American visits Europe for the first time and can't shut up about it
Blog - Classic American study abroad-er
If you’ve seen even one of my many, many, many posts in the last month, you know that I studied abroad in Copenhagen, Denmark for the month of June. Believe me, I’m aware that I’m reaching the border of being deemed as the girl who went to Europe once and now won’t shut up about it. In an effort to avoid just that, I’m condensing everything here: ruminated lessons, interesting observations, and funny stories.
A list of initial shocks that I’ve gotten used to:
One bathroom for all genders - casually in a stall next to someone peeing while standing up
Speaking of bathrooms, surprisingly clean ones
Paying extra for ice and water. If you want to save money, just buy beer instead
Speaking of drinks, everything is hot. And the average price of a small coffee is $7
High culture of trust, shown by numerous unattended babies in strollers on the street
Speaking of trust…
Subway Surfers in real life
In Denmark, and most of the Scandinavian countries for that matter, you don’t technically have to pay to use the bus, train, or metro. I say technically because there’s nothing physically stopping you from entering without paying, such as a turnstile in New York. However, occasionally someone will check everyone on the vehicle’s ticket or card history!
Now, I’m a law-abiding citizen, and I always pay on the metro. (I’m on the metro traveling for longer distances, so the chance I’ll get checked increases.) Perhaps, one day, I simply forgot to swipe in on the bus. (I rode this route four times before and was never checked, and I wanted to save money.) I would never get off at an early stop to avoid the ticket checker. (I didn’t see him coming, and the back door didn’t open.)
Long story short, I got a $150 USD (1,000 DKK) fine and minor PTSD for not swiping my card on the bus. The good news is that acting confused for ten minutes paid off because he let us go for not being Danish.
In reality, what did they expect from a few American university students? I can’t afford to spend $5 on public transportation because I’m saving that $5 to pay for half of my next coffee.
I’m exactly like other girls
Conformity is an interesting phenomenon. After only one week, I found myself changing a few things. My outfits consisted mainly of beige, blue, and white. I got rid of my flat, “valley girl” vocal tone and swapped it for a more “tall-vowel” tone. The funniest part about all of this is that if you weren’t with me, you’ll never see it! After a couple days, I’ll undoubtedly be back to my “normal”, American, t-shirt and shorts wearing self.
On a more serious note regarding the environment, I largely took for granted the diversity in the US. Sure, I’ve had a couple of racist interactions with strangers I’ll never see again, but surprisingly, those didn’t make me feel as bad as how I felt when I walked into a place and only saw blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls. To clarify, a lack of diversity in Denmark isn’t the same as a lack of diversity in the US. I recognize that my feelings of internal insecurity when I’m a guest in a country of ethnic homogeneity are nothing but just that. Then, why can’t I ignore them?
I can feel time moving
Last winter when I first returned back to my Houston suburb after a couple months at my big city university, I criticized it for its stagnation.
It feels like nothing except me has even changed!
My older brother, who I expected had felt this familiar scene three times as often as me, felt differently.
You’re assuming everyone changes at the same level as you. Sure, you go through college and experience change on a fast-paced level, but people change anywhere, just at different speeds.
He’s right. I hate when he’s right. You know when a time period has felt long and short at the same time? That’s how this past month has felt to me. I probably broke my personal record for trying new things last month, so that can describe the extent of how much I’ve changed. But somehow, with every new business I don’t recognize and construction detours I have to get used to, I feel like this stupid suburban town has changed more than me.
Here’s a non-exhaustive list of changes I’ve noticed just in my house:
A new rocking chair occupies our backyard patio
An old childhood table is painted blue
A new pair of sneakers sit by the door
The flowers in the vase are different
The sofa has a new cover, untarnished
My brother plays four new songs on the piano
Are these testaments to change or just my mom doing interior upgrades when she’s bored? Both, maybe.
A couple of questions I have and both can’t and won’t answer:
If I feel like a stranger in my own home, is it actually home then?
Is home my townhouse style room built in the 18th century back in Denmark?
Is anything ever home, or is it just a place that you live at for so long that it becomes familiar?
Isn’t that the point of a home though?
