A Little Too Finnish

                                                                                     
At around 4 today, Rami sent a text message asking me to come meet him at his workplace. I obliged. When I got there, I saw two men lingering around the entrance, doing nothing in particular.

I sent him a message. "I'm here. Not coming in. There are weird dudes at the door," it read.

He emerged after a minute or two, laughing. "'Weird dudes' -- you're the weird one," he said. "Those two guys were just from the neighboring company."

"They looked as if they might talk to me. You know, ask me a question or something," I said. "'Weird dudes' was just shorthand for 'people I don't know.'"

"You've been in Finland too long," he said.

"Yeah, that must be it," I sighed. But that wasn't it.

I guess I need to spend a little less time studying and a little more time practicing being a normal person. 

Impending

My next trip to the US is coming up on the 16th of this month.

I'm going home so that I can act as a bridesmaid (-matron?) when two of my dear friends wed each other. I'm looking forward to spending quality time with the quality people in the wedding party, as well as helping out in ways that require my presence (in other words, something more than simply sending emails which read, "Wish I could be there!"). I've also been asked to sing a song during the ceremony, which I'm nervous about. The last time I performed was five years ago, at the wedding of another beloved person.

Aside from that, the trip will be just what you'd expect: lots of catching up with family and friends, eating, and hanging out with Riley. It'll probably be wonderful. And that's the problem.

Last Wednesday, I watched this documentary about Centralia, Pennsylvania. It managed to both move and frighten me. It forced me to notice the hometown zealot within myself -- the sort of person who thinks her own rolling hills are Shangri-La. [Edit: No, that's not 'what she said'. In fact, forget I said that.]

While I'm home, I'll slip back into the slot that's forever reserved for me. I'll get comfortable, and I won't want to leave, because I'm actually an enormous pansy who's utterly dependent on her place of origin. I guess that's the plight of many expats, though, and after the initial sting of leaving and coming home to Finland, I'll acclimate once again.

Other than thoughts of my trip and what it'll mean for my sanity, I've been focusing on Finnish (as usual). I feel as if I've become a bit of a bore on that front, so I'll refrain from commenting on it. Instead, I'll just share the photo of the place at which I studied on Friday.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have coffee to drink and Finnish soap operas to watch. 

Pretty Pretty Princess

Today, R and I went to the harbor for a couple of vetyä.

There's a tori near the water's edge where a man sells used books. He's there every day of the week. I often browse his collection, searching for items stupid enough to suit my Finnish literacy.

I've been slogging through Mies parvekkeella and I've discovered that, while it certainly is good for a mental workout, it's not something I can actually read. That is, I cannot run my eyes over it, understand most of it, and then look up the words I don't know. It requires quite a bit more work than that.

But what I want from my reading is to gain vocabulary, not simply to struggle towards something resembling comprehension. For me, grammar is the easy part. It's acquiring and retaining a decent vocabulary that's (very) difficult.

So, at the recommendation of quite a few people, I bought an Aku Ankka book from the tori last week. It proved to be quite beyond my reach within a few pages, and I've resolved to save it for when I'm a bit more advanced. I'm already reading one way-too-hard book. What I need now is a book that I can get through with some amount of ease and confidence, and which will allow me to learn a few new words without making me strain to comprehend their context.

Today, as I thumbed through the used books down by the harbor, I came across this shiny pink atrocity. "Well, I've been looking for young adult books," I thought. "But this one...I must find something else. Anything else."

All the rest of the young adult books were, in some form or another, about horses.

I approached the kind book seller very sheepishly. "Kaks euroa," he said. His skin was baked a deep brown from standing in the sun day after day. I blushed a princessy pink and handed him a 2 euro coin.

And that is how I began to read the third installment of The Princess Diaries.

Afterwards, we went swimming. I hesitated to bring this sparkly thing with me, but I thought, "Fuck it, I want to learn some Finnish while I lie in the sand."

It's exactly what I needed. I understand a great deal of it, including the context that surrounds unfamiliar words. Actually, I feel sort of badass as my eyes pass over the text somewhat fluidly. Imagine - me - able to read a book intended for someone fifteen years my junior!

I'm not complaining. 

These are a few of my favorite things: osa kaksi

I didn't do much for Juhannus, and that's why I'm unable to write much about it. Rami was very sick on Juhannusaatto, and I spent the day caring for him. I did, however, venture out at around 22:30 to observe the goings-on. Everyone was wild and drunk on more than just viina. I was approached by a few brave (read: drunk) Finns, to whom I simply said, "En puhu suomea." It worked like a charm.

In honor of Juhannus, I'd like to discuss another of my favorite things about the Finnish language.

Nominals that end in a (usually rounded, I think) short vowel + s drop the -s and acquire a -kse- in their inflectional stem.
What does this look like?
Linnoitus = fortress (I use this example because we happen to have one here in Lappeenranta. See the above photo.)

