Homesick

It rarely happens to me that I wake up in the night, unsure of my surroundings. But it's happened here, in the darkest hours of the night, when I'm woken by rain on tile roofs and the swishing of palms on my windowpane. I stretch, am surprised by the cool metal of the home gym as my arm hits the weight machine, which comes right up to the edge of my mattress. I don't know where I expected to find myself - at home on Burgundy Lane, or back in Laws.

Laws, Mizzou, last year, is an awkward memory for me. There are moments, especially in the waking day, arguing with my family, that it's hard to believe I ever went away, and lived for a year alone, with a bunch of loveable and crazy foreigners (and even crazier Americans) in the huge concrete monstrosity of Laws hall. Mayumi, Mitsuki, Ben, Clint, Mimi, Laurence, Tomomi... Timur, Santi, Pat and Maria... even Laura, Tabi, and Jorge to a lesser extent - is it really possible that we met, lived together for a long year, and then, now, it is over? And Mayumi, having been my roommate, that is the strangest.

When I wake up at night I don't wonder about having lived there - the whole environment is absolutely present in my mind, less as a memory than as a reality. Without my eyes, I could climb out of my bed, make my way out of my room, and to the bathroom, or perhaps down the stairs. I might even get as far as Dobbs.

But no, I am here in Florida. And that's strange indeed. My family is here and all of my things. The furniture and paintings that surrounded me throughout my childhood have been transplanted to a new climate, almost a new nation. It feels like a crossover fanfiction or something, strange.

I am vaguely aware that this is one of those magical places people leave their own homes and spend loads and loads of money to come to and go to the beach rain or shine and take pictures and bring home memories. And that's strange. I've never lived in such a place before, and I always thought that if I did I should appreciate it a bit more. But the beach isn't really my scene, at least not yet.

When I walk on the beach I feel old. I feel like walking slowly and watching clouds and sunsets and seagulls and thinking about my life, maybe even writing about it. Except that I haven't hardly lived my life. It is a peaceful place - no place for me now. I am not ready for peace.

Being transplanted has had another effect on me - one that raises questions and may have long term implications. Or it may mean nothing. I am homesick for Missouri. It happens a little bit with silly things, like longing to hear "Dierbergs" and "Schnucks" instead of "Winn Dixie". And it happens more with bigger things, like Winter.

I miss it for myself, a bit. I watched a few minutes of Greys Anatomy and Meridith walked outside in a coat, the whole world grey and her breath coming out in a mist, and I felt it in my chest. I am so grateful that I am going back to Missouri in the fall - I'm not sure I could manage without the winter. Go ahead and tell me it makes no sense, I already know it.

But it gets more complex than a longing for snow - I was playing Rosetta Stone, and some of the pictures show late fall, and early winter... and in no exotic way whatsoever, but perhaps a little girl in a little coat, smiling shyly and standing in front of a suburban street with bare trees and pale grass behind, the last few leaves of fall dancing on the lawn. That street could be in my old neighborhood, that coat could come from Wal Mart or Target, that child could be my own -

I understand suddenly, this want to have your children grow up in the same way you did. It gives me a certain feeling to imagine my children growing up in colourful warm parkas, playing with scattered leaves, feeling their cheeks and ears and nose turn bright red in the cold, going door to door on halloween, going off to the woods because they know thick winter clothing makes the thorns more bearable, cracking frozen puddles with their feet, watching sleet hit the windows as they snuggle under blankets indoors...

A lot of images go through my mind. I don't require my future children to experience each and every one of them, but each one of them makes me smile and think of them. Not that we need be in Missouri - almost all of these things could happen, for example, in New England, and most of them (swapping out Wal Mart and giving up Halloween) could happen in Scandinavia (if I went far enough north I would lose the leaves, and they won't be exactly the same anywhere else).

Just some thoughts and feelings, is all. And even if I were to move off to some exotic land, there's nothing saying that I might not be able to take my kids home for a year or two for them to understand America. I am planning on shipping or accompanying them back to the states for a month most summers anyway. Still, it's imperfect - there's a difference between having Trick or Treated, and growing up doing it every year, from being carried by mommy dressed up as a pumpkin to being a little witch whose daddy follows her around holding pounds of candy to going to high school costume parties dressed as a... bunny?

And I've avoided mentioning deep winter and Christmas and New Years altogether! I've avoiding thinking about them, if you want to know the truth. If leaves falling and winter coats make me so lonesome, what will the thought of Christmas without snow or Santa do to me? :P But I'm sure I'll give it all due thought before I make any of that sort of life decision.

