Vesta - musings on fitting in

Vesta is one of those vibrant personalities with a vast social network, that fit in any and everywhere. Having grown up in and lived in so many places, she herself doesn't know where she calls home. Even her family lives all over the globe, and by that I mean several continents.

"The key is to find a good group of friends and make it happen," she says when I ask her about this, then pauses to add. "It can be hard and extremely daunting. But find people with the same interests or, even better, something you've always been interested in." Though she is quick to add that she's not exactly a poster child for "perfect integration."

"What do you mean," I ask her, spying a group that is all set to snap her up. We are at a birthday bash that a friend - or in Vesta's case a friend of a friend - is throwing. I felt I could talk to her when she went out for a smoke and I decided to follow. We'd spoken before so it wasn't like this was a new situation but never more than a few sentences here or there, and never about deeper subjects. The group hovering nearby, is moving in and Vesta has noticed them as well. Her response is to move away, to a blind corner all the while rolling her eyes.

I nicknamed her Vesta after the Roman goddess of the home and the hearth and also because for a while, on Facebook, she had a statue of a Vestal Virgin as her profile picture. When I tell her about the nickname, she laughs appreciatively.

"I love the irony," she states firing up another cigarette. I grin when I get it, while she adds, "I actually have a thing for Roman and Greek mythology."

Before I can ask her what exactly that is, I can see three of the six Germans so eager to meet her, approaching. I catch her eye just in time and we move away again so that we're now standing around the corner of the venue.

"What do you mean, you're not exactly a poster child for integration," I ask because I am intrigued.

"I've moved around all my life," she says. "That gives me one hell of an advantage. At some point, you just figure out that people are equally shy as you are or can be. So just because they won't approach you, doesn't mean anything. Plus a lot of people suffer from what I call popular kids syndrome."

I look at her, willing her to explain.

"Remember back in high school when you had the popular kids and the losers and everything else in between? And everyone pretty much wanted to talk to the popular kids? They never lifted a finger, everyone flocked to them, so they never had to learn what it was like trying to make friends. So then they grow up and decide that moving to a new place is a good thing and they expect everything to be the same, people catering to them, everyone treating them like a beauty queen. But it doesn't work that way. So they're lost, they don't know what to do with themselves. Then you get those that have never really traveled abroad and a one-week packaged holiday, all tours included does not count. They expect everything to stay the same, there's no room for change. I'm not saying that's how it is for every body, it's not as convenient as that. But it gives you a sort of guideline, something that helps you understand them."

I mull this over and ask her which group she belonged to. It makes her laugh.

"I was a drifter. The minute they found out I'd traveled so much and lived in all these different places, I was okay. Hell, I even had close friends that were juniors and seniors when I was a freshman and that was pretty unheard of. But I always bonded more with the artistic people, so for the most part, I hung out with them."

This is true even today. I know that many of her friends are free spirits, and that is largely why the group of German girls, wants to be her friend. Not that they are free spirits but they are hoping that in attaching themselves to her, they can meet some of those friends. One of them has even been chasing her with a camera all evening, never even asking if she can take a picture. Vesta always managed to turn away. She never mentions this to anyone though, her easy way of integration, when people speak about how difficult it is to make friends here, rather than state that she has plenty of friends here, and most of them local, she sits there quietly, once it has become clear that the speaker is not after advice, just wants to start a bitching session. But social circles overlap and all it takes is for someone to see you somewhere and their opinion is made. I once saw her standing on a beer crate at a concert, very far away from the stage, talking to people around her, who were clearly part of a different group than the ones hogging the front of the stage. One of the girls from the German group was there as well, in the front, holding on tightly to the stage as if otherwise she would be dragged away. And even though Vesta never mentioned any of it (when people asked her what she had done that night, she answered them that she had been with friends, which, technically, was true), it was obvious that she had been there in a completely different capacity to the German girl.

