It has been a busy few weeks for me: working full-time while simultaneously applying to multiple universities in another country has turned out to be quite time-consuming.
Recently I had a chance to share my expat experiences in an interview for expat-blog.com, an exchange network and blog directory dedicated to life abroad. It provides free information and advice to those living or wishing to live overseas. I answered questions regarding my life as a Finnish expat, my experience about Canada, and all things in between. You can read the interview HERE!
Apart from that, applying for Master's programs in another European country while living in North America has really stressed me out big time lately. It's officially my Reason #1 to stress. Reason #2 is the unbearably unstable life of an immigrant with a temporary employment contract: I don't speak the language, I don't have contacts or local work experience. I got hired for a 2-month temporary contract in August, and since then I have dreaded the final day of my employment in the most amazing job I have ever had.
Well, good news: my contract was renewed!
I now officially have a job at least until Christmas, and I could not be happier. My colleagues are incredibly helpful with my French struggles, and even if I'm still absolutely terrified of speaking the language, my understanding has improved tremendously. It all really depends on the accent now: at times I'm able to understand the whole sentence word by word, while sometimes there might be only one phrase I'm able to recognize. Learning to say "Nowadays I'm fed up with...." must be one of my favourite recent lessons.
Longer posts will follow!
The key attribute to success in living with someone who doesn't possess the same cultural background as you is to acknowledge the fact that it is indeed the case: we are different in a way that cannot be possible for a Finnish or a Canadian couple. Our struggles are different: where a Finnish couple might fight over who does the dishes, we're fighting over with what we're doing the dishes, since my quebecois partner prefers a washcloth, and I want my brushes. We both think the other's option is unhygienic.
Come to terms with these differences. I'll start with a real-life example from yesterday: Alex has started in a new job in retail close to our home, and he had told me his shift would finish at 5. So at 20 to 6 I started to get a little confused and tried to call, but he didn't answer. I was hungry and wanted dinner. When he finally arrived home, I proceeded to ask:
"And where have you been?"This went on for a while until we realised the discussion has faced a dead end. I didn't realise that this is how they roll in Canada. Alex of course didn't know that I was unaware of this. So when these fights happen, someone has to raise the white flag and request a time-out, since none of us is right.
"At work? I told you my shift finishes at 5?"
"It's 15 to 6?"
"Well the shop closes at 5 but of course we have to clean up the shop before we leave!"
"So why isn't that included in your shift schedule on a daily basis? That's how it works in Finland. The shop closes at 5, so they extend my shift to 5:15."
"But they can't know how long it will take to clean up the shop."
"Well can't they estimate?"
There are pros and cons in a duo of two nationalities, as one would expect. I came up with 3 biggest differences compared to a couple of the same nationality, and my way to deal with these differences.
The Difference: Our cultures and habits are not the same.
As demonstrated above, we often encounter situations that feel a little absurd for a Finnish or Canadian couple. We want to do different things, we want to do same things with a different method, we need different things, we speak differently, we intepret words differently, we eat differently. The list could go on.
I came across one of the most common differences up to date just a few weeks from becoming a couple: I call it the Maybe-question. Finns are very straightforward and direct to a point where it becomes impolite in Canadian culture. I say yes and I mean yes. If something is wrong, I'll say it straight away, and if something pisses me off, I'll open my mouth and speak up. I don't play word games. However, in my partner's culture this is much more common, and sometimes it's hard for me to understand what they actually want. I might ask if Alex would like to eat mushroom pasta for dinner, and I get "maybe..." as an answer. This confused me at first, but with almost 2 years' experience I know now that "maybe" often means yes - depending on the tone, of course. No-Maybe sounds different.
We use words in a different way: our languages have been developing in different surroundings, and thus they stress and have words for separate things. I often amuse (and frighten) quebeckers by telling them Finnish doesn't have a word for "please". Meanwhile all that "ça va?" sounds unnecessary and pretentious to my ear - but my opinion on this never changed the fact that for a year our Skype conversations would always, always start with this mantra:
"Hi there, how are you?"Many times I requested we drop this courtesy and go straight into business, since we never had much time to exchange news. But no, he insisted and kept doing it. So after a while I understood that another way to start a conversation with a French-speaker doesn't seem to exist, and have been playing along ever since.
