As I walk down the icy streets in Turku behind clusters of students, or sit in a café along the river, or maneuver through the grocery store, I like to listen to people talking to see if I can begin to train my ear to pinpoint a few words, or at least to distinguish where words start and end. I’ve noticed, though, that I get tripped up often, because some of the people I’m eavesdropping on aren’t speaking Finnish but some other language that I don’t recognize. For a relatively small city (the population of the city proper is under 200,000—smaller than Durham, North Carolina, which has about 270,000) Turku is a remarkably international place. For one thing, the town has always been a major port and center for trade. For hundreds of years after it was founded in the 13thcentury, it was the capital of Finland under Swedish rule; when Finland was taken by the Russians, they moved the administrative center to Helsinki, to be closer to Saint Petersburg. There is still an official Swedish minority in Finland; about 5-10% of the population identifies as Swedish-speaking. In Finland, almost everyone raised here is at least tri-lingual; they all learn Finnish, Swedish, and English. The recorded voices on the trains make their announcements in all three languages (thank goodness). The first week we were here was a holiday in Russia—January 7th was the Orthodox Christmas--so the streets and restaurants of Helsinki and Turku were filled with Russian tourists. Helsinki, of course, is a major European capital so I was not surprised to see people from around the world there. But I was surprised by the international feeling in Turku, and at the university in particular. The University of Turku prides itself on its international students, faculty and staff. Part of it is just being in the European Union, and seeing the impact of the open borders, shared monetary system, and intentional efforts at collaboration. Yesterday I heard a presentation by a British historian, who has lived for many years in Finland. After the panel we went with our colleague for beers, and he talked about how Brexit looms over him and his wife.
People come here from beyond the EU as well; students come from around the world to study at Turku. I am teaching a course (in English) called Voices of Women’s Activism in the United States, and I have students from China as well as from France and Finland. (A major topic of conversation among my colleagues is what might be the impact of a new law imposing fees on non-European Union international students—until very recently, the education here was free for them as well as for Finnish and EU students, but now they will have to pay ten thousand euros per year.) Most academics here write and publish in English, so that their research can be contribute to an international conversation in the lingua franca. As an American, non-Finnish speaking visitor, there is a palpable sense openness to foreigners that makes my life undeniably easier—people generously and easily switch to speaking English at any sign of hesitation on my part; they don’t roll their eyes at my attempts to say hello using one of the seemingly endless options for that (Hei, moi, terve, hyvää päivää are a few that I have picked up.). If they start speaking Finnish to me and I say that I’m sorry, I don’t understand, they apologize profusely. Yesterday I gave a presentation in English about the SOHP’s research on health, illness and medical care to an audience of researchers and students—no need for a translator at all.
I am sure there are complexities that I will understand more clearly as time goes by. Benjamin and I were able to obtain residency permits for our time here (which are important for opening bank accounts, getting transportation passes, library cards, etc) because we had been invited by Fulbright and our university hosts and could demonstrate financial stability. The immigration “crisis” in Europe is less visibly noticeable in this country, so far, but I know people are talking about it and I will learn more how it is affecting the welfare state, education, and social relationships. At lunch the other day some of my new colleagues were talking about the frightening rise of far-right ideologies and how faculty who teach things like gender studies feel particularly wary—but they also assured me that those on the nationalistic right remain a distinct minority. For now, I feel very lucky to have landed in a place that welcomes strangers with open arms and where my own language happens to be one that everyone on the street seems to understand.
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