(Quote borrowed from the famous, and Danish, H.C. Anderson)
During my four months abroad, I tried to soak in every moment of my life. And now that I am home, I want to remember what it felt like to just live there, to be a part of Denmark. I've been in the US for almost 3 days now. I can't tell if it feels like a long time or a short time, but I definitely miss life in Denmark, and life at home definitely has not sunk in. I want to remember everything from my semester, so this post is for me (but feel free to read).


I want to remember the 6-minute walk, or 2 minute run (which it ended up being, more often than not) from my house to the bus stop. I want to remember how my bus pass was always stored in the outside pocket on my Vera Bradley wallet, which contained my life in it. I want to remember the momentary dread I felt those few times where I had put it in my jacket pocket instead, or when I couldn’t immediately find my wallet within my school bag. I want to remember how (knock on wood), I never once lost that trusty wallet.


I want to remember how I would flash my pass to the bus driver, so natural and Danish, and go to find a seat, usually in the back of the bus. I would always try to be ready for the predictable lurch that would try to send you stumbling forwards as the bus pulled away from the stop. I want to remember the bus ride, lasting anywhere from 8-15 minutes. We turn right when we get to the end of the field, where in the winter there was always a small pond in the center from the excess rainwater not soaking into the frozen ground. We would then turn left on the next road, past the bus stop and a road that would take you to Ishøj Landsby. There were two stops along that commercial road (Industribuen, I believe), and then we would turn right. This was the road the station was on, and those mornings when I was cutting it close to make a certain train, I would always feel like the road took forever, and we hit all the wrong lights. Then we’d turn right into the station, and pull around the island of bus stops to the place for the 400S bus towards Hundige.

I want to remember my train ride every morning, and I want to remember those few mornings when the bus was running late where I displayed an epic sprint from bus stop to train platform in order to just catch the train before it pulled away. Most mornings I took the E train, which would get me to København H, or Central Station, in about 17 minutes. The A train took 5 minutes longer, so I always tried to time it to make the E. Especially towards the end of the semester, when I started to take a later bus (not entirely on purpose) every morning, I would sit in the “stille” car, or the quiet car, and read my Nook. This car was at the front of the train, so gave me a few meters advantage to get out of the station and head to class. Most mornings, I would be running borderline late, so I needed every minute I could get.


Tuesdays and Fridays were the only days I always had class; they became so routine, but I want to remember these days. Vestergade 23 was my first stop, which was luckily the closest DIS building to Central Station. I want to remember my walk from the train every morning, trying to time whether I crossed the street in front of the station or at the corner. The signals take a long time to change, and you do NOT cross the street when the red man is lit in Copenhagen. I want to remember walking by the Tivoli every winter morning, seeing determined tourists braving the Danish winter and taking pictures in front of the park’s closed gates. I’d then walk past the construction site, usually speed walking past slower pedestrians, hoping to make the next crosswalk. Usually, it would be red, so I would wait patiently to see the people on the other side start to walk, signaling it would soon be our turn. I would then cross Rådhusplads, turn left, and turn right down Vestergade. Number 23 wasn’t too far, and after three flights of stairs, I would always have to fumble for the ID needed to enter, since I hadn’t learned to just have it out, and get to class just in time- I was only late once.
Peter’s class would be next, always entertaining and informative, with a predictable break in the middle. Partly for us, mostly for him, but we all loved it equally. Then it would be back to 23 for our hyggeligt, all girls, Danish class with the wonderful Christina, and then my class day would end.

I want to remember my Thursdays spent at the incredible early childcare institution of Skovager. I want to remember my 5-year-old buddies, Alberte and Nora and Karla, and the party we had when all the 5 year olds moved on to their transition school to prepare them for Folkeskole in the fall. I want to remember how little Alberte was so good at communicating with me using minimal Danish and a lot of gestures, and the day that Nora pulled me into a dance party in the coatroom. I want to remember spunky little Celia, with her white blond hair and purple glasses, who would wear sheer pink princess skirts over her purple leggings, and howl in a tree for 10 minutes alone, or sit in the dirt and dig for worms for the class’s project. I want to remember little Ada and Benjamin, best friends since they were a few weeks old, but they would make each other cry virtually every day. They were inseparable. I want to remember the day Ada and I sat in a tree for half an hour, barely speaking, but she was content to climb on the limbs of the tree and just take life in with me. I want to remember the wonderful pedagogues there, from Ulle and Alex to Mette and Pernille, and of course, the rest whose names I never really knew. I want to remember the way they treated the kids as competent equals, and trusted and empowered them to take risks and stretch their limits.


