VCU Study Abroad Blog

Keeping this in mind, I did what any sane, rational person with a well-established dislike of winter, rain, and unknown languages would do: go to Sweden. My exposure to the Swedish language prior to this trip was primarily limited to the Swedish chef from the Muppets and the names of furniture in Ikea catalogues. Despite the reassurances of various people beforehand regarding the excellent English skills of Scandinavians, I arrived in Växjö feeling extremely apprehensive about my nonexistent Swedish skills and my ability to function outside of the classroom. Visions raced through my head of awkward situations in shops and on the streets, where kindly Swedes would make small talk, only to be rebuffed by the silence of someone who couldn't find the words to reply.

My fears were unfounded. My guide books had described Swedes as reserved. Far from unexpected conversations, I soon realized that conversation in Sweden was a subtle art, where each participant would speak only when necessary. Instead of initiating random conversations, most people seemed to go out of their way to avoid any form of superfluous interaction. I learned that it was entirely possible to go about one's life in Sweden using a vocabulary of monosyllabic Swedish words. At home, a shopping trip was filled with casual conversations. The cashier would inquire about my classes, the weather, and almost always ask how I was doing, even though it was usually patently obvious that they did not care. In Sweden, the complete opposite was true. Here, our roles were clearly defined. A typical conversation would go like this:

Cashier: Hej
Me:Hej
Cashier: 34.50, tack
Me: tack.

On occasion, the cashier would also ask whether I needed a bag, another question which could be answered with a monosyllabic ja or nej. Having mastered four words - hello, thank you, yes, and no - , it was entirely possible to brazen one's way through any number of unexpected Swedish conversations. After all, the only time when the Swedes seemed willing to speak freely to us without warning was while they were intoxicated. Like drunk students anywhere, Swedes under the influence were generally too far gone to catch on to the fact that my lost exchange student self really had no idea what was being said. As long as I could nod, smile, and earnestly say ja while they told long elaborate stories, everyone was happy. On the occasions that Swedes, (drunk or otherwise) needed to talk to me, most could manage in English quite well, with some even welcoming the chance to use a second language they had studied for years. After a month or so, I started to relax, and realized that perhaps living life surrounded by Swedish wasn't going to be the challenge I had expected. Being a native English speaker put me at something of an advantage. Most of the other international students I met were in Sweden to practice English, not master Swedish. As a German friend told me. "It’s nice, having you Americans around/ The Swedish are so good with English, but it's school English. You all sound more.....sophisticated. "

However, the misconception that we native English speakers would waltz through our exchange period, our Swedish limited to monosyllabic conversations at the grocery store were soon challenged. Late September found me in a large classroom, attempting to suppress my panic at the notion of a four hour long essay exam on the European Union. Luckily, I was not the only one worried. Upon our professor's announcement of the exam format, a hand shot into the air.

"Could you tell us how much we are expected to write?" I held my breath, hoping for a precise answer.

"Well, you should write as much as necessary to answer the questions."

She saw the looks of disappointment, and decided to elaborate further.

"I cannot give you an exact answer in English.," she said, somewhat apologetically. But,," she hesitated, but continued. "If you want an exact answer, in Swedish, we say "lagom."

"Aaaaaaaaah" the Swedish students nodded, smiling with relief.

Unfortunately, those of us who were not Swedish were left with a feeling of bemusement. The Swedes brag that lagom is a uniquely Swedish word. The simplest translation I was given was that lagom was the perfect amount, something that was not too much and not too little. a kind of moderation. Somewhere within the Swedish psyche, there was a collective understanding of what exactly lagom was. But to those of us not familiar with Swedish, the word was just irritating. Lagom permeates Swedish life in ways that it is occasionally difficult to understand. It is not just exam answers that should be lagom, but how much to spend on a dress, the length of a conversation, the current session of parliament’s debates and the size of your slice of cake could and should be lagom as well. However, the very subjective nature of what precisely qualified as “the right amount� left me longing for something beyond moderation. When writing emails to my friends, I would savor the opportunities to use wild exaggerations, and leave lagom behind. After all, I wasn't Swedish.

It was a few months later that I first noticed the changes in my own English. Dinnertime found us rushing around, trying desperately to rescue eggs that were starting to resemble charcoal. My Swedish neighbor came in holding a spatula.

“What do you call this one in English?� He asked, holding it out. “In Swedish we say it is a food-shovel�

I stared at the spatula, trying to think of the correct term. Food shovel seemed a perfectly sensible term. My Irish friend seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Uh, it’s a flipper?�

“Flipper’s a dolphin!� I exclaimed, privately thinking that flipper, like food shovel was a far more sensible term.

Looking back, this moment stands out as the moment my acquisition of international English accelerated. The truth is, we were all in Sweden to learn English. Our collective language skills were much like a balance. As the Swedes, Germans, Spaniards, French, etc. improved their English speaking skills, those of us with English as a first language gradually began to lose our grip on the language. We started to “read texts.� While walking home from the grocery store in the store, we’d mention “reading texts.� We stopped correcting people who wanted to “make pictures� and took out our cameras and took the pictures ourselves. We lost the ability to have options and instead gained the desire to “have possibilities�.

Of course, the entire process took on a distinctly Swedish air. Come spring, and Ja and Nej had replaced yes and no, tack had become instinctive, and sentences that mixed Swedish verbs with English nouns had become common. I couldn’t tell you much about the world cup, but I knew that the VM was starting on the 9th of June. And of course, lagom had ceased to be a great mystery and was instead a perfectly acceptable amount. June, and I came home to the USA. I stepped off the plane into a world where all the airport announcements were in English, and felt a startling sense of loss. For one thing, it was far too hot. I still disliked the cold, but now I couldn’t tolerate the heat. And the Swedish was gone. Suddenly, being able to understand everything going on felt vastly overrated. Once at home, my mother asked me how much I wanted to eat, after my long trip. I hesitated for a moment.

“Well mom, in Swedish, they say lagom….