See You in the Next One

For all the hard work and good intentions that I wrote about in my last post, I've suffered a temporary setback. My mind is all but utterly preoccupied. Here's why:

A friend of mine died on Tuesday. I learned of it sometime late Wednesday morning, about 45 minutes before I left for class. He had been battling cancer, and I was aware that death was somewhat imminent for him. Still, it hit me.

He and I were not what I'd call close, but we shared a rapport that was very special to me. I first met him when I was thirteen and we were in a play together. He was something like twenty at the time, and yet I perceived him to be older -- some indefinite age within the spectrum of adulthood.

After we'd lost contact for a while, he kept popping back into my life for various and completely unrelated reasons. Then he began working for the choir in which I had gotten much of my musical training, and his place in my life became permanent. I'd see him at choir gigs, which I still attended with regularity. I'd go to see his band play at various local bars and restaurants, listen intently, and people began to assume that I was groupie when I was, in fact, merely a fan. We had talked about forming our own band, but were too sluggish to move forward before he got sick.

The last time I saw him was at a local theatre and burlesque event last year, shortly before I moved to Finland. He looked good -- tall and rosy-cheeked. He'd recovered from his first bout with cancer, and I believe we were both unaware of the fact that he would soon begin another one. He told me about cancer support groups and how they tried to spin all of the pain and misery of illness into something golden and blessed; he did not agree with their philosophy. We joked, quite crassly, that if he were to die, he'd at least be absolved of all the debt he accrued during treatment. I said, "Ah, yes, be glad you don't have MS like me. I'll still be alive to see the collection agency come calling." He laughed, hugged me, and thanked me for my ability to joke about crude and wretched things.

I can't tell you how much I regret those jokes. Not because I think it's wrong to laugh about death, or because I feel as though I helped to bring about his. No, what I regret is that I equated my disease with cancer. I may someday lose my ability to walk, to see, to hear, to think, but he lost his life. He lost his life at 33, and it was a life that he and everyone around him loved very much. Though he laughed, it feels now as if it was a morally remiss thing to say.

Aside from my own regrets, the world is decidedly poorer without him in it. It is poorer, too, for the pain and anxiety he likely experienced.

So this week might be a wasted opportunity to advance my Finnish. But the reason for my distraction is genuine.

Lukittu

1) Well, this will be the first time that I've used the English language with any complexity in the last week or so. Instead of speaking my native tongue, I've been watching soul-neutering amounts of reality television, preferably in a language other than English, so that I might either listen to or read Finnish. I've had lots of pathetically shallow and painfully slow conversations. I've studied and written more than average, too.

I typically work somewhat hard on my Finnish because I enjoy it. Lately, though, I've begun to feel impatient. It's as if I am on the cusp of being able to use Finnish in a more correct and meaningful way, and yet it's just out of reach.

I think that if I only work a little harder and immerse myself more, I'll learn much faster. In other words, I don't think I've yet reached or exceeded my capacity to learn. It's time to get serious.

Fortunately, learning Finnish isn't nearly as hard as I thought it would be. Sure, Finnish is hard. Sure, it has a complex grammatical structure that differs tremendously from English. I've just been more successful, more interested, and more adept at learning it than I thought I'd be. My strengths are:
                   a) Apparently, pronunciation. Maybe I'll post a video sometime so that you can criticize it.
                   b) Grasping grammatical concepts, recalling them, and putting them to use.
                   c) Interest. It really helps with the amount of effort I'm willing to expend.
My weaknesses are:
                   a) Vocabulary. I have to work harder at memorizing the lexicon than I do at understanding            
                   the grammar. I get the sense that it's the opposite for most of my classmates. Which is          
                   easier for you?
                   b) Fear. Shyness. Reticence to speak to anyone unfamiliar.

So, given that what I've learned already hasn't been inordinately hard, I think that I can work to push the process forward at a faster pace. We'll see if I can manage it, or if my brain explodes instead.

2) It's spring, and that means slightly chilly temperatures accompanied by cold rain. I know these conditions well. On spring days such as these, I like to listen to this album:

Now, I realize that even a lot of Aphex Twin fans don't much like Drukqs, but I love it. I think it has something to do with the pairing of frenetic, meticulous beats with something more ethereal. I'm also a sucker for prepared piano. I'm not sure how I came to take pleasure in listening to it during rainy spring weather, but there you have it. I figure there's a slight chance that you'll agree. 

From the Linguist's Mouth

"Tervetuloa to Rome." 

My youngest brother and I skype just about every weekend. Of all the people that I left behind when I moved to Finland, he's definitely among those I miss most. I often find myself wishing on Sunday mornings that he and I could hang around Mom's place in our pajamas, drinking coffee and lavishing attention on Riley.

Every once in a while, I'll teach him a word or two of Finnish. You know which word (American) English speakers have a hell of a time pronouncing if they're unfamiliar with it? "Tervetuloa." The tendency seems to be to place the stress on the penultimate syllable as if it were Italian. It can take a few listenings before one is able to wrap his or her mouth around it properly. After a few tries, though, my brother was pronouncing "tervetuloa" quite well.

