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Translation T LOST IN | Studentbemanning | Konsul
tbemanning | Rekrytering Carly Hale kommer från Jupiter, Florida, men är numera kärleksinvandrare och bor sedan i juni i Växjö. Varje månad skriver hon i Nöjesnytt, där hon på ett personligt och insiktsfullt sätt delar med sig av sina upplevelser av det nya hemlandet, om språkförbistring och kulturkrockar. Bland mycket annat. his Christmas marked my second holiday season in Sweden, and though it’s always difficult to celebrate without my loving, crazy-in-a-good-way family, I could not be more grateful for experiencing such kindness from my new Swedish family, including some of the friends I’ve inherited along the way. Most of the Swedes I now call friends are those met through my King’s social circles, and most of them have welcomed me with open arms. I say most because—let’s face it—even the Dalai Lama has haters, and I’m no HHDL. But I digress. While I have been fortunate enough to enter a new land with instant family and friends, I cannot ignore some of the challenges that Swedish social conventions present to Outsiders. One facet of my assimilation into Swedish culture has been a social re-education of sorts. I have observed that Swedes laud their collectivity, yet covet their privacy. Is this a bad thing? No. It is just markedly different from my homeland, where Americans flaunt their privacy, and are uneasy with the collective silence that oft permeates communal spaces. You see, Americans do small talk and they do it well. Trust me, I’m your knowledge expert for all things America. Aside from major metropolitan areas in the U.S., public transportation is a joke, bike lanes are more dangerous than practical, and not having a car carries with it an unspoken social stigma: poverty. After all, America is the land of the-bigger-the-engine-the-biggerthe-penis cars as status symbols. We drive our isolation vehicles everywhere regardless of distance and subsequently detach ourselves from our fellow humans. Can you imagine the shock I went into when I entered Europas grönaste stad? Växjö has bike paths carved out everywhere and more bus stops in a 5-kilometer radius than in the entirety of Jupiter, Florida. On any given morning, these shared spaces are bustling. It is here that Swedes—new and old—are united in their efforts to protect an already-endangered environment, and in the simple purpose of needing to get from Point A to Point B. How communal and glorious! I couldn’t wait to take the bus, as though it were some amusement park ride. I remember my first exciting bus ride downtown (pathetic, right?) and this peculiar social convention I observed along the way. People weren’t speaking to each other. People didn’t look at each other. People avoided sitting next to each other even if it meant standing. I suppose I envisioned some collective social orgy of small talk and group song. I don’t know what I expected, but what I encountered was this extraordinary unity impregnated with isolation. To my surprise, last September when I started Svenska for Invandrare—which also ‘educates’ immigrants on Swedish culture—this very subject came up! On one occasion, our instructor played a video about an immigrant from the former Yugoslavia living in Sweden who confronts the peculiarities of Swedish culture. In one segment, he is waiting at a bus stop next to an elderly Swedish man and attempts to engage him in small talk. The man furrows his eyebrow and stares back at him with shock, disdain. The immigrant is so hurt by this failed interaction until he talks to his friendly neighbour, Gudrun, who reassures him that it isn’t him; it’s Swedes. The SFI instructor followed up with her own personal anecdote—that when she herself prepares to leave home and sees that a neighbour is leaving at the same time, she actually waits for them to leave to avoid even the briefest of small talk. What an “Aha!” moment. And the overarching message? “You, small-talkers of the world, it’s not you. It’s me.” I still struggle with this, but I’m adapting. In one fragment of renowned American author Walt Whitman’s manifesto, Leaves of Grass, he writes, “Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?” Clearly Whitman wasn’t Swedish. But he was a brilliant man with extraordinary stories to tell. If we were to engage the occasional stranger we encounter, perhaps our own personal narratives and histories would be a bit more compelling. I TEXT: CARLY HALE David Cecilia Gilla oss på facebook! AUKTORISERAT OMSTÄLLNINGSFÖRETAG AUKTORISERAT BEMANNINGSFÖRETAG Stud Norrgatan 22 | Växjö | 0470 74 00 80 | www.inpeople.se S dent m d bekymm Stude n m en med bekymmer? ymme Våra studentombud hjälper dig! V år a s t d ntombud hjälper dig! u e to n o m b ud hj d h j pd h ä l per dig! e r d ig ! g Jobba hos oss!
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