I undid the fail, guys.
I'm registered to row! But let me tell you, this experience blew open a whole new point of view for me. Talk about light bulbs.
I e-mailed asking for some specific directions since I got turned around with the others. The director responded giving me a tram line. I stepped off at the stop I needed and looked down. At my feet, sprayed in red paint, was the word Skoll and an arrow. I followed the signs and found a massive, multi-story boathouse.
AHHHHH
I was super early so I poked around the town and bought myself some stroopwaffels in celebration of my success. I will discuss the awesomeness of stroopwaffels at a later date.
When it was time, I headed over.
And then I learned what it was like. To walk into a place and feel like your own little island, surrounded by words you don't understand but need to hear. Forms you can't fill out correctly without flagging someone down for help over and over. Feeling like a burden when all you want is to just be one of the bunch. Yeah, most people speak a little english. But they're not speaking it to each other. My intro packet is in Dutch. All my e-mails are in Dutch. I'll run it through translators and get help when I can.
But sitting there, taking the good part of an hour to fill out a stupid registration form, made me feel ashamed. I know it was irrational, but for once I understood what millions of people deal with every day in the United States. People throw hissy fits that signs in our grocery store have spanish on them. I'm about to throw a fit that there aren't more.
I finally understand the hidden tensions we so often feel in cross cultural and lingual relations. Frustration seeps in so easily and its cause isn't the actions of other people. It's us. It's our fear of not being in control, and not being informed.
The funny thing is that I should have felt at home. I was surrounded by tall, blonde people. But I have never, ever, felt that out of place or that disconnected.
Light bulb.
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5 comments:
It's so interesting when things get turned around, huh? It's a smaller scale, but at my kids' bus stop, almost all of the parents there speak Spanish to each other, making me the definite outsider. Then again, that is the only place where that happens to me. It must be difficult to always be immersed in a language you don't speak. And then to be made to feel bad because you don't.
In my mind a stroopwaffel involves waffles (duh), whipped cream, and some sort of fruit. Probably strawberries. But I imagine it to be portable.
So glad you found it! I'll bet this is where you really learn the language - at least the language of rowers.
Perfect illustration of how travel broadens horizons - so much more to it than visiting museums.
Don't worry. It'll be slow at first, but in a couple weeks you'll be amazed at how many rowing terms you'll understand in Dutch. The immersion really speeds along the learning.
ICDad
Mmm...waffles!
I LOVE STROOPWAFELS!!!
But seriously. I can't wait for you to come back and teach us all the calls in Dutch. Or... whatever they speak. Hahaha. You'll understand everything in no time. You're Abby Paulson. You're amazing. :)
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