Paying attention

Random Girl has a heavy heart following the news of the bombing in Oslo city centre on Friday and the simultaneous massacre of at least 85 people on the island of Utoeya. Without question, there are many travesties occurring in the world today, many of which affect greater numbers of people. The drought in Somalia is a prime example, where a significant proportion of the country’s population is in fact facing death by starvation. I have followed such things on the news and been mournful of the circumstances these people face. I am saddened by all of it, and that sadness makes me appreciate every minute of each day.

I suppose this particular event in Oslo weighs particularly heavily on me because of its relative proximity to where I am, and, more importantly, that the root of the destruction was entirely man-made. There was no hurricane or blazing fire or earthquake to blame for the tragic events. Nor does it appear to be an act of retribution on the part of any fundamentalist regime. If the evidence to date does indeed prove that this shocking event was the random act of the single suspect in question, then I think it will be a longer, possibly never-ending journey to try to reconcile this demonstration of our absolute potential to destroy one another. In this case, that the inexplicable actions of one person alone could so greatly devastate the lives of so many. The course of their lives now permanently shifted in the short period of approximately one hour. One person did this?

Earlier this evening, I went with P to the Norwegian Embassy in Copenhagen where we paid our respects silently amidst rows of flowers, candles and fellow mourners. The beauty of the scene, I must say, was almost discordant with the sorrow of the occasion. It was both breath-taking and heart-breaking to see such a glorious array of colours placed along the pavement, and to share an awareness of the collective sacrifice of an unquantifiable number of families and friends, and nations. I thought of how many people standing there might have suffered a personal loss and tried to measure that against my own sense of deep anguish, despite not knowing any of the victims myself. I suspect there are many similar scenes to be found around the world right now and that by tomorrow, the collection of tokens will have doubled, if not tripled.

As heavy as this day has felt, RG also feels angry. I cannot fully articulate how much I hope this serves as a yet another reminder to all of us to pay attention to what we have each day, and to cherish all the goodness to be found in one another. There is always the potential for any life to turn on a dime suddenly and irreversibly. So many of us take such things for granted, especially when it comes to how we treat others in our normal day-to-day. To look at everyone around us as another human being with a complete life around them, even if you only stand behind them in a queue. Here at least is a good opportunity to remember how much we should be aware of one another's importance while we also show solidarity for those who have truly suffered or lost. It could be those suffering in Norway, or those in Somalia or wherever else in the world where the struggle of life is literally that…a struggle to live. We should also be more attentive to the small kindnesses of others and those moments when we are actually remembered or cared for. Why should we? Because when the day comes we all have to face our mortality, we will see these are the things that really qualify our lives. If we truly have an awareness of this, we should all be able to complain a lot less about a lot less!

I’ll grant that it sounds as though RG is writing this with one foot on the soapbox (and I write this while 'karaoke night' down to road echoes past my window), but the thing is, I really believe it simply should not require such a tragedy to remind us of everyone else we share this little space with. Every day should see us to step up our own sense of accountability to others. It’s unfortunate to me that more often than not, this is what it takes. It’s less about just feeling bad when something bad happens to someone else, but making sure we don’t insult those who really do have it bad, by bitching about trivial things such as the temperature of our drinking water because of what our privileged a**es feel we deserve. This ought to give people greater perspective because yes, it really could have been you or someone you knew out there that day, or you that has to walk miles for a sip of water, (and I guarantee you, if you manage to get any at all, the temperature of the water won't mean a damn thing.)

Someone on the news today said that “if one person can cause so much destruction, consider how much love the rest of us together could create.” Cynics may roll their eyes, but to them I say, head up to Utoeya and see how cynical you feel then. RG isn't religious and doesn't follow any specific doctrine or creed, but simply believes our duty and fulfilment in life, not only in crisis but everyday, is to demonstrate care for life itself - paying attention to it and others as much as possible, as often as possible. Because we still get to have karaoke night.

Peace to those who have perished, strength and comfort to their loved ones left behind.

Speaking the same language

Hvordan går det? Jeg hedder Random Girl.

I’m learning to speak Danish. My local municipality provides language classes (‘Danish for Foreigners’) for free for up to three years once you acquire a CPR number (social security). But (I hear you ask) everyone speaks English in Denmark so why learn Danish? The answer: because I can.

It’s true that you can easily get by here if you speak English, but Random Girl is a big believer in the ‘when in Rome’ mentality and I am feeling more than enthusiastic having begun a one-month beginners’ ‘intensive’. The course involves three-and-a-half hours of lessons per day, every day, for a month. It has come to feel rather like a job and the prospectus does recommend people treat it as such. There is so much to learn each day that you would be foolish not to. Missing a class is not a good idea. Even the Danes admit that learning this language is tough.

