The pond’s freezin’ over, now where are my skates?!

I’ve received numerous requests for an update from across the pond, so here it is… But someone should have told you all to be careful what you wish for. Truth be told, life East of the Atlantic isn’t all that different from West: eat, sleep, work, repeat. There hasn’t been all too much to say.

But that makes it sound all so simple, and really it isn’t. As I’m not here for vacation, there’s been much paperwork: I had to get my visa, work and residence permits, bank account, you name it. And while some people might have you believe that everything in Europe is better, easier, and more friendly than back home; I’m here to tell you that’s a nasty little rumour. And shame on you liars who are spreading it!

It took months and much stress to get my visa and permits, but now I’ve been here over 2 months and I still can’t get my personal number, which I need to open a bank account, get a doctor, a phone, the internet, even to rent a movie. So I still can’t even cash my own paycheques. I’m like a child—a child that doesn’t exist.

But, even though I can’t access my own money, the government can still take a third my pay, then deny me any benefits (like healthcare) because I still don’t have a personal number, which they won’t give me. I’d like to call someone and demand they send all that tax money to Canada, where my benefits would gladly be provided, but I’ve noticed that most people only speak English if you have positive things to say and simple requests… Go figure.

Every country suffers from its own case of nationalism. I admit, I’m guilty of buying into the Canadian I AM mentality—it’s so reassuring to have a whole country standing behind you chanting the same mantra. But so far, I don’t appreciate having a whole country chanting another in my face. I don’t speak Swedish, I have different cultural expectations of people around me, and most of what is normal here in Sweden is down right rude to me.

I’ve been through this before, once moving to Montreal, again moving to the States, then a little again moving back to Canada… But this is the first time in my life that it’s offended me so much. I hate to say it, but at this point the Swedish language just sounds like rudeness to me.

Am I a glutton for punishment?? All signs point to YES. But we Canadians are friendly and trusting. We smile and say hello to people we don’t know, we assume the best of one another, and as I once read (excuse the approximated quote, please) ”Canadians actually seem to like each other.” Perhaps that’s why I run into other countries with open arms; I assume they feel the same way we do. Think again, naïve little Canuck.

Here in Sweden people don’t say hello to strangers. In fact, if you make eye contact with someone, they still won’t even acknowledge your presence. Here’s goofy old me, walking down the bike path, smiling at everyone I meet, only to be met with cold stares… people looking right through me. Where I come from, that’s the coldest of insults you can give—we don’t denounce each other’s existence. It’s been explained to me that here, people are calculating enough to worry that if they smile at me today they may have to say hello tomorrow, then next week we’re chatting about the weather, and suddenly they’re stuck with me. Such a commitment, all from one smile, oh my… I had no idea I was like a disease that could spread and infect all days and time to come. Sorry Swedes. I’ll keep my horrific smiles to myself.

It’s kind of tough to be a happy go lucky Canuck/Vermont wave gal in such a cold and moderate country, but I refuse to stop smiling. Even if people in town ignore me, people at work shrug me off as an immigrant, people at all the important offices refuse to help me or offer some helpful advice. Even then, I just keep reminding myself that the last thing I want is to lose my identity and humanity while I’m here and find myself back in Canada insulting people by ignoring them. So I keep smiling, even if I have to curse at people’s rudeness afterwards from time to time.

And keeping that smile on my face is proving to be no easy task as the light is fleeing to somewhere down in Antarctica. Enjoy it, d little penguins, I hope you really do need it more than I do right now.  Already we’re down to a little under 11 hours of light per day, and I hear that it will shrink to a measly 6 hours (or less) once real winter hits. Hoo boy.

And right now the ‘sunshine’ at work is really dwindling as well. The kids have really settled in and are testing their limits again (read: trying their hardest to make me crazy), assessments are piling up and need marking, and we’re in Sweden’s version of report card time—yup, I get to mark & write lengthy comments for all my 160 students. Ida and I have been joking about setting up bunkbeds in the office, but the joke is bordering on a twisted reality lately. At least it keeps me busy, I guess.

And while I’m busy dedicating my life to Swedish kids, the Swedish Board of Education is dedicating it’s time to a new push: cutting back on foreign teachers without Swedish certification. Thanks for another stab in the back, my new Nordic friends. How about I educate your kids while you stand behind me and kick my knees in, eh? Yeesh.

You’d think I could ignore this new push and go on with my marking since I have a contract, but the news at the staff meetings is that one of our company’s schools had to ‘let go’ 3 of their teachers, all of whom had some type of contract– one of which was a permanent contract. And, gulp, you guessed it, now they’re taking a much closer look at all of our company’s schools. YAY!

So today we had a meeting, and I was the only one in a desperate enough situation to ask the direct question “do I need to be concerned about my job?” Did I get a direct answer? Hell no. Did it even sound like an indirect no? No again. Am I irate, nervous, and one strong nudge away from buying a ticket back home? Oh hell yes. YES indeed.

No one else seemed all too concerned, but they’re here for good anyhow. They have wives, husbands, homes, other people to carry them through a job loss.  Me? I haven’t even enough in my bank account to get myself back home if the need should arise… Oh wait, that’s right, I don’t even HAVE a bank account. I miss making beer deliveries. Heck, I’d go back to teaching for free in Ontario right about now. In fact, I’m so sick of Sweden I’m happy Mats Sundin is off the Leafs. How Swede it’s NOT!

So, like I said, there’s the news and be careful what you wish for, my pretties. Today, I sat outside a colleague’s classroom for a minute just because I was happy to hear his (fading) Canadian accent, beautiful ehs, and wonderfully familiar pronunciation of the words out and about. Ah, my fellow Canadians.

But it isn’t all doom and gloom. As my sister would say, I only have five more sleeps until my first vacation, and I’m really excited to see Slovenia, maybe drive a car again (I miss driving!), and drink a Zlatarog (or two) for the Bezans back home.

And I confess, certain things really are better here: European fashion is phenomenal, and I indulged myself in some really great new digs this weekend. Nothing goes better with a fake smile than new sky high black leather boots, and a sweater dress, maybe another sweater, some jeans… you get the idea.

Next investment: a sun lamp. I’m going to carry this smile through the winter if it kills me, and who knows, maybe one day it’ll rub off. It’s worth a shot, eh?