We did some groceries today. We were out for half the day buying things and then we come home and realized we haven't bought anything that was actually listed.
I am tired of this weather. All I see are puddles of snow and mud, piles of snow and dirt. This is getting out of hand. I really miss Georgia right now. My parents say they'r having sunshine and temperatures ranging from 60s to 70s. I miss them!
Another thing that really get's on my nerves. You have to pay for every single bag for groceries. There are NO FREE BAGS.
Oh yeah, one more thing. I went to the bank today and the lady asked for my swedish ID. The only types of ID i had was my passport and american driver's license. (The license will expire by the end of next month, by the way. Which means i have to take the test ALL over again to get my swedish driver's lisence. Isn't that wonderful. ) So the lady tells me my passport with my residence permit is not efficient. I need a swedish ID, which i obviously don't have. So then she asked me for my personummer. Everything was fine after that.
So i need a swedish ID card now, since wherever i go, i am asked to show it.
28 February 2011
27 February 2011
Art of the Day - The Monday
This is someone who is about to wakeup in a minute when the alarm starts buzzing and ruining her sleep. She's half awake, wishing she had 10more minutes to close her eyes and dream!
Accused of Being a Racist
What's worse than being around racist people is assuming that an innocent person around you is a racist. That's exactly what happened about 6 months back in my SFI (swedish for immigrants) class in Globen.
The teachers were amazing. I was lucky enough to study in one of the best areas of Stockholm for SFI. Each teacher was so devoted to teaching us the lanugage with all the patience in the world. They had prepared us in every way. From conversing with swedes to writing a classy resume and giving a good interview. From reading newspapers and novels to writing MVG (A +) essays. Something that seemed impossible to do at first until they started building bridges of hope for us.
We had a mentor named Eva who would come every Friday to talk to us about career building skills. About making a proper resume, how to search for jobs, the job environment, and so on. Also, discussions about the society. She was this very sweet old lady with a round face and short white hair. I can imagine how hard it was for her to make us shy people try to speak some swedish. Especially for the students who were in the beginner's level. Despite all that, Eva had the patience to speak even slower, articulate even more just so we can learn faster.
There was a Friday when Eva came into the classroom and started discussion. She mixed up her agenda and thought we were in a higher level class, which meant there were more new words involved. None of us talked. So she became confused. She kept asking the same simple question in swedish "Do all of you understand what I am saying?"
No answer.
Because obviously, more than half the people didn't understand.
We only knew so much. She finally realized she had the wrong agenda in front of her after she asked us an easier question that we all seemed to have the answer to. So she gave out a silly laugh for her mistake and said "Now I know what level I am in."
That line of her's offended a few classmates. Some more than others. To them, it sounded like, "now I know im with the stupid immigrants".
That day, we discussed about high taxes in Sweden. Some students, especially the ones from the US were against high taxes. Our teacher was, however, in favor of high taxes. She had a very opinionated mind when it came to taxes. Usually a strong opinion being expressed openly leads to problems. A student who was against the issue thought that the teacher was indirectly attacking her with words.
Two things that student hated about the teacher: The way she said how she can tell what level she is teaching, and that she is expressing her opinion about the importance of taxes.
The following week when our yearly teacher evlauation sheet came, that student was telling me how she doesn't feel satisfied with Eva. She wrote down as a complaint that a particular teacher has done acts of discrimination by belittling people and taking advantage of her students because they don't know swedish. This student turned out to be the only one with this complaint.
A 3 months later, we got this "Likabehandlingsplan". Basically a school handbook that shows all the rights of equality. Two whole days, there was no lecture. Instead, we went through the entire handbook, and defined discrimination and racism. After that, however, there was a big shock. On the last page of the handbook, there was that old evaluation sheet we got 3 months earlier. It was a student's handwriting on it. In fact, it was the student that reported our mentor Eva (No names were shown..niether the teacher nor the student), but i recognized it right away because i remember the student telling me exactly what she wrote, as well as Eva's quote.
We were asked if any of us felt discriminated at any time. If we were ever treated badly or differently. Truth was, there was never a time when we were belittled. This was a place with nobody BUT immigrants as students. Why would a racist teacher choose to work at sfi when he/she knows that their full time will be dedicated to people that are completely different from him/her?
The staff were very concerned with this whole issue because this was the first time after a very long time that a case like this had emerged.
I realized that day, i saw every single teacher going over the "likabehandlingsplan" for the entire 2 days, except one. I did not see Eva at all.
She came some weeks later, and she appeared different whenever she taught us. It always felt like a part of her personality was missing. There were times when I could tell that she was being a bit too nice just to satisfy us that she would never mean to hate us.
I felt so sorry for her. I wonder how she felt when she read that evaluation of her's. Her simple joke was taken pretty seriously. In reality, she was one of the nicest most helpful teachers in Globen.
There was no way she would be racist.
Her husband wasn't even Swedish.
This was an evaluatoin gone wrong.
The teachers were amazing. I was lucky enough to study in one of the best areas of Stockholm for SFI. Each teacher was so devoted to teaching us the lanugage with all the patience in the world. They had prepared us in every way. From conversing with swedes to writing a classy resume and giving a good interview. From reading newspapers and novels to writing MVG (A +) essays. Something that seemed impossible to do at first until they started building bridges of hope for us.
We had a mentor named Eva who would come every Friday to talk to us about career building skills. About making a proper resume, how to search for jobs, the job environment, and so on. Also, discussions about the society. She was this very sweet old lady with a round face and short white hair. I can imagine how hard it was for her to make us shy people try to speak some swedish. Especially for the students who were in the beginner's level. Despite all that, Eva had the patience to speak even slower, articulate even more just so we can learn faster.
There was a Friday when Eva came into the classroom and started discussion. She mixed up her agenda and thought we were in a higher level class, which meant there were more new words involved. None of us talked. So she became confused. She kept asking the same simple question in swedish "Do all of you understand what I am saying?"
No answer.
Because obviously, more than half the people didn't understand.
We only knew so much. She finally realized she had the wrong agenda in front of her after she asked us an easier question that we all seemed to have the answer to. So she gave out a silly laugh for her mistake and said "Now I know what level I am in."
That line of her's offended a few classmates. Some more than others. To them, it sounded like, "now I know im with the stupid immigrants".
That day, we discussed about high taxes in Sweden. Some students, especially the ones from the US were against high taxes. Our teacher was, however, in favor of high taxes. She had a very opinionated mind when it came to taxes. Usually a strong opinion being expressed openly leads to problems. A student who was against the issue thought that the teacher was indirectly attacking her with words.
Two things that student hated about the teacher: The way she said how she can tell what level she is teaching, and that she is expressing her opinion about the importance of taxes.
