strange

Hello everyone...



yesterday I had my first day in language school. I was of course a little nervous, I guess my very bad sense of direction might be the reason for of it :-) No, seriously, there must be something wrong with me.



So I sat in the bus and the closer we came to the "PCVO moderne tale"- centre, the more people with grey bags with these words printed on it were there. At the station were I need to get out, there were just the "anderstaligen" (Anderssprechende), as it says on my book, in the bus. The "anderstaligen" with headscarf or dark teint. I felt helpless but at least I was not the only one who can't even ask the bus driver in dutch where to get out. Because I speak english fluently, I have never really realized how much a proper comunication has to do with feeling home. I mean, these little daily conversations at the bus stop, in the bank, with the neighbour which name you always forget.

As I finally found my class and a seat in the very crowded room (kinda odysee til I arrived there) we learned these little basic sentences like "Whats your name?" (Hoe heet jij?) and stuff like that. Thanks to my hostdad and privat teacher Fons it was very easy to follow and I had time to think about the people partcipating in this course.
One girl, Fatima, came from Marroko. She is not much older than me and lived already in Spain and Germany. Now she tries here to settle down for the third time.
Koshima, my neighbour, is from Japan. She is already married. Maybe fifty percent of the girls in class are already married.
Fatima said, the people are cold here and not really open. I havent experienced that way, to me everyone here is very friendly. Probably because of my english, that sounds so western. -
Fatima, everytime she comes in class, says good morning, is laughing, makes the atmosphere friendlier, not so "strange". When the day is cloudy and grey she says: Oh, we are lucky, it is still not that cold.
I admire the people in my class. They are leaving home, trying to settle down. Of course, some really integrate, some not. The whole immigration debate. But now I see another point in this whole immigration topic, since I am a stranger myself: It is brave leaving home. It is difficult. Fatima is still optimistic, every morning.

Yesterday I felt like a stranger here, "lost" kind of. Everytime I say a word others know, she is not from here. It is a strange sensation not to be part of something, whatever it might be.

I took the wrong bus then. Again I was lost. Across from me sat a handicapped (?) man. He was mute (stumm). And then he started to talk to me by gesticulation with his hands. He recommended the market in Hasselt, the jeans are pretty cheap but good, told me when the fair starts, because we saw the roller coasters. He also made fun of these arrogant BMW-drivers and we spoke about food. Without words. No dutch, no german, no english, no arabic, nothing. I didn't feel strange anymore.
I took the right bus, I think.

Today I was very positive finding my way. I am not lost anymore. I just take the wrong bus, walk the wrong way. I think being lost has nothing to do with the sense of direction. It is an attitude.

Thanks to Fatima and the man in the bus.