"I'm fine, how about you?"
"I'm fine too. So, what's up?"
BUT: It offers us a chance to question our own habits and opinions as something universal.
Exchange students and emigrants-to-be are often warned about the upcoming monster called the culture shock. It's the small dreaded creature sitting on every expat's shoulder and suddenly making all Finns want to exclusively eat rye bread and drink salmiakki vodka, even if neither of these things have been on their daily grocery list in Finland. They spend hours and hours running around their new hometown desperately trying to find a store that would sell cardamom (speaking from experience here!), because you absolutely need those cinnamon buns right now. The locals don't seem to understand the importance of cheese slicers and door handles, water tastes nothing like in Finland, insulation is nothing like in Finland, people are weird and nothing like in Finland, grocery stores and washing machines are your biggest enemy, and even showers are trying to kill you.
Stepping outside of your comfort zone to a new and strange culture is a crucial moment for anyone's national identity: it offers us a chance to rethink our position in this world and in our own culture. Am I a Finn? What does it mean to be a Finn? How much of a Finn am I? Living in one single culture makes it easy to take cheese slicers for granted and think of door handles as something cosmopolitan - the Finnish way of living appears as something universal, The One Culture, and the rest of the world as The Other in relation to it.
Multicultural relationship puts you into a position where struggles like these are part of your everyday life. The new home country/travelling destination/exchange university might appear as the biggest enemy for someone who's not used to facing that mild helplessness at first, but for one struggling with cultural differences on a daily basis such a feeling is nothing but new. Your whole life is that culture shock: your spouse doesn't understand doors without knobs nor see the point of cheese slicers, toilets in Europe don't have enough water and there are multiple separate stores for stuff you would normally find in one single pharmacy in Canada. Every time I might slip into thinking the Finnish way is the only way, he reminds me that none of us knows the right way to do things - only different ways. And no matter how much I might think asking the unnecessary "ça va?" is not at all me, last week I actually asked this question for the first time completely automatically when I entered our HR Manager's office and simultaneously realised how handy it is when trying to break the ice!
The Difference: We don't have a common native language.
My boyfriend is a French-speaker. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, I look at him and it strikes me all of a sudden: My boyfriend's mother tongue is French. How did this happen? I was pretty much able to say "Bonjour" and "Merci" when I met him for the first time. I, however, speak Finnish as my first language, a language that no one has ever even heard of. It was obvious that Alex had no idea how Finnish even sounds like.
Sometimes our linguistic differences reveal much bigger things about our general cultural differences. French and Finnish are binary opposites on many aspects, but I came up with one fundamental difference: GENDER. Finnish is a language of gender equality. There is no she or he, only hän to describe the 3rd person singular. After 2 years of speaking English every day I still screw up at times when it comes to mentioning the gender of the person I'm talking about, and it makes my quebecois friends really confused.
I might be telling a story while simultaneously fucking up the pronouns in English (or French, even more drastically). My quebecois friends look at me, a little confused, before they proceed to ask: "So.... was this person a man or a woman?"
Me, being raised in a culture where I will necessarily never know the gender of the protagonist, ask the obvious question: "... Why do you need to know anyway?"
They stay silent. Because they don't know why they want to know. They're just used to knowing. We argue about this at times, since it's hard for me to understand why there has to be a different word for a female mayor. At the same time, Alex makes lots of efforts to make me realise that without a female word for a mayor, the French word only refers to a male.
So we communicate in English, which has been a natural choice of language since the very beginning - we lived in England, after all.
Is it hard? At times we might have to stop and try to find words for certain things. We might sit down on a couch and go on Google Translate together to check this word the other was is trying to explain (usually diseases or kitchen utensils). You should hear us when we have to tell each other something really quick while doing 10 other things at the same time (cooking is a perfect example: imagine a situation where I witness a bowl of tomato sauce about to fall on the carpet, and I have approximately 0.5 seconds to inform Alex about the upcoming disaster!).
BUT: We learn new languages while simultaneously mastering our English skills.