I want to remember my days wandering through the streets of Copenhagen. Going to Nyhavn on a sunny day to walk around and get pictures of the beautiful, colorful buildings right on the canal. I want to remember the beautiful Danish weather we got every now and then (Easter weekend!), as well as the cloudy, dark, and cold weather that lasted for most of the winter, and some of the spring (Spiral Tower in the rain?!). I want to remember just walking around the streets to see where I would end up, and feeling so comfortable in a city which had once seemed so strange.

I want to remember soccer with ØKF, and how much Leslie and I HATED the walk from Christianshavn Metro Station to the fields at Kløvermarken. It always seemed like it took forever, especially in winter when we would be bundled up in 17 layers to try to not freeze. I want to remember the practices where it felt more like an ice rink than a crappy turf field, and I was afraid to pivot or turn in anything more than slow motion. I want to remember the simple joys like the day Julie drove us to Christianshavn or Signe offered us a ride, or those few days where we would make bus 40 to get to practice, and be elated (we
never made it on the way back). I want to remember the humorous, but depressingly inevitable moment during practice where we would watch the bus, the only one for that hour, drive by without us on it. I want to remember how Leslie and I always moaned and complained SO MUCH about the walk back (and, throughout the walk back), and how it would take anywhere from 90-120 minutes to get home.


I want to remember good old Jonas and Christian, and all of the girls on the team- Astrid, whose name I still struggle to say correctly, Julie, who we called the American version of the name for the longest time, Signe, who would give me a look every time I played on my slightly injured Achilles, Henriette and Heidi, whose birthday party Leslie and I attended, Vini, with her knowledge of random English words (vindication?), Dane and American, who made the season awesome. The team was great, and it was so fun to play with them. I want to remember the games we won, where we did a victory chant that I didn’t understand until Søs told me, and the game we lost to the team of “men”. I want to remember that chant- "Hvem var det der vandt i dag? Dem var det fra ØKF! Hey, hey hey!". I want to forget the freezing cold, rainy game we lost in double overtime where I couldn’t play, though- that sucked.
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| rød grød med fløde :) |

I want to remember nightly dinners with my host family- the laughs, the conversation, in both Danish and English, the delicious food, from Danish frikadeller to lasagna (with gulerødder!) to salad with grilled chicken to spaghetti with meatsauce, and many, many more. I want to remember Mads teaching me Danish words for the things on the table, not settling for my American pronunciation- tallerken, kniv, gaffel, glas, etc. I want to remember how they would ask me to say various Danish words requiring the deep "r" or other strange Danish sound- gullerødder and rød grød med fløde being the two favorites. And of course, I want to remember when I actually got to try the famous dessert :)

I want to remember all the nights that we would just sit in the sun room/hygge room/family room and hang out all night, watching an American movie I most likely had not seen yet, Danish television, or other programs. We'd have bowls of gummies (vingum, no lakrids for me!), or ice cream, or fruit, and just relax and talk and enjoy each other's company. When it was nice out in the spring, we'd open the entire back wall of the room (glass floor to ceiling windows/doors, actually unfolded to be open) and enjoy the sunshine, sitting outside and soaking up the warmth.


I want to remember my house in Ishøj- so cute and homey and light and hyggeligt and happy. I want to remember my room, which was perfect and really became my home, although I spent most of my time with the family. I want to remember my learning curve of doing the dishes, and how, by the end of the four months, I knew where virtually everything went when I would unload the dishwasher. And how I really learned my way around the kitchen, knowing where various ingredients and foods were kept. I want to remember the garden and backyard, and how beautiful the flowers were in the springtime. I want to remember the days we spent lying in the grass in the sunshine on the chair cushions, and the times we played volleyball over the bushes and jumped on the trampoline.


