Studying abroad is a fast-paced, almost manic experience. The standards you set for yourself are different in Denmark. They are for me, at least. At home in Michigan, my day is busy if I do one big thing. It’s successful if I enjoy it. In Copenhagen, my the business and success of my day are the same — I’m doing something from the moment I leave the house to the moment I return.
I think that’s good and bad. It motivates me to make the most out of time here. I make sure to get everything possible out of this perfect city while I’m here. It also puts me in a terrible scarcity mindset, focusing on how little time I have left, how little I’ll be able to check off my to-do list.
I talked about balance in my first blog post, Two Days in the Life. In retrospect, I was naive. I wrote that I had not only thought about a balanced life in Denmark but had it figured out. I was just wrong — I hadn’t figured out the proper balance. With just over two weeks left, it’s clear that I simply won’t. I still define a day’s success by how much I did, and I still feel guilty about the lazy days.
With all that being said, I’m not writing this blog post to be gloomy! This post is about appreciation, and it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now. I want to give myself an intentional moment writing to reminisce on a few of the quiet moments in Copenhagen — the wholly unremarkable moments in which I felt perfectly content.
I was interrupted while writing this by my host dad, who turned on the USA vs. Iran game. I’m not a big soccer fan, but in that moment both of us were hunched over the edges of our seats, grinning and grimacing at the American players. I felt connected the US and Denmark simultaneously, a feeling that’s been rare in my 3+ plus months here. That moment, unintentional and fleeting, is one I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.
Every once in a while, as I’m working a coffee shop or library, I’ll look up from my assignment and be altogether stunned by the enormity of what I’m doing and where I am. I’m just typing away and it hits me — I’m in Copenhagen. I have lived nearly 15 weeks in a foreign country. I am living with a family I did not know 16 weeks ago.
What really makes me emotional in these moments, though, is the knowledge that however hard it was to leave for this experience, it will be altogether more painful and difficult to return home.
When I met my host brother, August, at the airport in (appropriately enough) August, he said nothing to me. Now, when he gets home from soccer practice, I’m greeted with a hug that would put a bear to shame. I’m treated to two incessant, wonderful hours of talking, reviewing the same 15 Pokemon cards, Lego playtime with frequent dance breaks to Michael Jackson and Christmas songs. My relationship with August is a simple, inadvertent one, but it has fully changed my life.
When I think about the most beautiful quiet moments, it’s these. Moments that simply wouldn’t matter at home take on a new significance here. There are many more, but none more important than these, I think. I’ll end with some pictures representing many of the other quiet moments.
