Small World

by Alisha Evans-Goldie (United States of America)

Making a local connection Finland

It was my junior summer of high school and I was stoked to be embarking on a world-hopping adventure san chaperones! Could I speak any Finnish? No. Could I pick out Finland’s simple yet elegant white and blue flag before deciding to visit? Nope. Ready for my red eye in Portland, my mom cried as I jubilantly walked down the long hall leading to undoubtable awaiting adventures, while waving back, promising to call and write. We didn’t have cell phones then. They existed, but our family wasn’t that technologically advanced, and wouldn’t be for six years. My journey from Roseburg, Oregon to Lehmo, Finland was pretty much uneventful. I finally got to Finland and took one last miniscule puddle jumper to the tiniest airport in the middle of what truly felt like nowhere. But I made it! And had a new family, including three younger sisters. After settling in it was time to meet my local connection, Janice. Someone to show me around and potentially befriend. Looking back, was Janice a friend? No. An ally? Yes. My Finnish mom took me to the town square meet up spot. We must have arrived early because we stood there at least ten minutes unable to identify anyone who resembled the picture I held of a Goth girl clutching a black rose wandering morosely through a cemetery, which Janice had mailed me prior to my trip. Meandering around the meeting spot my mom and I drifted slightly apart. I stood looking around, taking in my new hometown’s sights, sounds, and people. Never allowing my gaze to settle too long, as to not draw anymore gazes of my own. I admired the old fountain, its edges dotted with punk rock teenagers. The smooth cobblestones underfoot, the crisp air that was somehow different, and being surrounded by people, but completely alone due to not understanding the language spoken. Well, almost… Standing there, absorbing my surroundings, I missed the large group of males headed towards me. Again, not wishing to stare or garnish attention, I gazed off into the distant nothingness while this mini mob passed around me. As they passed I noticed peculiar fashion similarities. Black boots, blue jeans, white t-shirts, green bomber jackets, and shaved heads. Crap. If this was a sports team I wasn’t looking to play. Apparently, neither was what I could only describe as their puny, angry mascot. The group passing by held at least twenty six foot plus beefy young men, who easily could have played college football. But this mascot stood maybe 5’8” to my 5’11”, and soaking wet this boy was maybe 115lbs to my 165lbs. “Go home, N*gg*r!” I heard the words before identifying their origin. “Go home!” The angry voice yelled again. I spotted the agitated boy pushing against the stream of larger boys, making his way towards me. I recognized him as the same boy who while passing with his mob had walked directly in front of me, staring, putting his face only two inches from mine. This slow walk by was obviously meant to intimidate me, which in the moment I completely ignored, but now I could not. The boy came at me and I planted myself as he continued to yell angrily. I looked side to side trying to figure out what had him so worked up. Was there someone behind me gesturing rudely? I glanced back to check. “You! Go home, N*gg*r!” Oh! It was me agitating him! The boy switched back to Finnish and spoke it loud and harshly, his words in vain, their meaning lost on me. Even so, I read between the lines. I attempted to explain that I was visiting from America and literally couldn’t go home, but he didn’t seem to care. Then from nowhere a Goth girl walked up to us and began to yell in Finnish back at the boy. It was Janice! I awkwardly stood there as she and the boy had a heated argument regarding me until it concluded, and the boy resentfully walked away defeated. Janice apologized profusely and informed me that the boy was an asshole, and her ex-boyfriend. Small world, but nice to know there are Janice’s in it.