Nominative pl.: linnoitukset
Genitive sing.: linnoituksen       Genitive pl.: linnoitusten
Partitive sing.: linnoitusta          Partitive pl: linnoituksia
Inessive sing.: linnoituksessa
Elative sing.: linnoituksesta
Illative sing.: linnoitukseen
etc.

As you can see, the partitive singular and the genitive plural are exceptions, as they both maintain the final -s, and add -ta and -ten respectively. (Yes, the partitive plural drops the -e-.)

I'm not sure what I like so much about this inflectional change, exactly. There's just something pleasing about a plosive, placed precariously in the middle of an inflected noun, when no such plosive is contained within the word's nominative singular form. It was quite mysterious when I first heard an example of it. Now, like several other types of inflectional changes, I understand it. I think.

I also like the way it sounds. Try it out: lin-noi-tuk-ses-sa. It just sounds good to my ears and feels good to my throat. There's no explaining it, really. It's like asking why this song makes my toes curl.

I hope you all had a chance to put your duties aside and get drunk on booze and sunshine over the weekend.

Olen tyhmä

"Olen tyhmä, olen tyhmä!" a classmate of mind said, as she described how she feels when people speak English to her and she's unable to understand or reply. She's Hungarian, and the only language she and I share is what little Finnish we've mastered. We began the fall course waving our hands like primates in a zoo and drawing cave art in our notebooks. As of this moment, we've evolved.

"Voin opettaa sinua," I said, not really sure of whether or not it was true. But, I thought, I need the practice. She's never studied English, and only knows a smattering of words she's picked up from movies and other media. I'm not really qualified to teach ESL, but I think I can pick out a few important fundamentals and provide her with a baseline. From the alphabet, numbers, basic greetings, and then onwards.

She called me yesterday, and we went here:

Her young children, both of whom speak a lot of Finnish, swam in the lake while we studied.

And as the chilly wind blew through my jacket, I thought, "How did I get here? Oh, thank god I don't work at an insurance agency in Hartford, commuting two hours to work every morning and three hours back in the evening, a slave to my own shitty health insurance, searching for a necktie with which to hang myself at lunch, learning nothing other than to use Microsoft Access and to smile vapidly at my coworkers when what I really want is to tell each and every one of them to stop talking to me forever."

I'd like to take a moment to thank Finland for having such an impossible language. Yes, I realize most of you probably wish to kill me right about now, but it must be said: if it weren't for your language, Finland, I might have nothing left to study. I might've tried to get into some university, and I might've failed (two events which may still come to pass), and then my career in "formal" education would be over. The longer I struggle with your language, Finland, the longer I'll be forced to take classes. Lots and lots of classes. I don't mean casually, on the side, after work, or studying once in a while at home over coffee. I mean that my days will necessarily be spent learning. I do hope I'll be able to contribute something after all the sponging I've done, and yet I sort of dread the end of this particular learning experience.

And, for now, I can dedicate several hours a week to teaching a friend of mine something she very much wants to learn.

Edit: I'm also hoping to pick up a little Hungarian in the process. I think it's among the most beautiful languages I've ever heard. Here's a Hungarian children's cartoon I used to watch in English as a kid:

Accented

I mentioned a while back that I might record myself speaking a little Finnish:

Obviously, since I don't speak Finnish natively, I can only just barely hear my own accent. Rather, I hear that the things I say don't come out quite the way I intend, or the way in which I hear them in my head, but I'm unable to do much about it.

I'm reading the text, enunciating* as clearly as I can, and I realize I sound a bit stilted and odd. My normal speech might not be so clear or so stiff. Again, though, I can't really say objectively.
[I also apologize for the somewhat loud clicking of my mousepad.]

So, that brings me to this: if you speak Finnish -- just a little, fluently, natively -- I encourage you to record yourself speaking a short text. Post it in the comments, or on your own blog. Come to think of it,  all languages (and accents) are welcome. It'll be a language and accent extravaganza.

*I have noticed that my English spelling is getting, well, embarrassing. It's as if Finnish is pushing whatever spelling skill I had out of my brain, and I often don't notice my mistakes at first. I initially wrote "annunciating." I wasn't proclaiming the coming of Jesus, so, yes, consider this corrected.

Haastattelu

I did the interview after all.

When my teacher asked if I'd do it, I didn't have the heart or the will to say no. That's one of the paradoxes of shyness; you'll sometimes do brave things only to avoid having to say ei.

Overall, it went quite well. I was able to communicate all of my thoughts using Finnish, resorting to English for only a few words. I did, however, ask the journalist to repeat several of her questions in English to be sure that I understood them. I find that, when I'm nervous, listening comprehension is the first thing to go.

As a result of my performing days, something odd and alien kicks in when I'm especially nervous. When my brain is near to shutting down from nerves, some persona (who is most certainly not me) takes the reins. I think that may have been what happened in this case. Once I got going, though, it was easy. The journalist and photographer were very kind, and they said some very nice things about my Finnish abilities (though I think they were more or less obligated to be encouraging).

I suppose the real test will be if the things I intended to say end up on the printed page.