"The other thing is," she goes on. "You have to be careful when you criticize the country you're in. I'm all for freedom of speech but look at it this way, you're a guest in their country, an Israeli friend told me that about living in Germany. The country is your host, you don't really want to insult your host. So you word things carefully. Besides, you only catch glimpses, you didn't grow up here, most of us have only been here for a few years. How can you even begin to comprehend all the intricacies? The way I see it is, it's like family. You can criticize the hell out of them, they're a part of you. But when someone else does, you suddenly jump to their defense and hate the other person."

This is in fact the first commentary on living in Finland as a foreigner, or any country for that matter, that actually makes sense. The others are all about trying to fit in as many random Finnish words into a conversation as possible, to show how integrated they are, while at the same time listing all the negatives of the place they can think of, mainly how it's impossible to make friends in Helsinki. These comments of course, being thrown about in a group of expats that consistently meets up on its own and unless it is to hit on a girl, will never make a move to talk to Finns. I have been around them and heard their conversation too many times to actually care. Though, I try to avoid the expat community like crazy, there is still one occasion or other, on which they all come together, like this birthday party or else, an evening out with friends in a pub when some expat, who can't get into their usual haunts, end up at the table next to yours. Vesta doesn't hang with a pack, at least not with the expats. I remember her saying once that most of her friends are Finnish, "give or take about five foreign friends."

Mulling over what she said about fitting into a new environment, I can't help thinking as we walk back inside, where she once again, successfully dodges the German girls, that maybe her nickname isn't so ironic after all.

The sports fan

My former roommate looks at me and very eloquently states, "eh?"

I can completely understand her surprise, being as how when we lived together, I never even once, expressed the remotest interest in any sport. She herself, being a self-proclaimed sports nut, had a strong preference for soccer but would watch pretty much anything. I have fond memories of us sitting on the couch in her living-room, both of us with our laptops, while she focused on the game shown on TV, alternately commenting on the game to me and commenting via skype to her friends abroad. The only other time I'd watched a sports game was in high school and even then I was more there for the socializing than the game itself. Knowing that our school's football team pretty much sucked and that none of my friends there knew about or even cared for the rules, helped in not paying attention to what was going on. I figured that I'd get all that I needed to get out of the game just from her reaction and that was already enough. She couldn't stop laughing at that but decided to spare me a lecture on how the interesting thing was to actually watch the thing as it developed. Even now, when we're meeting, it's not in a sports bar but an average coffee place. So her surprise at my latest request is perfectly understandable.

I repeat my request if only to see the look on her face again. "Could you give me a crash course in ice hockey?"

She starts grinning at me and it's pretty much the same grin she sported when I got all excited about a picture I found of someone I'd been crushing on when we were living together last year. The internet can be a blessing that way, though I can still hear the word "stalker" coming out from somewhere underneath the mock-cough that followed my "discovery". It still makes me laugh, today.

Mercifully she spares me a speech this time though her eyebrows do shoot up. Especially, when I add that I need a crash course for dummies.

Last year my best friend really wanted to see the ice hockey game, when Finland played Russia. I don't remember when it was, some time during the spring, though we were still (for the most part) wearing our winter jackets, that's how little I know about the whole thing. I was rooting for her country as well but since I didn't know the rules, it was hard for me to follow. We ended up at another friend's place of work, a bar that usually doesn't show ice hockey but for this, they were making an exception. A very big exception since the whole thing resulted in a lock-in, with about six people remaining. They tried to explain the game to me, my best friend, with one eye on me and the other one on the screen, turning to our other friend for help. Each time they gasped, I looked at my friend and asked her if what had just happened was good or bad. I tell my roommate all that, adding that I didn't want a repeat of that, this year, I wanted to actively participate.

"Isn't there a big ice hockey event coming up in February?" I ask before adding, "I want to be prepared."

I know this, because the Monday after Christmas, coming home from a concert, a random drunk guy stopped me on the street and told me about it.

