Somewhere Else

Chapter 9: Not Enough (ii)

After hearing about the Culture Shock Syndrome from Frederik, I've been visiting a lot of travel sites and expat forums, reading up on how people cope with moving to a whole new country, assimilating into a culture they haven't grown up in. There are tons of articles and blog entries on how other immigrants have dealt with the negative feelings that have slowly piled up, when the novelty of moving to a brand new place fades.

It's more common than I'd ever realised. This sense of feeling like a fish out of water, feeling like one will never fit into the new environment, never properly master the local language and customs. Even, in the more extreme cases, transferring the negative feelings building up in themselves onto the unfamiliar things around them. As it turns out, it's not just me. Other people have felt this way, too.

According to an article I've been reading, there are four stages of culture shock. The first is the honeymoon period, when one feels extreme enthusiasm and fascination with all the differences in the new country. Slowly, though, the disillusionment starts to set in as one faces frustrations in settling down in the new environment. This is the rejection phase, marked by criticism, resentment, and anger.

The Rejection period, the author writes, can be triggered by the realisation that, as an outsider in a new culture, language or misunderstandings of cultural cues can often make the simplest task seem like a daunting challenge.

Reading this makes tears spring into my eyes.

Finally, here it is, put into words. Everything I've been feeling since I've begun the slow, painstaking process of trying to assimilate into Finnish culture. It feels good to read words that are so relatable, that hit you so hard you sit back, gasping from the unexpected balm to your soul.

The third stage of the Culture Shock Syndrome, the article goes on to describe, is called the regression and isolation phase. This is the period when one becomes highly critical of their surroundings, and even begins to idealise the culture from which they've come. I find myself smiling wryly as I read the description of the symptoms. I fit every single one perfectly.

The last stage – the most important stage – is the adjustment and adaptation phase. This is when one finally manages to resolve the negative feelings within them and begins to settle down in their new environment.

This is the stage I need to reach.

I haven't tried to settle down in Helsinki the way I should have. I've spent so much time bemoaning my own foreignness here, but I've been going about it the wrong way. It's like Aksel said at first – I need to adjust my attitude, so that I can properly make Helsinki my home. I need to make myself stop associating the unfamiliar with negative feelings, and instead start seeing everything as an adventure again. Just like I did, when I first arrived, so eager to embrace everything about the country that was meant to be my new home.

I've made plans for when Aksel leaves for Midsummer. When Gabi and Tessa come to visit, I'm going to go out and explore Helsinki with them. I'm going to get to know Helsinki all over again. It doesn't matter where – what matters is that I want to see Helsinki in a new light. I want to fall in love with this city, to come to terms with my place in it. To come to terms with the fact that this is home now.For the first time, I feel a weak flicker of hope spark to life. I can get over this. I can make everything right again.

Now that I've read through the logical breakdown of everything I've been feeling, I can take the steps to overcome it. I may never truly belong in Helsinki – just like I've never truly belonged in Hamburg. But Hamburg, despite everything, is still my home. And maybe one day, Helsinki has the potential to become that, too.

But while I know what I want to do in Helsinki now, I'm getting increasingly unsure of my place with Aksel. I sometimes catch him looking at me, in one of the rare times we happen to be in the same room at the same time, and when I look over to meet his gaze, I can see for a moment the dark longing in his eyes, before he cuts the eye contact and leaves the room. In bed, he stays on his side and I stay on mine, even though I want desperately to reach out to him and make him look at me again. I want to feel his arms around me again. But at the same time, I remember the way he turned away from my kiss, the way he doesn't look at me anymore, and something curls up deep within me.