It Is Finished

As most - or all - of you know, I defended my doctoral thesis on Wednesday.

This degree is probably one of the hardest things I've done in my life. Not so much study wise but just life wise. Studying while living on a college campus is easy - you get to do it full-time and with all the support you need from peers and professors. But studying while working, moving countries, getting married and generally being in the thick of life is much more difficult. Then there is no-one to tell you to take time for studying, you have to do it yourself. You have to fight for the study time. In that sense, getting through a doctoral course is a lot less about being a brilliant expert on a given topic (although, by the end of it, one should know a thing or two about one's area of research) and a lot more about the ability to stick to a project year in and year out without giving up. I have demonstrated that I can do it - I can take on a seemingly never ending project and see it to the end. It is a rewarding knowledge, truly truly.

The last months were difficult. One would think that the closer I got to the finish line the more relaxed I felt. Wrong. The closer I got the more anxious I felt. It was as if my thesis was a big balloon or a very delicate installation that kept growing bigger and therefore more fragile, so that in the end just one wrong move or an unfortunate sneeze could destroy the whole thing. 

It was about two months ago when I became convinced that I had not referenced everything properly and that there was one place in my thesis that could throw up red flags in plagiarism check. And then I started to believe, you know, rational adult as I am, that it would lead to me being expelled and publicly flogged. My anxiety got so bad that I had to tell S. who truly is the calm voice of reason in my life. S. said, well, if you think there is something wrong, instead of just sitting on it and worrying about it, you should tell your supervisor and see if there is anything you can do to solve the problem. Of course! So I wrote my supervisor a very awkward email and naturally it turned out that there was nothing wrong with my text. It was just me going insane.

But now it's over. Or will be very soon - there were a couple of editorial corrections the defense committee wanted me to make. They will take three hours to make. That's peanuts. 

The defense itself should remain behind the thick curtains of academic secrecy haha. It was tougher than I thought - a little less than two hours of question-answer ping-pong. But by the end of it, the committee didn't take long to deliver the verdict. Passed. Congratulations. Well done. 

I feel empty and tired. My head is like a pot of mashed potatoes. I will preach an old and worn sermon tomorrow, hoping for God to have mercy and show up and speak to His people despite my condition.

The happy feelings will certainly follow, too. If not before then definitely on July 9 when I will walk down - for the last time! - Newbold church aisle at their awards ceremony.

Bara Svenska, Tack

I am done with SFI, the first Swedish language school! After months of hard work and after the final exam, I almost heard the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant." :D But seriously speaking, I did feel the blessing of the Almighty upon me throughout the process. It wasn't just my own work that got me over the finish line, it was also the divine blessing of wisdom, a gift of grace I had not deserved in any way. 

It usually takes students nine months to go through SFI. It took me five.

But in case it sounds like a walk in the park, it wasn't. The toughest thing about intense language study is that on a day-to-day basis, you see no progress. It may sound contradictory to the last paragraph but these two realities can coexist without cancelling each other out - the objective speed of progress, and the early morning despair of having to leave the apartment at 7.12 every day without feeling any different from the last day or last week. The process of language acquisition is slow and deep, and it often feels like there is no development at all. Only in the long run, after having fought and won the battle of self-discipline and having sat in the classroom for 3,5 hours every day for months can you see how far you have actually come. 

But, I admit, compared to an average student at SFI, I also had huge advantages. First, I have studied linguistics for five years. I know how a language functions, I am familiar with all the grammatical categories, I like grammar. Sometimes one of my teachers would play a game of raising hands in the class, and often his last question would be, "Raise your hand if you love grammar", and among shaking heads and laughter, we two would be the only ones raising our hand. 

