only simple language. Luckily, my colleagues are patient and friendly, making me feel welcome. I had a flower on the table when I arrived (I wonder how long it will survive and whether, when it inevitably dies, I can find a new one from the florist without anyone noticing). Yesterday, when my colleagues forgot to invite me to join them for lunch, they apologised with chocolate truffles. I've forgotten to ask my new (now ex) colleagues for lunch more often than I care to admit, but never once has it occurred to me to buy them chocolate! I was also very touched by a battle that one colleague fought - and won - on my behalf over the phone, concerning my right to face-to-face IT support, apparently a rare treat at the agency. That effort was greatly appreciated as I understood very little of the instructions given over the phone.About the language: I'm positively surprised to find myself managing better that I expected, though much worse than I'd like. I am still confident that I will quickly develop my language skills to the level where I can put them to real use and not have to rely on my colleagues to do all the report-writing. I wish I was already there, though, I hate having to need special treatment and concessions. Plus, with modest language skills, much of the humour and wit are lost in translation which is not ideal for first impressions. But then again, I've never been a big believer in first impressions anyway. At least not with people that matter. Admittedly, first impressions can be crucial for making the second round with new people, so I'll concentrate on work for now and progress to blind dating only once my language skills are advanced enough to do justice to my sense of humour and intellect.
This said, I have already managed to create my first local contacts, albeit as a paying customer. And NO, I don't mean anything inappropriate! I went to get a decent cup of coffee at Ekobutik next to the office, and I entered the shop saying "jag vet att det är inte eko men har ni take away kaffe?" which is [meant to be] Swedish for "I know it's not particularly environmentally friendly [referring to the fact that I was entering an eco-friendly coffee shop] but do you have take-away coffee?". Or so I thought I said. The response (in Swedish with a foreign accent): "Sorry, I don't speak English." I burst out laughing, as did the two ladies that were enjoying their non-take-away coffee. We managed to carry out the rest of the conversation in what both recognised as Swedish and I have a feeling that I will be a regular at Ekobutik.
I also found my new regular sushi joint, called Sushi Lovers. It's just across the central square - Fristadstorget - from where I will live from Saturday onwards. They had this curious sushi called Philly with avocado, Brie and something else that I already forgot. I loved it so I announced to the chef that I've just been converted into their newest regular. Which is when he broke the news to me that I was most likely their last customer - ever. I was likely to have had the last Philly sushi in the universe - ever. Philly sushi were his own creation and he was shutting down the restaurant within 30 minutes. So I have to find some other restaurant as my regular hang-out, perhaps Beirut Seller, where my sushi chef will start working next (provided that "seller" does not refer to celery). On the bright side, I had an interesting conversation with the Palestinian ex-optician soon-to-be-ex sushi chef, educated as a Political Scientist, about climate negotiations, the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, world peace, democracy, Eskilstuna, food and the forthcoming renovation of the town square. Two immigrants having a lively chat in Swedish.
Jättekonstigt. The new normal.
***
And although that would've been a good ending for this blog, I'll allow myself to end with a bit of nostalgia. I could call it "P.S. I miss you".
This picture makes me feel home sick, even though it feels already like forever ago when I was cosily living in Arabia without mentally preparing to leave.As I said at my farewell party, the fact that friends make leaving sad and difficult is indeed a blessing in disguise as it speaks of meaningful connections made, precious moments savoured and time well spent. And most importantly, these connections are by no means lost. There are so many ways of keeping in touch, and distance forces us to be more creative and less lazy with important matters. At best, physical distance is compensated by extra virtual presence and attention. And anyway, as one of my friends in Helsinki put it, it is difficult to comprehend that I have now moved away since I'm constantly on Facebook anyway.
Overdosing on nostalgia, I'll finish with pictures of my most favourite spot in Helsinki since a little girl. I will surely visit it many times this summer for a picnic and pussikalja (Finnish for "beer in the park").
In 1980, moving forward:
And in May 2013, looking back:
With my favourite view towards the Cathedral:
