Exchange is change. Rapid, brutal, beautiful, hurtful, colourful, amazing, unexpected, overwhelming and most of all constant change. Change in lifestyle, country, language, friends, parents, houses, school, simply everything.
Exchange is realizing that everything they told you beforehand is wrong, but also right in a way.
Exchange is going from thinking you know who you are, to having no idea who you are anymore to being someone new. But not entirely new. You are still the person you were before but you jumped into that ice cold lake. You know how it feels like to be on your own. Away from home, with no one you really know. And you find out that you can actually do it.
Exchange is thinking. All the time. About everything. Thinking about those strange costumes, the strange food, the strange language. About why youâre here and not back home. About how itâs going to be like once you come back home. How that girl is going to react when you see her again. About whoâs hanging out where this weekend. At first whoâs inviting you at all. And in the end where youâre supposed to go, when youâre invited to ten different things. About how everybody at home is doing. About how stupid this whole time-zone thing is. Not only because of home, but also because the tv ads for shows keep confusing you.
Thinking about whatâs right and whatâs wrong. About how stupid or rude you just were to someone without meaning to be. About the point of all this. About the sense of life. About who you want to be, what you want to do. And about when that English essay is due, even though youâre marks donât count. About whether you should go home after school, or hang out at someoneâs place until midnight. Someone you didnât even know a few months ago. And about what the hell that guy just said.
Exchange is people. Those incredibly strange people, who look at you like youâre an alien. Those people who are too afraid to talk to you. And those people who actually talk to you. Those people who know your name, even though you have never met them. Those people, who tell you who to stay away from. Those people who talk about you behind your back, those people who make fun of your country. All those people, who arenât worth your giving a damn. Those people you ignore.
And those people who invite you to their homes. Who keep you sane. Who become your friends.
Exchange is music. New music, weird music, cool music, music you will remember all your life as the soundtrack of your exchange. Music that will make you cry because all those lyrics express exactly how you feel, so far away. Music that will make you feel like you could take on the whole world. And it is music you make. With the most amazing musicians youâve ever met. And it is site reading a thousand pages just to be part of the school band.
Exchange is uncomfortable. Itâs feeling out of place, like a fifth wheel. Itâs talking to people you donât like. Itâs trying to be nice all the time. Itâs bugs.. and bears. Itâs cold, freezing cold. Itâs homesickness, itâs awkward silence and its feeling guilty because you didnât talk to someone at home. Or feeling guilty because you missed something because you were talking on Skype.
Exchange is great. Itâs feeling the connection between you and your host parents grow. Itâs knowing in which cupboard the peanut butter is. Itâs meeting people from all over the world. Itâs having a place to stay in almost every country of the world.
Itâs cooking food from your home country and not messing up. Itâs seeing beautiful landscapes that you never knew existed.
Exchange is exchange students. The most amazing people in the whole wide world. Those people from everywhere who know exactly how you feel and those people who become your absolute best friends even though you only see most of them 3 or 4 times during your year. The people, who take almost an hour to say their final goodbyes to each other. Those people with the jackets full of pins. All over the world.
Exchange is falling in love with this amazing, wild, beautiful country. And with your home country.
Exchange is frustrating. Things you canât do, things you donât understand. Things you say, that mean the exact opposite of what you meant to say. Or even worseâŠ
Exchange is understanding.
Exchange is unbelievable.
Exchange is not a year in your life. Itâs a life in one year.
Exchange is nothing like you expected it to be, and everything you wanted it to be.
Exchange is the best year of your life so far. Without a doubt. And itâs also the worst. Without a doubt.
Exchange is something you will never forget, something that will always be a part of you. It is something no one back at home will ever truly understand.
Exchange is growing up, realizing that everybody is the same, no matter where theyâre from. That there is great people and douche bags everywhere. And that it only depends on you how good or bad your day is going to be. Or the whole year.
And it is realizing that you can be on your own, that you are an independent person. Finally. And itâs trying to explain that to your parents.
Exchange is dancing in the rain for no reason, crying without a reason, laughing at the same time. Itâs a turmoil of every emotion possible.
Exchange is everything. And exchange is something you canât understand unless youâve been through it !
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