The following week when our yearly teacher evlauation sheet came, that student was telling me how she doesn't feel satisfied with Eva. She wrote down as a complaint that a particular teacher has done acts of discrimination by belittling people and taking advantage of her students because they don't know swedish. This student turned out to be the only one with this complaint.
A 3 months later, we got this "Likabehandlingsplan". Basically a school handbook that shows all the rights of equality. Two whole days, there was no lecture. Instead, we went through the entire handbook, and defined discrimination and racism. After that, however, there was a big shock. On the last page of the handbook, there was that old evaluation sheet we got 3 months earlier. It was a student's handwriting on it. In fact, it was the student that reported our mentor Eva (No names were shown..niether the teacher nor the student), but i recognized it right away because i remember the student telling me exactly what she wrote, as well as Eva's quote.
We were asked if any of us felt discriminated at any time. If we were ever treated badly or differently. Truth was, there was never a time when we were belittled. This was a place with nobody BUT immigrants as students. Why would a racist teacher choose to work at sfi when he/she knows that their full time will be dedicated to people that are completely different from him/her?
The staff were very concerned with this whole issue because this was the first time after a very long time that a case like this had emerged.
I realized that day, i saw every single teacher going over the "likabehandlingsplan" for the entire 2 days, except one. I did not see Eva at all.
She came some weeks later, and she appeared different whenever she taught us. It always felt like a part of her personality was missing. There were times when I could tell that she was being a bit too nice just to satisfy us that she would never mean to hate us.
I felt so sorry for her. I wonder how she felt when she read that evaluation of her's. Her simple joke was taken pretty seriously. In reality, she was one of the nicest most helpful teachers in Globen.
There was no way she would be racist.
Her husband wasn't even Swedish.
This was an evaluatoin gone wrong.
Art of the Day
Long back, I used to be ten times quieter and most of the things that went through my head was more often shown on a white plane paper than expressed in words. I was a shy girl, still am!Over time I got busier with studies and i kind of gave up on drawing and painting and I started forgetting all about the beauty of it.
My friends, family, and my husband keeps telling me about continueing before i start regretting it. So nowadays I started sketching again. I almost forgot how much i love art.
I drew this one last night after dinner.
For some reason i had all these thoughts about domestic violence on my mind. I thought about the importance of happiness in a family. How the surroundings of children affects them in the long run.
This is a picture of an average family. A family that seems perfect to the world and nobody but the kids know the real story which goes inside the house. Never leaves the house.
Fighting, battering, yelling, screaming, objects being thrown...these are all things that go on in a daily basis in this house.
The kids are at a stage where they are learning about everything. They are at that age when they lock everything they see, hear, in their brains. They will never forget what they see and hear almost every night. But are the parents even paying attention to that?
How do you think that little boy and girl's mentallity will be about creating a family of their own in the future? They will have this fear in them. When they realize that not every parent is this way, how will they feel then?
Most of us will be parents some day..some already are..this is one thing we should all think about. We need to think about the children, the ones that never did a single thing to deserve this.
26 February 2011
Finally some Hope in this Gloomy Old Winter
Living in Sweden really makes you appreciate nature. I find all 4 seasons here to it's extreme. As of now, winter still isn't ready to leave. BUT i was so happy to see some SUN this week, (even though it was a freezing -20 week). I miss the sun! Never missed it as much as this year!! I am so tired of the darkness. Can't wait till summer when the sun will be present the entire day from early morning till late night!
I love how the the sun shot right at me. The light of hope.
25 February 2011
Country with the least Poverty
Bangladesh. . . .extreme poverty.
I remember when i was a kid and my parents would take me to Bangladesh after every 2 years. Every time the plane was getting ready to land, I would see the greens and rich soil of my home country. Many of them under floods from the Mansoon season.
Then we would finally get off and drive through the city of Dhaka. During our long frequent trips to Dhaka I would always sense some kind of improvement with the airport, or the roads, or some other thing. Though there was one scene that would never change. The scene of a young girl with burnt skin and a missing eye, an old boney man with a missing arm, or even a young little boy rolling on a wagon with no legs, begging to me, right by my car door.
It hit me the most the first time i visited Bangladesh in 1993 of November. We were on the road and came to a red light, an old thin armless man and his young little son went around begging in the streets to every single person in a car or rikshaw. They finally came and stood by our car. My mom started digging inside her purse for change and right when she got money out and was about to give it to the old tired man (who was so happy and thankful that he finally got something for his son ) through the car window, the traffic light turned green and our driver pressed the gas so hard that not only did the man fall from the force of the car, but he never got the money that mom wanted to give him. That driver was in some kind of hurry. We had a lousy driver. That night the road was insane, people drove on the local road like they were on the freeway.
I will never forget the look on that old man and his son as our car sped off, leaving them in the middle of the crazy road empty-handed.
I came across many homeless people in Bangladesh, and everytime i saw one, it just made me think of that man who we could have helped but didn't.
America. . .I see them!
Bums on the street outside of Georgia State University! That is the best example i can bring up. Atlanta is full of homeless poeple, unfortunately. On the streets, inside Marta (A crappy version of the Metro), and Ghetto areas near the city.
During winter times i would see some of the homeless covered under a small ripped off sweater, freezing, under the tree in some park. I would see a lot of them drinking. Most of them just looked very angry. Always yelled out mean things to people. Very distractive. Once, this one homeless man called my bestfriend a black duck. No idea where that came from, but that's how random the comments got.
Angry people you don't want to mess with. Not even have eye contact. Avoid!
But I think about the kids that grow up in this environment. How can they have a bright future if their in such circumstances? Growing up in the ghettos is difficult to survive. The results of such poverty leads to crimes. A reason why so much crime exists in the states (gas station robberies).
Sweden.... UTOPIA
I don't see homeless people. It's not that i havn't noticed any, I just don't see them. Can't find them.
Ok, I did see a couple poeple who looked like immigrants, going around in the metro asking for change. Just a few times. They hardly bother anybody. I am told that they are not really homeless, but they are just taking advantage of being poor? Don't know what it is. But i have not seen any homeless people in the streets.
Sweden is known to have one of the lowest rate of poverty.
Sweden is actually trying really hard to reduce the percentage of homeless to half the size of what it is now.
I'm glad with what they do with taxes. THey take care of a hell of a lot of things. And that's why the country has a very high standard of living. One of the highest in this world.
It's the safest country in the world. Absolutely incredible.
I remember when i was a kid and my parents would take me to Bangladesh after every 2 years. Every time the plane was getting ready to land, I would see the greens and rich soil of my home country. Many of them under floods from the Mansoon season.
Then we would finally get off and drive through the city of Dhaka. During our long frequent trips to Dhaka I would always sense some kind of improvement with the airport, or the roads, or some other thing. Though there was one scene that would never change. The scene of a young girl with burnt skin and a missing eye, an old boney man with a missing arm, or even a young little boy rolling on a wagon with no legs, begging to me, right by my car door.
