As everyone knows, a culture shock is a complex phenomenon that can take a long time to grapple with. But for some reason my first culture shock in life was relatively easy to deal with: when I moved from Israel, my home country, to the US in the mid 90’s, things somehow felt very familiar. Perhaps it’s the fact that I came from what’s often referred to as “the 51st state”, but the mentality in New York didn’t seem that much different from Tel Aviv. Everything was bigger, bolder and more sophisticated, but within days I felt like a native New Yorker.
In 2001 I moved to London and things were a bit different. People seemed to talk a little differently, behave a little differently and interpret what I said a little differently. It was hard. Then again the language was still English and the mentality not that far off from the US. And London was as big, international and central as New York, so being a foreigner in that diverse medley of a megalopolis still felt comfortable. Strangely though, when I left London 9 years later to move to Copenhagen, I still didn’t dare call myself a Londoner.
Was it the fact that this time around I had to learn a foreign language? Perhaps. And the fact that this foreign language sounded like an underwater mumble that made everyone around me seem completely drunk didn’t help. But after starting an intensive Danish language course it proved learnable after all, and besides – this is the only non English speaking country I know where flawless English is spoken by almost everyone, making it extremely easy to negotiate as a foreigner, without speaking a word of the local language. So surely that wasn’t the problem. Was it the cold Nordic demeanour, making people seem somewhat distant and standoffish? That sure didn’t make one feel warm and fuzzy about Denmark, but it wasn’t too different from London and the typical English behaviour, so that couldn’t be it either. There were a lot of other things I could think of – the shockingly high prices and shockingly high taxes, the small and homogeneous quality of the city and country, the unusually central role the state plays in people’s lives, and of course the much talked about tribal nature of Denmark which makes all foreigners feel they stick out like a sore thumb. All of which I wrote about extensively in this blog, and all of which undoubtedly played a role in my overall sense of bemusement and estrangement.
Having been here for about 7 months now, I know for sure that the honeymoon period is over, but the integration process has only just begun. As opposed to my previous ‘migrations’ for study or career purposes, this time I moved to my partner’s homeland with a clear intention to settle down. This makes the ‘integration question’ much more relevant to me this time: Can I become truly Danish with time? Do I even want to? To what extent will I be able to hold on to my own identity in such a close-knit tribal society? Will I be truly accepted without adopting Danishness through and through? These are some of the questions I’m struggling with these days. Only time will tell what the answers will be, and whether or when I will be able to call myself a Københavner. Meanwhile I’d like to take you with me on this journey. But be warned – it’s going be a bumpy ride.
In 2001 I moved to London and things were a bit different. People seemed to talk a little differently, behave a little differently and interpret what I said a little differently. It was hard. Then again the language was still English and the mentality not that far off from the US. And London was as big, international and central as New York, so being a foreigner in that diverse medley of a megalopolis still felt comfortable. Strangely though, when I left London 9 years later to move to Copenhagen, I still didn’t dare call myself a Londoner.
Soon after arriving in Denmark earlier this year, I started experiencing a culture shock of a different kind. This time I decided to share my experiences in this blog. To be sure, the first few months were a real honeymoon period: late spring and summer in Copenhagen proved to be a beautiful time (well, maybe just summer – spring didn’t really seem to materialize this year. I’m hoping it’s a one off!), with lots of street vibe, cultural activities, great weather and good energy. I discovered a pedestrian-friendly cosmopolitan city that is manageable in size and beautiful in its urban landscape. I liked it. But soon reality set in and I began to realize that this time around the culture shock may be a trickier affair than in the past.
Was it the fact that this time around I had to learn a foreign language? Perhaps. And the fact that this foreign language sounded like an underwater mumble that made everyone around me seem completely drunk didn’t help. But after starting an intensive Danish language course it proved learnable after all, and besides – this is the only non English speaking country I know where flawless English is spoken by almost everyone, making it extremely easy to negotiate as a foreigner, without speaking a word of the local language. So surely that wasn’t the problem. Was it the cold Nordic demeanour, making people seem somewhat distant and standoffish? That sure didn’t make one feel warm and fuzzy about Denmark, but it wasn’t too different from London and the typical English behaviour, so that couldn’t be it either. There were a lot of other things I could think of – the shockingly high prices and shockingly high taxes, the small and homogeneous quality of the city and country, the unusually central role the state plays in people’s lives, and of course the much talked about tribal nature of Denmark which makes all foreigners feel they stick out like a sore thumb. All of which I wrote about extensively in this blog, and all of which undoubtedly played a role in my overall sense of bemusement and estrangement.
But what I think made it feel different this time around was the interesting tension between the extreme curiosity by the locals around my immigration and integration journey on the one hand, and on the other hand – the clear signal from society that foreigners are expected to fully integrate in Denmark, and that full integration means nothing less than becoming Danish, plain and simple. This polarized tension, making Denmark feel both incredibly welcoming and incredibly unwelcoming at the same time, was different from anything I felt in the US or the UK, where ‘cultural integration’ is less of interest as long as one simply ‘plays by the rules’. And this tension is in fact what got me to start sharing my experiences through a blog to begin with. (That, and the uncontrollable urge to tell Danes about the things in their culture that seem really funny or strange to outsiders…)
Having been here for about 7 months now, I know for sure that the honeymoon period is over, but the integration process has only just begun. As opposed to my previous ‘migrations’ for study or career purposes, this time I moved to my partner’s homeland with a clear intention to settle down. This makes the ‘integration question’ much more relevant to me this time: Can I become truly Danish with time? Do I even want to? To what extent will I be able to hold on to my own identity in such a close-knit tribal society? Will I be truly accepted without adopting Danishness through and through? These are some of the questions I’m struggling with these days. Only time will tell what the answers will be, and whether or when I will be able to call myself a Københavner. Meanwhile I’d like to take you with me on this journey. But be warned – it’s going be a bumpy ride.
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