The Necessity of Finland

Before I moved out of my apartment in my hometown and left for Finland, I decided to have a few friends over for dinner. It was a big deal because 1) I didn’t really invite people over 2) I decided to make Indian food, on my own. I was extremely nervous the entire afternoon and stayed mostly quiet while my guests were there. They had fun, which was my consolation, but part of me was glad when it was over.

This dinner came to mind the other day when I invited almost everyone I know in Finland for Ice Cream Sunday (I was rather pleased with the name). The people I called were classmates in my program, from my Finnish classes, friends I have met at events; in other words, an odd assortment of people who didn’t know each other very well. This evening I was not quiet or nervous. Instead I felt in charge and poised. I knew what I was doing.

There were two years in between these two parties. In the intervening years I came to Finland. I completed a Masters degree, played MC at an event, traveled alone for the first time, among a host of other things. There was a tremendous amount of growth that let this new me host a party without feeling anxious.

A visiting professor from the U.S. who I was touring around questioned me if this growth would have happened even if I had stayed in the U.S.; whether moving to Finland was completely necessary to bring the change from the first dinner party to the second gathering. I don’t remember how I answered him; it was an answer cobbled together in the moment.

But I am convinced that being abroad was key to this growth. It forced me to reach out to others, because without friends, the long dark winter only feels longer and darker. I had to learn different codes for everything, from how to stand in line at the bank (take a number or you will never reach the counter, as I learned the hard way first day I was here), to socializing with Finns (it takes a very long time to feel any level of closeness, a very long time). You must learn to adapt, bending yourself to fit the new molds you find yourself in, all the while preserving who you are.

Being in Finland allowed me to redefine who I was on my own terms in a society in which being yourself as the core of national identity. Here I can make presentations in front of large audiences or be quiet and reserved at social gatherings. Being different, looking different, I must always be prepared to adapt so I can blend in as much as possible. At the same time, I feel a sense of freedom to be different, to be American, to be Indian, because that is who I am.

Contradictions in my identity abound but I revel in them and embrace them now rather than trying to be just one thing. I can be Finnish, American, Indian. I can be hostess at a party. I can stand in front of a crowd and consider myself modestly (very modestly) funny. I can be me.