It hit me the most the first time i visited Bangladesh in 1993 of November. We were on the road and came to a red light, an old thin armless man and his young little son went around begging in the streets to every single person in a car or rikshaw. They finally came and stood by our car. My mom started digging inside her purse for change and right when she got money out and was about to give it to the old tired man (who was so happy and thankful that he finally got something for his son ) through the car window, the traffic light turned green and our driver pressed the gas so hard that not only did the man fall from the force of the car, but he never got the money that mom wanted to give him. That driver was in some kind of hurry. We had a lousy driver. That night the road was insane, people drove on the local road like they were on the freeway.
I will never forget the look on that old man and his son as our car sped off, leaving them in the middle of the crazy road empty-handed.
I came across many homeless people in Bangladesh, and everytime i saw one, it just made me think of that man who we could have helped but didn't.
America. . .I see them!
Bums on the street outside of Georgia State University! That is the best example i can bring up. Atlanta is full of homeless poeple, unfortunately. On the streets, inside Marta (A crappy version of the Metro), and Ghetto areas near the city.
During winter times i would see some of the homeless covered under a small ripped off sweater, freezing, under the tree in some park. I would see a lot of them drinking. Most of them just looked very angry. Always yelled out mean things to people. Very distractive. Once, this one homeless man called my bestfriend a black duck. No idea where that came from, but that's how random the comments got.
Angry people you don't want to mess with. Not even have eye contact. Avoid!
But I think about the kids that grow up in this environment. How can they have a bright future if their in such circumstances? Growing up in the ghettos is difficult to survive. The results of such poverty leads to crimes. A reason why so much crime exists in the states (gas station robberies).
Sweden.... UTOPIA
I don't see homeless people. It's not that i havn't noticed any, I just don't see them. Can't find them.
Ok, I did see a couple poeple who looked like immigrants, going around in the metro asking for change. Just a few times. They hardly bother anybody. I am told that they are not really homeless, but they are just taking advantage of being poor? Don't know what it is. But i have not seen any homeless people in the streets.
Sweden is known to have one of the lowest rate of poverty.
Sweden is actually trying really hard to reduce the percentage of homeless to half the size of what it is now.
I'm glad with what they do with taxes. THey take care of a hell of a lot of things. And that's why the country has a very high standard of living. One of the highest in this world.
It's the safest country in the world. Absolutely incredible.
24 February 2011
What I first noticed when i moved to Sweden
There was once Beauty of Simplicity. . .
Which has now been lost, unfortunately. I see young pretty girls here who go a little over the top with makeup. (Just a little). Something which goes around everywhere nowadays. From the teenagers to the young women in their mid 20s.
I see many young girls wearing so much makeup as if they were ready to go clubbing, or do some kind of beauty contest, but in reality they are on their way to school or work. I see this during the DAY time, so lets not even talk about saturday evenings. Whatever happened to the thought, "Beauty is imperfection". Guess nowadays it's meaningless.
Instead of hiding your true look with makeup, emphasize the best parts of your face with just a little makeup. Not so hard. I see loads of fake eyelashes and mascara and thick foundation. Too much.
This is also something i got from several guys who moved to Sweden. "Girls here wear way too much makeup." I agree. I think they look so nice the way they are, it's absolutely unneccassary for them to do all that to their face. It looks very FAKE. Nowhere near attractive.
Lacking enthusiasm. I say "hey!" and they say "hej":
This will take me some time getting used to. How to say "hej" the right way. It is almost pronounced the same way as the english hey but there is a difference in the tone.
When a swed says "hej" to you, they are very subtle. When I say "hej", i sound way too lively, i would sound normal in the US, because that's how normal people there greet eachother, but here, theres something missing. Not just in greeting, but everything in general. Sweds do not express themselves so much, i guess they do if they are really close with you, but that's it. They seem like introverts. Which is not a bad thing at all.
They don't really get excited. I have hardly seen a swed laugh. The way they react is a bit different to how an American or a Bengali would act. Very dull, introverted, quiet and reserved people who usually open up more on saturday nights.
The only time i find it lively and loud is on weekend nights when sweds show their outgoing, energetic side.
Costumer Service - nothing like the US:
America is all about excellent costumer service. It's about offering as much service and information as you can for the costumer to be comfortable with what they are paying for. After being to many different types of stores and warehouses here, I've realized that I don't always feel 100% confident about a product i am confused about even after I am given service.
It's like i ask a question and i get a yes or no answer in return with no explanation or alternatives.
There was an incident when I went to the Apotek (Pharmacy) and asked the Pharamacist for a hand cream. This is how it went:
Me: Excuse me, can you help me?
Pharmacist: Yes.
Me: I was looking for a hand cream made for extremely dry skin. By any chance is their a cream that would heal both my dryness and discoloration of my hands from the dishwashing detergent i use?
Pharmacist: (staring at me with confusion) No we don't have bleaching creams. We only sell regular hand creams.
We both just stood there for a few seconds. I thought she would say more, but she only nodded and smiled. It was very akward. I felt like asking a stupid question would be pointless. So i left cream-less.
On the bright side, I think salepeople on the electronics and technology area are more helpful and informative. Media Markt located in Kungens Kurva, for example, has very good costumer service. I got my awesom straightner, new samsung tv, and ps3 from there.
No free bathrooms:
Unless you are in some fancy restaurant, if you gotta go, make sure you have your 5 crowns of change with you or else you won't be able to open that door.
First time i found out about this was early August in 2009 when i came to visit Stockholm for the first time in my life. We were all walking and all of a sudden i got really sick to the stomach. It was hard finding a public restroom since we were in the middle of the city. Boy, that is a day to remember. I will save that for another time.
Your personummer is how you start EVERYTHING:
The first question you will be asked when you are about to start something, apply somewhere, make an appointment, go to the doctor, make a bank account, get involved anywhere, pretty anything, you need to give them your personummer. A 10 digit number which is your identity. Basically, in American terms, your social security number.
You tell them just those 10 numbers and boom! All your information pops out and you are no longer a stranger to the representative.
The day i got my personummer from the skatteverket, i felt like a real swedish resident.
It's nice to live in a well-organized, safe, systematic, calm country that consists of only 9 million people.
Which has now been lost, unfortunately. I see young pretty girls here who go a little over the top with makeup. (Just a little). Something which goes around everywhere nowadays. From the teenagers to the young women in their mid 20s.
I see many young girls wearing so much makeup as if they were ready to go clubbing, or do some kind of beauty contest, but in reality they are on their way to school or work. I see this during the DAY time, so lets not even talk about saturday evenings. Whatever happened to the thought, "Beauty is imperfection". Guess nowadays it's meaningless.
Instead of hiding your true look with makeup, emphasize the best parts of your face with just a little makeup. Not so hard. I see loads of fake eyelashes and mascara and thick foundation. Too much.