The best way to learn a language is to speak it with native speakers. Even if my French skills are not at all impressive, I'd like to be brave enough to say my pronunciation is not too bad, thanks to learning it from a French-speaker.
At the same time we learn a lot about our own mother tongues by listening to our spouse questioning the obvious. "But WHY do you say it like that?" "WHY is there a difference?" I've become familiar with the confusion and helplessness I feel in front of my own mother tongue, thanks to my partner's brilliant questions.
Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that Alex has a different mother tongue, a whole different world happening in French inside his head - a world I haven't been able to understand. Communicating with Alex in any other language than English feels unnecessary and weird, since we both speak it almost perfectly. The idea of Alex not understanding my mother tongue has never been on my list of concerns - and you know what's much scarier? Now that I speak and understand French remotely well, I'm finally able to hear the French-speaking Alex, the quebecker who ends his sentences with "là" and swears by saying "calice".
The Difference: Our future is always a bit uncertain.
According to the study by European Commission, more than quarter of the people attending Erasmus exchange meet their long-term partner while studying abroad. I have all means to start believing I have become part of this happy group, but building a life with someone from another country is somewhat tricky.
We spent a year in a long-distance relationship before being able to live in the same country, but we were lucky - for some, it might be 2 or 5. Where a Finnish couple picks up a phone and calls when they miss each other, we created detailed weekly schedules to find a moment for a quick Skype session. We saw each other every 2 to 4 months. The question I heard the most during this time was ”Are you sure it’s worth it? I mean, that must be really hard.”
The word is not hard - it’s complicated. It’s complicated because it asks for arrangements which make that lifestyle sound just a little miserable: it asked us to schedule our every day to match someone’s who’s living 7 timezones apart just to hear their voice for an hour at 2am. We ate noodles and porridge for two weeks straight just to be able to put that last 100 bucks aside for the plane tickets to have a chance to see each other every 2 or 3 months. We always took that one extra shift, thus making us study at nights, I even sold over a half of everything I owned so I could move into a hippie commune from my cozy studio flat. It asked for long, uncomfortable and complicated flights, to sleep at all these bloody airports using a computer as a pillow, to plan our life a year ahead and to argue with friends and family who think we’re batshit crazy - and I really can’t blame them. It asked me to start over once more by beginning to learn my 7th language while Alex tries to make all 14 Finnish cases make even a slight sense. A hint: they don’t.
To maintain this relationship I went through a long and complicated immigration process of half a year, filled 8 forms and provided 20 different supporting documents from criminal recods to medical statements. I had lived my whole life in a barrel called European Union, and nothing could have prepared me for the complications and procedures it required to move to North America. No, ESTA, I'm not a nazi!
We finally live together - for now. If everything goes well, next September our common destination will be Ireland, and I can happily jump back into my barrel of visa-free immigration, euros and European Insurance cards, and it will be Alex's turn to go through a war of papers and certificates.
BUT: We share the desire to explore and experience the world.
You meet a guy on an exchange semester, you fall in love after chasing each other like idiots for ages in the fear of an uncertain future, and finally at the end of the year you promise to stay faithful and skype every day. Sounds like a disaster-to-be-born, doesn't it?
A situation like ours had all the chances to become a disaster, and it's exactly what happens to many. The disasters like that turn into exchange flings, and are the reason why I had to count to ten, inhale and exhale a few times and bite my tongue more than enough when family and friends came up with their concerned queries about the realistic outcome of my love life. There are always obstacles to overcome and extra willpower to maintain.
But when you overcome those obstacles, keep up with those skype sessions and fill all those forms, in the end you end up with something absolutely amazing!
So you go on an exchange semester in the hopes of figuring out what you want to do in life and experience new cultures, you meet a guy from the other side of the world who shares your passions, desires and plans to see the world and never get stuck in one place, you fall in love, and finally at the end of the year you've figured out that the person you fell in love with will never ask you to stay when you need to go, they will never make you choose between them and your own ambitions, and if you're lucky, they're mad enough to surrender to a life of weekly skype schedules, lonely nights and countless hours at airports, so that in the very end they will have a life with you.
We have so much to offer and teach to each other due to our different cultural backgrounds. We don't have a common native language, so we will master three at once. Our future is always a bit hard to figure out, but it makes our everyday life yet another adventure. It's a perfect deal!