Am I at the age now when I come back home, and I admire the things in a room that I’ll call “my childhood bedroom” to strangers?
Where did my mom move the stuff on my desk to?
What’s on the other side of the peak?
Lots of questions in this post. Here’s another big one:
What do you do after you peak?
I know, we all use the phrase, “you peaked”, jokingly when a friend says they miss high school or someone remarks about a silly accomplishment. But in all seriousness, like seriously, now what? I’m serious!
I wouldn’t say that I peaked during my study abroad, but I did frequently wonder how I was supposed to return back to a dry, hot Houston SUBURB after living in the second most livable city in the world. Change is only scary when you know it’s coming.
I thought about this a lot when in the Norwegian fjords, seeing sights I never thought I would see. The sky still bright at midnight, snow caps nestled between mountain villages, and solid teal water exposing jellyfish to the surface level. Ah yes, the classic American teen who studies abroad in Europe is having her coming of age moment. Yet, in the midst of all the excitement, exhilaration, and uncertainty, I couldn’t help but wonder: how am I supposed to go home now?
Maybe you don’t just go home. Maybe we’re meant to sit with the uncomfortableness of being still, and moments like those are meant to make you more appreciative of all of life, whether you’re surrounded by fjords or sixteen-lane highways.
I guess just don’t think about it? You shouldn’t compare moments in your life to others’, so maybe that same rule should apply to other moments that are yours. They’re all yours anyway.
Or maybe I’m just searching for an answer that sounds good enough.
Revelations, not the last book in the Bible, but the ones I think I need to be having
Someone asked me to be more open about experiences when I returned home, and I got defensive because I wanted to be the one that decided that because I’m the one having a once in a lifetime experience and because I’m the one who’s supposed to learn that in a major life revelation. (That one’s on me, I’ll admit.)
When visiting from Scotland, my friends Gabi and Nysa asked me what major life revelations I’d had, and I didn’t really know what to say. I said two things, but I’m not sure they qualify as revelations, just moments. If you’re curious, I said biking in Copenhagen over a bridge at sunset and reaching the top of a glacier in Norway after a lot of struggling.
I’ve since learned that lessons don’t only come in the form of major life revelations, and I’m okay with just experiencing things to experience them.
I think I was just under internal pressure to have a major life revelation at least once a day to justify taking two blowoff classes in a different country for roughly $10k.
Mom! I am studying on the study abroad!
The last and maybe most important lesson I learned is one that I didn’t learn while on the beach in Copenhagen, on a train riding across an underwater bridge to Sweden, or even on top of a glacier in Norway. It’s one that I learned while sitting at a desk in my classroom.
And they said you don’t learn anything in class during a study abroad!
In our organizational behavior class, we spent a lot of time talking about values. There’s this persistent debate about what the role of work should be in one’s life.
One side believes that work is only a means to make money, enabling you to do what you want to do more. Thus, it’s okay to sacrifice, even suffer, a little bit at work.
The other side believes that you should do what you love and love what you do. Idealistic, I agree, but an argument for following your passions.
Shockingly, I’m not here to convince you of one side, but I will disclose that I believe in the latter. My limited time in another country, trying new things, alone, has been so precious, and in a scurry to make every second worth it, I realized that my life isn’t characterized by my free time. It’s characterized by the entire time I’m here on this earth — every second I breathe, every place I go, and every thing I do (work and all). As dramatic as it sounds, I don’t think I can be content with only being barely satisfied with whatever predicament I’m in.
My advice is to find out what you value and don’t settle for anything less in life. Here’s a short list of the new things I discovered I value (unrelated to work, but also, isn’t everything always related to work somehow?):
Someone waiting for me when I fall behind
My friends letting me try their drink first because they know I don’t like sharing straws
Dressing up a little bit each day
Talking to strangers
Recycling every bit possible
Waving to babies on the street when they stare at me
Goodbye! Or in Danish, hej hej!
If you read all of that, mange tak (thank you very much). I know this topic is a little less relatable, a little more niche, and a little bit more uninteresting to everyone except me, but writing this has helped me process my own swarm of emotions.
And hey, if I got a blog post out of it, then I guess I got my money’s worth.