This is also something i got from several guys who moved to Sweden. "Girls here wear way too much makeup." I agree. I think they look so nice the way they are, it's absolutely unneccassary for them to do all that to their face. It looks very FAKE. Nowhere near attractive.
Lacking enthusiasm. I say "hey!" and they say "hej":
This will take me some time getting used to. How to say "hej" the right way. It is almost pronounced the same way as the english hey but there is a difference in the tone.
When a swed says "hej" to you, they are very subtle. When I say "hej", i sound way too lively, i would sound normal in the US, because that's how normal people there greet eachother, but here, theres something missing. Not just in greeting, but everything in general. Sweds do not express themselves so much, i guess they do if they are really close with you, but that's it. They seem like introverts. Which is not a bad thing at all.
They don't really get excited. I have hardly seen a swed laugh. The way they react is a bit different to how an American or a Bengali would act. Very dull, introverted, quiet and reserved people who usually open up more on saturday nights.
The only time i find it lively and loud is on weekend nights when sweds show their outgoing, energetic side.
Costumer Service - nothing like the US:
America is all about excellent costumer service. It's about offering as much service and information as you can for the costumer to be comfortable with what they are paying for. After being to many different types of stores and warehouses here, I've realized that I don't always feel 100% confident about a product i am confused about even after I am given service.
It's like i ask a question and i get a yes or no answer in return with no explanation or alternatives.
There was an incident when I went to the Apotek (Pharmacy) and asked the Pharamacist for a hand cream. This is how it went:
Me: Excuse me, can you help me?
Pharmacist: Yes.
Me: I was looking for a hand cream made for extremely dry skin. By any chance is their a cream that would heal both my dryness and discoloration of my hands from the dishwashing detergent i use?
Pharmacist: (staring at me with confusion) No we don't have bleaching creams. We only sell regular hand creams.
We both just stood there for a few seconds. I thought she would say more, but she only nodded and smiled. It was very akward. I felt like asking a stupid question would be pointless. So i left cream-less.
On the bright side, I think salepeople on the electronics and technology area are more helpful and informative. Media Markt located in Kungens Kurva, for example, has very good costumer service. I got my awesom straightner, new samsung tv, and ps3 from there.
No free bathrooms:
Unless you are in some fancy restaurant, if you gotta go, make sure you have your 5 crowns of change with you or else you won't be able to open that door.
First time i found out about this was early August in 2009 when i came to visit Stockholm for the first time in my life. We were all walking and all of a sudden i got really sick to the stomach. It was hard finding a public restroom since we were in the middle of the city. Boy, that is a day to remember. I will save that for another time.
Your personummer is how you start EVERYTHING:
The first question you will be asked when you are about to start something, apply somewhere, make an appointment, go to the doctor, make a bank account, get involved anywhere, pretty anything, you need to give them your personummer. A 10 digit number which is your identity. Basically, in American terms, your social security number.
You tell them just those 10 numbers and boom! All your information pops out and you are no longer a stranger to the representative.
The day i got my personummer from the skatteverket, i felt like a real swedish resident.
It's nice to live in a well-organized, safe, systematic, calm country that consists of only 9 million people.
23 February 2011
Autumn in Sweden through Nikon d5000
My husband has this passion for photography. Something which I had discovered in the beginning of our marriage. He loves traveling and taking pictures, another thing we have in common, so my wonderful parents gave us a Nikon d5000 as a birthday present.
I was surprised by his first-hand skills.
Moreover, it makes me appreciate Sweden even more to see its breathtaking beauty. May this nature always stay.
I was surprised by his first-hand skills.
Moreover, it makes me appreciate Sweden even more to see its breathtaking beauty. May this nature always stay.
Oh how I miss this scene right now in the -20 degrees weather. Sigh. On the bright side, snow photos will be coming up!
The Ugly Duckling in Sweden
Swedish people are the most beautiful people i have ever seen. No doubt about that.
This is what my husband told me before i visited Sweden. What i realized is that I hadn't seen breathtaking beauty until I actually did visit this country. My husband was right.
As a girl, i stare at how pretty the girls are. THey are like dolls, angels, models, you name it. Flawless beauty with their blue eyes and blonde hair. Perfect slim body, perfect height, high fashion sense with their polished look, both men and women.
I'm shorter, chubbier, messy-haired regular girl. I just feel like the ugliest bum in the planet.
This is not only coming from me, but many other girls that i have talked to in Sweden, who moved from another country to live with their boyfriend or husband. That it is certainly a challenge surviving in Stockholm as a girl, with all the angels around you looking 10 times better than you. Makes you feel like you don't even have a chance.
More competition, huh.
I don't think we should worry so much about that. We need to focus on our innerbeauty. Be yourself.
We all have a unique quality within ourselves which makes us different from one another. We should appreciate that inner quality, the true beauty that shapes our personality.
I wouldn't blame any girl who feels like the ugly duckling, because I feel that way sometimes. More before than now.
That sorry little duck became everybody's favorite swan.
So just put a smile on that lovely face and keep your standards high. A beautiful woman is one who appreciates true inner beauty and has high self-esteem.
So instead of feeling left out when you are around tall godesses, just appreciate it. And appreciate the way you are.
This is what my husband told me before i visited Sweden. What i realized is that I hadn't seen breathtaking beauty until I actually did visit this country. My husband was right.
As a girl, i stare at how pretty the girls are. THey are like dolls, angels, models, you name it. Flawless beauty with their blue eyes and blonde hair. Perfect slim body, perfect height, high fashion sense with their polished look, both men and women.
I'm shorter, chubbier, messy-haired regular girl. I just feel like the ugliest bum in the planet.
This is not only coming from me, but many other girls that i have talked to in Sweden, who moved from another country to live with their boyfriend or husband. That it is certainly a challenge surviving in Stockholm as a girl, with all the angels around you looking 10 times better than you. Makes you feel like you don't even have a chance.
More competition, huh.
I don't think we should worry so much about that. We need to focus on our innerbeauty. Be yourself.
We all have a unique quality within ourselves which makes us different from one another. We should appreciate that inner quality, the true beauty that shapes our personality.
I wouldn't blame any girl who feels like the ugly duckling, because I feel that way sometimes. More before than now.
That sorry little duck became everybody's favorite swan.
So just put a smile on that lovely face and keep your standards high. A beautiful woman is one who appreciates true inner beauty and has high self-esteem.
So instead of feeling left out when you are around tall godesses, just appreciate it. And appreciate the way you are.
Common question asked to bengalis: Where are you really from?
Being a Desi, ur prone to be mistaken as the followign: Latin American, , Middle Eastern, Etheopean, Oriental, European. The first 2 hits the top of the list, Latin American, and Middle Eastern. I've experienced it myself.
In the US, the question for me was, "habla espanol?" In Sweden, the most frequently thought of remark is, "You look like someone form my country, Iran." I get every single guess EXCEPT bengali.
