I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat as I near the building. According to the crumpled piece of paper in my fist, my classroom is somewhere in this building. A45 – but the number means nothing to me. I don't even know which floor the room is on.

At the entrance, I almost hesitate. But I can't, because there are people heading for the doors, too, from behind me. I'd be in the way if I stopped. So I reach out and push into the building.

And then I really do have to stop, because I have no idea where to go next.

The students right behind push past me to head down the corridor. I stare after them, pursing up my lips. If only I were more like them. Self-assured; completely certain of where to go.

Then I blow out a long breath, feeling a lock of hair flip against my cheek at the action. Okay. I can't stand here forever. I need to start moving, too, so that I can find my classroom. I swivel my head to the left, then back to the right. There are students heading in both directions, so that tells me nothing. I have to choose.

Right, I decide. Because I need something to go right for once.

Decision made, I turn on my heel to head down the long hallway.

I walk past room after room, barely pausing enough to glance at the numbers printed on the doors. After the first two rooms, this much is obvious – I'm walking in the wrong direction. But I press on, because to turn around now would seem stupid. Anyway, I know this corridor loops back around. I'll get to where I need to go. It's just going to take a longer time than it should have, that's all.

The hallway is completely empty by the time I catch sight of the golden embossed 'A45' on the nearest door. Okay. This is the classroom I'm supposed to be in.

If I'd taken a left at the start, it would've been the second room I'd come across. As usual, I've made the wrong decision.

Then I shake my head. No more negativity. I'm here as the first step in turning my life around. But my footsteps, instead of quickening, slow to a drag against the squeaky floor.

Class has started. I'm late. What kind of impression is this going to make, being late on my first day?

Well, better late than never – isn't that what they say? I take a deep breath and step through the doorway. And immediately cringe as multiple pairs of eyes swivel over to fix in my direction.

How did they all get to class so quickly? I find myself wondering, as I take in the textbooks lying on the tables before each person. Isn't this their first day, too? Didn't they have to search for the classroom, too? How did they all manage to find it without any problems?

"Hallo," I whisper, as I meet the curious gaze of the teacher, who has stopped mid-sentence to watch my entrance with the rest of the class.

She smiles at me. "Hei," she says.

Hei. Of course. How could I have forgotten? People don't say hallo here, they say hei. Or one of the other variations of hello that have never come quite so naturally to me.

"Hei," I mumble, looking briefly down onto the floor. "Ehm... Anteeksi..." And then I am left biting my lip, because I don't know how to continue this sentence. I look up and see that they're all still staring at me. Almost instinctively, my feet start to shuffle backwards, before I forcibly plant them onto the carpet and clear my throat. My face feels hot. My neck is starting to freeze up again. I need to finish this and find a seat as quickly as possible, so that they all stop staring.

The teacher apparently takes pity on me. "This is the beginner's class. Are you in the class?"

"Ja," I say, only to clamp my mouth shut when I realise I've pronounced the word the German way. In Finland, it's jo. Ja, over here, means 'and'.

Damn it.

The teacher is smiling at me again, the corners of her dark brown eyes crinkling at the action. She must be – what – mid-thirties at the most, and this bright smile makes her look younger still. "Mikä sinun nimesi on? What's your name?"

"Emilie... Emilie Hoffmann," I say, my voice petering out on my last name.

"Hauska tavata, Emilie. Nimeni on Elina. I'm teaching this class." Then she gestures to the room at large. "Tervetuloa. Take a seat."

I blink a couple times before my feet start moving again. Ducking my head, I avoid the stares still following me and zero-in on one of the seats towards the back of the haphazard round circle that the desks are arranged in.

There is a sign tacked onto a corner of the wall. The words on the sign are simple enough. But even if I hadn't guessed what they meant at first sight, there's also an illustration on the sign – a little speech bubble with the word English in it, covered by a large red X – that more than adequately reveals the meaning behind the words.

No English.

But what if I want to express something that I don't yet know the Finnish words for? If I can't use English... Do I stay quiet instead?

The acidic feeling bubbling in the pit of my stomach sours even more.

Elina has already turned back to the rest of the class, and I quickly take my seat to avoid more attention than necessary. As I pull my chair in, the pretty blonde on my right smiles at me. It takes me a moment before I manage to stretch my lips back at her. Then I look quickly away, because that felt more like a grimace than a smile.

I curl my lip at myself. Why are you so awkward, Emi?

I sneak another peek sideways, and see that the girl has her eyes downcast, her brows slightly furrowed. Shit. Maybe she already dislikes me. Maybe she's already regretting trying to be friendly towards me.

Great. Barely five minutes in, and I've already alienated a potential friend.

"Okay, I know that Finnish is said to be one of the hardest languages to learn," Elina is saying as I slide my textbook onto the table while simultaneously trying to lower my bag onto the ground without making any noise. "But, as we Finns say..." And then she says something in quick Finnish that I don't catch.

