I arrived home exactly two weeks ago yesterday, after a two-week
vacation in northern Italy. It is really the strangest, most surreal feeling to
wake up one morning in Milan, then go to sleep that night in Pennsylvania. A friend I met during the Erasmus trip to
Finland recently posted a quote that states, “Exchange isn’t a year in your
life, it’s a life in a year. “ How true. There were lots of ups and downs,
moments I felt on top of the world, and moments when I was definitely the bug
on the windshield. But what an adventure! What wonderful friends I have made,
interesting things I have learned, beautiful places I have seen, and amazing
happenings of which I have been a part!
Saying goodbye to my life in Copenhagen: to be living it one
day and then to have it abruptly end, is very hard. I know that I can always go
back, whether it be to visit or to live. But I will never have the same Fulbright
experience again, and that has been a hard thing to come to terms with over the
past few weeks. I think that the worst part was having my goodbyes drawn out,
as friends continued leave at different times. The Copenhagen I said goodbye to
on July 1st was not the same Copenhagen of June 1st, if
that makes any sense. It’s strange to be already missing a place while you’re
still there!
So on July 1st, I stuffed this past year into two
suitcases, a duffel, and a backpack (Yeah, yeah, I KNOW, I’m an overpacker! But, I did a fair amount of traveling to colder climes, and parkas are
not light). They were then very generously carried down three flights of
stairs at 6:30 AM by my flatmate Georgi, because he is a gentleman and also
because doing so would have probably given me a hernia.
Terrified by the possibility that we might miss our flight
to Milano, Martina and I left for the airport an hour early, which turned out
to be a great idea. Apparently, we neglected to realize that July 1st
is the official start to holiday season in Denmark – but waiting in the baggage
drop line for SAS , which stretched from terminal 2 into terminal 3, made this
pretty clear very quickly. My DIS host
dad, Thomas, then met me at the gate with a big hug and several bottles of
water.
Up until this point, everything had been happening so fast
that morning that I hadn’t really had the time to feel sad. But sitting there, the
lone brunette in a crowd of super-blond Danes eager to escape to sunnier
climes, I realized that this would be the last time Thomas and I would comment
on the shitty Danish weather for quite a while.
Isn’t that ridiculous?! Saying goodbye makes you maudlin about the most mundane
things. I can’t believe that made me tear up, but pretty soon, the tears were
a-flowing, and the adorable Danish jellybean sitting next to me seemed pretty
disturbed by my emotional outburst. Luckily, Martina came to the rescue with my
favorite Lackagehuset pastry, and attempting to balance my 5 bottles of SAS
water in one hand kept me occupied long enough to board the plane without
bawling.
Martina’s flight home to Austria departed the evening before
mine, so I actually left for Linate two hours early the day of my flight, in
order to avoid eating breakfast alone in our cozy hostel nook. The moment that
sticks out most clearly in my mind happened in the taxi, driving past the
Navigli canals. A song came on the radio that I listened to obsessively for a
least a week straight in Copenhagen. As soon as
I heard the lyrics “where has the time gone, baby it’s all wrong,” that
was it. Sniffles and tears, bam. Yeah, I know this song is about a breakup, but
to each his/her own. My very cheery taxi
driver then decided that it was his personal goal to cheer me up, by finding
the happiest song possible and singing along to it at the top of his lungs
while swerving at high speeds around tractor trailers. The song of his choice?
Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night.” He earned his tip, oh boy did he ever.
I was relieved to finally land in JFK that evening, because
as much as I wanted to go back to Copenhagen, I was sick of living out of a
suitcase and dragging around three bags that altogether weighed more than my
total body mass. After waiting an hour in Customs and paying 5 dollars for a
luggage cart (highway robbery!), I trundled out to meet my father. Nothing could
have possibly felt better at that moment than his welcoming hug, except
possibly my bed.
So, how is it being
back in the U.S.? Weird, but a good kind of weird. Kristen’s mom, who lived in
Germany for a while, once told her that after living abroad, you’ll always feel
a bit torn between your American home and your other home. I definitely agree with
this sentiment, although it’s hard for me to express properly – mostly because
my English skills have taken a hit after a year of speaking it in a way more
easily understood by foreigners.
I almost had to leave the local Weis the other day, because
I was completely overwhelmed by its size. I couldn’t find anything! The Super
Brugsen on Borgersgade could fit inside the combined produce and deli sections
alone. I love having more variety in my shopping choices, but I
miss dark rye bread, and being able to recycle my bottles and cans for kroner
back. Driving everywhere is a pain in the butt, and my hometown needs more
sidewalks. Adjusting to living with my parents again rather than my eclectic mix
of flatmates is strange, but my bathroom at home is a HUGE improvement over the
general ickiness of SKG2’s shower stall.
And there are many things to look forward to, as well!
Reuniting with old friends and family, getting excited about AmeriCorps Cape
Cod in the fall, and wearing shorts during the summer are just a few examples
that come to mind.
An unexpected bonus? Reuniting with newer friends, too!
Yesterday, Kristen and Martin stopped by my house for a couple of hours on
their way back to NYC from Niagara Falls. It was weird to see them in a place
completely different from Copenhagen, but within 5 minutes of their arrival, it
felt just like a continuation of our
many afternoons and evenings in CPH...only Martin hadn’t fallen asleep on my
bed, and Kristen and I weren’t drinking copious amounts of Somersby. We got to
catch up on the happenings of last month, and my dad got to tell the
embarrassing stories about my childhood he rolls out for all guests. It felt
good, and it was a nice way to begin the next phase of our friendship.
Well, now that I’m not quite so distracted from blogging by
my daily adventures in the Cope, I have a few more things I would like to say
about my year and also my readjustment to the States, so let’s see if I can rise to the challenge of remembering to
update over the next few weeks! Even if no one ends up reading this
besides my parents, I think it will be a good exercise for me. Plus, there will
be food pictures from Italy! You don’t want to miss that, trust me. Vi ses!
No comments:
Post a Comment