The After

Living in a second language and a foreign culture is an endless approximation.  A mathematical formula I can’t quite get right, despite years of trying.  I have navigated, negotiated, and narrated my life through the structured flow chart of French, la forme, for the past 11 years.  Le fond, the depth – the guts – all of that remains American.

The good news is, on a daily basis, I fit in.  I am not identified on the street as American and my accent is rarely heard. The bad (or is it?) news is, I am still foreign here, other.  There are moments, both for them and for me, when it is clear, on the surface at least, that we simply cannot understand each other, despite accurate syntax and appropriate vocabulary.

Believe me, I realize how privileged I am – mind meanderings of this variety are a luxury.  I do not struggle for material survival and I have the time to wonder when I will achieve that état d’âme – that soul state where friction does not exist. A place, underneath it all where the shadows are, where we all speak the same language and where cultural differences are just dust on the mirror we use to see ourselves.

When I first arrived in France, I thought I had come home.  Or at least that I had found the place where I would make my home.  And I suppose I have, to a certain extent.  But the longer I live here the less at home I feel, and the same is true when I return to the United States.  When you live out of a database of duality for too long, this is what happens, no “where” is home for you.  The freedom you feel when you live in a place where the rules do not apply to you, where you observe them and nearly always follow them but are never really touched by them, is replaced by the restriction you feel when you realize you will not leave an imprint there, only a mark where you’ve brushed up against its surface.

I like to believe, choose to believe, that there is an “after” to all of this.  An after where everywhere is home instead of nowhere.  An after where we will see that in the traces we will have left on each other, this country I call home for now and I, there lies a truth. An after where the shadow lines are smudged with the hot ash of dedication, mine and hers, because our relationship requires nothing if not dedication, a soulful dedication to the truth, no matter what.  A truth only to be found in that place where yielding meets resistance and wins, hands down, every time.  Where giving up actually means getting and the cold hard truth is actually a soft whisper.  I look forward to an after where those sharp shadow lines that have defined us and divided us will be cut clean through by grace.  A grace purer than language and more powerful than culture.  A grace, painful at first, that cuts through the lines I thought I would follow, the road map I have drawn in my soul, the me that I think I am, outlined by linguistics and homeland.  An after where I am left wounded and mapless, for a time.  But I believe that when I look closely to assess the damage, to see how badly I am bleeding, I will only see a clean cut through lines I don’t need and honeyed traces of that painful, beautiful grace where I was  certain blood would be.  And in that trace, I’ll find my freedom.  Freedom from and freedom to.

Thanks for sharing, Nicole. Any other ex-Americans care to compare and contrast their experience with hers?

But really I’m feeling  a bit interested in anyone’s life who wants to share! (So I’m a bit voyeuristic. Sue me.)

And I wonder if any of my imaginings about people in other countries have any truth to them… For example, I have always the idea that people in places like France and the UK go to the grocery (or greengrocer, or supermarket–I don’t even know what people in other countries call it!) nearly every day or every other day. That their food is much fresher than what you get here–which has usually been harvested several weeks before hitting the stores. Is there truth to this?

• I have the idea that most people in England go to a pub at least once a month. (I’m told that pubs are not at all entirely- or even mostly- “just” about drinking alcohol, contrary to the American “pub” styling which is really only a pretentious bar here in the USA.)
• I imagine that people in Germany have in general very clean and organized homes and cars and office spaces. And based on an article I read years ago, I imagine that most employed Germans get at least four weeks of paid vacation a year (vs. the two weeks that Americans get – if they’re lucky.)
• I figure that most people in Mexico and South America and Italy are very close to their extended families and see them often. (Weekly?)
• I wonder if nearly all Italians are into “football” (for the Americans, that’s what we call soccer) and at least have a passing interest. (For instance, can you name the top three teams right now?)
• I’ve been told (frankly, to my surprise) that there is a large number of people in Switzerland who for whatever reason have a gun in their household. Any truth to this?
• My youngest sister told me that some of the friendliest people she ever met anywhere when she was overseas were from Croatia. Would anyone agree?
• I have the idea that most Canadians watch what happens in America fairly closely but aren’t terribly interested in visiting here–much less moving here. Further I’d venture to say that most Canadians (90% or better?)  have never come here for medical treatment  – and have no interest in doing so.
• I am reasonably sure that the number of people born elsewhere who really wish they could be (permanently) Americans (contrary to our occasionally self-important and prideful ideas here in the US) are actually pretty much in the minority, on this planet of seven billion people. Would you snap your fingers and become an American if you could?
• My guess is that a fairly large number of people, who aren’t from the USA, if asked to choose the nationality of a person they would be trapped in an elevator with for a few hours–would NOT choose an American–or Americans would be fairly low on the list. True?

I could go on but really I’m just showing my embarrassing lack of knowledge, I guess, but I really would like to know.

And I know that people are individuals, and that it’s beyond stupid to paint a whole country with a stereotype, which was really not my goal. I guess I’m just trying to incite some discussion/commentary.

Anyway, I’d be interested in what anyone has to say….