To her credit, I have to state that she is trying to hide her grin. But I know her, so I can see it dancing around the edges of her mouth and in her eyes.

"The big ice hockey event . . . ," she begins and - again I have to give her credit for that - her voice is perfectly even. "the winter olympics in Vancouver. The Finnish team is expected to fight for gold in that competition."

I nod, glad that I don't even have to pretend that I knew this already and that we already established when I was living with her that when it came to sports, I was basically an idiot. I can follow a tennis match and I played floor hockey once in my life and really enjoyed it but other than never playing by the rules to begin with, team sports were never something I'd followed actively, never mind passionately. When pressed, I'd pick the teams of the places I liked. I love everything about Finland (and my own country doesn't even have a team) so with ice hockey, Finland it is.

"Ice hockey games start on February 17," she says. "That means, you have at least three more weeks to learn more about ice hockey."

I nod again. Three weeks isn't that bad and the "more" in her comment, sounds encouraging. At least I didn't decide this three minutes into the game.

"I'll send you a link with the rules and some general knowledge," she says as she needs to go in a short while.

I thank her and promptly ask her about the two city teams, Jokerit and HIFK.

"They play in the SM league," she explains. "That's the highest level of ice hockey played in Finland. Listen, would you be willing to come see a game with us next weekend in Tapiola even if it doesn't involve Jokerit and HIFK?"

I nearly start jumping up and down at this. It's hard for me to plan anything that far in advance so we arrange to confirm this next Friday. And I'm really looking forward to the following weekend, confident that by the time the winter olympics roll around, I'll have a pretty good idea of what's going on and will really be able to get into the games when I watch them with my friends.

Until the thought hits me that all games take place in Vancouver and with the time difference, active participation is pretty much a moot point since I won't be watching the game with anyone anyway.

The hanger-on

Iphigenie came to this country because of the music. This is of course perfectly understandable, many of her friends have done or are doing the same, and it is the music of some of the bands that "has helped tremendously with my English." Iphigenie is after integration. She wants to be a part of it, wants to belong but not so she can fit in but rather so that she can meet the musicians whose music she has "always admired." That this is hard to do in a country where friends are carefully chosen (and I might add for good reason) quickly becomes evident, when after a year of being here, she has only met some of the locals by attaching herself to a more outgoing personality from abroad. Iphigenie's tactic to achieve integration is to sit and wait and follow the more outgoing personality around, so as to get a foot in the door as it were, then snapping up the other person's friends. Should someone introduce her to a new person, she will however not share the favor and do anything to keep that person for herself, not granting her outgoing friend(s) any access.

Iphigenie now has a boyfriend, a pompous ass, the outgoing friend has named Thoas. He is the kind of person who will post photos of concentration camps on his social network page among holiday pictures and consider it part of the general landscape. The kind of person who knows that all foreigners are of course rich and that life abroad is so much better than here. But he is local, and for Iphigenie that is all that matters. That he is a huge fan and admirer of her home country, merely constitutes an added bonus.

They met, the same way that Iphigenie meets all her friends that are not from her country, through her outgoing friend or rather acquaintance, waiting for the latter to strike up a conversation with them, engage in general banter and then move in by standing quietly at her friend's side so as to be included in the conversation. This usually works especially at gatherings of other expats, in which mutual inclusion is practically a fait-accompli. Thoas is much the same, and being half a generation her senior, has taken it upon himself to guide her.

Iphigenie knows that she is young and has much to learn and rather than rely solely on her boyfriend, she looks to her outgoing acquaintance for guidance, following her around the room when they happen to run into each other at parties, to see who her acquaintance is talking to and to position herself next to them within five seconds of her acquaintance striking up a conversation. Her boyfriend is quick to follow this act and so an interesting game of tag ensues at a birthday party held in a popular venue. When a film crew filming a documentary for a national channel shows up, both are quick to position themselves at an angle that is sure to capture them frequently, so that later they can brag to the people in their immediate vicinity about how they have been captured on film.