The problem with enjoying these opportunities as a resident working full-time is that usually this kind of trips require you to reserve a whole day for hiking: even a simple daytrip consisting of driving, hiking and snack breaks easily takes up to 8 hours of your day. This was the concern we had with Alex the other day. We really wanted to spend a day together for once (it's a little tricky to find time for that at times since I'm working weekdays and he mainly does weekends), but Alex was working in the morning. We could only leave a bit after 1pm.
So Cap Tourmente National Wildile Area was a perfect destination! According to the website it would take 2 to 4 hours to hike a trail - a little different to Bras du Nord's estimated 6 hours... Upon arrival, we decided to choose a trail called La Falaise, with a high-level difficulty and a rewarding viewpoint at the end. In Alex's words, this place is actually more about walking around than hiking, but as the map underneath might tell, our chosen trail is pretty much steep up-hill until the end.
|Map from Environment Canada|
Despite the difficulty level, this 4.2km trail is pretty much the easiest I've experienced so far. Cap Tourmente is actually not about hiking, but protecting greater snow geese, which I was unfortunately unable to record on camera. But I swear, there were seriously thousands of them.
So we walked for two hours, and I had a chance to take some pretty nice pictures of the hill we ended up conquering. We couldn't have chosen a better weekend for our little trip, since the ruska (still struggling to find another word for this, excuse my Finnish) was at its best. All these autumn colours!
|The first wildife area with a railway track that I've seen....|
We made it to the top after some panting and one very short break. My bright-coloured hiking shoes I bought in July have been serving me incredibly well - 119$ well spent. Alex wins me at this though: the shoe you see in the picture has been doing its honourable job for 12 years now.
And as expected, the view from the top is breathtaking as always:
The forest had a funny magical feeling to it. The trail was a child's play to walk after my mudslide-fest in Bras du Nord.
The experience was pretty awesome overall, and I hope our 11$ (6 for adults, 5 for students) helps the folk to protect the geese. Go greater snow geese!
Website: Cap Tourmente
Québec City has a small and picturesque centrum with its 400-year old buildings, but stepping outside of this Unesco-protected area is rather difficult due long distances and the lack of diverse public transportation. Luckily, this isn't the case with Montreal, where many things worth seeing are of a walking distance from each other - and if not, the underground with its 4 metro lines will surely take you there. Montréal is the 2nd biggest city of Canada (yes, bigger than the capital of the country), but with a 1-day transportation pass of 10$ it's easy to flounder through some of the most interesting attractions in just a day or two.
Another drastic difference between my hometown and Montréal is the question of language. Regardless of being the biggest city of the whole French-speaking province of Québec, only 57% of people are primarily French-speaking. In other words, the city is easy to approach by someone who doesn't necessarily master French, and sometimes you might even run into situations where speaking French to your waitress is practically useless. This is a well-welcomed holiday from the life filled with French immersion and confusing situations. But worry not my dear quebecois friends: Montréal is still the biggest French-speaking city in the world right after Paris.
One good thing about Montréal as a travel destination is that it's easy to access, the Pierre Elliot Trudeau International Airport being just a 30-minute bus trip from the centrum (needless to say, this is the only international airport in the whole province of Québec). There are multiple AMIGO EXPRESS routes to and from the city many times a day for a person who fancies cheap transportation and social encounters. In case you prefer more traditional ways of moving around, GREYHOUND bus company has connections between most important cities in Eastern Canada. Just recently my favourite cheap-ass bus company, MEGABUS started driving in Canada, and my experience with the 6-hour bus drive from Toronto to Montréal with 25$ was totally worth the price.
I came up with a little list of things that might be worth visiting in case you ever end up bored in Montréal. Like mentioned before, this island really has something for everyone, so I tried to be diverse with my top 5 Things To Do In Montréal. Here's the map (click to enlarge), and as you can see, almost everything is within walking-distance from each other, only No 5 being 9 metro stops apart:
|Map from maps.google.com|
1. Mount Royal Park ⎮ Parc du Mont-Royal
If you have 1 hour in Montréal, go and see this. Parc du Mont-Royal is in the middle of the city, free to access and a very rewarding destination if you have the energy to climb to the top of the 234m-high mountain in the middle of the island. The park is especially beautiful during autumn, since the trees have started changing their colour (ruska, as we'd say in Finnish) and the maple trees are flaring from different shades of red and orange. The park is full of squirrels, but feed them at your own risk: feeding wild animals is prohibited by law, and might gain you a 50$ fine.