So where exactly did our roots come from that we can easily get away with so many different nationalities around the world? Lets go a bit deeper shall we?
Lets start with my home country, Bangladesh. One of the first kinds of people were island inhabitors near present day Sri Lanka. Then came poeple from the Medditeranean which might be the reason there are many of us who look of Arab or persian descent. They moved around the 13th century to be civilized in the place which is now Bangladesh. This is the reason why the majority of bangalis are Muslims. We have some bengalis that look totally of oriental descent. This is because later on, many smaller minority groups settled around certain areas of Bangladesh, such as the Chakmas, and poeple from Burma, and Mizu. They live in the area of Chittagong in Bangladesh. Lastly there were the people from Assam (northeast india), Khasi, and Santhal all living around the northwest and northeast of bangladesh. Places like present day Sylhet in Bangladesh.
I come from indeed a very small country, but it is amazing to know how much diversity it consists when you look back into the roots. There is a variation of looks, different dialacts which almost change the entire bengali language, different traditions.
If you compare one bengali to another, there is a huge possiblity to find no common characteristic.
So when a person from Spain starts speaking Spanish to me, I simply smile and apologize for being so clueless. But it makes me smile. Makes me feel good to fit into more nationalities.
I love it when the person keeps guessing and never gets it right. The list of countries keep increasing as i wait for them to say "Bangladesh" but they never do. Thats when i represent this diverse little country of mine.
I sure am proud to be a Bengali!
In the US, the question for me was, "habla espanol?" In Sweden, the most frequently thought of remark is, "You look like someone form my country, Iran." I get every single guess EXCEPT bengali.
So where exactly did our roots come from that we can easily get away with so many different nationalities around the world? Lets go a bit deeper shall we?
Lets start with my home country, Bangladesh. One of the first kinds of people were island inhabitors near present day Sri Lanka. Then came poeple from the Medditeranean which might be the reason there are many of us who look of Arab or persian descent. They moved around the 13th century to be civilized in the place which is now Bangladesh. This is the reason why the majority of bangalis are Muslims. We have some bengalis that look totally of oriental descent. This is because later on, many smaller minority groups settled around certain areas of Bangladesh, such as the Chakmas, and poeple from Burma, and Mizu. They live in the area of Chittagong in Bangladesh. Lastly there were the people from Assam (northeast india), Khasi, and Santhal all living around the northwest and northeast of bangladesh. Places like present day Sylhet in Bangladesh.
I come from indeed a very small country, but it is amazing to know how much diversity it consists when you look back into the roots. There is a variation of looks, different dialacts which almost change the entire bengali language, different traditions.
If you compare one bengali to another, there is a huge possiblity to find no common characteristic.
So when a person from Spain starts speaking Spanish to me, I simply smile and apologize for being so clueless. But it makes me smile. Makes me feel good to fit into more nationalities.
I love it when the person keeps guessing and never gets it right. The list of countries keep increasing as i wait for them to say "Bangladesh" but they never do. Thats when i represent this diverse little country of mine.
I sure am proud to be a Bengali!
22 February 2011
Sara the Swedish Teacher - THE BEST blog for learning swedish
I came to Sweden around the end of March 2010 and got registered immediately to SFI, starting sfi class in the beginning of April. I completed my entire SFI last month, January 2011, AND got paid 12000 kr as sfi bonus, for completing sfi in less than a year.
When i first started learning swedish, every in my mind was jumbled up. I seriously had no idea where to start because it all seemed so impossible. My first month was horrible. I understood nothing, I only knew how to say "jag heter Tani" and "hejdå", and I knew it will take me a while to get used to this new, strange language that everyone kept babbling in.
A few months later when i finally forced myself to pay attention to swedish through watching at least half an hour of swedish tv in the morning and reading a small article from the Metro newspaper without understanding a single thing, and overhearing others speak swedish, I finally came across this website in http://www.thelocal.se/ called "The Swedish Teacher".
The Local is an excellent website for english speakers living in Sweden. It has everything from A-Z about Sweden. How to live, what to do, where to do it. I started using this webside from the time i decided to apply for residency permit in Sweden. It has all the information you will ever have to know about living. It keeps you informed about jobs, news, benefits, has discussions, and my most favorite, Sara the Swedish Teacher.
When i came across this brilliant teacher's blog, it made my life easier. She literally rescued me from sinking into a deep pond of confusion.
Grammar questions, how to differentiate among different meanings, phrases, words, how to understand the every day language, how to SPEAK the every day language.
She basically organizes everything floating in your mind about the swedish language.
After looking at a few posts on her blog, not only did i know more than everybody else in my class, but i got impressive comments from my teachers about my writing and oral explanations. I've recommened this site to other students and whoever went to this learned something useful and came to never forget the lesson because Sara teaches it so incredibly well. It's just amazing.
Jag är faktiskt tacksam för det.
I am in the verge of finishing SAS grund, and even now, I visit Sara's blog and learn new things from each post. Big difficult things that are so hard for teachers to explain and students to grasp.
My 2 secret tools and best friends that are making me succeed in svenska: Folkets Lexikon and Sara the Swedish Teacher.
When i first started learning swedish, every in my mind was jumbled up. I seriously had no idea where to start because it all seemed so impossible. My first month was horrible. I understood nothing, I only knew how to say "jag heter Tani" and "hejdå", and I knew it will take me a while to get used to this new, strange language that everyone kept babbling in.
A few months later when i finally forced myself to pay attention to swedish through watching at least half an hour of swedish tv in the morning and reading a small article from the Metro newspaper without understanding a single thing, and overhearing others speak swedish, I finally came across this website in http://www.thelocal.se/ called "The Swedish Teacher".
The Local is an excellent website for english speakers living in Sweden. It has everything from A-Z about Sweden. How to live, what to do, where to do it. I started using this webside from the time i decided to apply for residency permit in Sweden. It has all the information you will ever have to know about living. It keeps you informed about jobs, news, benefits, has discussions, and my most favorite, Sara the Swedish Teacher.
When i came across this brilliant teacher's blog, it made my life easier. She literally rescued me from sinking into a deep pond of confusion.
Grammar questions, how to differentiate among different meanings, phrases, words, how to understand the every day language, how to SPEAK the every day language.
She basically organizes everything floating in your mind about the swedish language.
After looking at a few posts on her blog, not only did i know more than everybody else in my class, but i got impressive comments from my teachers about my writing and oral explanations. I've recommened this site to other students and whoever went to this learned something useful and came to never forget the lesson because Sara teaches it so incredibly well. It's just amazing.
Jag är faktiskt tacksam för det.
I am in the verge of finishing SAS grund, and even now, I visit Sara's blog and learn new things from each post. Big difficult things that are so hard for teachers to explain and students to grasp.
