Everyone is blond and tall. Well, not everyone of course. But during my first hours in Sweden, this was the main thing that stuck with me. I did not stand out! For the first time ever going to another country, I was not the tall, blond girl. I was a tall, blond girl. One of many.
I realised how little women I met that look like me when I was in a second hand store in Stockholm standing next to a woman that was a bit taller than me and also really blond (but not painted!). It felt strange, I felt almost ill at ease. I realised I was staring and quickly shifted my gaze towards the clothes on the rack. Walking in the street I tried to find the dark, grown-out roots that flow into blond hair. But it’s all real! The most beautiful thing about looking like the local population is being able to feel like a local. Hiking in Italy, I never felt like I belonged, although my basic italian was not bad and I had been in the country almost every year. I knew the people, the culture. But I could count the blond people on one hand, same as the tall people. Combine the two and you have only 1.
I know I have a long way to go to feel swedish, for example learning the language and suppressing the urge to run for the bus (which is no-go according to my roommates). But at least I am not one point behind before even starting. Fenna-Sweden, 0-0. Here I come.