Where are you local?

A comment I have recently stumbled upon in my general social media news feed is the point about how people shouldn't ask "where are you from?" but "where are you local?" It is of course relevant to not just to me (I usually add, "but I haven't lived in Denmark for nearly 15 years" to my answer to provide some context), but particularly to Zoe. She struggles with the questions that she gets about where she is from ("Mommy, where am I from?"), if she is in fact Danish (Danes are notorious for asking this if they detect a slight accent) and where she lives ("but mommy, I only live in Stockholm because Daddy won't let me live with you all the time"). I try to provide her with preemptive answers and explain that she is unique and that she can say she is Danish because her mom is.  But one place where we are both local, is in New York.

I was catching the subway to work rather late in the morning because I had had two phone meetings with people in Sweden earlier when I happened to walk into the subway car where a friend/colleague was sitting. We said hello and chatted, agreeing to catch up properly over coffee next week. As I walked out, I casually mentioned that this was strange, it happened to me all the time in New York but never in Copenhagen or Stockholm. I have bumped into friends here numerous times, from the actress sisters who live over on the lower east side to Zoe's friend's mom when we went to the upper east side for music class this summer. I even met a student's roommate on the subway without knowing him at the time, but he was reading the book that my student had written so I walked up and asked how he knew the author. I really enjoy that it is possible to casually meet people. New York is a very small world. And I'm local here.

Copenhagen awaits

Zoe and I were released from our Sweden lock-down and able to go to Denmark to see our family, leaving on the train this morning. Although we normally like taking the train it was a little drawn out this time, probably because it was during the peek wake ours of the day and despite brave attempts, Zoe couldn't fall asleep for the nap that she usually likes taking. We went to the cafe for coffee (mine = coffee with milk, Zoe's = milk with coffee) and distraction for a bit, but for the last three hours Zoe kept asking if we were on the bridge yet. I noticed her Danish R pronunciation improving slightly each time.

We had four fun days back in Stockholm, staying with my friend who has a new baby and Zoe showed her most caring side, holding the baby, entertaining the baby and eagerly playing with her. It was very nostalgic watching Zoe sit in her old crib with a new baby who was now going to grow in it and bite the white paint off the railing, just like Zoe did three years ago. We then went on play dates, dinner dates and bought some clothes, both for Zoe and me.

Now a busy week in Copenhagen awaits until we both fly out next Wednesday, Zoe back to Stockholm and me back to New York.

Speaking your mother tounge

A while ago I asked Zoe, because I was really curious about it, what language she was thinking in. She laughed and said silly mom, silly question. "When I'm with you I think in Danish, and when I'm with daddy I think in English, of course". Yes, silly me, I forgot that when you are bilingual the whole thinking process is as transitional as the speaking process. But there was a reason I asked. Because I have always been aware that one of the reasons my English is so fluent, despite me not starting to learn until I was 10 or 11, is that I think almost exclusively in English. When moving to Florida right after high school to go to college, I simply switched my main cognitive language from Danish to English. I quickly got compliments for my accent (American) and just make a a lot of effort when I speak, which means I can easily pass as American (however, occasionally with an exotic British twang). Zoe, on the other hand has a Danish/Scottish/Irish* accent in English and a cute English accent (lack of the very distinct Danish 'stød') in Danish. I'm sure she will eventually settle on something, hopefully a Copenhagen accent like me and a Scottish accent in English.

These days I find myself having to dig up a lot of Danish from the back of my mind, in order to teach Zoe. I'm actually still very good in spelling and phrasing myself in written Danish, despite often claiming I have forgotten. But for Zoe's sake, I need to keep it up and teach her so she can become fluent. I will have failed if she is asked "where are you from" in Denmark when she becomes a teenager. She is from Denmark because her mom is. And she is proud of it.

Meanwhile, I'm on my way to Copenhagen to spend two weeks there on holiday. While Zoe is in daycare in Stockholm, spending August with her dad.

*Her best friend in daycare is Irish and I noticed recently that they have exactly the same mixed accent, probably because they spend a lot of time together. Sadly, she is 6 months older than Zoe and started school this year, where Zoe is not due to start kindergarten before next year according to the Swedish system.

Midsummer rain

Zoe and me on the beach in
Denmark 3 years ago

I might not live in Stockholm any longer but my Facebook feed and friends are all cheering and being family like for the world-known Swedish Midsummer Celebration. Zoe is somewhere undisclosed on the countryside celebrating with her dad and the new girlfriend. What worse is, people think this is a Scandinavian tradition and greet me happy midsummer, when it is really only Swedish (okay, full disclosure, I have absolutely no idea how they celebrate it in Norway). In Denmark, on the other hand, we celebrate the actual longest day of the year (which is next Tuesday and is called "Sankt Hans Evening", not midsummer) by burning a witch, usually made of sticks and cloth, and sing a couple of old herritage songs around the bonfire on the beach. Because in Denmark there is always a beach nearby. I actually hate midsummer and try to avoid it. From my first summer in Sweden where, to foreigners, everything (and I mean e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g) is just closed for two days and then we go back to work, to my more settled times where I was simply just home alone because it is a family holiday and Swedes don't include anybody else but their family. Add to that a divorce and a fragmented family and this holiday is just one of those ugly portraits of what I don't have anymore. And even in New York, I'm reminded of it's existence.

Several studies have looked at how friends' and connections' positive social media posts will make people post positive posts as well, and potentially make them happy too. Fewer studies mention how positive social media makes people grumpy and jealous because they don't have what others seem to have in those posts. My feed was full of romantic couples and happy families the past few days and it finally got the better of me. I miss my family, I miss my extended family in Denmark. I just want to sit on that beach and watch that witch burn and look over the blue water and hug Zoe. Five more days. And no more Facebook for me.