Confessions about the language

It's a bit funny, but I don't feel like a citizen of another Nordic country while living here in Iceland at all. The only place to get the Nordic vibes is Nordens Hus, the cultural centre designed by Alvar Aalto. In all other places I am someone who speaks loud English, and my identity seems to be circling around the fact of my English-speaking rather than citizenship of another Nordic country.

Of course I never shout out my Finnishness to people. I don't look very Nordic, so I could be from anywhere in Europe. Or even Turkey. It's a kind of freedom, being interpreted as someone English-speaking from any corner of the world. But then, when we finally get to the point of nationalities, I notice Finnishness is something through which one can gain sympathy points. "We are so much alike, always in Nordic meetings, we get along so well with the Finns but not with the others," they always say. Maybe it has something to do with never being understood in your native language. The feeling of being totally marginal, if you speak the language in which you were born and raised. The feeling of not making any sense to anyone. Lack of cultural intelligibility. I wonder if that gives us a sense of being somewhat post-colonial?

I hardly get myself understood in Icelandic at all. I've been trying to speak Danish with some taxi-drivers, and Swedish with people who have a background of immigration in Sweden. The Swedish plot works so much better; I have a feeling my Swedish is clear and well pronounced, I can make myself well understood. But Icelandic: shit happens. I remember when I lived in Denmark 10 years ago and learnt to read and speak fine enough by reading Politiken for a few months - no language course for immigrants required. Here, despite attendance on a migrants' course and my daily dose of Frettabladid, the language competence doesn't grow at all. I am able to ask for a plastic bag in a supermarket, but that's about it. (I was able to buy an underground ticket in Stockholm after 6 years of schooling in Swedish, but that's another story.)

The words simply don't make any sense. Because of the linguistic nationalism, very little loanwords are there in the written everyday language. Teenagers talk in English between themselves in public places to show off, but I can rarely recognize international words in the stream of ordinary Icelandic talk. Listening to it is kind of meditative (especially radio programmes), but no exposure increases understanding.

I think for me the only way to become infected by Icelandic vocabulary and grammar would be to fall in love with an Icelander, but the risks have been truly minimal. Especially in the case of men. Sometimes in the public swimming pools someone starts a conversation in Icelandic, and that's always a moment of deep wonder.

I never came here to talk anyways - I came to clear my head and write. In other tongues, not Icelandic. My kids love to correct my pronunciation. Maybe it gives them a feeling of self-confidence, speaking some language much better than Mom.