Trilingual me

As I have described before Zoe is growing up trilingual, except of course ironically she is strongest in Danish and English, because she is in an English speaking daycare and the only one who actually speaks Swedish to her is our Swedish friend and her occasional babysitter. In fact I am very happy to hear just how much Danish she picked up when we spent two weeks there over Christmas. She still mixes the languages and always says 'not' and 'like' in English. "Zoe not like fyrværkeri" [fireworks] was a classic around new years. I'm very aware that her lack in Swedish reflects my attitude to that language, a language that I should easily be able to master, but which I genuinely hate speaking (I don't mind reading it so much, I don't articulate words in my head, I merely comprehend them and move on).

Working in a cafe after chores in the morning, I wondered how my Swedish aversion in combination with our international lifestyle will prevent Zoe from learning any Swedish of significance. But they are not helping us. At this Södermalm cafe they serve the food, calling out the dishes in English. People switch to English when I attempt to speak Swedish with the statement that I have an American accent. I'm still utterly useless in Swedish small talk and it is not getting any better, I mainly just keep quiet. If I can't even do trilingual myself, how am I to expect that Zoe will? I have hired a Swedish tutor to try to learn a bit more and get more confidence. I'm meeting her next Monday for the first time and she seemed nice on the phone. "I can already tell now what we need to work with you on" she said in a teacherly tone. I look forward to that. Perhaps Zoe should join me.

Lost in Translation

The reader who knows me personally will know that Sweden was not my first choice in terms of country to live in. Instead it was chosen for me by some sort of twisted sense of humor, a joke probably only understandable to Danes (who always make fun of Sweden, the Swedish language and all things prohibited, like everything in Sweden). I have embraced the situation with my head held high and have gone through many tutoring hours (and a lot of money) to learn to speak Swedish. Yet being new at a language again is something I am not used to and find rather difficult. Like when at the playgroup yesterday where a woman I attempted to compliment for her shirt looked at me wide eyed, repeating her "what?" because I had clearly not pronounced 'shirt' correctly. I tried with a "not your dress but that one", pointing at her chest but that didn't go down well either. She snickered and I considered my friendship bid a failure. Luckily I later managed to strike up a conversation with an Irish dad feeding his 14 month old a jar of vegetable puree, still in Swedish, about sleep patterns and daycare. It turned out to be a match in heaven, he spoke slowly enough for me and was patient enough to wait for my corrections when I accidentally used a Danish or English word. The irony here of course being that the conversation would have been manyfold smoother if we had just switched to English. But we were both engaged foreigners in Sweden, doing what we can to fit in, even if that is speaking Swedish, just for the practice of it.

Mark tried to comfort me at home telling me that in 6 months I would be completely fluent and not worry about it anymore but I am not so sure. Right now I am in that frustrating state of wanting to make jokes, talk insiderish and just feeling that I belong, but not having the words for it. I find myself saying "jag är dansk", I am Danish, before people even say hello because I know that my accent is implacable, and I want them to understand the context. I want them to know that I am almost one of them, I just can't speak like them. And yet I know that I am not. My claim to be Danish is only a small part of me and it simply explains why I talk the way I do using odd old-fashioned words to a Swede, yet being fairly fluent in the Stockholm dialect. But I am a foreigner here, wondering why people don't hold the door, why they don't say hi when you enter a shop and why people drink so much coffee. They certainly wouldn't behave like that in my home country of America where I wonder why everyone pretend to be so happy and why the waitresses suck up to their guests in ways that seem almost inappropriate. Not like in Britain where their subdued friendliness has an edge of sarcasm to it, making servant/guest interactions   more sleek. Then I remember that I am not American, neither British but Scandinavian by birth and upbringing. But these days I am a foreigner everywhere I go.