And then I was halfway there

On August 9th at midnight, I watched my countdown on my iPod, which I had been so vicariously watching throughout the last couple months, turn to "0 days until Denmark."

I had been rotating from clock to countdown, watching the minutes as the date was yet to turn. I anxiously watched in anticipation as the clock continued to turn. At 9 I closed my computer, saving my "first night questions" document that I was yet to use in two days when the day finally came that I arrived in Denmark. At 10 I turned off the TV, the last time I'd turn off my own TV in my own living room for a year. I was halfway through a series I was so determined to finish two weeks earlier when I stupidly started it, yet to travel to a foreign country. 

10 o'clock slowly turned to 11, and I started messaging my friends on facebook. And slowly but surly, the clock creeped to the last 10 minutes of August 8th. I watched as 10 minutes slowly became five, and five slowly turned to 11:59. I laid on my bed with the white fluffy blanket that I couldn't take to Denmark with me, with my phone in one hand, and my iPod countdown in the other. I slowly waited, waited until my countdown "Days until Denmark" turned from not 1, but 0. And surly enough, the day came. 

I woke up and went about my routine, the only thing being, that all of my clothes were packed tight in two purple suitcases in the living room downstairs. I graciously gave my mom half my serving of eggs with ham, cheese, and onions (which I came to regret later that month when I had scrambled egg withdrawals), and then got up to shower. I put my hair in a bun, got out my outfit that I had set out, the only outfit that could ever go good with a navy blue blazer with multicolored pins, and then set my backpack in front of me. I shoved a bag of kit kats, a bag of goldfish, and a tray of oreos in my bag. 

And later I was off to the airport. 

And to my own shock, that day was already six months, half a year, two and half families, and many many memories ago. Whatever happened to me telling myself as I was gaining altitude in the plane on my way to Amsterdam "Your year is just getting started, you still have a whole year ahead of you! You have plenty of time." 

When I think about my first six months, what I can really think is that I'm living the life I had back home, here in Denmark. To me, that is the best way to describe it. It is not easy, nor is it strenuously hard. I have many great memories with the many special people I met, and yet I have times as well that I remember, sometimes more than I'd like to admit, where I would feel incredibly unproductive. Going from being a straight A student, to not even being able to participate in class even when you know that you could have something productive to say is frustrating. Knowing what you go home to, not home in your home country, but home in your host country, creates a balance between the days that leave you in an unproductive rut, and the days that you make you think that you're more at home in your host country than you are in your home country. In the end, this balance is what matters the most. 

Many people think exchange is "the life," is "super easy," or otherwise "a relaxing year." Granted, I definitely don't have the same stress as I did back home with my school work. When I say you leave things behind back home, if I were talking about myself, I'd say I left large amounts of school work back home. When you drop 6 hours of studying, you tend to relax a little bit more.

However there are hidden intricacies of exchange that people don't see from the outside. Many people view not being able to do school work because it is in a different language as easy. People are jealous that we have the excuse to essentially exempt us from doing our school work. I was jealous of myself last year that I simply had to wait a year to have that excuse. Now that I'm here, I'd say thats one of the intricacies of exchange. It is not fun not being able to do work. Sitting in class and not being able to do anything because you cant understand the language your teacher is speaking in gets really tedious after a while.

Switching families three times, or in some students cases four or five, is not fun. Settling in, getting to know a whole family, and then suddenly three months later having to drop everything and forget the previous family isn't always ideal. Make new relations, make new inside jokes, and create new homes. What happens if all you had before was special to you though?

In the end however, some of the more negative intricacies do help create a new perspective on yourself. After not being able to do much for the last six months, I can't help but remember when my school work was one of the paramounts in my life, and it has changed my perspective on what I think about the U.S school system. I don't want to say I like it more than the Danish system, nor vice-versa, I think they're both good school systems. However I have gained a new appreciation for what I came from- the U.S system, and have come to realize that the U.S system is not as corrupt as everyone likes to say.

Although I'm not particularly fond of having to drop everything three times to become one with three different families, I'm glad that I get to have three different families abroad, along with my one family back in the U.S. I'm not fond of the moment that I have to leave, however I quite enjoy having an abundance of things that are acutely special to me as they are as well to the families, things that others can't quite specifically relate to.

Exchange is not a trip, it is not simply "an adventure." It is taking what you have back home, leaving some of it behind, and applying the rest to a different culture, to a different language, and to three different families and their own way of life. And in doing so, you end up with some of the most special relationships with some of the most special people.

Six months ago I watched as the sun set in my own familiar surroundings, and watched Seattle get smaller and smaller, until I could see it no longer, and wouldn't for a year. I watched the sun rise again only six hours later, mid flight, which was a false friend because it was still dark outside at home. I landed in a city completely foreign to me, one I had only seen on google images. When I finally found myself sitting down to dinner in a kitchen foreign to me as well, with people who were strangers to me, yet were family together, is when I finally realized what is happening, and I will remember this forever. The only thing I could think was, and I quote "What have I gotten myself into."

The rain continued to pour outside and a year stretched on in front of me with no end.

That night, I never could have imagined that in what feels like such short time, I'd already be writing about six months in Denmark. I never could have imagined that I'd find such a family in some of the most unexpected places, and I never could have imagined that in a foreign country, it could become such a home to me, where my life leads as normal as it does back home, with some of the most extraordinary memories.  In the last six months that I've been away from the U.S, I've surly left a lot behind, however I feel as though I've gained much to remember and hold with me in return.  

So there you have it- six months abroad in a nutshell.

Vi ses! :-)