I also hear a lot more Swedish than most of my classmates. I have the luxury of going to church every Sabbath, sitting in a Swedish Bible study class (the only time I attented the English class since moving here was when my little brother was visiting me), listening to sermons, sitting at meetings, reading emails, visiting people... Most of what happens around me happens in Swedish. Just two days ago we had a lovely evening - we visited an old couple, A. and L., long-time friends of my parents. They had given us a beautiful painting as a wedding gift and we still had not delivered our thank-you card. So we had a fika (the most important Swedish word!) together and had a conversation that lasted more than three hours. At least 80% of the conversation happened in Swedish. For a language learner like me, this is a dream come true!

I had outstanding teachers. I have heard a couple of horror stories about teachers in SFI but my experience has been only positive. They were very systematic ank knowledgeable, friendly and helpful. Both of them used the method of only speaking in Swedish - even if you asked what this or that word meant. During the first weeks, it was very tiring to get used to the constant flow of foreign language, but later it became so normal I didn't even think about it any more.

Now I enjoy the luxury of sleeping longer and concentrating more on my work. I have time to read more books (right now, some gruesome and brilliantly written Nazi stuff by Philippe Sands). The last comments on my dissertation from the official "second reader" should arrive tomorrow - that process is hopefully coming closer to the finish line, too. And then, once the defence is over, I will take a deep breath and go to the next school for the next level of Swedish. Phew!

Booker Prize 2022

One of my favourite things to do around the New Year has been to go back to my reading list and create a little Top 5 of all the books that I have read over the past year. My very own and modest Booker Prize or so. There is strange satisfaction to seeing the list and remembering all the books read recently. 

I used to read 35-40 books a year. 

Until S. entered the scene.

After that it turned out that these 1-1,5 hours that I had used for reading every evening were needed for phone calls. We couldn't speak less than that. So during the first year of our relationship my book count fell from 40 to, uhmmm, about 2. 

But it was a couple of months ago, after I had comfortably settled in Sweden, that I felt like needed books again. The thing is - your own thoughts are just your own thoughts. You need some fresh air, some new input. And that input comes from other people's experiences, thoughts, theories, journeys. And these, in turn, come mostly from conversations and books. Books are like a fresh spring, bringing new water and oxygen to a pond of standing water.

In the end, the quantity of books read in 2022 was small but their quality was great. And I thought I'd mention one book from each of my favourite categories. So, here are my prizes:

- in the categoy of theology, John Mark Comer's book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. A good recommendation for everyone who likes the conceptual world and language of Dallas Willard and John Ortberg. Easy and yet wonderfully deep and properly Biblical.

- in the category of biography, Lea Ypi's book Free: Coming of Age at the End of History. An equally warm and funny memoir from the collapse of communism in Albania. She is some years older than me but I was delighted to be reminded of some funny and strange things even I have exprienced - like the obsession of foreign soda cans and candy wrapping papers. 

- in the category of history, Simon Wincester's book Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded. It talks about the biggest volcanic eruption in modern history. The volcano near Sumatra was called Krakatoa and it blew itself up in 1883. It's a wonderfully random topic, but the book is written so well that it sucks you in and doesn't let go until the last page. I admit, I did get a little lost in the long chapter about tectonic plates and how volcanoes are formed (S. Winchester has studies geology in Oxford University so that's his playground) but other than that - excellent reading!

We'll see what the new year will bring. Certainly, children's books in Swedish. But hopefully more substantial stuff as well. Here's to the new reading year!

Happy New Year!

Christmas came, Christmas went. 

When Christmas happens to be on a weekend (as it was this year), one always feels a bit cheated. It would be so much nicer to have the Christmas mid-week, to have some extra days off, to take it easy. 

But this year's experience has made me change my mind. Apparently, in Ekebyholm church they have had a tradition that when Christmas Eve happens to be on a Saturday, instead of the regular church service at 11.30, the congregation gathers at 8 o'clock in the morning. I was a little bit sceptical about it, especially when S. said he would be responsible for streaming the early church service and set his alarm clock to 6.20. Eww! But when we set up the cameras early in the morning, barely awake, and the church members started to gather, it felt very special and very different. The service itself was special, too, as we could read through the whole story of Jesus' birth from the Gospels, and sing a lot of Christmas songs in between. The church hall was barely lit so we saw the first rays of light from the horizon and could witness a magical sunrise. After the church service ended, everyone was treated to my father-in-law's Christmas porridge - the traditional rice porridge with sugar and cinnamon. It was barely 10 o'clock when the church was over and we parted with many Merry Christmases and hugs and good wishes. 

