Category Archives: Expat life

(Re)orientation

by in #365grateful, Everyday Life, Expat life, Finland, Gratitude, Helsinki, Inspiration, Random musings and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

This semester, this month, this week, stress abounds. (Largely, I’ve created this stress for and all by myself.)

As I hurried to deliver a seminar on a topic I felt less than prepared for, cursing the construction which put me a bit further behind schedule than I was comfortable with, I passed by one of the most iconic spots in Helsinki — Senate Square.

I pass this particular spot often when I teach / lecture at the main campus at the University of Helsinki. And, the view never fails to ground and reorient me beyond whatever nonsense surrounds me. This spot reminds me of how insanely fortunate I am to live this life. A life I never imagined possible and one for which I am extremely grateful.

And, just like that, nothing seemed quite so awful or stressful any longer.

Senate Sq.jpg

A glorious, colourful reminder

by in #365grateful, Attitude, Everyday Life, Expat life, Finland, Gratitude, Helsinki, Random musings, Winter and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Life in Finland. Years ago on a business trip to Amsterdam, after listening to me talk about life in Finland, the person to whom I was talking stated simply, ‘So, you’re on the tourism board of Finland then?’ His statement oozed with sarcasm.

There are so many great things about life in Finland. Incredibly efficient public transport. Health care. Top-notch education for all. High quality of life. Fresh air even in the capital city. And, one of the least corrupt places on the planet — if you drop your wallet on the street in Helsinki, you’re likely to get it back with its contents in tact. One of my favourite aspects of life here involves the insistence on giving each new member of Finnish society equal opportunity when born. Yes, it’s a great place to live.

And, then there’s the weather.

For all its loveliness, Finland is not a fair-weather haven. Quite the opposite. Summer is typically lovely, with its long, long days and abundant sunshine coupled with mild temperatures. Winter is dark even when it’s light. The oppressiveness of winter leads us to leave each year for the worst of it. It’s how we survive. But, the seasonal extremes are typically sandwiched between seasons of wet and wetter. When the autumn rains begin, you hope you make it through the worst. You learn to live with it, but it is anything but easy. Personally, I’ve never been quite so affected by a place’s weather. I never understood seasonal affective disorder. Until we moved here.

We have endured an unusual weather year thus far in Helsinki. (In truth, 2017 appears to be a year-long test for us all, weather simply another section of this multi-phase trial.) October has not been cold, but it has been insanely wet. This follows a rather wet and chilly summer, one which even Finns are less than thrilled with. Given that we typically get one glorious season, it’s cruel when we endure winter only to endure a less than sunny and chilly summer. On top of this, the first two weeks of October brought rain. Nearly. Every. Single. Day. Not just a light mist or drizzle, but rain. Heavy and soaking. And, utterly unrelenting.

For the last week, it’s been (mostly) glorious. Absolutely gorgeous and glorious and oh so welcome. Thankfully, this break in the autumn rains coincided with the most colourful period as well. And, again, it’s been glorious.

Thank you, Finland. Thank you for the reminder that you are quite lovely even if your weather generally sucks. It’s moments like these that we live for.

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On ‘Six Words Fresh Off the Boat’

by in books, Expat life, Immigration, Random musings, Refugees and tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

SIX WORDS FRESH OFF THE BOAT: Stories of Immigration, Identity, and Coming to America (ABC)SIX WORDS FRESH OFF THE BOAT: Stories of Immigration, Identity, and Coming to America by Larry Smith

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The story of the United States is the story of immigrants intermingling. (It is also one forgotten, where most of those migrants decimated native populations as well.) But, capturing the stories of immigrants in six words only is as compelling and beautiful as it is tragic.

‘Six Words Fresh off the Boat’ eloquently pieces together six-word narratives alongside longer stories and context, illustrating all that it means to be an American in today’s anti-immigrant climate. George Takei and Chimimanda Nogozi Adichie provide shorter reflections from their own lives alongside the painful truth of undocumented DREAMers who have lived invisible lives.

‘Nobody is ever just a refugee’, warns Adichie. Indeed. No-one is simply ‘American’ regardless of how recent they arrived.

These collections are poignant reminders that America was already great. And, it will remain so as long as we cherish own rich diversity and patchwork histories rather than dismiss them in search of uniformity.

