Am I Loud? Or Is Your Culture Just Quiet?
I love people from Finland. I realized that I haven’t written anything about Finland for a good long while, which may be a good thing to those uninterested in a country and people who could, but for their language, be mistaken very easily for Canadians (Finns and Canucks share two primary focal points in life: Beer and Hockey. And Socialized Medicine. And Moose.), but it’s bad for the other four people who read this blog and happen to love all things Suomi. Lucky for me, Finland landed on me this past weekend.
A couple of Finnish women who live in Utah were staying with us while they were in the area to renew their passports at the Finnish consulate in Los Angeles. I am no stranger to Finnish culture–I lived in Finland for two years as a missionary, my DW is a Finn, and we only speak Finnish to each other the kids. In other words, I think of our family as more or less a Finnish family with American parts. However, having a couple of other Finns around the house for a few days reminded me how easily I forget about elements of that culture which are less obvious when only one Finn (my DW) is present.
If you’ve never been in the company of Finns, then you do not understand how truly silent a room can be. I remember actually making the argument to one of my companions when I was a Mormon missionary that the silent nature of Finnish people was a bigger barrier to missionaries learning the language than the ridiculously complex (yet oddly consistent) grammar could ever dream of being. After all, how could you possibly learn a language if you never got a chance to speak with people? I remember sitting around the dinner table with the locals in complete silence while everyone ate. I remember asking questions during discussions with investigators and having to wait through two, three, or even four minutes of silent consideration before the Finn would give a terse reply and revert to quiet staring. At times, the silent nature of Finns would result in horribly awkward moments, but after a while you just kind of get used to it.
Somehow, I had forgotten about this until two nights ago at dinner:
Finnish Women: (silence, chewing food)
Me: So…
Finnish Women: (silence, chewing food)
Me: Hrmm…
Finnish Women: (silence, chewing food)
Me: Seriously…is anyone going to say anything at all during this meal?
Finnish Women: (silence, chewing food)
And so it went for the next couple of days. This got me thinking about what other peoples/countries are loud or quiet in general. Some quick searching on Google will make painfully clear how loud Americans are generally considered to be–in the event that you’ve never had the wonderful horrifying experience of witnessing an American tourist in a foreign country, which is, truly, a sight to behold. Surprisingly, though, I couldn’t find any information about other countries. Are there only two possibilities out there–American and reserved? I can’t believe that’s the case, but I don’t have much information to the contrary.
If you’ve travelled much, what is the most reserved culture you’ve ever come across? What of the opposite? Does anyone out do the Americans when it comes to a need for continous, high decibel conversation?
While I can’t speak for reserved cultures, I have seen cultures even more “loud” than ourselves. The people of Colombia love talking so much they will literally ask you how you are doing five times, in five different ways, before the conversation even gets going. Adding ever-present alcohol only makes the conversation louder.
I agree with your sentiments about the quiet nature of Finns, and how it sometimes drove you crazy, so you can imagine my surprise when you married a Finn!
I also recall wandering the markets in Helsinki when the ships had brought in the tourists. It was not difficult to pick out the Americans, even if I hadn’t been one myself.
I thought American’s were loud, until I was on a train from Kajaani to Tampere. This car was packed with Russians who were extremely loud and boisterous. Maybe they were a little plastered, maybe not. It was just a shocking contrast after many trips in which I was surrounded by Finns but never heard anyone speak except for the conductor coming to check my ticket.
While on a Baha’i pilgrimage to Israel in 2005 there were several Finnish Baha’is in the group. One couple was a Persian Baha’i born in Finland with a Finnish wife. Persians love to talk even more than Americans. I wonder how the Finnish wife gets on with her Persian in-laws. As a point of interest, I became a Baha’i in Salt Lake City.
Okay, so we’ve got 3 more votes now: Colombians, Russians, and, and Persians.
Newton–You should have seen MY surprise when I married a Finn!
Harlan–Always great to have a Baha’i in the crowd. What kind of presence does the Baha’i Faith have in SLC?
You might be on to something with the theory of the culture becoming a stumbling block for learning the language. Brasilians are not very quiet people, which proved well for me learning Portuguese.
Dallin,
I said that kind of off-handedly in my post, but I was actually quite serious about it when I was a missionary. For reasons beyond my own understanding, I did not struggle to learn Finnish–it was honestly just a game to me, and I often felt like I already knew Finnish, but had just forgotten it and was now being reminded.
However, for many, many missionaries, the language just simply never came–at least not in a way that is comparable to the way missionaries master Spanish, French, or other languages. After observing this for some time, I became convinced that a not insignificant reason was that missionaries in Finland rarely had the opportunity to speak–no investigators, no conversations at the door, and even in members’ homes, the conversation was always limited by cultural differences. These differences were compounded by the fact that there was also a language barrier, and thus you had a self-reinforcing problem.
One of the “policies” that I advocated as a missionary, and would still suggest that any missionary going to Finland do this, is to spend a RIDICULOUS amount of time “teaching” members–offering to teach the discussions to actives, less-actives, or anyone else who will listen on a regular basis–not just so that you can become familiar with the members and help them do missionary work, but so that you could actually learn to speak–and more importantly, teach–in Finnish.
The Spirit is what converts–we can all agree on that. But presentation DOES matter, and a reasonable mastery of the language can greatly help in that regard. Where cultural barriers restrict the ability of missionaries to learn languages, creative approaches must be employed.
*adds Finland to his list of places to consider moving too*
I love the idea of being able to eat in silence. People will get offended if you do it here.
Well played, Andrew.
Harlan,
I should have pointed out in my earlier comment that I actually posted a couple of weeks ago on a Baha’i related topic here.
Scott,
I live in central California and haven’t lived in Utah since 1964, so I don’t know the statistics for Baha’is living there now. When I became a Baha’i in 1961 there were about 64 Baha’is in Utah. I’m sure there are many more now. The Baha’is in the U.S. are now 16 times more than there were in 1961. I really enjoyed living in Utah. Religion was always an okay topic and people were always courteous. My LDS friends were surprised, to say the least, when I told them I’d become a Baha’i. Ba..what?
Hah! You might be right. But don’t you remember our dinner’s when you visited us? We spoke all the time. We’re not that quiet. At least i’m not