I can say that up to now, I’ve managed the basics comfortably and I am using my key phrases (“Hvor er toilettet henne?”) as often as…well, I need to, I guess.

Some people describe the language as an exercise in speaking with a potato lodged in your mouth. One of the things I think that makes it challenging is that there is a big divide between what you see on paper and what is pronounced (or more vitally, what is NOT pronounced. “Jeg vil gerne have et stykke chokolade kage” sounds more like “yay vee grrr na hay it shtook shokoLAthekay”. And yes, I intend to order chocolate cake as often as I can from now on because, frankly, it’s so much fun to say :)

Random Girl’s approach to speaking a new language out loud includes learning the phonetics and structure of the language carefully, and then, once learned, saying every phrase as quickly as is humanly possible. I mean lightning fast. We tend to speak so slowly when we’re learning that when we hear things in ‘real time’, we are flummoxed. Aurally, we tend to just pick out select key words in what people are saying anyway, so this kind of ends up working in your favour. If nothing else, it makes you speak out loud at speed, helps your familiarity with word order giving you better fluidity and, hopefully, leaves you with greater confidence to keep speaking, which of course, is key to learning any language. Any native language-speaker (of any language) will naturally run their words together, swallowing more sounds the faster they speak. In a colloquial English-speaking environment, for example, I might say ‘hasi’goan?’ How does this register with the people who have just learned to say, ‘How are you doing today?” Not easily, I would guess. But then, native speakers certainly wouldn't require them to speak in such a pronounced manner in order to understand their intention, y'know?

Speak fast and people around you will put the pieces together. That, or they will smile as though they do. Either way, they will respect that you tried and you will feel a little bit cooler for choosing the road less monotonous.

On a completely separate note, I do note that the good ol’ fist ‘bump’ holds great value here, as much as in numerous other places I’ve been (and bumped). Bump your friends, bump your neighbours, bump the green grocer on the corner. I’ve bumped them all! [ahem] They all bump back without hesitation and the result – and I’m not exaggerating here - is instant solidarity! Exceptional mention goes to the guy I met last Friday who, hitherto unaware, took a real shine to what he, once I learned him the gesture, endearingly called, ‘the knuckles’. (“I like that. The knuckles! I’m going to have to use that from now on!", said the devastatingly handsome, blue-eyed Dane who smiled broadly back at me – exclamation mark, exclamation mark, closed quotations. Ladies, learn to bump!) The ‘knuckles’ then; a fist offered in peace, rather than hostility. The ultimate ice-breaker that stretches the world over. Who knew?

Really, I think the key lesson is to make the effort to meet people at their point of comfort. To learn through observation how to speak and listen(!) as they do, or need you to do, then endeavouring to oblige in order to find a comfy place for them to engage with you. I strongly believe this rule of thumb applies to all people I meet, not just those who speak a different language. I also strongly believe that in doing so, you will be more readily met at your comfort zone by the other. I can’t hope to get my own message across clearly if I deny myself, and those around me, the right mechanism to pass it on. If I can show I am willing to adapt, the odds are, they will react in kind. Do you insist on using email when the person you are communicating with doesn’t use a computer? Whatever you have to say will be rendered inert. Use tin cans and piece of string if you have to, but try doing it their way first (instead of the other way around) and just see what happens next...! As it is, Random Girl just likes to learn anyway, but certainly, this approach has served as a practical tool for this relative newbie. I can say, at very least, that my network consists mostly of locals, rather than expats. I'm proud of that.

The ‘bump’ has actually been a good litmus test to see how willing another person is to connect with me at all and to determine whether or not they can meet me on a common plane. The mutual understanding of its meaning is both uplifting and cathartic. Again, the bump is an extremely effective leveller. You bump + I bump back = we smile. People who usually bump, mirror your acceptance and those who don’t, just love that they have the chance to bump and be bumped, and so the action gives them joy, which comes straight back to you and on we go. Simple maybe, but as noted above, sooo effective because from that point on, I have permission to speak in any language - especially as much 'potato-y' Danish I can muster - as I know, post-bump, that whoever it is that I am speaking to is already open to my person. We’ve already shared a smile and know we are 'speaking the same language', so the rest is usually pretty easy.

Someone much wiser than I once said, “If you cannot say what you mean, you will never mean what you say.” Hear, hear! For me, I just can’t resist the chance to learn to share with people I never would have imagined I might have the chance to share with, even for the briefest moments. Language-wise, what little I’ve learned so far has made me feel I’ve taken a monumental step forward in my life…for the sense of expansion, for the sense of accomplishment, and for the way it will see me reach further than I ever thought I could. Who knows where it could lead to? I bump to that!