My 2 secret tools and best friends that are making me succeed in svenska: Folkets Lexikon and Sara the Swedish Teacher.
Racism in the Metro
It's a huge disappointment to come across an extreme racist, especially when the country is completely new to you. The last thing you want to see is discrimination. An old problem that started after the existance of mankind. We are of equal kind, but some how division tends to emerge within our own kind.
My first look at a hardcore racism case happened around the middle of last year in the metro. Though i wasn't targeted, it still hit me to see the fact that 2 young muslim girls were put on the spot and insulted, cursed at, and with abusive words kicked off the train by a crazy bald, buff white Svensk in his late 20s.
This man, however, wasn't only showing hatred towards Muslim girls, but first, towards Muslims, then towards immigrants, after that comes women, most specifically towards young women who were alone. If i wasn't with my husband that evening in the train, he would have made an abusive remark to me as well, and that really would have ruined my entire day.
It all started when the 2 young students got into the train and started normally talking and giggling just like teenagers do. They wore hijabs on their heads, which made it obvious that they were Muslims. Few seats in front of them sat a completely wasted couple who were creating this big disturbing scene in the Metro. They moaned and cried out loud and had bad odor, they wore ripped up clothing, the woman wearing hardly anything, showing whatever she pleased. The 2 students tried ignoring the scene just like everybody else, but they couldn't help but send eachother the look that they were absolutely aggrevated.
Apparently, a man sitting behind them, facing one of the students noticed the aggrevated look. Out of the blue, we all heard angry yelling wich transformed into roaring and yelling of dirty words addressed to the Muslim girls. The man did not stop. The girls first seemed shocked, then insulted as he kept telling them to dare to look him in the eye, that he would show them where they really belong, that they don't belong in this country, niether do their nasty parents. Tears started coming out of their shameful eyes as they heard the racist talk turning into inappropriate sexually perverted talk. It was probably their first time hearing things like that. They were probably questioning themselves, "what did i do wrong to deserve this in front of so many people?". The entire metro was quiet with the exception of the psychotic white man who kept trying to get the girls' attention by saying "you bitch" and after every harrassing remark, he would bang the window or shake the chair, sometimes tighten his fists and grind his teeth as if he were about to take some grewsome action towards the girls, as well as every other muslim girl that matched the character.
The 2 muslim young girls had their books held tightly against their chest, looking down at the floor, and as soon as the train stopped for the next station, they left with tears running constantly down their red face.
After that, people left one by one, trying to avoid the man before he started again. No single lady got away without a remark however. Some had it worse than others. But not as harsh as the Muslim girls.
Funny thing was, the drunk couple became sober as hell after that man's act.
My husband was so disgusted at the abusive violent man that he couldn't take his eyes off of him. I hated that. I didn't want us to get in some kind of nasty trouble for this psycho. Somehow my husband held his anger, feeling terrible for the young little girls, and as soon as we got out of the train, i let out a huge breath with relief. "Boy do I feel sorry for the people who will get off with that psycho." I told my husband. He agreed. Somewhere inside, i could sense his fear of the man too.
As we approached the bus stop, I couldn't believe my eyes. I had to pinch myself to see if this wasn't a nightmare, but my heartbeat kept getting faster as i saw the man passing us by with his eyes looking directly at us, with an odd smile that i will never be able to explain. "what the fuck" thought my husband.
I prayed for the bus to come faster, and hoped that he would leave us alone. That he wouldn't end up living in the same street as us, not get off at the same stop. It was getting darker and i kept praying, until suddenly, the man disappeared.
It was a place where it was impossible to hide, but somehow in seconds, he disappeared.
I thanked Allah and kept praying for protection.
That night, I thanked Allah for all the protection I had. For giving me guidance. And i prayed for all the people that suffer through abuse in daily life. I prayed for the oppressed, for the poor, for the hungry,for the women who had no shelter, who become used and thrown away to give them guidance.
Those might be simple dirty remarks the man made, but his words hit me deep. It made me think of his capabilities and of the people that commit crime to the innocent.
We should be thankful for what we have. And we should appreciate our life, the things around us, the PEOPLE around us.
If you don't like someone, avoid them. But end racism in your hearts.
My first look at a hardcore racism case happened around the middle of last year in the metro. Though i wasn't targeted, it still hit me to see the fact that 2 young muslim girls were put on the spot and insulted, cursed at, and with abusive words kicked off the train by a crazy bald, buff white Svensk in his late 20s.
This man, however, wasn't only showing hatred towards Muslim girls, but first, towards Muslims, then towards immigrants, after that comes women, most specifically towards young women who were alone. If i wasn't with my husband that evening in the train, he would have made an abusive remark to me as well, and that really would have ruined my entire day.
It all started when the 2 young students got into the train and started normally talking and giggling just like teenagers do. They wore hijabs on their heads, which made it obvious that they were Muslims. Few seats in front of them sat a completely wasted couple who were creating this big disturbing scene in the Metro. They moaned and cried out loud and had bad odor, they wore ripped up clothing, the woman wearing hardly anything, showing whatever she pleased. The 2 students tried ignoring the scene just like everybody else, but they couldn't help but send eachother the look that they were absolutely aggrevated.
Apparently, a man sitting behind them, facing one of the students noticed the aggrevated look. Out of the blue, we all heard angry yelling wich transformed into roaring and yelling of dirty words addressed to the Muslim girls. The man did not stop. The girls first seemed shocked, then insulted as he kept telling them to dare to look him in the eye, that he would show them where they really belong, that they don't belong in this country, niether do their nasty parents. Tears started coming out of their shameful eyes as they heard the racist talk turning into inappropriate sexually perverted talk. It was probably their first time hearing things like that. They were probably questioning themselves, "what did i do wrong to deserve this in front of so many people?". The entire metro was quiet with the exception of the psychotic white man who kept trying to get the girls' attention by saying "you bitch" and after every harrassing remark, he would bang the window or shake the chair, sometimes tighten his fists and grind his teeth as if he were about to take some grewsome action towards the girls, as well as every other muslim girl that matched the character.
The 2 muslim young girls had their books held tightly against their chest, looking down at the floor, and as soon as the train stopped for the next station, they left with tears running constantly down their red face.
After that, people left one by one, trying to avoid the man before he started again. No single lady got away without a remark however. Some had it worse than others. But not as harsh as the Muslim girls.
Funny thing was, the drunk couple became sober as hell after that man's act.
My husband was so disgusted at the abusive violent man that he couldn't take his eyes off of him. I hated that. I didn't want us to get in some kind of nasty trouble for this psycho. Somehow my husband held his anger, feeling terrible for the young little girls, and as soon as we got out of the train, i let out a huge breath with relief. "Boy do I feel sorry for the people who will get off with that psycho." I told my husband. He agreed. Somewhere inside, i could sense his fear of the man too.