It seems, though, that I am the only one, because the class breaks out into laughter. I blink, and crack a smile.

What does that mean? Why is it funny?

Elina laughs too. "I see you all understand a bit of the Finnish culture," she says. "And now I have to stop speaking in English, because this is a Finnish class, not an English class."

I fiddle with the corner of my book, accidentally crushing the material between my fingers. I try to smooth it out, but it's too late – a unerasable crease has already formed on the paperback cover. I frown at it. I'm not much of a stickler regarding the conditions of my books.I'm so reckless with them that they always end up slightly crumpled anyway, but something feels ominous about wrecking my Finnish textbook within the first few moments of class.

True to her words, Elina has switched to speaking fully in Finnish. But she's speaking slowly, enunciating every syllable carefully, so that we can understand – or at least try to.

Even so, I have to concentrate very hard to catch every word.

She's speaking in slow Finnish, but I have no idea what she's saying. Then she gestures at someone near the front. "Hei. What's your name?" It's the same phrase she used on me.

The student, a man looking to be in his late forties, sits up and launches into his self-introduction speech. "Hei. Nimeni on Ludo. Olen kotoisin Italiasta. Hauska tavata..." As he continues, I can feel my head spinning.

Self-introductions. Something I have never been good at – not even in my native language. And now I have to do it in Finnish?

The man called Ludo finally stops talking and sits back in his seat, apparently done with his speech. Elina asks him a few more questions, but I'm not listening. My mind is in a whirl, trying to piece together the words that I will have to say.

Three more people. Three more people before my turn.

Next up is a woman probably not much older than me. The moment Ludo is done, she launches into her own speech. I've heard Aksel speak in Finnish enough to know that her rhythm of the language is a little off, but other than that, she sounds good. She is good. She is better than I am.

Is this really a beginner's class? Where have these people come from? How long have they been in Finland? Why do they all already speak such good Finnish?

All too soon it's my turn, and I am embarrassed. "I..." Then I have to bite back my words, because I'm using the wrong language. This happens a lot – when I'm trying to think of something in Finnish, my mind appears to automatically switch to English instead. Maybe it's because English is my second language. I've read somewhere that all your foreign languages are stored in the same part of your brain, apart from your native language, which results in this occasional confusion.

I clear my throat and try again. "Minä olen Emilie... Äh... Olen kotoisin..." Great, what is the Finnish word for Germany? Tysk...? No – that's Swedish, isn't it? In Finnish it's something else. Aksel and I have talked about it. Back when he was picking me up from the airport.

Minä olen kaivannut sinua, I had said to him. I have missed you. And he had stopped the car and leaned over to kiss me...

Saksa. It comes to me with a jolt now. Saksa. Germany in Finnish is Saksa.

Now how do I conjugate it?

"Olen kotoisin..." Everyone is staring at me, waiting for my next words. I need to give an answer soon – I've paused for too long. But I don't know how to conjugate in this damned language. You have to add something behind, I know, but I cannot for the life of me remember what. "Germany," I say finally. Even though I have remembered the Finnish word for my country. But I don't want to conjugate it wrong. "I'm from Germany."

"Saksasta," Elina prompts me gently.

Right. "Olen kotoisin Saksasta," I mumble, looking briefly down at the tabletop. Then, out of pure habit, I look around for the requisite disbelief that this statement usually meets with. But other than a couple of raised eyebrows, sort of like in an aha moment, there is not much reaction.

There is another moment of silence, as everyone stares expectantly at me, waiting for more elaboration. My eyes dart all over the classroom, not fixing on any one particular person, before I purse up my lips and look down at my clenched hands in my lap. "Yeah, that's it."

I never know what to say during these self-introductions.

"What made you move to Finland?" Elina asks, probably to get me to talk more. I can't help but notice how she has switched to English.

I grimace. "My boyfriend is Finnish."

"Ah." She nods and smiles at me, "It's convenient for you to practise, then."

I just smile weakly.

Then, to my relief, she turns to the blonde girl beside me – the one who smiled at me when I sat down. "And you?"

"Hyvää päivää! Minun nimeni on Priscilla," the girl chirps, grinning widely. She claps her hands together, "Minä olen kotoisin Uudesta Seelannista. Hauska tutustua! Suomeen muuttaminen on aina ollut unelmani..." She prattles on in Finnish, occasionally stumbling over her words but on the whole sounding fluent enough that I have to wonder what she's doing in this class.

Besides, where was Uudesta... whatever she had said. Where is she from?

I sink a little lower into my seat.

These people really like the language. They really want to learn the language. They already have learnt the language.

I mean – I do, too. Of course I want to learn Aksel's language. But, to be honest, it's not a language I would've decided to learn on my own. If not for Aksel, I would never have thought to learn Finnish, to move to Finland.

And here, in this class, surrounded by people who really seem to enjoy living in Finland, who know more about Finnish culture than I do, even though I've been living with a Finn for the past two months, I feel like a complete fraud.