Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore….
It was the morning of my sixth birthday, and I awoke with a sense of delicious anticipation. I KNEW what this day would bring. I was so happy; I was wriggling like an excited puppy.
The year before, Preben, the baker’s son who lived upstairs, had turned six. I watched as his father tied a broomstick to his new two-wheel bicycle (no training wheels allowed!) and then guided Preben around our little street until he could let go without Preben falling over. I was still riding my tricycle, and even though it was a spectacular metalic purple with white striping accents and handle tassels, I was deeply envious. Preben had a big kid bike. I still had a baby’s bike.
So, the morning of my sixth birthday would mark the passage from little kid to big kid in my world. All Danish kids got a two wheel bicycle on their sixth birthdays. It was a cultural rite of passage.
My parents called me into the living room, sang for me and gave me a large gift wrapped box. In it was a beautiful doll. It was wonderful, but where was my bicycle? I finally screwed up my courage to ask, and was told that American streets had far too much car traffic on them to allow me to have a bicycle. I was very brave and did not show my disappointment, but inside I was crushed. Ten months after we arrived in California, I finally knew definitively that my life would never be the same; that things I took for granted had changed, and that there was no certainty upon which I could rely.
We lived on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood in a sleepy city across the bay from San Francisco. All my friends had bikes, but I never did, and I never learned to ride. When did you figure out your life was never going to be the same after a move?
Annette Floystrup
Denmark/USA/Denmark/USA arf@bharf.comRelated Posts
5 Comments to “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore….”
June 19th, 2008 at 12:55 pm
When my Swedish classmates made me cry because I said something good about myself in 1st grade and my mother explained to me that in Sweden, you can’t say anything good about yourself. My life was never the same again.
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June 20th, 2008 at 2:23 am
I made that mistake when I was first repatriating in Japan too - problem is when you go to job interviews you do have to say something good about yourself.
So when I first entered the job market I was very confused as to how far I could go with this and did a lousy job. I wish someone had coached me before hand on what exactly I should have said to each and every question since usually they have some pretty standard questions & answers they expect from you. This included how I should dress down to the brand of shoes and bag I should have been carrying with me to these job interviews and my own mother was a basket case….oooh yeah let’s not forget hairstyle.
The only advice I got from my university career counselor was that I needed to shave off my mustache (you know the baby hairs growing above your lip!) because this could gross out Japanese men who would be interviewing me and get me a nice rejection slip….LOL
Later on when working for an American ad agency memories of this incident came back to me when a new American account supervisor came to our company and she had this pretty thick mustache above her upper lip which had been bleached blond….and all the men were gossiping about it…
I thought: Hell - that mustache thing really was a big issue, sheesh.
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June 20th, 2008 at 7:52 am
I was interviewing for a medical residency position in the States. The interviewer asked me why I wanted to enter family medicine. I told him that it allowed mobility, adaptability and was very expansive. He asked me what I meant by expansive. I explained that it had a lot of depth and breadth as a specialty. His reply - “around here expansive means it costs a lot of money” I laughed because I thought he was joking. He wasn’t!
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June 20th, 2008 at 8:22 pm
when i had to move to Japan from Korea in 3rd grade, leaving behind my long anticipation to be taught in computer class (i might sound like an old bee but honestly, at that time only a select few owned computers at home!)
when i had to move to a different country when i finally figured out the korean middle school education system.. in order to be top in studies
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June 21st, 2008 at 1:25 am
In the culture I lived in, there is a commonality-of possessed-goods mentality. I.E. everything I have is yours and everything you have is mine. You never have to ask to borrow something, even if it’s someone’s car - to ask them is an insult, that you would assume they have no generosity. You are welcome to their house, their food, their clothes, everything. If you want something to eat you go into their fridge and cupboards and make yourself a meal even if you do not know them. To not feel free to do this is an insult to them.
So how did I know my life was never going to be the same? When I came back and stayed over at a white person’s house, and they slept in late and I got up, went into their fridge, and made myself a nice big sandwich. They woke up and screamed and screamed and screamed at me about how rude I was. Screamed that I hadn’t asked and it was rude to just assume you could go into someone’s fridge, screamed that how had I known those sandwich fixings weren’t for her husbands work lunch, screamed at my inconsideration. Then, later, when I went and picked up her husband’s guitar and started playing it, she yelled at me for not asking him first and assuming I was free to play it. She told me I must especially never play someone’s musical instrument without asking first as instruments are private personal items (she made it sound as if I’d borrowed his underwear).
I was absolutely devastated, crushed, and humiliated. I knew then my life would never be the same. And even now, I can no longer go into someone’s fridge and get food even if they’ve told me I can.
I’m still very open with my stuff, though. Except for certain really special things, people can borrow my clothes, my books, my computer, whatever, without having to ask. When people ask me, sometimes I actually get snappy - “Well, of course you can! You can borrow any of my stuff - you should know that! Why are you asking?”
The flip side is I don’t understand people who won’t share. “Can I borrow your computer?” “No.” “Can I wear your pants?” “No.” I kind of flip out on them. “What do you mean, NO? Why would you say that? I’m so hurt! Why are you ebing so cruel? What kind of stingy, miserly, meanhearted-” Needless to say it’s gotten me into some pretty big conflicts.
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