When we talked last Saturday, he said he had mentioned "tervetuloa" to a friend of his who works as a translator in New York. Reportedly, this guy is fluent in Russian, Mandarin, Arabic, as well as several other languages. Talk about your kielipää.

Anyway, apparently his take on Finnish was this: "Oh, I hate it. It makes no sense!"

Well, I had a few feelings upon hearing this. The first and most visceral was pride. I'm learning this language. I'm enjoying it. I love it, even. The second was a desire to defend Finnish, since it's actually quite a logical language. It's just that its logic is usually unfamiliar terrain for anyone other than Estonians, Sami people, etc.

I mention it since many of you are also in the process of learning Finnish. If a true polyglot finds this language impenetrable, then you ought to feel some amount of pride in what you've managed to learn. His opinion is, of course, sure to be subjective, and I think that there must be plenty of people in his line of work who absolutely love Finnish. Still, it's sort of a pat on the back, isn't it?

A Day in Photos

Hyvää pääsiäistä. 

Since for me pääsiäinen is merely a day off, I've been hanging around the house, doing a bit of writing, and reviewing the photos that Rami and I snapped yesterday on our trip to Kontti and one of the local flea markets (kirpputori). 

The minute I walked into Kontti, my eyes widened to the circumference of one of the myriad green, 1980s saucers that are sold there. It reminded me of the thrift stores that I occasionally explored when, in my little area of Connecticut, there was absolutely nothing to do. I can't say I've frequented such stores outside of the US, but, when it comes to those here in LPR, the only perceivable difference is that here they've got better shoes. 

Does this look familiar? It could be that all second-hand stores share remarkable similarities.

Ah, the requisite VHS collection. Judging by the price, I'm not sure these sell terribly well.

D.H. Lawrence's novel Lady Chatterley's Lover and, of course, John Steinbeck's Anger's Fruits. I do love translations.

My husband revealing his true self. I'm in the process of preparing divorce papers.

At the kirpputori. What I like about this shirt is that it has a wolf and a motorcycle on it. Still, it's not as good as this shirt. (Click the link, and you'll see what a couple of my friends at home bought for Rami as a prank. He frequently threatens to wear it.)

I thought my winter coat could use a little shape, you know?

I know what you're thinking. These are the sorts of things that bored people do. It's true, particularly when you live in a town of 3,000 people and the only fun things to do involve driving to a slightly bigger town, where you'll visit second-hand shops or the local porn store. Lappeenranta isn't nearly so boring, but, believe it or not, it was fun to delve back into that world for a while.

Dear Finland

Soon now! 

Today, it feels like spring here in LPR. It's not especially warm, (though at 5 degrees C, it's much warmer than it was yesterday) but spring is fighting to gain a foothold, and you can feel it. The air smells like mud and melting snow. You can hear the meltage rushing though the storm drains and dripping from rooftops. The wind isn't quite so biting when it brushes your face. It's only a matter of time before winter's "back is broken."

I stocked up on food today because stores will be closed tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday. As I walked home with two bags full of groceries, I thought of this cover of "Dear Prudence" by Siouxsie and the Banshees:

I think "Dear Prudence" is one of the Beatles' weaker songs, but there's something about the Banshees' version that accurately encapsulates what it is to feel everything around you thaw.

Looks like we've got some (slushy, no doubt) snow coming tomorrow. But Spring will break Winter's back soon enough.

Haista vittu, Talvi!

Mämmi Time

Today concluded my second Finnish course. The third course will start a week from Thursday. Bring it on. In the meantime, I'll be studying the ins and outs of partitiivi so that it might cease to be the source of 85 percent of my spoken mistakes. But more on that another time.

Since pääsiäinen (Easter) approaches, I decided to celebrate the beginning of my loma by trying a bit of mämmi!

Now, I had heard from Finns and foreigners alike that mämmi is something of an acquired taste. In fact, lots of people never acquire anything much other than disgust for the stuff. We watched a few mämmi-related videos in class today, during which our teacher explained that a good many Finns think that it strongly resembles koirankakka (dog poop).

[Yes, we're in scatological territory again.]

Well, all of these positively glowing endorsements really enticed me. No, really. The weirder something supposedly is, the more I'm apt to try it. And, I thought, what could possible be so awful? Is it the texture? The taste? The smell? It's just some rye flour, molasses, and a few other things mixed to form a thick pudding. Really, what is there to fear?

I decided to go with a small purkki my first time out. I was told to add a bit of cream and not to add any sugar, so I prepared it just so.

What is there to fear? Well, in my personal opinion, not a damn thing. It tasted of just what you might expect: rye, molasses, a touch of orange, and of cream. I found nothing objectionable about the flavor, which was strong and lightly sweet, or the texture, which actually reminded me a little of smooth peanut butter.

Be warned, however, that I very rarely dislike food that I put into my mouth. My feelings can be measured on a three point scale:

1) Oh my god, that is amazing. I would like to eat this for the rest of my natural born life.
2) Mmm. Not bad.
3) Meh. It's okay.

Mämmi was roughly a 2. I quite enjoyed it.