The Moment I Knew I Was Home

As of today, I have spent 8 days, 11 hours, and 50 minutes in Denmark. Or, in my preferred measurement of time, I have consumed seven glorious ice cream cones, crossed nine adventures off of my Copenhagen bucket list, and filled twenty pages in my journal. This week has felt more like its weight in hours (192 hours, to be exact), and I’m only now beginning to process the excitement of it all. I could glaze over the past eight days and recount the glossy highlights of exploring the city, but really there’s only one ordinary moment that I want to talk about. It’s the moment that, after being in this country for just four hours, I realized I was home.

It all began when I arrived at my housing assignment exhausted, confused, and slightly delirious from my travels through the Copenhagen airport (the substantial packing job I had originally praised myself for quickly turned into a cumbersome suitcase that was nearly impossible to transport on my own). By some miracle, at 4 P.M. on Saturday, August 16, I finally made it to my new humble abode:

I live in a Kollegium which means I share a flat with five American students and three Danes. I’m about 20 minutes from central Copenhagen by bike, and fantastically positioned next to the Copenhagen Zoo, the Frederiksberg Gardens, and the best 7-eleven in the whole city. When I arrived at the Kollegium on Saturday afternoon I was overwhelmed with the general post-travel exhaustion, and I barely had enough moral to drag my bags across the threshold. The excitement of being in a new place was quickly wearing off and instead being replaced with a quiet panic— I needed to unpack, I needed to meet people, and I needed to figure out how to work a Danish shower. Anxiously, almost subconsciously, I started remembering things I had left at home and items I had to buy. 

And then, in the height of my apprehension, I saw Sofie. Walking down the hall from her room, she warmly extended her hands and introduced herself as one of my Danish flatmates who had lived in the apartment for a few years. She joked about the magnitude of my luggage and gently asked if I would join her in having tea. I told her I would love nothing more, and together we sat at the kitchen table sharing a pot of licorice tea. Sofie talked about her life, I talked about mine, and she shared her experiences and adventures from Copenhagen.

Having only known Sofie for a little under an hour, I relaxed in the afternoon sunshine with her, feeling at home with a warm cup of tea in my hands. It may have been the jet-lag, it may have been the rose-colored-Copenhagen syndrome, but through Sofie’s company I felt the weight of travel and assimilation become simple fairy dust. My apprehension was superfluous while my potential for adventure was profound; Sofie’s stories painted an image of Copenhagen that was approachable and cozy, and I could make it my own if I wanted to. It was at this moment that I realized the study-abroad victories are not always so grand. I was so anxious to find outstanding comfort and grand connection in this new city, but really, at the end of the day, all it took was just a warm cup of tea. And a small dose of Sofie.

Its been a week since I sat across from Sofie drinking tea, and I’ve made my way from my housing to DIS without directions a few times, made friends that already feel like family, and obtained one of the worst sunburns ever. And all in just 8 days time! I can’t wait to scratch the surface of Denmark’s culture, check back in a few days for another peek into Copenhagen life!