Later that day I wanted to know when is the next time we have Christmas Eve on Saturday. I am very much looking forward to it!

--

Two days after Christmas Eve we flew to Estonia. I suppose I was attempting to celebrate Christmas almost simultaneously in two places. [Note to self - it doesn't work.] We crammed into 3,5 days as many things as we could - family, relatives, friends, hairdressers and dentists. There were many happy meetings but I also felt very tired. J. said this morning something about planning one's trips to be porous - to have little pockets of unplanned time in them. This is something I will remember the next time.

Now we are back home and ready to welcome the new year. The welcome party will be very modest though. S. brought from our trip an unexpected gift - a virus with high fever and bad cough. So we will ring in the new year with paracetamol and tea (instead of a wedding cake and bubbly drink, as planned). But be as it may, we are still happy and grateful for this amazing year. We have been married almost half of that year, and it feels wonderful! 

So with gratitude and joy, we look back and look ahead and wish all of you a very happy new year! May it be filled with joy and peace and blessings from the Almighty. 

Divide and Rule

I am trying to use a slogan stolen from the colonial powers in the 18th century - Divide and Rule. The European colonisers used it to weaken the small native/national groups, making them fight each other and thus turning them into easier targets to conquer. For me it means something completely different. I'm just trying to use it as a moto for dividing my own tasks in a way that everything gets (more or less) done and I remain (more or less) intact.

Trying to get everything done without dividing has not worked.

A month or two ago, the stress levels got so high that I could present a new health problem to S. every week. Honey, this week I feel very dizzy in my head. This week I have problems with my stomach. Next week there's something else. Duh. 

So. Divide. And rule.

In the beginning of November I focused on my church work. Four sermons at a teenagers weekend needed time and preaching energy and the grace of God. A lot of that last one. 

The last couple of weeks have belonged almost entirely to SFI, my language school. On November 22 and 23 I had my first national Swedish exam. On the first day we had a 4 hour exam with listening, reading and writing tasks. On the next day we had the oral exam, in the form of both a group discussion and an individual conversation. I knew I would pass the exam but still it took an enormous amount of energy and effort. I am a perfectionist by my nature, and while it can be a good thing in some contexts, perfectionism can turn into an ugly enemy in others. Always pressing oneself to give the maximum - especially in language studies where The Best is unattainable - can be a tiring thing. But I did what I could, reading and listening to some extra Swedish news every day and writing some extra texts, trying to guess the possible topics for writing and oral exams, and always pushing myself to say a few extra sentences in the classroom. Anyway, once the exam itself started, everything went very smoothly. The feeling was good and the conversation more or less flowed (on a beginners level, of course, haha). After more than a week of waiting, I finally got the results. The listening and reading tests I passed with 100% and while they don't give out procentages or grades for writing and speaking (you either just pass or don't), my teacher said they were both high above the expected level of course C. So next week I will start course D. The feeling of progress is very rewarding - it feels like finally the long hours in school are starting to pay off.

This week I have requested a leave from my work, and having excused myself at school I am intending to sit at home the whole time and finish writing my bloody dissertation. Not much remains to be done, but even these bits and pieces take huge effort - sort out the appendixes, write the concluding chapter, create some order in the endless chaos of reference list, wait for the final feedback from the second reader, go through some earlier feedback... Honestly, I would much rather go to SFI every morning. But it has to be done now. This chapter must be closed. New ones are waiting. 