My own six-word narrative as an American?

‘American falls in love with Cuban.’

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Waiting….

by in Cuba, Current events, Environment, Expat life, family, Love, Random musings, The Cuban and tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Today, it’s all about waiting.

Waiting to start the 2017 addition of the Helsinki Midnight Run. (My start time is 21.25, Helsinki time.)

Waiting to hear how prepared and where are family and friends in Florida are hunkered down and hopefully safe from Irma’s approach. (Last forecast has her hitting the Florida Keys early Sunday morning local time, Sunday afternoon our time.)

And, waiting to learn the fate of those who are currently riding out Irma’s wrath across Cuba.

I hate waiting. For anything. But, waiting on all of this on the same day has me unbelievably restless and anxious and fidgety. And, the weather here appears to reflect my mood rather well — rainy, windy and generally miserable and unsettled.

There’s absolutely nothing we can do from here for those in Florida and Cuba currently either experiencing what I image to be hollowing winds and lashing rain, deafening and terrifying at once. I can’t help but worry about those we’ve met who live far too close to the water’s edge. I can’t help but think of the waves currently crashing over the Malecón, which will likely grow and intensify as Irma follows Cuba’s coast. And, I hope against hope that not too much is washed away.

And, I can’t help but wonder what will remain tomorrow and the day after.

And, then comes Florida, likely to take on the full force or Irma’s terror.

As I sit or pace or try to work and take my mind off Irma’, the faces of those I love flash before my eyes, whether in Cuba or Florida.

And the word that comes to mind is simply, ‘¡cuidate!’

Be safe.

Victoria — the best mother-in-law ever!
Eduardito
Alfredito y The Cuban Jr
The Cuban & Tio Nene
Frida
Cachi
The Cuban, Eduardito y Santana
Pizza delivery in Artemisa
Miriam y The Cuban
The Cuban y Geisys
Quique
Tia Menita y Medel (the best father-in-law ever)
Isa y Frida
Eduardito y Yaima
Los chicas

 

Miriam and Marta. And, Miriam. I love these people. Dearly.
Prima Isa, a fellow Crazy Cat Lady, on the ferry from La Habana to Casa Blanca
Tia Menita making Cuban tamales. How many tamales have those hands made?
A curious young fellow who posed for a photo with Ernest in Cojimar, Cuba. January 2015
Ernesto and his almendrón. A mid-50s beauty that included the original dashboard. Note the random assortment of items lodged in various spots around him. Cuba. January 2015
A pastillitero on the ferry from La Habana to Casa Blanca
A taxi, driven by Dari, featured an American flag.
Running the Malecón in Havana. Right about where that first wave breaking the wall is where I took a nasty tumble and twisted my ankle in January 2017.

In the storm’s path

by in Cuba, Current events, Expat life, Love, Random musings and tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Watching hopelessly from afar as disaster strikes is never easy. When it hits places once called home or where we’ve left pieces of ourselves and our hearts, there’s a certain pain that accompanies the helplessness and sense of loss. It’s akin to grief really.

Harvey affected far too many people, many of whom I love and places I frequented with my beloved grandmother and great aunt as a child. I can’t shake the feeling that a house on Prairie Dr in Eagle Lake, Texas sat sadly inundated with water, thus washing away some of my fondest and happiest of memories with family. The house no longer belongs to us; those memories, however, persist. And, perhaps that’s more important. Still, I love that  house and hope it remains standing and dry.

Miraculously perhaps, all those I love in that part of the world, whilst affected, are not themselves lost. They remain safe. They can and are rebuilding, and that alone comforts me as I sit so very far from them.

Now, scarcely two weeks later, here we are again, watching as yet another monster storm tracks towards two places inhabited by family and friends alike, one of which has become a home I long for and fear for. Either Hurricane Irma will hit South Florida, where many of my very much loved and missed in-laws now reside. Or, she will inundate Cuba, that crazy, singular island inhabited by far too many friends and family I’d rather not see forced to endure yet further mayhem.

I can’t imagine the destruction accompanying a storm like Irma on a place I know intimately now, a place which persists on the darkest days here in Helsinki and carries me through the toughest of times. I cannot remove the images of pieces of the Malecón scattered across the roadway after a strong cold front brings ginormous waves for a day or two. Those waves now seem like mere ripples compared to the storm surge of a category 5 hurricane.

