School and Things

As much as I hate to admit it, my time so far in the Finnish school system has made me feel oddly as if I was attending some sort of Harry-Potteresque academy. Should I say it? Should I? Hogwarts. Hah. I can hear some of my friends back home groaning at this comparison. I have four main reasons for this:

a) The Finns have a much higher level of day-to-day technology than we do. This regularly produces a feeling of wonderment. Yes, magic.

b) Most of my teachers have alliterative names.

c) Using the term "first-years", etc. Also, acronymical exams.

d) Most everyone has a British accent when they speak English.

These all factor into an odd, but not unpleasant atmospehere as I go about the school day. Unfortunately I have no classes, school or otherwise, in interesting old buildings. My Wu-Shu class is in an old building, but it was built in the early 20th century as a cable factory and is potentially one of the most depressing pieces of architecture I've ever been in. Not to say it isn't interesting, though.

School is going wonderfully, I have a good selection of classes that aren't too stressful. There are some great organizational bits which are different (hint hint) and very conducive to a pleasent school day (nudge nudge). One of these features is a ten or fifteen minute break between each class, and almost an hour for lunch. As you choose which classes you want when, but with a minimum number of classes you have to take, it all works out well. The only thing I'm required to take is Finnish as a Second Language, plus four more. As all classes are an hour and fifteen minutes, I get a good number of class hours but with a very varied schedule from day to day. Very college like, in a way.

The Thinking Behind My Last Post

I would, first and foremost, like to say that my last post was NOT conjured by my staying up too late, nor did I compose it at the computer. It's origins lie in the hazy state between reality and dream, when you don't really care what's going on and you simply make weird connections in your head until you fall asleep. I had just gotten back from a party ( a real one, not no garden party), a party where some of the people had a great stereotype of Americans, picturing us as being not necessarily less intelligent or anything, simply dull and completely uninterested in the world around us; just coming into Europe for the occasional shopping spree, if that. We mostly tended to whatever it is we Americans do. Oddly enough, this very closely resembles the stereotype Port Townsenders have for Quilbillies (or Quilceners, for the more sensitively minded folk). Empathy strikes...
By the time I got home, I had been told that I had effectively shattered their stereotype of Americans by many people, and while I don't know if this is entirely true or not (drink affects the tongue, methinks) it is still certainly a good thought. (EDIT: By what was previously said here, some folk were led to believe that I was drinking. This is incorrect, and I'm sorry if any misjudgements were passed with regard to my behaviour. The loosened tongues mentioned before were the tongues of those who remarked about my effective shattering of their American stereotypes) Before I had gotten fully to sleep that night, I had a half-dream where I was fighting one of those great Dragon Warrior II battles, except something other than a giant slug had appeared. In the morning I thought this might be well worth writing down.

Lack of Sleep Encourages 8-bit Thought Process

enter_dungeon

Alas! Thou hast been surprised by a vicious American_Stereotype.
What wouldst thou do?

equip_item: hammer

The vicious American_Stereotype deals thee a fierce blow, damaging thee 6 Health Points.
What wouldst thou do?

attack: American_Stereotype

Striking quickly, thou attacks the American_Stereotype, dealing it a dolorous blow of 18 Health Points.

Congratulations! Thou hast defeated the vicious American_Stereotype. It was in posession of 8 Gold Coins. Thou also gains the mighty sum of 23 Experience Points, meaning thou needst only 189 Experience Points to reach the next Level.

Kuuma, kylmä, --- potato, potahto

A sudden cold comes across the room, many heads look up. Mikä? Mikä? Mikä? a dozen different mouths enquire; a child cries, a dog whines, the man in the corner plugs his ears. A cynic chuckles that sad, knowing chuckle. Lo, yet another poor American has tried to speak the language of the Finns.
At Katri's party, the man with the Kalashnikov had laughed when I said I hoped to learn Finnish. More than one other person had to struggle to keep a straight face. Still, I perservere, even if Hannu (yes, my host father) did plug his ears once when I broke out my Suomi.
You see, it's words like those above that keep foreigners from learning Finnish, in addition to about 14 odd tenses and a dozen cases. As if place names like Jyväskylä and long, many-voweled words were not enough. Did I mention umlauts?
I have chosen two of my favorite words for an example: kuuma and kylmä. Respectively, they are pronounced kooolmah (a long oo sound, like cool) and kewlma (A short ew, and a short a as in hat, cat, or bat). In practice, despite the missing L, they sound very much the same. What do they mean? These are the words for hot and cold.

Scott Parties on Despite Jet-Lag

It may have been mean to put this pic on without an explanation. But, hey, what's the point of being gone if not not having to deal with people?
I am glad that I decided to bring my suit jacket, just in case- and I have already used it. My first full day in Finland I was woken and told we were to leave in 45 minutes. To what? The post-confirmation party of Niemistö family friend Katri. Her house (excuse me, manor house) was about an hour or two outside Espoo, which is a good distance when you consider the average speed on the Finnish highway is about 140 km/h (90 m/h). Said highway driving was, in itself, an experience.
The house was the Suomalainen equivalent of a plantation house, or, for those who haven't been south of the Mason-Dixon line, a very, very large Victorian in the country. There were perhaps 80 people there, with almost all of the men in suit and tie. Most of the kids were just in a collared shirt, though Teijo was in a suit. I was introduced to many family friends of both the Niemistös and Katri's family. Everyone knew some English, which varied from a well-off British or American accent to broken English with a thick accent, accompanied by the occasional Finnish word. I did surprise a few when I said (in Finnish) that I was an American, especially after we had talked for a few minutes.
Probably one of the most interesting people I met was a gun developer, who apparently has a patent being used by the European police force. He also fished, which seems to be a good conversation starter in Finland, as well as owning a "Kalashnikov vich fires shotgun shells, full auto, but much bigger than American shotgun shells." We had a good chat.
There was also much food, but nothing too different. The only thing I couldn't figure out at first was an herb butter. There was also very tasty rainbow trout, although most of the food was more wholesome and very good. As for drinking, it seems that you don't get to drink if you're under 14, as one of the girls who seemed to be about 12 was complaining that only we got some. Also, one of the boys who was with us that seemed to be 13 or 14 didn't drink, whereas Katri did and she was 14. But it wasn't heavy drinking at all, just a little. I didn't have any; as you can see in the picture I was already falling asleep WITHOUT alcohol to help me along.
I met a half dozen of Katri's friends, and we took a tour of the nearby village, which was just small enough not to actually have a downtown area, or really anything that resembled it besides a grocery and pub which happened to be next to each other. Either way, it was fun. (Yes, she did give me her e-mail)

The Last Sandwich Of My Childhood

The last thing I did before leaving my parents was eat a sandwich. Indeed, I could have eaten something better inside of airport security, but who would have paid for it? Me. With that last sandwich, my childhood ended. In the same way my stomach longed for another such sandwich, my spirit yearned for yet another period of carefree bliss such as my younger years. Ah, well; upon going through security parentless (they were late for one of those empty-nester parties) my thin wallet told my stomach to quit whining, and my spirit shut up with it. Then began the carefree bliss of being parentless.
The way to Finland consisted of several long, hot plane rides intermittently spaced with short, rushed layovers and one long, hot AFS orientation. First rule of the orientation was not to lose one's name-tag. Obviously, about 15-odd minutes after being given the crucial neck-plate, I managed to lose it. I searched the room, the halls, and eventually the areas outside the dorm I had visited. Much to my good fortune I had been gifted an icon of St. Nicholas before I left: lo and behold the wind had placed my name-tag at the feet of a statue of the Virgin Mary. The woman running the orientation found this very entertaining.