And one can't have everything. Even people who never leave their own small town grumble about "when I was your age", and I know my children won't have Pokemon or Pottermania as part of their childhood. So, I dunno. :)

I'm just thinking onto paper.

The Education of the Swedes

Hei alle sammen!

Jeg håper at dere liker dere her i Florida! For en søt familie dere er! :)

Jeg tenkte bare at dere ville kanskje vite at her tar vi av bordet etter frokost.

Ha det kjempefint!


It didn't take us long to notice the Swedes. When you stay in a hotel for more than a week, and particularly when you attend the breakfast every morning, you begin to become acquainted in a distant, 'stalkerish' way with several of the more interesting families who are following the same patterns.

The most interesting, most obvious family this week has been a family of Swedes. Loud father, quiet mother, two singing blonde children with bright blue eyes. They dominate the room with their loudness, their foreignness, the singsong quality of their speech... the way they never clear their table after they eat, leaving the busboys, who are only supposed to replenish food and empty trash cans, a mountain of china and rubbish.

So I played a little trick, or taught them a little something, or did the busboys a bit of a favour, depending on how you want to look at it. I wrote them a note, last night, and stuck it under their door. You can see the note in it's original above - the translation would be,

Hello everyone!
I hope you like it here in Florida! What a sweet/cute family you are!
I just thought you might want to know that here we clear the table after breakfast.
Have a great time!

This morning, inconspicuous as always, we watched. And if they didn't clear the table, every bit, admirably so! We were a safe distance off, but could hardly contain our giggles as mamma and pappa walked to the trash cans again and again with the piles of dishes.

Danish :)

I have mentioned before that there is a Danish girl going to school here, and I mentioned in the post about the potluck that I met her there. :) Here is what happened in a bit more detail:

Some girls walked in while I was in the kitchen with Ju and Pai (Kanchana and Chaowalit). My Scandinavian radar went off rather strongly. I knew it was her. So I asked a small group where they were from, and when she said, "Denmark", I said, "Oh, great!" I was hoping that she might ask, but no such luck.

So a minute later I worked up my courage to say, "Jeg skal hilse deg fra en venn fra Færøerne" She said something in Danish close enough to, "Oh, it's really good, you said it really well!" And then I said, "Takk!"

Then she became really excited and asked whether I spoke Danish, and I laughed and said, "No, I speak Norwegian", but then both of us just became more and more excited and talking about how I learned Norwegian and things like that... and all in Danish! There was hardly even a language barrier, things went so smoothly.

And afterwards Tom the Australian said, "Wow, Miranda, you didn't tell me you spoke Danish!" and Ju and Pai said that I was speaking like I was "From her country." Certainly I had felt happy and confident speaking it, moreso than when I speak Spanish, for example.

It was great. :) And we exchanged numbers and plan to get together soon. And, and, and, she told me that I sounded really Scandinavian... that obviously Norwegian wasn't my native language, but that I did the tones and such well enough that she might have guessed I was from Iceland or something. So that made me happy. :D And she said I spoke Danish better than any Norwegian or American she knows...

She is really nice, btw, a Journalism major and six years older than I am. XD All of the people I met that night were, but oh well...

"Denmark is a Happy but Expensive Place"

The Post Dispatch had a bit about Denmark in the travel section a few months ago. "Denmark is a Happy but Expensive Place" was well written and thoughtful, though a bit sparse on descriptions for my liking - but the author is male, after all, so what can you expect? :D It reaffirms that travel journalism is what I want to do with my life. ;)

Rick Steves, the author, briefly describes Legoland, and the cute, 'miniature golf' feeling of Denmark, before moving into an analysis of the culture. "I've been wondering how the Danes pull it off," he writes. "I think their success relates to handling the "free rider" problem through their social contract. Danes seem to keep in mind the consequences of free riders - If I do it, I can get away with it, but if everyone does it, the system will collapse. They do things considering what would happen to their society if everyone cheated on this, sued someone for that, took advantage of that technicality, or ignored a rule there. Europeans trade 'individualism' for 'socialism'. The Danes seem to take it to an extreme... But I am intrigued."

Other nice bits:

"In Denmark you have to work quite hard to find a crack to fall through. A few people with alcohol problems manage to be homeless. Yes, we are the most contented people."

"We Danes believe a family's economic status should have nothing to do with the quality of the health care or the education their children receive."

"The society is designed in a way that encourages people to use less, chew slower and just sip things."

And I learned that the Danes write "Tak for Alt" on tombstones. Awww! :,)