How much of that seawall will remain if a storm like Irma strikes? How many of those charming yet crumbling buildings along the Malecón or other parts of the Cuban coast will remain in her wake?

Like those in her potential path, we wait. Please, be merciful, Irma. You’re fucking with the lives of too many people I love.

Malecon_25 Jan 2017

A crazy gorgeous sunset show, featuring roadway-closing waves along the Malecón. 25 January 2017.

Santy Shack_Jan 2017

A shack next to one of the best restaurants (Restaurante Santy Pescador) we’ve been to in Cuba. Many of the shacks along this waterway seem precarious as Irma approaches. Havana, 28 January 2017

 

 

In the blink of an eye

by in Everyday Life, Expat life, Finland, Helsinki, Immigration, Random musings and tagged , , , | 1 Comment
10 years_2

Arriving in Helsinki from Sheremyetyevo, 21 July 2007

Ten years.

Ten years ago today, we took our three suitcases and Che Fufu carrier (with Che Fufu less-than-pleased to be in it) and made our way to Sheremyetyevo with one-way tickets to a country next door and yet worlds away. Several security checkpoints and an hour-long flight later, we arrived in Helsinki’s very clean and quiet airport.

Ten years. It simultaneously feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

There’s still so much of this city and country that remains utterly foreign to us (Finnish language, perhaps?). And, yet, we’ve built a life here. I remember that first summer missing a bus whilst standing at the stop because we didn’t signal as it approached. I remember being in awe at how huge and well-stocked the supermarkets were and how cheap things like clothes were. I remember the novelty and delight of an online journey planner which would tell us how long it would take to walk to the bus stop and what time the bus would arrive at that stop. And, even better, how long to the minute the journey would take. Furthermore, it was typically correct!

After Moscow, this was utterly unbelievable. Much of our new life was. It all seems so normal now, but was completely surreal ten years ago.

Helsinki has been good to us, and it isn’t at all a bad place to live. It’s clean, it’s well-organised and safe. It’s quiet—so quiet that when we first arrived the quiet proved unsettling.

Since we’ve arrived, we’ve celebrated milestones (getting married counts, right?) and birthdays, endured unimaginable uncertainty (residence permit saga anyone?) and come through it all to enjoy a bit of calmness and serenity. The world beyond may be crumbling or chaotic, but our little life here is relatively peaceful and stress-free these days.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine living in Finland. But, here we are. I never imagined marrying a Cuban until I met mine. I’ve no idea how long this glorious-in-summer / abysmal-in-winter land will be home to us, but here’s to ten years and counting. It’s passed in the blink of an eye.

When words are all we have

by in Expat life, Human Rights, Kindness, Racism, women and tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

A fellow expat who lives in the Netherlands has a mighty blog. Whilst I don’t read it as often as I’d like, I find it incredibly refreshing and equally real.

She recently visited Poland, making that most gruesome of all journeys to Auschwitz-Birkenau. Rather than simply share the link to her latest entry, I’m posting it here. I hope this gives it more weight than a mere shared link will. Because it is truly something that should be read slowly and carefully. And, perhaps as many times as can be stomached.

On most days, I believe in our collective ability as a species to do good. To extend kindness to those in need. To rise above whatever challenges we face as individuals and as members of various groups and demonstrate that we are not monsters. But, history reminds us of how truly awful we can be. And, we mustn’t forget. We absolutely positively mustn’t allow ourselves to fall prey to fear and hate and difference and commit the most vile offences we can commit against one another ever again.

Thank you, Farrah, for bearing witness. I don’t know how you wrote this piece, but I’m glad you did. Words fail me, so I’ll simply borrow from you…

The following stats are taken directly from her piece and taken from the Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial:

Note: The following facts are taken directly from The Auschwitz-Birkenau Memorial Guidebook that I purchased on site in Auschwitz and from the placards outside of the respective blocks. I have photographs of the plackards where I took this information. 