Both Iphigenie and Thoas know that their outgoing acquaintance has interesting contacts and they are keen to get them. There are hints to "meet up for drinks" and requests of "can I have that photo you guys were taking because I want to surprise a friend" as well as liking status updates no matter how mundane they might be, yet these only occur right after they have heard of said acquaintance being in what to them is an interesting environment and invitations to their events are never extended. Their own circle of friends consists of people from Iphigenie's home country, met at a social networking event, again, having waited for someone else to make the introduction. When one of them, on a visit to Helsinki after having returned to his home country, mentions to their acquaintance that it would be nice to meet up, they do everything in their power to make sure this meeting doesn't happen. It is a life style that seems to work for them even though they are often at home alone or only go out when specifically invited by someone or other. They are easy to spot at all types of parties, the ones standing in the background, wearing a style slightly similar to what they think is the local fashion and yet, never quite the same. And yet, despite all that, they have their advantages. They are primarily there to make those in their vicinity truly appreciative of their real friends, the ones who will call you in good times and bad and will stand by you, whether you're happy or sad.

The player

His social network consists mainly of girls, females, non older than 30 though he is gearing up for his 41 birthday, the last party was a huge hit, with a cover band playing and guests sampling the food he decided to provide. The venue? A hip, if not the hippest place, in town. Out of the 150 party guests, 135 were female. The fourteen males that came, did so because they were there as their respective girlfriends' dates.

He prides himself on this fact, that women are naturally drawn to him, that he is able to openly sustain a relationship with at least three girlfriends and they're all okay with that. I am actually there to give open support to one of them, even though I don't approve of him, not because I think that having several partners when each is aware of the others' presence, is immoral but because I personally find the guy to be an incredible bore. He's a nice guy, I have to admit that, when I needed help moving, he was right there, even renting out a van and never charging me for that, but he only has one subject of conversation: how women are genetically preprogrammed to exploit men. There are of course theories to back this up, theories he not only sounds off on but also posts liberally on his social network connections. It is always women who are at the root of all evil. One failed marriage on his part and a pre-teen son can attest to that (it is of course totally beside the point that people in general (try and ) use each other that this happens whether you're male, female,working, retired, in a relationship or alone but let's not get too deeply into that for he is not overly intelligent and a thought process of that nature, would cause his poor addled brain to explode from going into overdrive).

He subscribes to the Player's Bible and everything that's in it, is holy. It is thanks to him that those interested in the subject matter (i.e. what is a player, what is a neg, what is the general idea behind this whole game) are actually well-informed for he will lend the book out if pressed or even just asked. While he does not actively operate the put down, he nevertheless engages in controversial conversation, the genetic predisposition of females being one of them, and in fact the only one of them. At present at least three girls find him attractive and there are always new ones. My friend, it pains me to say it, is one of them, having bonded with the other main girl in his life, after hating her, the two of them are now best friends and even share the same social crowd, a group largely comprised of the other girl's friends, each with their own agenda. They are happy together and anything else shouldn't really matter.

I can't help comparing him to another friend, one who only had to smile at a girl or even look at her and she'd melt like butter in the sun. This was actually a great friend of mine and it was fun watching him work his magic on a girl. This one didn't need a guide book to get what he wanted. And while with my friend's boyfriend, his attitude bothers me to no end, with my close friend, I found it more amusing than anything else. Recently I figured out why, with my friend it was just fun, I want someone for the night, you want someone, let's go. With this guy it's as though he is on a one-man mission to punish each and every female for the end of his marriage.

I'm not saying all players are like that. This is merely one of the many people I have encountered here in Helsinki, a type that can and does show up anywhere and is for all intents and purposes, another addition to the city.

Just for tonight?

