(written by Lindsay, of course)
We have been back in Seattle for nearly a month now, living in temporary housing in an apartment complex close to Microsoft. Everything so far is going well and according to plan - we've found a house, Tom is working hard at his new job, Cavan has started afternoon preschool, and me....I've become a stay-at-home-mom-driver-of-an-SUV. With Cavan's new preschool a good half hour from our apartment (though it will be 3 minutes from our new house) I am literally out and about all afternoon, running errands with Devon, going for walks, basically killing time from 12:30 when I drop him off until 3:00 when I pick him up. Back in Denmark, when I envisioned my return to the States, I anticipated much less driving than we are actually doing now. Hopefully that will change once we move and are reunited with our bikes and trailer again. Then, of course, it will start raining and getting dark at 5:00, so maybe we will opt for the comfort of the SUV after all....
I've been feeling the need to blog today, because I think I have finally reached a moment of clarity in my transition from being an "American-Living-In-Denmark" to a "More-Danish-Than-Your-Average-American-American-Living-In-The-U.S." This entry, my friends, is all about identity, and how contextual it is. (I want to say 'situated' but that would just be me using my educational jargon).
In choosing to live in another country, and to learn another language more specifically, you are choosing, in a sense, to begin a new life, to open a new door and walk through it. Many people travel and "eavesdrop" in a sense on the languages and cultures of others, but to really put yourself into that culture and language requires the creation of a new persona, a new you. When you choose to be brave and do this, you must quickly come to terms with the fact that you will become a stuttering, sputtering, incomprehensible idiot (okay, that's a bit harsh, but that's often how it feels). You mispronounce your own street name, you respond inappropriately when someone gives you a compliment, you watch to see how other people are behaving in social situations so that you don't look like a bafoon eating your pizza or your burger with your hands. So in these early days, the identity of "bungler" is born.
Later comes confidence, routine, assimilation. The daily life of bungling through a new language and culture slowly gives way to an identity of one who perserveres. The wins begin to edge out the losses. The successes overshadow the failures. People stop treating you so much like a foreigner, and converse with you as they would any other person. You become a "master foreigner".
So here is where the trouble begins again. You move back to your own country. Suddenly you are walking down the street (or driving your SUV) just like everyone else again. There are no external markings to show where you have been, who you have become, or what you have gained. You have mastered being a foreigner, but suddenly that job title has no meaning. Even for yourself, the persona you have created starts to slip away. Your hard-earned identity no longer has a context. You must pick up some of the pieces of who you once used to be, before you ever moved, and try to start forging some new ones.
For me, there has been less culture shock in coming back to the States, as there has been this "life shock" as I like to now call it. It doesn't help that at the same time that I'm floating between two countries, I am also floating between graduate school and a career. The experience has been so jarring for me, that I quickly sought out a Danish-speaking playgroup as soon as we got to Seattle. I have met twice now with some Danish mothers and their kids. And today it makes sense to me why I felt so compelled to join this group - to have a context to validate the Danish-speaking-Lindsay identity that I have been crafting over the past 2 1/2 years. I say that I want to keep up the language (and I do) but I think I am also afraid that that part of who I am will disappear if I don't actively pursue it.
I worry about this for Cavan too, as he became a user of language and aware of himself as a person in a bilingual context. It both surprised and saddened me on Wednesday during our playgroup when I found that after just 6 weeks of being out of Denmark, Cavan could not find the voice to speak to anyone in Danish. Of course he understands still (and maybe he's just temporarily feeling weird about speaking Danish with strangers) but his confidence was gone. He, like everyone else who moves to another country with a different culture and language, is adapting himself to the present context. As a child, however, he is reacting in a less nostalgic, more pragmatic manner. The friendly and nurturing Danish of his teachers and peers at day care are gone. The familiar and powerful English of his family life is now all around him. As he told me himself when I tried to speak Danish to him one day, "I'm not a day care boy anymore. I'm a preschool boy." Context. That identity is no longer relevant for him.
