Kun Dansk --> Only Danish

For the past eight days I launched myself into the impending torture of kidding myself into thinking that for the next three weeks and possible month I was going to speak Danish and Danish only. Kun Dansk. Boy was I wrong. Day one was interesting, tiring and fun to say the least. The trill of pointing and making vigorous motions this way and that to try to convey my un-mutterable thoughts. I truly felt like a complete mute. The day past and new ones began. My frustration levels topped charts and exceeded limits. I couldn’t say what I wanted to say and by the time I had figured out how to say what I wanted to say I had completely forgot the conversation all together. My sentences were short and not so sweet. My thoughts raged in my head, just begging to be said.

Needless to say I broke down. Not being able to say anything and having not a single clue what people were saying to me was crushing - a blow to the gut. Humans were ment to be socialable creatures, even the most secluded ones. The depression sank in and never in my life have I ever wanted to just curl up in a cave and stare into nothingness for eternity. Sounds bad doesn’t it? 13½ hours of sleep later and I can’t believe that was my week. I can’t believe it even happened and that that was me; so distant and lost, fighting for nothing.

Being an exchange student in Denmark and probably any other cold-region country is extremely hard. The people are naturally colder towards foreigners and treat us like just any other person. Well that’s what we wanted, right?, just to be treated like every other person and not to be so different. It’s not quite the same though. It only means that you truly have to fight for what you want: fight to be heard, to be included, to seriously, no shit, take the initiative to do something. When all you want to do is hovel in your room with a box of Special K, you have to make yourself get up and do something, anything. No one wants to be the girl eating lunch along and quietly because her morals say don't intrupt the people talking around her especially when she probably won't even understand anyway.

I tend to think now that the only way to go is the busy way: life in the fast lane. This and that, here and there. It distracts the mind, keeps the body moving. And then somewhere along that fast lane we pass by the dark exits and meander our way towards the light. Each person’s dark exits and lights are different, but I the end we all make it to the understanding and happiness that is meant to be reached in this upside down and backwards world we shoved ourselves into.

The life of an exchange student is filled with thrills and spills. It’s not for the faint at heart or the wimpy bimbos on Third Street. No, we exchange students are made of this tough skin that lets us do the thing called survive in some of the most hostile seeming places on this earth.