The best part of the park might not be for the faint-hearted, though: the viewpoint, Chalet du Mont-Royal, is accessible through a set of stairs that feel like a never-ending climb. Many locals come here to work out, since running up and down these stairs will surely gain you a great ass. I took a few pictures:
|There will be stairs.... Lots of stairs.|
If you make it to the top, the view is absolutely astounding (my face not included). You can see the whole horizon of Montréal with its skyscrapers and suburbs, the fleuve of St. Lawrence in the background. I have a thing for viewpoints and high places like this, and so far I have a somewhat similar picture from all the cities I've visited during the last 2 years. We already tried to access the place over a year ago, and I can tell from experience that trying to climb this park at midnight in a fairly intoxicated state is not going to work out. Just saying.
Speaking about midnight, the park is closed during the night - meaning, it has no streetlights of any kind. My amis quebecoises told me that according to the urban legend, gay men use to come here during the night to have sex. So unless you're into that, I suggest you do your trip to Parc du Mont-Royal before sunset, as it gets dark really quickly afterwards during fall and winter.
Website: Le Mont-Royal
2. Chinatown ⎮ Le Quartier Chinois
Like said, French and sometimes even English are practically useless in many of the shops. Some of them have put signs outside of their doors specifying what languages are to be used in case you decide to enter: my favourite one said "We speak French, English and 6 dialects of Chinese". So go ahead and choose! Most signs are written in traditional or simplified Chinese, with occasional pinyin (which makes it much easier to stroll around for someone who took one beginner course of Chinese in uni).
|Flags of The Republic of China hung above the pedestrians' walk|
This district really has its own atmosphere, so make sure to pop by if you fancy a break from all the canadianess. The smell of Asian food is almost irresistible, so it might be better to arrive with an empty stomach.
Best Restaurants in Chinatown: Restomontreal
3. Rue St-Catherine
Rue Ste-Catherine travels through many different city blocks from business district to Montréal's gay village and Place des Arts, Montréal's central concert venue, which works as a location for the annual Montréal Jazz Festival. The street is also close to many university campuses, such as McGill and Concordia University.
|An entrance to a strip club, visible from at least 50 meters apart|
The street is really long, so don't try to walk from one end to another at 3am in the morning with high heels. Just saying.
4. Old Montréal ⎮ Vieux-Montréal
Montréal's Old Town is the touristic center of the city, and your primary destination if you want to buy souvenirs, visit museums or taste Montréal's classic, smoked meat. In case you're wondering, it's basically a sandwich stuffed with a thick layer of meat slices. Old Town offers many restaurants that serve this traditional food, but make sure to choose the right place - not all restaurants offering smoked meat actually know how to cook it. Speaking from experience here.
Old Town is a picturesque district with cute old houses and narrow alleys, and has a very European feeling to it. It's very charming in its own way, but might not be that astonishing for someone from the old continent: the architecture and style remind me a lot of Stockholm's Gamla Stan, or even my Helsinki a little. The district offers a lot for a northern American who can't afford flying across the Atlantic, though.
And like any typical European city centre, Montréal's Old Town has rows after rows of souvenir shops filled with printed T-shirts, moose figurines and items related to Montréal Canadiens hockey team. And hats like this:
|A very necessary equipment during +40 degrees|
The Old Town is directly connected to Old Port, which might also be worth a visit - especially if you're a fan of circus, since it's the home of world-renown Cirque du Soleil. The Old Port has pretty walkways and facilities for cycling, and reminds me a lot of Amsterdam in this sense.
|Montréal seen from the Old Port|
5. Botanical Garden ⎮ Jardin Botanique
The last attraction of my list is a bit further from the city centre, and not necessarily the most typical spot for tourists - which is exactly why I wanted to include it in my list! I've always been very keen on botanical gardens since I was a kid, but Jardin Botanique de Montréal offers something very special during autumn. I was lucky enough to pop by the city close to Halloween, when the Botanical Garden hosts a pumpkin decorating competition. The pumpkins are on a display inside the greenhouses, which are decorated to suit the seasonal festivity.
