Prude?

Snow's pretty, but I'm glad it's melting. 

Shortly before travelling to the US for the month of December, I visited the gynecologist. I'd been having some pain that I wanted to have checked before the trip. It would be my first experience with private medicine in Finland - which was, by the way, excellent.

The room was filled with light, friendly colors and equipped with an ultrasound. There was a small space surrounded by a curtain - a place to take your pants off in peace and privacy.

But that was seemingly where privacy ended.

In the states, a nurse asks you a few questions and leaves the room. You then take off all your clothes and slip into a hospital gown. You sit down on the exam table and drape a cloth over your lap. You wait for an unreasonably long time. Finally, the doctor knocks on the door. You say, "come in," and he or she enters. You lie down, covered from shoulder to knee, except, of course, for your lady parts.

In Finland, it went something like this: I took my pants off behind the curtain and walked pantsless to the exam table, where I realized that I'd forgotten to shed my underwear. Smooth. I quickly shimmied out of them and looked to fling them over to where my leggings were. Then, it occurred to me that a) it really was too far for an accurate shot and b) it would be kind of piggish to throw my panties around in the doctor's office. I got up, walked to the other side of the room, placed my underwear with my pants and walked back, naked from the waist down.

Must remember to take those off in the first place, I thought.

The exam began, and I thought of how superfluous the lap cloth used to feel. His/her hands are in my crotch, why should I cover the rest? But it turns out that the cloth has a very important function: to prevent you from feeling naked.

The service was incredible. I got an ultrasound right then and there and had the results explained to me in the process. (In the US, arranging this procedure would be far more difficult and convoluted.) My reproductive organs appeared to be in good working order, and I felt relieved.

After it was all over, I walked the length of the room pantsless for the fourth time. I dressed myself behind the curtain, had a few last words with the doctor and left.

As I walked out of the building, I couldn't help but laugh. Is this what it feels like to be an American in Europe? To have your sense of modesty impinged upon? And, then, the funniest thought of all: Am I a prude? Being awkward as hell (e.g. forgetting to take my underwear off) certainly did not help matters.

It was interesting to note just how naked I felt without that stupid cloth over my lap.

Hel

So, I discovered the root of one of my problems: I desperately needed to get out of Lappeenranta.

I've hung around Helsinki before, sometimes even for the length of a day, but I've always been fresh off the plane, sleepless and jet lagged. This marked my first time being in Helsinki while feeling well-rested.

When Rami and I arrived, it was snowing giant, wet snowflakes, the likes of which I hadn't seen since I was back in Connecticut.

We had a sushi lunch and went off exploring.

First, we stopped by the cathedral. What an organ!

After that, we went to Ateneum. I love museums. Any kind will do, really, but I think I especially love art museums. Science museums are a close second. Anyway, staring at some (predominantly Finnish) art was just what I needed. There's no better way to enter a culture than through its art.

So, we went from there to Kiasma, the contemporary art museum.

Modern art is usually a bit of a circle jerk, but it's almost always interesting.

In the evening, we went to Saslik, which I'd read about some time ago in the very useful blog, HelsinkiIn.*

Saslik did not disappoint. We had vodka:

blini:

and a kind waiter gave me a rose for naisten päivä. 

It was by far the most interesting day I've had in months. Thank you, Helsinki.

*Believe it or not, there is not one Russian restaurant in Lappeenranta. I suppose that's because Russian tourists aren't likely to be interested in eating food from their own culture? Still, it seems like at least one restaurant would've popped up through the process of cultural exchange, however fraught with conflict the relationship may be.

Honesty? Yes, please.

Wine and Cheese: two of life's simple joys

Regarding last post: I like honesty. That's a bit like saying, "I like pie" or "I like peace," but there you have it. I avoided posting for a while because anything I would have written would've been dishonest. The separation and uprootedness, the loneliness, the feeling of, "holy shitballs, what am I doing here?!" - all of it has been a fairly consuming part of my experience in the last couple of months. To have written much else would have been an exercise in deleting the largest part of the truth. Still, I didn't really want to admit the extent of my struggles publicly. "People aren't interested in that," I thought to myself.

The gravity of this monumental life change - this move to Finland - has begun to hit me rather hard, particularly as I witness things progressing at home, through Skype or Facebook or the news, without my participation. Watching everything unfold through a digital lens has been a blessing and a curse, both comforting and alienating. I am made aware of births, deaths, birthdays, dinners, parties, opinions on sequestration, movies watched, books read, places visited, storms, conflict, sickness, health...and so much more. I want to know about such things and maintain a connection to my old life, but perusing the broadcast over Facebook and Twitter makes me hunger for more. I want to see those hills up close. I want to make dinner and drink wine with people I love. I want to exist where I'm normal and average and unremarkable.

Viewing things through this selective digital lens also causes me to forget the reasons I moved away in the first place: life without Rami, awful healthcare, poor job prospects, etc. On the internet, life is exciting, happy and healthy, with the occasional tragedy. It is never boring, depressed, or lonely.

My motivation in sharing all this is to not fall victim to the syndrome that I know full well many of my connections on Facebook suffer from. You know, the need to paint life as one rosy, poignant, optimistic fun-fest. I don't believe that my writing will ever be criticized for being overly optimistic (it's not as if I've never complained about being homesick before), yet it has often skirted around the major problems that I face every day. Well, I'd like not to do that anymore. It's dishonest, and it's potentially harmful to those who might read this blog and think, "Well, look at her. She's doing just fine. What's wrong with me?" I'm not doing fine. I'm struggling to fit in, to integrate and to be happy. I suck at this. You now have my whole-hearted, genuine permission to look at me and feel superior.

(For more on Facebook exacerbating loneliness, check out this article.)

I don't want to overestimate my importance in the larger expat community. I'm but an intermittent, rambling presence in a sea of better things to read. Even so, it seems important to say this: if you're reading this and you're homesick, unsure of yourself, feeling low and wondering where to go from here, know that I am, too.

What am I doing to lift myself out of this funk? I've been looking for job and volunteer opportunities. I've been trying to stop hiding by going out to one of these two excellent coffee shops, or to this awesome wine bar, for example. I'm constantly searching for new music, my latest infatuation being with Efterklang (but I've been countering it with a lot of an older favorite, Type O Negative). Barring disasters or sudden busyness, I'll be taking a trip to Helsinki this weekend. I spend my days studying Finnish, reading English, and writing an 'erotic novel' (i.e. porn). Why that last thing? Because it amuses me. Deal with it.

In short, I've been hiding for too long, in real life as well as electronic life. Fuck that.