He and I are taking different paths in our return to the States, but these experiences are shaped by our surroundings, and how we are choosing to identify ourselves in relation to them. I hope that by continuing contact with Danish speakers here in Seattle we can preserve at least some part of who we were...are...becoming.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Hjemrejse....the journey home
written by Lindsay
It seems that this blog is about to reach its end. In just eight days, I will be flying out with the boys (and since I haven't updated in forever, boys = Cavan + Devon, now 3 months old) and Tom will follow a few days behind. Moving back to Seattle. When we left, we weren't sure if we'd ever live there again, but as it turns out, we get to come full circle in this adventure. We are right now in the midst of all the usual stress of moving, though the emotions this time are a bit different. Instead of looking forward to an adventure into the unknown, we are craving the comforts of home. Instead of sightseeing, getting lost and being misunderstood, we will be visiting our old favorite hangouts and getting together with friends we haven't seen for years.
The thing that makes me most sad about leaving Denmark is missing out on the opportunity for the boys to grow up here. It has just been a joy to watch as Cavan has begun to explore his identity as an American living in Denmark, as a speaker of two languages. It is both exciting to think of what it will be like for him to interact with more kids in his first language, and sad to know that all that he has learned in the past 2 years will blur and then fade and then someday be forgotten - even though I know that these experiences have shaped him profoundly and will continue to effect how he thinks and learns for the rest of his life. I feel the same for myself in a way. Somewhere along the way, I developed my own identity as a foreigner and have grown used to the tension of trying to piece together the right things to say, of saying nothing when I couldn't find the words. I have both loved the challenge, and regretted that my true self has been inhibited in many of my personal interactions. It has been in some ways painful being different, but I think it has helped me to find out what I am and what I am not. Or will it all change again once we are back on familiar ground?
Two things stand out to me as "souvenirs" that I would like to take home from Denmark. The first, I want me and my boys to continue learning foreign languages and for that to become a part of who we are as a family. And second, to keep biking! As I look online for houses in Seattle, I find myself examining neighborhoods for bike-ability to shopping, trails, etc. I will be happy to drive my Honda again, but I am reluctant to move back into the car culture. If only we could take the bicycle lanes home with us.
We will likely update a few more times as we re-enter the atmosphere, as we discover what those eight degrees of separation feel like all over again. Stay tuned!
It seems that this blog is about to reach its end. In just eight days, I will be flying out with the boys (and since I haven't updated in forever, boys = Cavan + Devon, now 3 months old) and Tom will follow a few days behind. Moving back to Seattle. When we left, we weren't sure if we'd ever live there again, but as it turns out, we get to come full circle in this adventure. We are right now in the midst of all the usual stress of moving, though the emotions this time are a bit different. Instead of looking forward to an adventure into the unknown, we are craving the comforts of home. Instead of sightseeing, getting lost and being misunderstood, we will be visiting our old favorite hangouts and getting together with friends we haven't seen for years.
The thing that makes me most sad about leaving Denmark is missing out on the opportunity for the boys to grow up here. It has just been a joy to watch as Cavan has begun to explore his identity as an American living in Denmark, as a speaker of two languages. It is both exciting to think of what it will be like for him to interact with more kids in his first language, and sad to know that all that he has learned in the past 2 years will blur and then fade and then someday be forgotten - even though I know that these experiences have shaped him profoundly and will continue to effect how he thinks and learns for the rest of his life. I feel the same for myself in a way. Somewhere along the way, I developed my own identity as a foreigner and have grown used to the tension of trying to piece together the right things to say, of saying nothing when I couldn't find the words. I have both loved the challenge, and regretted that my true self has been inhibited in many of my personal interactions. It has been in some ways painful being different, but I think it has helped me to find out what I am and what I am not. Or will it all change again once we are back on familiar ground?
Two things stand out to me as "souvenirs" that I would like to take home from Denmark. The first, I want me and my boys to continue learning foreign languages and for that to become a part of who we are as a family. And second, to keep biking! As I look online for houses in Seattle, I find myself examining neighborhoods for bike-ability to shopping, trails, etc. I will be happy to drive my Honda again, but I am reluctant to move back into the car culture. If only we could take the bicycle lanes home with us.