More than just pumpkins, the Gardens of Light -event takes part in the Chinese garden to bring light into darkening nights. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and unfortunately pretty hard to capture on camera. The lanterns on display around the garden are handmade in Shanghai, and the biggest one of them is placed in the center of the pond.
The visit is rather pricy for non-residents (and I can't really explain how good it felt to declare myself as a resident....), but with the price of 19.90$ you gain access to all the greenhouses, the lantern festival and the Japanese garden. It's a perfect destination for dates.
The Botanical Garden is also located right next to the Olympic Stadium, if you're interested in seeing some rather confusing architecture:
Hopefully my list made you feel like Canada should definitely be your next travelling destination. If you have any tips as to what else there is to see and experience in Montréal, please share your wisdom with me!
|Québec City seen from Île d'Orléans|
I'm sitting in a bus with someone I vaguely know, having a chit-chatty conversation in English. After a moment of silence this person starts speaking again, this time in French:
"You know Melissa, you really have to start speaking French. You're in Québec now, in here we speak French. It's not any harder than Spanish, Italian, German or any of those languages. You just have to start talking.""All diasporas are unhappy, but every diaspora is unhappy in its own way", as my favourite literary theorist Vijay Mishra puts it by mimicking the famous opening sentence of Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. Anyone who has been even vaguely around me during the past spring semester is aware that my Bachelor's Thesis was about this very topic - not due to any selfhelp-therapy-reasons, but out of pure academic interest. However, now that I find myself more or less dislocated, it feels natural to return to the topic from a more personal point of view (by ruthlessly quoting myself from aforementioned thesis).
Diaspora is to leave your homecountry to escape the terrors of war to an unknown land, as much as it is to sit next to a local and get lectured about my imagined reluctance to integrate into their culture. It's the clash that happens when the culture you're living in is no longer your own, it's the hunch of discomfort and fear in your stomach as you're willingly or unwillingly stepping out of your comfort zone. It's the opposite of filtered Instagram-pictures and #wanderlust hashtag - it's what they don't tell you about migration.
Canada is my Terra Incognita, the Land Unknown - for a Syrian refugee it's something else. Every diasporic experience is different, but the very fundamental feature of all these experiences is the sudden lack of contextual knowledge and understanding of cultural resonances needed to fully adapt to the new environment. Here, have an example:
Never before had I thought about it, but now that I encountered such a situation, I found out I have no idea how to handle corn.
I ask a lot of questions. Questions that make my quebecois partner look at me with a weird face and go "...huh?". So far I can remember asking the following huh?-questions:
1. "But how does the state know you've moved if you don't send an announcement about your new address to the postal office of Canada?"
2. "Can't you just go and vote anywhere in the city during the pre-election dates?"
3. "But how on earth are you supposed to wash your windows if you can't OPEN THEM?"
4. "How can you ever receive mail that's in an A4-sized envelope if your mailbox can only fit postal card-sized mail?"
5. "... You don't lock your front door for the night?!"
6. "How come you can only make a new rental agreement once a year in July??"
7. "You don't get money from returning old glass bottles?"
8. "......... You don't use a knife?"
I have no idea how this society works. In Finland I return my old wine bottles and get 20 cents in return, keep my front door locked at all times and happily open my double-glazed windows so I can wipe them. I stand silently in an elevator and seek for the last empty seat in a bus to avoid sitting next to a stranger. I forget to say "please" and ask "Ça va?". I use a knife. I eat a salty breakfast. I fucking love my salty breakfast.
Diaspora is not about going for an exchange semester in Leicester to rave in The Revolution on New Walk every Friday. It's about the helplessness you feel when you face the everyday reality of a society that isn't yours, and suddenly you feel like a second-class citizen. You're excluded. Diaspora is about getting dislocated, literally and figuratively. A semester in England with all its International Offices, tutors and mandatory orientation soirees could never have prepared me for the solitary life of an immigrant, who tries to ramble on with her life even when she's standing in front of her bank's office with an actual 90's-style cheque from her employer in her hand. Seriously Canada, cheques?