As we approached the bus stop, I couldn't believe my eyes. I had to pinch myself to see if this wasn't a nightmare, but my heartbeat kept getting faster as i saw the man passing us by with his eyes looking directly at us, with an odd smile that i will never be able to explain. "what the fuck" thought my husband.
I prayed for the bus to come faster, and hoped that he would leave us alone. That he wouldn't end up living in the same street as us, not get off at the same stop. It was getting darker and i kept praying, until suddenly, the man disappeared.
It was a place where it was impossible to hide, but somehow in seconds, he disappeared.
I thanked Allah and kept praying for protection.
That night, I thanked Allah for all the protection I had. For giving me guidance. And i prayed for all the people that suffer through abuse in daily life. I prayed for the oppressed, for the poor, for the hungry,for the women who had no shelter, who become used and thrown away to give them guidance.
Those might be simple dirty remarks the man made, but his words hit me deep. It made me think of his capabilities and of the people that commit crime to the innocent.
We should be thankful for what we have. And we should appreciate our life, the things around us, the PEOPLE around us.
If you don't like someone, avoid them. But end racism in your hearts.
My first month learning swedish
My first several months in Sweden was interesting. Even though I live in a house where mostly Bangla is spoken, i occasionally hear Swedish as well. My husband and his family has been living here for more than 20 years so it is only natural that even when they speak bangla or english, swedish pops in the conversatoin.
I sometimes noticed my father-in-law say det går inte when my mother-in-law would ask him about some household appliance. SO, instead of asking what it actually meant, my genius self would assume that det går inte means I dont know. I would go to sfi class and when the teacher would ask me something that i did not know the answer to, i would simply reply back saying, "Det går inte". The nice teacher would just stare at me with a helpless smile.
A week later i learned the REAL translation of I dont know. It was "Jag vet inte." Boy was I off! So i wondered, all this time i had been saying what???
"Det går inte" means It doesnt or it is not going too well or Its not working.
DING DING!
Ofcourse! Household appliance not working..."det går inte".. and i used this in sfi??? When the teacher asked me what time it was in swedish, i said it doesnt work. I felt pretty stupid. But hey, i learned from my mistake. Ha!
Another alternative i use now is "Ingen aning" which means "no idea or no clue".
I sometimes noticed my father-in-law say det går inte when my mother-in-law would ask him about some household appliance. SO, instead of asking what it actually meant, my genius self would assume that det går inte means I dont know. I would go to sfi class and when the teacher would ask me something that i did not know the answer to, i would simply reply back saying, "Det går inte". The nice teacher would just stare at me with a helpless smile.
A week later i learned the REAL translation of I dont know. It was "Jag vet inte." Boy was I off! So i wondered, all this time i had been saying what???
"Det går inte" means It doesnt or it is not going too well or Its not working.
DING DING!
Ofcourse! Household appliance not working..."det går inte".. and i used this in sfi??? When the teacher asked me what time it was in swedish, i said it doesnt work. I felt pretty stupid. But hey, i learned from my mistake. Ha!
Another alternative i use now is "Ingen aning" which means "no idea or no clue".
The question some men ask me in sweden
I had been studying Swedish for about 11 months now and i have met plenty of immigrants from all around the world. Among them are many Bangladeshis as well.
According to most bengalis, having an American passport means you will never leave America, the "land of opportunity", for any other country in the world. Rather it should be the other way around.
So in my case, most bengalis who especially have relatives living in the U.S.A. question me with a dumbstrucken face as to why I chose to leave my home to live in Europe.
My decision of settling with my husband in Sweden was one of the biggest controversial topics in Georgia. Everybody thought i was crazy and they still probably do, because if they were in my place they would most definitely either make their husband come to the states or break the relationship. IF they were in my place. IF statements are bogus statements. Stepping into reality puts you in a whole different level. So we need to get out of this IF fantasy world now.
When meet a new classmate who is a male from either the middle east or asia, they ask me first, where i come from. The conversation goes a little something like this:
Stranger: Where are you from?
Me: Bangladesh.
Stranger: Really? You don't look at all like it.
Stranger: You speak good english.
Me: THank you, I grew up in the states.
Stranger: Oh really? Then why did you move here?
Me: My husband lives here. I got married and then moved up here.
Stranger: Oh! You are married?
(Then there is this akward silence, leading to a very weird question)
Stranger: Did you move here by choice ? It would be so easy for you to succeed in your home. Are you happy here?
I feel that it is a rather personal question but I get asked this occasionally. I think it's such a sensitive time to answer. Ofcourse i feel homesick. If i keep thinking about the opportunities i have lost by leaving America, leaving my family and loved ones, my life, how can i concentrate on learning Swedish? It disturbs me.
My SAS grund teacher gave us this excellent advice of being "nutänkande". In other words, concentrate on what you are doing NOW and worry about nothing else. Don't overthink about the future. If you think far off on how to be a swedish pharmacist, and look at yourself now, as a SAS grund level student trying to be a pharmacist, you will obviously think it is all impossible. So just go with the flow and focus on the current goal you have put up for yourself.
Despite all the great advices i get, i still have to put up with some really nosey men who keep asking me the same question every day. I respect everybodys opinion, but sometimes keep asking me one annoying thing over and over again really affects me.
I end up thinking why i really moved to Sweden.
Moving to sweden was absolutely my own choice and nobody forced me. Some people need to get that misconception out oftheir head, that I had no choice but to come to sweden.
Besides, I am loving the atmosphere here. There are many things that i find wonderful about this country. Every land has it's good and bad sides. Honestly, i think Stockholm holds more good qualities than any other country in the world. The citizens here are very happy and healthy. They are "nöjd". And considering i am a woman, i am even more satisfied. This country is the best place for especially women to live in.
How the long annoying conversation ended with one of the men:
Stranger: I still don't get why youleft such a big country like America and moved to Sweden. It's harder to succeed here.
Me: I want to be positive about whatever I do in my life. So to me, it really doesn't matter where I live. Living in Stockholm feels a lot like living in Georgia.
Stranger: I didn't mean to say you should take it negatively....ok. I guess it's all up to you how you want to lead your life.
Me: Yeah, I guess so.
According to most bengalis, having an American passport means you will never leave America, the "land of opportunity", for any other country in the world. Rather it should be the other way around.
So in my case, most bengalis who especially have relatives living in the U.S.A. question me with a dumbstrucken face as to why I chose to leave my home to live in Europe.
My decision of settling with my husband in Sweden was one of the biggest controversial topics in Georgia. Everybody thought i was crazy and they still probably do, because if they were in my place they would most definitely either make their husband come to the states or break the relationship. IF they were in my place. IF statements are bogus statements. Stepping into reality puts you in a whole different level. So we need to get out of this IF fantasy world now.
When meet a new classmate who is a male from either the middle east or asia, they ask me first, where i come from. The conversation goes a little something like this:
Stranger: Where are you from?