We will likely update a few more times as we re-enter the atmosphere, as we discover what those eight degrees of separation feel like all over again. Stay tuned!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Homesickness
(written by Lindsay)
We are soon coming up on the two year mark of living in Denmark. While there are a mountain of things that we have come to miss about being in the States (and can't wait to go back to), I personally feel like I have adjusted to living here. Being able to speak the language, having a job to go to, seeing people that I know at the grocery store, and of course having a car, have helped life to settle into a new normal.
Every once in awhile, however, homesickness hits me out of the blue and makes me realize just how far away my life has drifted from the familiar. Last weekend, I was out by myself shopping at the grocery store, when I heard some country music playing over the store's radio. This may not seem so remarkable, but virtually no one listens to country music here - it's not on the radio, and I don't think you can buy much in stores. So while I was picking out avocados, I was pulled back through time to "You Picked A Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille" and was discussing with my sister whether there were four hungry children or four hundred children. In the frozen food aisle, it was "Blue" and I was suddenly transported to a warm summer night, rocking with the waves on Mom and Dad's boat at the Lake. And it just brought tears to my eyes, missing the warmth, my family, and the familiarity of all those country songs.
Today, Cavan and I went to see the new Disney cartoon "Bolt". The movie was dubbed into Danish, as children are typically not good at reading subtitles. Believe it or not, after nearly two years of living in Denmark, this is the first time I've seen a movie in the theater that was not in English. I had no problems understanding, and I assume Cavan didn't either - another sign of how far we've come and how much we've learned since living here. And then came the scene, of Bolt and his road companions working their way West across the United States to find Penny in California. And the homesickness hit me again, as they crossed state lines into Missouri and Kansas. The road trip, the never ending highway, the waffle houses....we have taken a car trip or two since living in Europe, but it's not quite the same.
I like living in Europe for many reasons, and I feel that we as a family have done a good job at integrating ourselves into many of the lifestyles changes that go along with being here. But I am in my heart a proud American, and there are a great many things I miss about my culture, which I don't even realize on a daily basis. These little moments, however, break into my consciousness and call me back home. I'm not ready to go just yet - as I know that once we leave, this time in our lives will become something like a dream itself - but I do look forward to our homecoming, with all the small surprises of the things we didn't even know we'd missed for so long.
We are soon coming up on the two year mark of living in Denmark. While there are a mountain of things that we have come to miss about being in the States (and can't wait to go back to), I personally feel like I have adjusted to living here. Being able to speak the language, having a job to go to, seeing people that I know at the grocery store, and of course having a car, have helped life to settle into a new normal.
Every once in awhile, however, homesickness hits me out of the blue and makes me realize just how far away my life has drifted from the familiar. Last weekend, I was out by myself shopping at the grocery store, when I heard some country music playing over the store's radio. This may not seem so remarkable, but virtually no one listens to country music here - it's not on the radio, and I don't think you can buy much in stores. So while I was picking out avocados, I was pulled back through time to "You Picked A Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille" and was discussing with my sister whether there were four hungry children or four hundred children. In the frozen food aisle, it was "Blue" and I was suddenly transported to a warm summer night, rocking with the waves on Mom and Dad's boat at the Lake. And it just brought tears to my eyes, missing the warmth, my family, and the familiarity of all those country songs.
Today, Cavan and I went to see the new Disney cartoon "Bolt". The movie was dubbed into Danish, as children are typically not good at reading subtitles. Believe it or not, after nearly two years of living in Denmark, this is the first time I've seen a movie in the theater that was not in English. I had no problems understanding, and I assume Cavan didn't either - another sign of how far we've come and how much we've learned since living here. And then came the scene, of Bolt and his road companions working their way West across the United States to find Penny in California. And the homesickness hit me again, as they crossed state lines into Missouri and Kansas. The road trip, the never ending highway, the waffle houses....we have taken a car trip or two since living in Europe, but it's not quite the same.
I like living in Europe for many reasons, and I feel that we as a family have done a good job at integrating ourselves into many of the lifestyles changes that go along with being here. But I am in my heart a proud American, and there are a great many things I miss about my culture, which I don't even realize on a daily basis. These little moments, however, break into my consciousness and call me back home. I'm not ready to go just yet - as I know that once we leave, this time in our lives will become something like a dream itself - but I do look forward to our homecoming, with all the small surprises of the things we didn't even know we'd missed for so long.
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