There is nothing to hang on to. The cities look different, the culture is different, you're afraid to open your mouth in the fear of saying something inappropriate (to this day I'm still not sure if I should in any circumstances refer to Quebeckers as Canadians). No matter how much you enjoy adventuring, exploring and get positively surprised when people start chatting with you in an elevator or when suddenly no one owns Marimekko, at times you get this little feeling of helplessness.
|A very English cityscape from Shakespeare's hometown, Stratford-Upon-Avon, UK.|
A migrant's cultural identity becomes a hybridized mosaic of fragments, a mosaic where I might forget to say please, but still frequently exclaim "cheers" as a remnant from my times in Leicester - and who knows, maybe after a year in Québec I've gotten hooked to my overly sugared breakfast cereals and caramel paste. This is hybridity: it's what happens when we start to assimilate features from the culture we have migrated into, blending these features with the ones we already hold.
One day I might hold a different citizenship. On that day I might look at myself from the mirror and see all the rambling, the diaspora and the past dislocation, but I will no longer forget to say my "please".
I'm an immigrant. I live the life of an immigrant, which is, for obvious reasons, rather different to the one I led in my dear old Finland.
Or is it really?
I've reached a point where I feel like my integration to the local society has come to a pretty comfortable state: I have a job, a bank account, a phone number, a bus card, a fidelity card for my nearby grocery store, I even do volunteer work for the local cultural centre every other weekend. I take the same bus 800 to work every day at the same time, at 7:33 from St-C.-Garnier to Univ. du Québec, work 8-16.30 from Monday to Friday, life has gotten really ordinary. There's a certain kind of excitement in living an ordinary life in an unfamiliar place, where your every ordinary day still feels like yet another adventure to the unknown. I step into the bus 800 at 07:33 and say "Bonjour!" to the driver, and everytime I open my mouth I'm afraid of how it will sound this time. Is my pronounciation of my nemesis, the letter "R", even slightly in place? What if my bus card has ran out of trips and I don't have 3,25 dollars to pay for my journey? What if today, when I'm going to the pharmacy to buy myself a new bus card, I forget how to speak French, or what if the cashier tries to small-talk with me again and I'll just look and feel stupid like I do everytime I don't understand the immensely difficult quebecois accent?
But outside of all these questions of my everyday life's little struggles, the life is really ordinary. I've gotten a few frequently repeated questions from people on the other side of the Atlantic, and instead of always answering something short and general to everyone, I'll do my best in answering these questions with a great attention to detail.
1. How's your French? Do you even speak it? I thought you studied Russian.
But when it comes to French, things get a little tricky. My love is not as sincere, it's even a little forced. I took 2 courses of French during my last year of uni and that's it - that was my level of French when I landed in Montréal. I've heard all these stories about people learning languages by immersion, and to be honest, I'd like someone to tell me how the fuck these people manage to do that.
I've come to terms with l'accent quebecois. I can handle the jaw that seems to be moving in ways that shouldn't be possible for the human physiology. I listen to them speak and I understand 50% of the things I hear if the said person speaks with a clear voice and loudly enough (i.e. mumbling to your stereotypically Canadian beard is not cool, guys). I'm able to make sentences if forced. I'm more afraid of speaking than actually not being able to speak, and it's impossible to say whether it's because of my own strive for perfection or my prejudice against French-speaking people being compassionate about foreigners trying to rape their language. At this very moment I'm still a little bit afraid to go to the pharmacy and tell the cashier "bonjour, je vais prendre une carte de bus, douze fois s'il te plaît". I often amuse people with my perfect pronounciation of the famous swear "tabarnak", while I still struggle with my favourite word, "aspirateur".
Dear French, I know you're not like Russian and you'll never be, but I want to get to know you. You sound nice but you're a shitty thing to pronounce. Give me some time.
2. Have you found work?
|Photo from Activision.com|
Afterwards? No fucking idea, once again. Life is an adventure.
