Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die.

-Mary Elizabeth Frye-


25 October 2010

Home in Sweden 1. Let´s Get Started With the Plan



A Dalecarlian horse or Dala horse (Swedish: Dalahäst) is a traditional carved and painted wooden statuette of a horse originating in the Swedish province of Dalarna. The Dala horse was previously nothing more than a child´s toy (Although I also came across a legend that the Dala horse was at some point made the national symbol of Sweden. This I have not verified.); in modern times it has become a symbol of Dalarna as well as Sweden in general.

That I became fascinated with the dalahäst is something for which I can thank Ikea. Ikea managed to convince me and two million people around the world that we needed one in our homes. I had two. In light of recent events, I regret that I did not bring them with me.

As it turns out, the land of the dalahäst, by which I mean Sweden in general and NOT Dalarna in particular, will soon be the next place I call home. Though not by choice nor design. Perhaps that is strictly not true. I am not coerced into making Sweden my home. At some point, a choice did lay before us, and we made it. So, by choice, though not by design. Thus begins my quest for the Dalahäst. Of course, that is not meant literally because that quest would simply take me to the nearest Ikea. Rather a quest for a new home. A quest to be at home in my new home. Or soon to be new home. The move for me will not actually take place for several months.

The Quest began with a visit. Having never been to Sweden before, it was probably not a bad idea to first visit the place to see if I liked it. Though visiting a place for a weekend is certainly an entirely different experience from actually living there, I would have had to think twice and thrice before moving to a place which I didn´t even like for a weekend. The visit, being a few weeks ago now and therefore no longer being in the forefront of my mind, I will describe perhaps another time.

What do I really need to feel at home in a new place? From experience, I know that I need first to feel prepared. To feel prepared I need a plan. The plan which I need is twofold:

Firstly, I need to know what I will do once I arrive. I am not the sort who is happy to figure things out on the ground. I prefer to have an idea of what can do and what I would like to do. Sitting at home, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for someone else to bring home the bacon, is not something which I am well built for. I can do it, make no mistake, but only for a certain duration. I can do it better if I know the length of the duration beforehand. Before I moved to Germany, I researched the options for employment, and when there proved to be too many obstacles to the type of employment I wanted, the options for studying. That turned out to be a good idea and I mostly enjoyed my time as a student. Having done that here though, I am ready to go back to work. Actually I think it is the two years of not working that is getting to me. There are many other things which I would like to study and learn. But I don´t know if I can face another year or two of a student life. I need to feel like a lawyer again. Also, the obstacles which presented themselves in Germany do not seem to be present in Sweden. At least not to the same extent as they did in Germany, as far as I can tell so far. So, this part of the plan is mainly about looking for a job. In this regard, I have taken one small step, if that. Let´s call it half a step. I will therefore describe this at another time, perhaps when the half a step becomes a complete one.

So we move on to the second part of the plan, which is the language. As is the case whenever I am in a non English speaking country, no matter how briefly, I am plagued with the need to understand everything. The advertisements on the billboards, the announcements on the train, the conversations of random people around me, posters on the street, graffiti in the loo, anything, and everything. I begun German lessons before I moved to Germany. As in retrospect, that was a damn good idea. No matter how lost and frustrated I felt at the beginning of my life in Germany, it is nothing compared to the difficulty I would have faced is I spoke not a word.

Some people have reacted with less than enthusiasm on the subject of me learning another language. Not all, but some. They shake their head and grimace. I have not been able to pin-point the emotion which lies behind this shaking of the head and grimacing. Perhaps learning a new language is a struggle to some, and for that reason they find it incredibly daunting to have to learn a new language to survive in the country. To each his own, I say. Learning a new language has never been a chore or much of an effort for me. At least it is an effort I have always been willing to make. The biggest obstacle for me in terms of learning a new language is getting off my lazy ass to sign up for a class. In my late teenage years, I have toyed with the idea of learning French. I went as far as speaking to my aunt, with whom I was living at the time, about it and finding out about courses at alliance francaise and various other language schools. Nevertheless, I never signed up for a class. While studying in the UK, I did sign up for French classes which were offered to students free of charge. Truth be told, I have to thank the people around me for that. I was surrounded by various people who were signing up for various language courses. I took French for a year and loved it. I patted myself on the back when I managed to get directions to the toilets from a traffic policeman in the middle of a traffic light and to buy a slice of pizza in French. Upon returning home after my studies, I again toyed with the idea of continuing French lessons, it being a shame to waste what I have learnt and all. Again, I never did.

Having to learn German was almost a dream come true. No, I never dreamed of learning German. I joked about wanting to learn German to understand Michael Schumacher (which I learnt is pronounced different than how I had been pronouncing it for years!) at the press conferences after the races where he is asked at the end to say a few words in his own language. But really, it was a joke and the extent of my German aspirations. The dream was, to learn a European language (or rather, another European language as it was recently pointed out to me that English is also a European language.) The process was not always enjoyable, and I could constantly be heard complaining about "this stupid language with its stupid grammar and stupid this and stupid that and it DOESN`T MAKE SENSE!!!". All complaining aside, I LOVE the fact that I can speak another European language. (Am also secretly very proud of said fact.)

Since being at University, I did for a brief period pick up French again. Again taking advantage of the free language courses at the University. However, lacking a need for the language, plus the demands of my course and a dislike for the teacher who for some reason irritated me, I quit the course after a few weeks.

Now that I am faced with the need and thus the motivation to learn another language, I have no complains. I am ready to leap blindfolded into it. The learning, I mean. Sadly, it has not been as easy as I thought.

... to be continued

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