Random Girl

Dreams and nightmares

Last night I dreamt someone stole my bicycle. A surreal setting which was supposed to be Copenhagen, but looked something more akin to a medieval town with endless dark and dirty cobbled streets, was strewn about with bicycles left higgledy-piggledy everywhere. I’d left my bike unlocked for a minute and then suddenly, in a whoosh, a dark figure whisked past me, riding off with my bike at super speed. Hey! The rest of the dream involved a panicked (and absolutely futile) search for the bike with a skull-and-cross bones bell. I didn’t wake up in a sweat but I woke up heart-broken!

Such is the attachment I’ve formed with this inanimate object. As nightmares go, this pales in comparison to the pumpkin-head serial killer dream I had last week (I have no idea where that came from) Thinking it over at breakfast this morning, it occurred to me that though I might not feel the intense panic my dream suggested, such a loss would certainly have an adverse affect on my life here, as I could attest to following my first two bike-less weeks in. For me, my bike has come to represent my freedom and I care for that a lot. Beyond the obvious, I contemplated what this vivid depiction of ‘loss’ represented in my subconscious.

Jump back to last Saturday when Copenhagen was flooded by a relentless thunderstorm (NOT a dream, this was real!). Rain on a biblical scale continued to pour down for hours while rolling thunder was set on long play. After a few hours, I became trapped like a castaway as a veritable lake encircled the building. I felt safe, though worried about the collateral damage the water would cause. I admit, I was relieved to be up on the first floor and in the company of Konrad, who seemed indifferent to the increment weather and slept the time away.

When the rain finally stopped, the water level was about knee high. Behold this dreamlike, armageddon-ish set piece just outside my window. Maybe it was the sense of calm that went with the crisis before us that made it feel so surreal. Many people in my street waded out between the cars abandoned in the road and shared a laugh or took photos. I’ve learned that this occurrence really was a one off and so I feel lucky in a strange way that I had a front row seat for this grand (though ultimately, destructive) show of nature.

I cannot understate what a nightmare this episode proved to be for some. This force majeure saw cars written off, homes ruined and possessions destroyed. The owners of the flat below were already refurbishing their ground-level flat following a bad case of damp rot(!), and though they have been living elsewhere for the time being, they will now be displaced for an considerably extended period of time to begin the refurbishment all over again as a result of this new 'damp-age'.

Throughout the week, many people have been working to recover from the water damage, sifting through their soggy belongings to determine what could be salvaged and what could not. I share a certain affinity with these people as I try to refurbish my own life and determine what is of most value during my time here. While I was under no illusion that this journey would be easy, I have found it hard at times, rebuilding things on my own and making decisions based on budget, knowing it will be a while yet before my life here fills out. There has been plenty of time to reflect but I’ve not necessarily come to any clear conclusions about things either.

After my first month, I have found I have already gained a lot. Life has included laughter, tears, firsts, lasts, sunburn, floods, music, love, cats and fish ☺, noise, silence, freedom, peace, boredom, sadness, beauty and joy. I’ve gathered a good collection of memories, new faces and places, sunrises, cigarette butts and words on paper. Yet, much like those who have had to reluctantly dispose of things they could not salvage from the storm, I have also had to let go of things that I’ve cared for, as nature has dictated. In my case in particular, this process has seen me ‘discard’ much of what represents ‘security’, in exchange for that which represents my liberty. It can be in incredibly sad and trying process sometimes, but then that which does not kill us…yadda yadda ;)

I suppose it must be true that my independence and limited time frame makes me more inclined to regroup and take stock of what I will be able to hold onto from this experience. Not least of all because it’s anyone’s guess what will prove the most resilient in stormy times and over the long term. If this week has proven anything, it is important to just expect the unexpected and ensure the things I care for most are fortified, as much as possible anyway. Sussing out what those things are is the hard part. My ‘big picture’ brain leaves me thinking that if anything, it’s important to preserve the ability to live, learn, share and express as freely and fearlessly as I can, and in the face of any kind of storm. I’m protective of that both for me and the people around me.

We all have our own priorities and one person’s damage is another person’s opportunity to have a good clear out. The challenges that come with being a newbie, while frustrating at times, have of course also been fulfilling and, without question, educational. Life is fleeting and I'm still determined to pay attention to what I have. After an overwhelming first month, at very least I know two things: a) I still have my beautiful bike(!) and b), I am still here pursuing my dreams, instead of chasing a nightmare. Phew!

Random Girl