A regular week night and the local meat market is in full swing. Disguised as a "get-together" for expats and locals alike, it is interesting to pick out the different groups, sub groups and below-par groups. This particular gathering - a gathering that has been going on for quite some time - draws an interesting crowd. There are the players, the (confirmed) Pickup Artists, clutching their Game bible figuratively underneath their arms, armed with insults and props, that are said to guarantee them if not an instant life partner, at least an adequate mate for the night.

Coupled with them, almost a perfect match, are their perfect matches of the opposite or same gender, waiting with baited breath. They, too, have come out to play, are keen to find a companion, though of course they are hoping it will be for more than one night. They dream of travel and exotic destination or at least a quick adventure to be able to brag about having been with a foreign gal / guy.

Over in the corner the alcohol is flowing and people are beginning to slowly pair off. There are those, for whom a quick display of non-verbal communication, a quick sweep of the eyes, will suffice, others, engage in conversation until it is time to part, move on to the next place, and the next one and who knows what will happen at the end of the night.

And yet others are merely there to sample the promises of that weekday night, a promise of action and happiness and not being alone in a hotel room, watching TV until well after midnight. It is the same scene every Wednesday, the same scene for everyone, everyone who came out that night.

survival 101 - things to do in order to be happy in a new destination

1. Do accept that whatever you've been used to so far should be left at home. Things change with every region, so moving countries naturally calls for even more drastic changes. By all means, bring your culture with you, but don't expect people to change, you'd be surprised at how many people don't get this and expect everything abroad to be the same.

2. Accept the changes no matter how hard, bizarre, strange and so on they are or may be. You've come here for a reason, think of how you would feel if someone else was to mindlessly criticize everything in your country.

3. Things work differently in your new country, doesn't mean they're better or worse necessarily, just different. Case in point, the girl behind the Subway counter, may not smile and banter invitingly, but she will patiently tell you about all they have, without rushing you and will equally patiently wait until you have somehow managed to make up your mind, despite the line forming behind you. And yes, those people are waiting there patiently.

4. Silence and not talking does not mean that you are not accepted, it just means that there is silence, literally.

5. Choose your social network wisely, some are there to enhance your experience, others are there because they want your hard earnings and your soul.

6. Don't jump down people's throats because they go out of their way to speak your language. Yes, you are here to (hopefully) some day speak their language but they are also happy at being able to practice a language they like and speaking your language, is more than just common courtesy, it really is saying, we're making the extra effort to make you feel welcome.

7. Don't pretend to survive on all the clichés, yes, it gets dark early during the winter, yes people love their sausages and beer and sauna. There's more to life than just mindlessly repeating and regurgitating common clichés, as if wanting to say, I can use them, I am now an accepted member of whatever community it is that you intend to be an accepted member of.

8. Don't fall into the trap of hanging only with people from your country. Yes, it's daunting and hard to make friends, and seemingly impossible but can be done.

9. If and when you do, don't resort to "them" being the locals and "us" meaning you and your expatriate friends. It is of course nice to be able to share but mind the pitfalls, don't let this be your only network, which results in host country bashing, fun, therapeutic and cathartic as that may be.

10. Don't take this list seriously, it was merely a joke created to avoid getting some much needed rest.

Paris, Sacré Coeur

I love it here because I live close by and I can use the quiet streets to jog there and then relax, just hang around. When I was still living there instead of visiting family on a regular basis, I used to go there with my favorite music playing if and when I needed time to think. The music was there because it reminded me of what I was thinking of in the first place, why I was so attached to the whole matter (usually, if not exclusively, people related) and the walking and jogging . . . well, regular, repetitive exercise always exerted a calm, soothing effect, not to mention, most of the time, if I didn't exactly get the solution, I at least started feeling marginally better. There's always something that puts things in perspective, some passer-by, something that happens to catch your eye, even some random stranger coming out of the bakery.