3. Are you still with Alex?
I wrote a little love letter for him once at the end of our semester in Leicester. The last chapter of this little piece of poetry will serve as my answer to this question, despite the overly cheezy and possibly even a little embarrassing atmosphere I'm about to create by sharing it here. Brace yourselves:
My life with you is a travel. You take me to an excursion to myself, you make me discover parts of me I didn’t know exist. I might have sat next to you on the rocky wall of that fort in Marseille, staring at the horizon of the Mediterranean Sea, the southern wind in my hair and salt on my skin, but of all the places I have seen with you, the things I find when I stare into your eyes are the most breathtaking of all.
The answer to this question is Yes, Yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes like Molly on the last page of James Joyce's Ulysses. Yes, I am still with him.
4. Do you miss Finland?
Before Leicester I thought Finland is boring. The culture is boring, the people are a bit boring too, the weather sucks and there's too much Iittala in every home. I wanted to get out really badly, swearing I'd never miss anything I left behind.
That was, of course, very naive of me. I enjoy the fact that I don't live there at this time, and I don't have any intentions in doing so in the near future. But moving abroad to broaden your own understanding of cultures, customs, people and life in general has never been the binary opposite of appreciating where you come from. I'll share a little concrete example here in the form of a discussion between two approx. 13-year old Finnish girls I once overheard in a tram in Helsinki (I assume they were students from the nearby international secondary school) after I had just returned to Finland from my 8 months in Leicester:
Girl A: So uhh, are you like completely a Finn or are you from somewhere else...?My grandfather is a Swedish-speaking Finn. My great aunt is Russian. But I happen to be a Finn and it's cool. It's cool to come from a country with a good reputation abroad - it's a sign of good education, possibly a great skill in languages, awesome "Scandinavian" culture that becomes more and more trendy all the time. Finland has given me enough in this life for me to be able to leave it, knowing that if I ever fall and need a cave to crawl into, Finland is waiting for me with open arms and free healthcare.
Girl B: No, I'm not a Finn. I'm 1/16 Finnish-Swedish.
Girl A: Really? That's so cool! So like, do you speak any Swedish?
Girl B: Yeah, I can say "Jag heter...", it's like "My name is". and I can say "Hej!" and "Tack!"
Girl A: That's so awesome!
Girl B: How about you, are you a Finn?
Girl A: No, I'm also 1/16 Estonian.
Girl B: Oh wow! Hey, say something in Estonian!
Girl A: I don't know any Estonian....
I miss Finland at times. I miss the silence. I miss how I can maintain my resting bitchface without getting asked if I'm alright dear. I miss the absolutely amazing public transportation system of Helsinki (there are still things to develop for sure, but in here it's no surprise if the bus is 25 minutes late on a daily basis). I miss my weird-ass language with its weird-ass expressions. But at this very moment of time and space, Finland is not the place for me to be.
5. Do you plan on staying in Canada for good?
Canada is absolutely breathtaking. The nature leaves me in awe everytime I put my foot out of the city and the people are as polite as all the stereotypes make you think. Despite the non-European atmosphere from architecture to city structures I've taken for granted all my life, I feel like I've settled in here rather well. Actually, I'd like to share this piece of artwork with you as a way to sum up my feelings about Canada. (side note: quebeckers don't like the Canadian national anthem. They have their own unofficial anthem "Gens du Pays" by Gilles Vigneault and Gaston Rochon. Listen to it HERE)
But no, I don't intend to stay in here for good. Why? Because I'm participating a mobility program called SWAP Working Holidays, aimed for university students and newly graduates to go and work around the world for a year with a work permit. My SWAP Canada visa is valid until the 23rd of June 2016, after which I'll have to return to Finland at least as a courtesy. My better half has also expressed his desires to leave the country, so who am I to disagree.
Instead I plan on applying for several MA programs for September 2016. Right now my destination seems to be Ireland instead of the UK due to their new, conservative-lead immigration policy which makes it almost impossible for my Canadian companion to study in the country. Besides, we're both in love with Dublin. Sláinte!
|Our hiking trail for the most part|
|But the view on the top is definitely worth it!|
|Another viewpoint, opening to the other direction of the valley|
|A confusing tree|
|My shoes needed some washing afterwards|