I’ve been here a month now. It feels kinda crazy, but awesome at the same time. Time is passing SO QUICKLY. It was only on the last Sunday that I realized, after calling my family, that that day marked the one month period. There is so much that I have done here, so much that I only dreamt of, and I’ve met so many amazing people and have seen so many amazing sights. I’m quite a shy person, but what I’ve learnt so far is that, people are awesome. They are kind, welcoming, joyful- if you put yourself out there, you never know who you might find. Reflecting on what I’ve done so far is a totally different story. I’ve picked wild berries, eaten the blueberries that grow fresh and sweet in the summer time when hiking. I’ve jumped into freezing cold fjord water on a stormy day, saying to myself ‘I AM A VIKING AND I’M NOT AFRAID!’. I’ve climbed mountains on dewy mornings, seen the sky and view stretch on for miles on end, as it feels endless as I stand from the top of the mountain. I’ve danced and played with my little host sister, watching her face light up as bubbly laughing fills the room. I’ve cuddled and petted friendly neighborhood cats in the golden hour. I’ve snuggled up in a warm bed, in a cosy room of a cabin with paper-thin log walls. I’ve made a bucket list with a friend, joking and laughing and feeling so comfortable and light. I’ve walked for kilometres, letting the soft breeze, morning sun, seagulls and crash of the waves drown out my homesickness and replace it with something kinder, something softer on myself. I’ve walked to school through forest paths and across small bridges that sit over streams. I’ve felt myself get stronger as I bike ride further each day, claiming each hill as one that I have succeeded over. I’ve run across rocks, heart thumping and feet light, stopping as my host parents and friends call me over as they find mushrooms for dinner. They teach about the food of the forest- berries not to eat, mushrooms that are dangerous, what to avoid. I’ve felt myself get warm, and walls fall further down as I sit by a bonfire, or in a chair on the deck, admiring the skyline, lit up with so many warm lights and night life vibes. I’ve found an abandoned hunting cabin high up, deep in the forests on the mountain. I’ve yelled my dismay over a video game as my friend shares my reaction. I’ve been on the back of a motorbike to her house, laughing inside, smiling on the outside as it feels so free to be on it, I’ve danced to ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ with her up to her house. I’ve met Norwegian horses, had a beautiful pony sniff and nudge against me before retreating back to the big, open field. I’ve had wind blow in my hair, sun shine on my face, and rain pelt down as I watch from inside. There is so much loudness; the yelling of my little host sister, the deep thrumming of music on Fridays in the canteen, the snorting laughter as my friend tries (and fails) to get a spider out of the room, the singing of my host parents and their joking as I join in, the rain at night, the steady loudness of the shower as I wash off salt sea-water from another jump into the fjord coast, the conversations of friends- both mine and family friends. There is so much. There is wonder- at the squirrels that scurry up trees, at foxes that bound across roads, at the sunlight as it dazzles through the leaves, at the echoing of our voices through the valley in our secluded cabin. There is so much, and so much more. Here’s to one month!