The only thing in my life that requires no effort and no dividing is the joy of waiting for S. to come home from work every evening. If it wasn't for his love and sanity and calmness, I would not make it. I know it sounds like an Oscar's acceptance speech but truly. Truly.

I find a lot of comfort in knowing that this phase in life will pass. The dissertation will get defended and I will speak this new language effortlessly one glorious day. New things will come, of course, and they, too, will need dividing and ruling. But some wonderful things, I hope, will never change or get divided - here's to S. ❤ 

Stunned

A story, although a little old by now, needs to be told.  

It was in the beginning of January when I received an email. The sender, as it happened, was someone named Herbert Blomstedt. Now, I knew who the Herbert Blomstedt was - the most famous Swedish conductor, a superstar in the classical world, but as there there was absolutely no connection between us I thought that maybe I was mistaking something or maybe it was a namesake of the conductor's. So after staring at the name of the sender for a while, I (I'm a little embarrassed to admit) opened Wikipedia, just to check if the Herbert Blomstedt was still alive. He is 95 years old and as active as ever, said Wikipedia. Oh my. Then I proceeded with the email - he thanked me for my latest sermon preached in Ekebyholm church and wished me all the best. I was stunned.  

We have exchanged some very pleasant emails over the past year - a little bit about my preaching which he enjoys through live-streaming and a little bit about his music which I enjoy. I have continued to be stunned. What else would I do?  

Then in the middle of September both me and S. received another email, this time from H. B.'s daughter. She said her dad was going to have some concerts in Konserthuset in Stockholm with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and that he would very much like to invite us to one of them. Would we be interested? Would we have time? Oh, WOULD WE!!!  

We went to the concert on the evening of our 2nd month wedding anniversary (we are still counting months:), oblivious to what would be waiting for us in Stockholm. At the door of the concert hall, we were handed two tickets plus magic backstage cards. The tickets looked a little strange to us because you would expect to have the number of row and seat on them. Those tickets had something different written on them. So we actually had to ask two Konserthuset's employees about our seats and they, very politely, showed us to the BOX SEATS (sorry for shouting) right in the middle of the 1st balcony. Of course there are no seat numbers on the red velvet armchairs in the loge haha! The Very Important Persons - you know, the king and such - do not need to look for the right row and seat, they just need to know where the door to the loge is. So were were given the absolute best seats in the concert hall! After the concert (two symphonies by Brahms and Honegger) we made our way to backstage. And we finally met him. And while feeling a little awkward (because I still don't fully understand why we were invited and treated like this), we had the most wonderful conversation with the maestro. We talked and talked and the situation got weirder and weirder because most of the other people around us - his personal assistants (I would guess) and the dignitaries of the concert hall, plus a couple of musicians - didn't have a faintest idea of who we were are and why we hadn't left after a polite and short thank-you-maestro. They started looking more puzzled with every passing minute and I swear I almost saw some cartoon question marks above their heads when H. B. invited us to his personal changing room to give us a late wedding present. A little later, when S. was talking to H. B.'s nephew (there were some family members backstage with us), I was approached by a young woman - another chosen one with a backstage card - who started a very polite conversation, probably thinking I was some world-famous musician she just couldn't remember that moment haha. And then, as it was so late and the main doors were already shut, we were let out by a side door.  

As we stepped into Stockholm's night, we were like, WHAT WAS THAT?! The wonderful music itself would have been more than enough, but finding oneself in a such a special setting was more than we could fathom. Usually the VIPs know who they are, it probably doesn't happen so often that mere mortals like us would walk into a VIP thing, totally oblivious.  

I think we might have been the only people ever, asking for directions to the loge. :D  

But it's so cool - the unexpectedness of these life surprises. Sometimes life knocks you off your feet in a bad and tragic way. But on other occasions, you are handed a present that just stuns you. Jaw dropped. Heart pounding. And you realise - everything is a gift.  

Plus, of course, I don't know any better way to celebrate one's wedding anniversary. :)

Ode to Joy of Studying

I want to talk about studying Swedish today. Let's be honest, sooner or later a nerdy Ode to Joy of Studying had to be sung. 