Me: Bangladesh.
Stranger: Really? You don't look at all like it.
Stranger: You speak good english.
Me: THank you, I grew up in the states.
Stranger: Oh really? Then why did you move here?
Me: My husband lives here. I got married and then moved up here.
Stranger: Oh! You are married?
(Then there is this akward silence, leading to a very weird question)
Stranger: Did you move here by choice ? It would be so easy for you to succeed in your home. Are you happy here?
I feel that it is a rather personal question but I get asked this occasionally. I think it's such a sensitive time to answer. Ofcourse i feel homesick. If i keep thinking about the opportunities i have lost by leaving America, leaving my family and loved ones, my life, how can i concentrate on learning Swedish? It disturbs me.
My SAS grund teacher gave us this excellent advice of being "nutänkande". In other words, concentrate on what you are doing NOW and worry about nothing else. Don't overthink about the future. If you think far off on how to be a swedish pharmacist, and look at yourself now, as a SAS grund level student trying to be a pharmacist, you will obviously think it is all impossible. So just go with the flow and focus on the current goal you have put up for yourself.
Despite all the great advices i get, i still have to put up with some really nosey men who keep asking me the same question every day. I respect everybodys opinion, but sometimes keep asking me one annoying thing over and over again really affects me.
I end up thinking why i really moved to Sweden.
Moving to sweden was absolutely my own choice and nobody forced me. Some people need to get that misconception out oftheir head, that I had no choice but to come to sweden.
Besides, I am loving the atmosphere here. There are many things that i find wonderful about this country. Every land has it's good and bad sides. Honestly, i think Stockholm holds more good qualities than any other country in the world. The citizens here are very happy and healthy. They are "nöjd". And considering i am a woman, i am even more satisfied. This country is the best place for especially women to live in.
How the long annoying conversation ended with one of the men:
Stranger: I still don't get why youleft such a big country like America and moved to Sweden. It's harder to succeed here.
Me: I want to be positive about whatever I do in my life. So to me, it really doesn't matter where I live. Living in Stockholm feels a lot like living in Georgia.
Stranger: I didn't mean to say you should take it negatively....ok. I guess it's all up to you how you want to lead your life.
Me: Yeah, I guess so.
Expectations of a Desi (Bengali) Bride
Being married to the oldest son of the household in a Bangladeshi traditional family put me in a lot of mental stress in the beginning of my newly married life as the oldest "bhabi".
I sat patiently in the floral seat in my heavy wedding dress with excessive gold jewelry and makeup in front of all the unfamiliar guests that stared at me and probably asked about what kind of girl i really was. What was my full name? Where did i come from? Have i completed my studies? If i was really fair or was the white heavy makeup hiding my dark skin? What did my parents do for a living? The questions floated around the banquet as I struggled to follow the photographer's direction in the extremely hot bright camera light that was shot out towards my face as to how i should tilt my head or how wide i should smile, as if i was a moving mannequin.
As my distant relatives came one by one to greet me and talk to me for a few moments they gave me random advice about the Do's and Dont's of a bride. It all made me confused and nervous.
Do's: "keep your ears open at all times. Keep track of what goes around you and what every family member is up to. Everyone expects YOU, as the "boro bou" (basically first wife) to know everything."
Don'ts: "Listen to your elders. Do not try to correct them. Do NOT talk back to anybody."
(on my mind, I was thinking, "Isn't being myself enough?" since it was a LOVE marriage.)
So after the the endless fancy wedding ceremonies that made both sides of the family have empty pockets, it was time for me to meet my husband's huge family in Comilla, Bangladesh. A place in Bangladesh that i have never been to before. It was quite calming compared to the busy and noisy city of Dhaka. Fewer people, better air, and more cows.
After the 6 hour long bumpy journey, we finally arrive at the Comilla house where the entire groom's side was waiting. I was almost car sick, had a killer headache from the lack of sleep and stress from the night before. I somehow managed to wear my heavy wedding saree all by myself for the first time ever in less than 3 minutes and jumped in the car for the journey. Didn't have time to do my hair or put exccessive makeup, just some natural colored lipstick and eyeliner.
When i stepped out of the car, instead of welcomed greetings i suddenly saw frowns and a load of disappointment on each relative's face. I was terrified, because i knew their face transformed from excitement to shame by just looking at me, the new bride.
The aunt came and stared at me pecularly saying, "My God, her hair is a mess!"
On the other side, i had noticed 2 professional bengali cameramen taping us getting out of the car. "great" i thought. " I look ugly, AND i am being taped." I just wanted to shoot myself.
I wanted to justify the reason for my current condition. That i didn't know i had to sit in the parlor for 4hours AGAIN in the morning just to impress the entire small village. That i had a headache and was probably on the way to having a very nasty cold. That i had no sleep and i just wanted to rest, and be with my husband.
I remembered one of my relatives telling me NOT to talk back especially to your elders. It will leave a bad impression. So i stayed quiet.
If only i knew that i needed artificial makeup and a fancy hairdo even after the wedding.
Luckily everybody in the house calmed down after the entire traditional welcoming was over. Throwing flowers at the door, cutting the ribbon to our new house, feeding sweets and lemonade, and videosessions of us in the flowery wedding bed. Those things i actually liked.
All formalities were done. And so the next expectation came across. I was asked several times by my father-in-law, "Where are your gold bengals? Where is your wrist watch? A bride should always have jewelry on her." Something i was never used to wearing. I loved the simple style. Gold and i did not go well.
I had to be girly girly i guess. I realized that the women around me were better dressed than i was. They put on their heaviest gold sets, sequenting outfits, and so on.
I got this one from the women, "You need to eat more honey, look at you, you are like a stick."
Traditional bengalis really despise slim girls.
I've realized I had to try to look better for my new relatives and in-laws.. Apparently it was much harder to impress them than my husband. My husband loved me the way i was. But i needed to look nice for the others as well, for the time being, or else i will explode of taking in so much critisizm.
Besides, i was always a girl who never really got much criticism before. I was the only child who everybody loved. So it was a bit different for me.
Then came the introduction of the elders. Everytime i met respected elders in the family i had to touch their feet for blessings. It's another well-known tradition that must be done. One time after meeting them, another time before saying goodbye.
Despite all that, the entire family was terribly nice to me. They never let me do a single thing. They kept saying, "No sit sit, you are the 'bou', you can't do any work. Relax and be with your husband."
Oh one thing i forgot to mention. I had to wear traditional clothes. Pants were absolutely forbidden.
There was obviously always a choice. I had freedom. But it was better to stay on the traditonal side or else i would get the bad impression.. that i am an american-bengali girl whos parents had forgotten to teach their daughter about bengali tradition.
Believe me, there are much valuable things about tradition i know. I count these as trivial things. But to those Bangladeshi elders, this was a very very big thing.
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