Auschwitz was the largest Nazi German concentration camp and death camp. In the years 1940-1945, the Nazis deported at least 1, 300,000 people to Auschwitz:

  • 1, 100,000 Jews
  • 140,000-150,000 Poles
  • 23,000 Roma (Gypsies)
  • 15,000 Soviet POWs
  • 25,000 prisoners from other ethnic groups

1,100,000 of these people died in Auschwitz, approximately 90% of the victims were Jews. The SS murdered the majority of them in the gas chambers.

Neither here nor there

by in Attitude, Cuba, Current events, Everyday Life, Expat life, Finland, Helsinki, holidays, Random musings, The Cuban and tagged , | 5 Comments

As an anthropologist, I’m intellectually familiar with and fully comprehend the concept of reverse culture shock. As a person experiencing it, I just want to crawl into bed with the covers over my head and hide from the world for a while until it subsides or we return to Cuba.

My first real experience feeling bewildered by coming home hit me full on when returning from my first trip to Moscow in 1998. After a mere 9 weeks, landing at JFK was one of the most surreal experiences of my life up to that point. E V E R Y T H I N G felt unfamiliar and odd. Whilst my body was firmly planted in New York and eventually back amongst my things and in my flat in Connecticut, my mind persistently resisted leaving behind my surroundings and new-found friends in Moscow. Any time a question was asked, my response came in Russian (unsurprising perhaps since I hadn’t heard English for the last 3 weeks of that particular trip). Everything which at one time had been automatic in my US-based life became awkward and … difficult.

The unfamiliarity and disconnect subsided, replaced not necessarily by normalcy but passive acceptance that I was cognitively straddling two worlds. When I moved to Moscow the following year for what I assumed was a brief 6-month to 1-year teaching gig, I experienced culture shock upon my return to Russia, largely because I was on my own rather than sheltered and taken care of by a host family; the shock was somehow less pronounced. I continued to straddle my Moscow-based and other life in the US, but the divergence and cognitive dissonance between those worlds seemed less traumatic and … well… shocking.

Fast forward 17 a few years and insert two different worlds and that oddly and unsettling familiar feeling of reverse culture shock has returned. Whilst two different countries feature as home (Finland rather than the US) and home away from home (Cuba vs Moscow), the experience and feelings differ very little.

We returned from our epic journey to the land of rum, cigars, 1950s cars and chanchullo 3 weeks ago today and I’m still experiencing the worst sort of disconnect from life and missing Cuba and, more importantly, Cubans desperately. Finland, which is a relatively comfortable and easy place to live and has become home to us, feels wrong. It is too quiet. There are too many products and options and things from which to choose. And, it’s too clean and organised. Weird, right? (First World Problems, anyone?)

We knew before we left for the airport that our return to ‘civilisation’ and the ‘real world’ would be a slap in the face. How could it not be when we had such an amazing 6 weeks in Fidel’s Cuba? But from the moment we landed in Amsterdam and the experience of navigating Schiphol, once a favourite place for me, to returning to our flat and our life here, I cannot shake that sense that something is misplaced and off about my situation. Or more precisely where I am situated. My surroundings, including my beloved workspace, are somehow not quite right. I wake up each morning utterly confused, having dreamt about various goings on in Helsinki, but all situated and populated by those familiar faces from Cuba we left behind. In some cases, the actual stage is Cuba, but the events and people are all from our life in Finland. It’s maddening really.

This past weekend, the sense of longing for Cuba was so strong that after writing about chicharritas in the morning, I went on a quest to find green plantains and black beans so that we could at least eat Cuban food again, even if it wasn’t prepared by our favourite home cooks.

Perhaps it’s that the weather simply sucks this time of year in Helsinki, particularly this year. Perhaps we’re just missing our friends and family ‘over there’. That’s natural. Perhaps we simply haven’t ever really connected to Finland in the way that we should to properly ‘return’ to it. I know my toes will never prefer being stuffed into boots for 6 months to freely wiggling in the seaside air and burying themselves in the white sand beaches of Cayo Blanco.

For now and until this maddening mental state passes, I shall endeavour to be patient and ride out the reverse culture shock. I have great friends here, I love my students and teaching, I’m surrounded by brilliant colleagues and Finland possesses so many conveniences and a vast array of fresh produce that we truly missed when we were in Cuba. And, we have the internet once again. More importantly, my Cuban is here.

