Between two cultures

It’s hard to explain to those who haven’t personally experienced it, what being from a different country feels like. You may be fluent in your chosen country’s language but it will never be as strong as your mother tongue. Sayings, proverbs, cultural references from childhood, TV programmes from the past, all vary so much that you struggle to get the first question right on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Slowly, with more years on the clock, you start becoming a part of the furniture, feeling comfortable in your skin and getting that question right. You’ve seen so many programmes about old TV programmes, you even know adverts from the time before you entered the country. But what you don't have is the memory of how that chocolate bar tasted or the nostalgia of the jingle from the advert that the locals share. The recognition is learnt and rational, instead of emotional. 

Travelling to the land where you spent your formative years can feel like physical peace. The air that hits you when stepping outside of the plane, passes straight to the emotion centre of your brain. You feel at one with the place, the sounds, smells and tastes are immediately recognisable to your body. Over the years I have read wonderful descriptions about these feelings immigrants experience when returning to their home land; “effortless belonging”, “the soil running through your blood” etc. 

However, what has changed over the years is you. You’ve learnt a different way of being, doing things, the humour and the references that only resonate with the locals, different manners, mannerism, rhythm of conversation,  local celebrations, foods… This is you now, your social identity, forever tattooed in your psyche. 

When the plane takes off from your homeland, and you choke a little looking out the window, you know that your life there would not be the same anymore.  And it’s ok. It’s ok to feel you belong in two places, even if you sometimes miss the one you’re not in at the time. You have a great gift, a superpower, of being able to navigate two cultures. 

Coming back from Finland and stepping outside of Manchester airport, I recognise the things I’ve learnt to love; the local sounds, smells, the friendly banter of the customs officer, the sandwich selection in the shop, the co-existing with millions of other people. Everything feels natural now.

And when I get in the car, turn on the local radio and hit the motorway, I think: This makes sense. I belong here. Almost effortlessly. 

Terry 

(Lake picture courtesy of Sari Laine)