Dear Study Abroad,
Not to be cliché, but you truly changed my life. Trust me, I’m not trying to be that girl who goes to Europe and never shuts up about it, but I kind of can’t help myself. Honestly, I wish I’d written this sooner upon returning back to the States in December, or even began writing this while still on the program, but now that I’ve gained the perspective of about two months, I believe my reflections on abroad might be even more poignant. So, as a way to honor my experience and to put all these feelings on paper, I’ve compiled my thoughts, observations, memories, realizations, and life lessons into a short and sweet journal entry all in one sitting. Where do I even begin?
Even before making the trip across the pond, I’d always known I was called to study abroad, but I wasn’t prepared for just how much I’d feel at home and in my element, almost as if I was made to experience it during my lifetime. I mean, truly, I feel like I was destined to go through the specific lessons, learnings, and transformations that I did, but prior to actually being in the thick of things those four months, studying abroad just seemed like a bucket list item, a far-fetched dream that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. That was, until I experienced it for myself and realized studying abroad is much more than a fun-filled semester-long vacation from campus life and the monotony of the day-to-day. Of course studying abroad is fun, but upon finally flying to Denmark and living the experience for myself, I realized it’s so much more complex of an undertaking than I first anticipated and that the impact it would have on me would extend far further than I could have ever imagined.
Copenhagen, with its quiet charm and impeccable bike lanes, became a city I started to appreciate in new ways every day and memorize with the passing of each different experience. Whether it was the way the sun would stretch itself out over the Baltic Sea on a Friday afternoon in August, the way 7/11 taquitos or whatever mysterious thing I decided to try from McDonald’s each night after going out would somehow taste unfathomably phenomenal, or the shared love and trust I observed the Danes exchange with one another through simple acts of practice and service like handing a stranger their child for a momentary instant, I realized that although I wasn’t living in a place made for me in my own home country, it was by noticing and discovering the things I love and value that I realized I can learn to make whatever far off place I’m in, home. In that sense, I didn’t just travel—I lived. I got lost, I got found, I got rained on more times than I can count, I learned how to cook more than microwavable mac and cheese, and I learned how to be alone without being lonely.
You weren’t always easy on me, though. Although I came out relatively unscathed by the aching of homesickness, in the moments when I longed for the familiar, you taught me that yearning for the peoples and places I missed was just love with no concrete place to land. When I resented the overwhelming, unfamiliar languages and sounds that bombarded me, you showed me how to find beauty in novelty. You were patient with me. You let me struggle through learning how to pronounce weird Danish vowels and discovering where and how to find hygge and create it in daily life. You taught me that I’m capable of building a life for myself anywhere in the world, of making deep and lasting friendships with people who were once strangers, and of finding my own pockets of self-sufficiency and comfort in the most foreign of places. You made me realize that there is so much out there that I still have yet to discover beyond the limits of the life I’ve always known. You helped me develop a version of myself I would have never met otherwise. Most importantly of all, you let me fall in love—with independence, with slowness, and with myself. Thank you for making me fall in love with life again. Thank you for helping me find my spark again.
In the end, every annoyingly long walk to the Lergravsparken Metro, lost driver’s license, and mispronounced word of Danish was worth it. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, at least maybe not in the same way, but you will always be a part of me. I’m forever grateful and forever changed. Copenhagen, you took a little piece of my heart, but also taught it how to beat again, and for that, I will always love you.
Tak for alt.
Yours, always,
Hannah