I want to remember going on runs with Milo through the paths and trails in and around Ishøj, and how he would stop way too often to sniff various bushes and plants. I want to remember the one time we went on a really long run, and two Danish girls stopped to pet him, and I tried to speak to them in Danish. I want to remember, which I’m sure Søs would never let me forget, the time where I put a piece of carrot on his nose and said “nei!” (no!), a trick where he knows not to eat it until you say “værsgo” (here you go, or go ahead), but forgot the command to give him permission, and had to physically remove the carrot and give it to him, since he was waiting for the command. And of course, I want to remember little Bella too :)


I want to remember my wonderful host parents, who were so caring and thoughtful throughout my semester here. From Søs’s wonderful cooking and baking to Henrik’s insistence on picking me up from the Ishøj train station, I can’t imagine having lived with anyone else, and I can’t imagine my living situation having been any better. I want to remember teaching Søs English words, and practicing my Danish with her. I want to remember all the long conversations we had, comparing the Danish and American cultures. I want to remember how Henrik would make fun of her mistakes in English, from “sky trip” (ski trip) to “take a talk” to "desert", some of his favorites (even though she was VERY GOOD at English!) and how he would point out the “Danish humor” in television to me. I want to remember how he picked me up from the airport after long study tour; I was the only one with someone waiting for me. I want to remember my initial airport greeting, where I saw Søs, Henrik, and Mads in person for the first time after a long 10 days of travel.
I want to remember having a host brother, since I have never had a brother before. I want to remember all the times things got lost in translation, and all the times he painstakingly spent time teaching me how to PROPERLY say words in Danish, not satisfied with my terrible American accent- talerkun, glas, kniv, gaffel (plate, glass, knife, fork). I want to remember how he would give me a hard time when I would only take one cookie or not ask for enough æbleskiver. I want to remember the time I went with Søs to his gymnastics-like showcase, and all the crazy flips and tricks he can do on the trampoline. I want to remember how loving he is to his little Danish cousins.
I want to remember my host sisters, Pernille and Kristina, who didn’t live with us but were still wonderful. I want to remember the week Pernille stayed with us while her parents were in Madrid, and she drove me to the ferry, picked me up in Copenhagen, and cooked delicious chicken. I want to remember her handball game that Kristina and I went to, and when Pernille and Søs came to my soccer game. I want to remember when Kristina would and her little puppy, Bella, would come over and Bella would run in circles to chase Kristina’s hand.


I want to remember our trip to Tivoli over Easter weekend (which I know I will, since I wrote a whole blog post about it), everything from sandwiches in the grass at the gospel concert to waiting in line for the airplane ride (Vertigo) with Mads for an hour, to riding the swings with Pernille and everyone else, to the water ride where Pernille, Søs, and I all squeezed into one car, clearly designed for 2 people. I want to remember the passion and enthusiasm I saw from my host family, extended and immediate, in the Op-side Down performance I went to. I want to remember how they all loved each other so dearly, even if sometimes they might have temporarily hated one other or wanted to kill one another.



I want to remember the big family gatherings and dinners we had. Dinner with Lulle and company at our house to watch the handball semifinals, and then dinner at Lulle and Åge's for the finals. Easter lunches with Karsten, Camille, Emil, and Mathilde, plus Pernille and Kristina, at our house in the wonderful Danish sunshine. Dinner with Kristina and Pernille (plus Milo and Bella) at Lulle and Å’s with Gideon, Mette, Daniel, and Sharon, while Søs and Henrik were in Madrid, complete with a yoga/dance/musical session at the end. I want to remember what it felt like to be just a little part of such a big, wonderful family.

I want to remember everything. I know that one day I will look back and my semester will be a blur, the intricacies and simplicities of each day forgotten in exchange for a broad overview of my semester. But the beauty is in the details, and I want to remember those.
That was life. And, life was good :)