Eventually, my head will catch up with the rest of my body and realise that we are here in Finland. But, my heart remains in Cuba. For now…

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The persistence of remembrance

by in #365grateful, Everyday Life, Expat life, Random musings and tagged , , | 2 Comments

It’s been a long, long while. My silence on the page has not equated with a silence in the mind.

This April marked 10 years since my last visit to my homeland and what was once home in that most abstract sense. So, so much has happened in that time on both sides of the pond and in both of the worlds my life now straddles. In short, life happened, both for me and for those who remained ‘there’.

Whilst, physically, I occupy a space far removed from what was once and in some ephemeral sense will always be my home, the persistence of that life and all the various actors in it pulls and tugs and in some ways torments me. As much as I have come to love my European life, I long for the quiet familiar of people and things I’ve known in the way you know a crack in the ceiling which has existed for as long as you can remember. Mostly, I miss individuals and the moments shared with them.

The wonder that is the virtual world, which is all too real today as technology outpaces our comprehension of it, has made connecting with and communicating vastly easier and instantaneous. Yet, face-to-face sit downs over coffee, tea, wine, bourbon and beer (not all at once, mind — the particular bevie depends on the person, circumstance and time of day, naturally), coupled with cuisine that is thoroughly representative of a country known for its adolescent gluttony are what I miss most. Seeing the gentle (and perhaps glaring) reality checks that time has indeed passed up close and personal feels somehow necessary. Being able to hear and feel an old friend’s voice and silent breath seems priceless at the moment. And, yes, perhaps finally and definitively laying to rest a few ghosts from days’ past has weighed (at times, heavily) on my mind.

Perhaps this longing and need have made finding my voice and putting down those thoughts in some sort of coherent mess so tedious as of late. Sure, life and with that I mean work has occupied much of that mental space normally reserved for the cathartic purging of the mind. But, carving out time to process the beauty, joy, mind-bendingly absurd, action-inducing rage and mundane helps clarify where I need to go next, what I need to ‘focus’ on and where most of my energy should be spent. It helps highlight what is important and what is essentially trivial non-sense. And, it reminds me of just how far I’ve come and how much I want to still accomplish on this crazy journey.

Still, memory is a funny thing.

I think it was my first trip to the UK when I learned of the Remembrance Poppy. When I see poppies now, I remember. I remember those who I cannot be with for whatever reason. Lately, I am remembering the home that was, whilst also realising how fortunate I am to have found a new one. I wonder if that persistent tug of war between the two will ever ease.

In many ways, I hope it doesn’t.

The peace of a poppy

The peace of a poppy

Lost, but will be found…? (Day 68: Proekt 365)

by in #365grateful, Everyday Life, Expat life, Finland, Helsinki and tagged , , | 2 Comments
Day 68: Proekt 365 Lost, and to be found?

Day 68: Proekt 365
Lost, and to be found?

Evidently, Helsinki is the most honest city on the planet. There are signs of this simple truth all around if you just know what to look for.

Today, I spied this lovely little mitten which someone had placed very visibly along one of the paths near our flat. Hopefully, its owner will find it soon enough. It’s lovely and bright in an otherwise colourless landscape and far too beautiful to be without its mate.

Yesterday, I found one of my own gloves which I’d dropped a little closer to home. As we left yesterday afternoon to run a few errands, I notice one of my gloves on the windowsill in our stairwell. Honestly, I didn’t even know I’d lost it! (Thanks to the person who found it!)

You’d be amazed at the items you spot along paths and routes all over the place. We’ve seen reading glasses, scarves, pacifiers, gloves and mittens (obviously) along with a number of different types and styles of hats. Sometimes, they remain there for ages. Others disappear, hopefully after finding their way home.

The general rule seems to be to place the item so that it is roughly at eye level. This can be a challenge given the range of heights for most folks in Helsinki. But, you want to situate the item such that it is obviously waiting to be found. Trees are the most common place lost things are hung so that they may be discovered. Bus stops and benches are also likely spots for the unclaimed and forgotten stuff unintentionally left behind.

It’s nice seeing these little reminders of compassion amongst fellow residents. And, hopefully, all those items which were lost will be found if not by their owners then at least by someone who will appreciate them.