They tell you that tourist places, like crowded city trains, attract unwanted attention. While my dad, when he was alive, staunchly maintained that if he hadn't made it clear on that day in Manhattan that I was with him, the pimp next to me would have taken me, here, the worst that can happen is a pickpocket or some unwanted attention from someone, who, on the spur of the moment, decides that you're just his type and will follow you home (anywhere between 16-35 will usually do, which isn't to say the Northern side at the end of the spectrum doesn't get its fair share but at that age, they still seem willing and naive, then again, they really do target all ages). It should be mentioned here that my dad wasn't saying it to scare me in any way, he knew I was interested in the darker side of human relations and merely wanted to share his observations. I knew better than to talk to strangers, already at that age and after what my dad told me, I felt intrigued, more than scared. I wanted to see the man but he'd already gone, reason for my dad telling me what he'd been thinking in the first place. But back to Sacré Coeur.

People from their respective countries (and various regions) and the various demographics are highly visible, when you know what you're searching for. Their behavior reflects the cultural clichés they have been taught or are trying to implement. The group of young twenty-somethings, mostly students, gathering on the steps around a singer with a guitar, humming along, while those who know the lyrics pick up the melody. The group of small town retired Germans, stomping their way to the top, barging into people and then complaining loudly when people dare to actually reprimand them. The Polish believers, who want to see this church of churches, and meet their friends, the painters a few feet away, looking for people they can scam. The group of American ladies, also of retirement age, from another small town, who almost gets a heart attack when someone addresses her, asking what time it is. Until it turns out that the person asking is also American, which immediately evokes a sense of trust. These are all clichés of course, one in a million and (probably) therefore all the more fun when they do come true, though it is true, there is a large abundance of youngsters sitting on the steps and even some middle-aged couples, happily singing.

We used to sit on the steps as well, when we were tired or lazy, or when we just felt like it, usually with a coffee, and always with cigarettes. Not because we were trying to live up to or create an image but because we felt that this moment without coffee and cigarettes was just not a moment, was not even worthy of being taken in. I liked that I had basically grown up there, that despite all the moving and traveling, this was my Zen place, the place I could come to, the place I could relax in, the place I knew would always be there, even if we were, once again, far away. Some of my friends had little trees that they hid by, secret little caves, others made caves out of mattresses in their homes, found secret hiding places. Me, then as now, I lose myself in the crowd, weaving in and out of various groups and gatherings, blending in, losing myself in them because I can look like them, I speak their language. There's a Hungarian saying that you have as many souls as you speak languages, and I can see how that came to be by, almost without noticing, adapting a new persona, another personality.

And when I am ready to come out of hiding, I leave my little spot on the hill and on the way down, stop by at a café, where I know I can chat to the owner or at the very least, run into a friend.

the music fan

She lives in a two bedroom apartment in the suburbs, not too far away from her place of work but not within walking distance of it either. The reason for her choice of location quickly becomes clear after an idle look at her CD and DVD collection. All the country's bands in alphabetical order, lined up next to the concert DVDs and the books on local sights and music. She is a music fanatic, who came here for the music and moved heaven and earth to have a job lined up. In fact the reason she has chosen that tiny apartment, distant from every conceivable hangout as it is, lives about 30 minutes down the road: her favorite singer, the one because of whom she came here so many times before, the one because of whom she decided to stay.

When she is out and about in town, she will pick places where he is said to be or have been, places that attract many of her ilk and where the minute you step through the door, the back biting and back stabbing begins. Everyone wants a shot at meeting their idol and providing that friendships are made at all, they will just as quickly disband the minute said idol walks through the door and casts his eye on one of them.

Her claim to fame among her small group of friends is such that she has seen him in concert several times (more times than many of the others) and has even once, in a desperate attempt at bravery, gone straight into his garden. Asked whether she at least said hello when she claimed to have seen him, she shakes her head and claims that all she wanted to do was see his living quarters, from the outside because of their "architectural value" they represent.

Well, mazel tov to her and many happy returns. If she survives the conditions she is living in presently and the harsh realities, she will at least have stories to tell when her grandchildren gather around her, spinning their own dreams of meeting their present-day idol.