I HAVE never experienced any form of discrimination in Iceland, no the Icelanders are too polite for that. They are straightforward folk with the highest birth rate in Northern Europe who are open-minded enough not to refuse same gender unions. Screw the moralists, so they say.
Of course, there is no discrimination in Iceland. My employer and labor union are both scrupulous about following wage laws. In fact, my employer has tried to make me a permanent employee but was refused by the Utlendigastofnun (Bureau of Immigration). Never mind that I try to be a goofy good worker and actually employed before I arrived.
Who says Icelanders are intolerant? In an effort to help me adjust, I have been made to understand that learning the language is vital and because of this, my employer has paid for Icelandic language courses that I truly need to take. I go to work feeling guilty for explaining myself in the language I know best. I say to myself that sounding ignorant is a temporary thing (3 years being the time needed to grasp the language…yes, not learn it in its entirety). It is a sink or swim proposition when it comes to understanding Icelandic.
How can there be discrimination in Iceland? Laws are passed and a minister appointed to oversee immigrant concerns. There is even a cultural center that provides translator services, immigrant activities (heck, there is even a bingo night), a multilingual magazine even an in-house lawyer. At the moment, I am even attending a course called The Settler’s School. It has advanced Icelandic, an introductory computer course, some Icelandic history, geography, a couple of visits to the library, a token hello to the big dogs at the Alþingi (we are supposed to be suitably impressed) and of course, a night at the theatre. The computer course is sooo much fun. They are teaching us how to use Word, how to do an internet search (you just have to use Google Iceland) and other sundry stuff that are IMPORTANT. I am told that I am in the wrong course because I probably know too much about MS Word. I think not. There is no other course that will teach me something about Iceland. I am in the curious netherworld of wanting to improve myself at work but cannot because all the courses are in Icelandic and I know only enough to function. Repeat: It’s a sink or swim thing.
I am getting used to being part of a minority. The brown-skinned group from that part of the world called Asia. I have learned to ignore the pained face of that snot-nosed kid who sees a different face in the checkout counter. No darling, I whisper to myself, you don’t need to speak Filipino.
And yes, there is no discrimination in Iceland. The only time I remember something resembling such was a snide aside strangely enough made by another foreigner trimming hedges. He mockingly called out to me in fake Chinese. It sadly negated the beauty of his blue black skin. Funny boy, so proud of his ignorance. It did not even remotely sound like the literary rhythm I learned to love in China.
No complaints really from my end. People like me are “new” to this part of the world. How I live is different and anything different is a scary thing. You need to learn to harden your heart against the beauty of this land.
Loving an Icelander is also not an option. Otherwise, you will have to stay and know in your soul of souls that your children will also see the pained face of that snot nosed kid in the checkout counter.
Once more, there is no discrimination in Iceland. In fact, it is the happiest country in the world.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Is there discrimination in Iceland?
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Firecracker frenzy on New Year's Eve
It's almost 3 in the morning here in Reykjavik and people have not yet recovered from the fireworks frenzy. I still see occasional flashes of man-made stars lighting up the dark Nordic sky. New Year's Eve has just passed and if you were to follow Chinese belief, then all evil spirits have been chased out of Iceland.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
I've become a teetotaler and it horrifies
It seems that winter celebrations have skipped me. There is no Christmasy feeling, no forgotten gifts for godchildren to be guilty about, no family arguments (just an antsy ex-significant other who rues the day he was born), no slaving over a hot stove, no styling a Noche Buena table for unappreciative siblings and HORRORS...nary a drop of alcohol passed these lips!
(picture shows me with my last glass eons ago)
I never noticed it though. Sorta came on me like an unseen visitor, this teetotaling thing. Why forsake the sensuous delights of that slight buzz and the frenzy of flirting that usually followed? I cannot for the love of _____ (insert preferred name) fathom how this situation came to be!