It's been roughly two months now since I opened the door of the SFI language school and smaller hickups (short sickness, pastors meeting, some extra days in Ekebyholm) set aside, I have been faithfully attending my daily classes.

I absolutely thrive in school! This is less of a statement about my objective progress and much more a statement about my (subjecive) feelings about the school. I really do go gladly, every morning. This does not diminish the frustration of getting up early or the frustration about the lenght of my school day (together with the commute, it takes me 5,5-6 h every day - it almost feels like a full-time job by itself) or the frustration of not finding enough energy for my dissertation and sometimes even for my job. But setting all these things aside and just concentrating on studying itselt - I love it. 

I started the school at the beginners level (C level). After the initial shock of everything happening in Swedish, I found my feet rather quickly. But after a couple of weeks, frustration started to well up - the tempo in the classroom was very slow. For example, after the third day of learning what personal pronouns were and doing a million excercises on I-you-he/she/it I started to get ants in my pants. So when the teacher told me I should go to the next class (C+ level, whatever that means) after a month or so, I went both with joy and fear. This time, the initial shock of everything being more difficult took me more time to get over. But now, after one month there, I really enjoy it. I like it that we are together with a group of D level students, some of whom are really good. It is so inspiring to see people who have walked the walk and who are so fluent already. I enjoy the tempo, I am very happy with our two teachers, I feel more and more confident which means that I dare to ask more questions and say things out loud. Right now, I'm exactly where I need to be - and that's such a great feeling.

There are so many layers to this experience of learning. First, naturally, is the layer or the perspective of a student. Some things are hard, some are easier. Reading (both understanding a text and pronounciation) is the easiest for me. Then comes listening. Then writing. And speaking is oh so difficult! The pool of active vocabulary where I can fish my words from for a conversation is still very small, and it is so frustrating not to be able to say what I want to say. Just yesterday I was taken out of the classroom for a quick oral test (they do these random check-ups every now and then) - the teacher asked me a couple of simple questions ("Tell me about a trip you have been to, and tell me what I could do/see as a tourist in your home town") and I just went blank. There is some sort of desperation about splashing around in your tiny pool of words, trying to find and catch some little fish that fit together and make sense. Gaah!

Then there is the layer of a teacher. Once a teacher, always a teacher. Which means that unconsciously I keep my eyes open to what and how our teachers do. They are both excellent teachers, really. Much better than I ever was as a language teacher (in Tartu university, that's where I taught Estonian for beginners). They keep a very healthy balance between different skills - reading, writing, pronounciation, speaking, grammar tables - and they do it with apparent ease. They push us but not too hard. They joke but not too often. They are strict but also very friendly. And mostly they just keep speaking and speaking and speaking in Swedish to and at us. 

And then the layer of a linguist. The experience of language acquisition creates a fireworks in my linguist's mind. Right now, what I find most interesting is the difference between knowing/conscious and unknowing/unconscious learning. Some words enter my mind and my vocabulary knowingly - I have looked up that same word 5 times on Google Translate, and finally it sticks. But then there is this almost mystical process of just catching words from conversations, texts, posters etc, and suddenly I recognise words that I have not knowingly learnt. How does this happen? How does a mind operate and flex? How are new connections formed in our brain? 

Here are two picture from a language learner's daily life. The first one I like especially - a still life at our home. Someone is fixing PowerPoint for the next Sabbath's worship service, someone is reading a children's book. [With greetings to S. K. - your taste of literature is, of course, impeccable! :D Thank you for this book, it is much appreciated!]

An evening with Pettson the farmer and Findus the cat :)

And if anyone is interested, here's a writing test we just got back from our teacher today. This is the kind of text I am able to produce right now without any help from Google or my husband haha. The teacher thought I might be ready for Level D in a month or so. We shall see. 

Is it a good balance between blue and red ink?