Back in the motherland, after knocking off from work and just before heading home it was truly easy to convince another weak soul to stop by for a beer or two and maybe start another pointless conversation. Fridays were de rigueur "gather ye all with pretensions to intelligence" assemblies and if you have a mind for it, sashay your way to the VIP lounges of so-called hot bars just right after midnight. Not to forget paydays (every 15th and 30th), where everyone forgets that tomorrow is the first of a long month and crispy pata becomes the pulutan of choice (food that you eat with alcohol because yes, we Filipinos have a whole range of drinking cuisine). So, how is it different today?
Sadly, I can count the ways but it all boils down to this: In this amazing country I live and work in, I ain't got any drinking friends honey and yes, I no longer socialize. It's just as well, I am embarassed to confess that yes, I am feeling the aches and pains of growing mature (of course it's not called aging...oh no, not yet). One beer is too many and just that little extra sip of white wine is bound to make me sleepy. You could also say that I may lack practice given that alcohol is terribly expensive in Iceland (one bottle of San Miguel beer which costs maybe 30 pesos back home is around 300 pesos) here. I did try to prowl the shelves for great buys under 1000kr, an exercise done when I was just fresh-off-boat and which proved sadly futile.
You would think that all these would change this Christmas, what with the slew of parties left and right and alcohol overflowing Christmas tables. Wrong! At this point of my language skills (and yes, it all hinges on your language skills), I have not become part of any social circle. It's hard to discover similar interests and skills, amazingly trying to laugh at half-understood jokes and downright uncomfortable to be with a crowd who chatters on non-stop in a tongue whose nuances and soul you have yet to understand. I do know that alcohol does loosen the tongue, but not when guilt at not speaking the right one ties it down. As for the foreigners who skirt the confines of Icelandic existence? They all left...at least those who started out as my friends. They did the chicken run, right after the Icelandic economy found it prudent to admit itself to the halls of Landspitala (the national university hospital). In this roundabout, self-indulgent way did I discover that woe and behold, I cannot drink alone. Red wine has to come with red meat and conversation. They call it social drinking and because I am not being "social" this means I have become a teetotaler.
Horrors!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Lusting after someone
i’d like to taste chocolate
on mornings deliciously warm
with newly baked thoughts
of me wanting to know
how chocolate tastes on you.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Translation

I will learn to say love
in the language you speak.
Hoping against hope
that there won't come a time,
when loving turns to loathing
and teach me to say so
in the languages you know.
Friday, October 31, 2008
autumn trail
It is not only you
the world moves around for.
Its urgency is not meant
for you alone.
The silences that float
move on to another.
Sometimes fast,
almost always, as slow
as the waiting
for summer days
to come again.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
So, who is really getting married?
I take it that it has been spreading around the world, this me getting married bit. Kinda, sorta started in Canada, a quick question from Ogi, an old, dear friend. Then came another tentative comment from Channie another old, dear friend living in South Africa. Mariliz in New York was a strong third and the circle turned when Emma back home in the islands screamed in wanton abandon.
So, who is really getting married?
I thought I was. Well, at least he wants to and if I said that it was time to drive to the registry and make official our half-cohabitation, he would do so with all engines running and pulling me by my hair harass the judge into submission. But, I have kept quiet really. It’s such a BIG step and my life has not been structured to survive this thing called marriage. Never thought it would be such a question. Never thought I would reach take on this roller coaster ride of indecision.
They say, you just know that he is the one for you. Well, what is that really? At what point in your life did you “just know?” Was it just after high school when the memory of your first kiss lingered in the air redolent with romance? Or, maybe after college when all things in the world seemed rosy and full of promise? Was he the one because he was someone you could bring home to mama? Or was it because he was the embodiment of your pagkabuhayan showcase (lifetime showcase).
It is a tad different now. I had my first kiss and he turned into another kind of frog. College never taught me anything useful except for giving me truly entertaining friends. As for the pangkabuhayan showcase bit, well I have learned to make my life the way I want it to be.
All I know is this. He is so much loved, by me. Fingers crossed, it maybe all that matters.

