A trip back in time - how I came to be here

It hit me today that it's been over a year since I found out my country for this year. I started going back through my facebook profile, nostalgically browsing through how far I've come through these 12 months. A sample of status updates:

"Five months in Norway. Wow."

"Gleder meg til å feire en norsk Jul"

A few pages of happy birthday wishes, a good portion in Norwegian from people I'd never heard of four months earlier.

"3 måneder i Norge - tiden går for fort!" (3 months in Norway, time's going too fast!)

"trying to think in 3 different languages at once, og ils deviennent helt mixed up"

"rain, rain rain, and more rain"

"answering interview questions in norwegian and english and finding the english harder. Not because my norwegian is good, but because i've forgotten how to write proper english!"

"...and I thought playing scrabble in english was hard"

Somewhere in this time space I flew across the ocean for the first time, made an idiot of myself in security at the Oslo airport, walked down the stairs at the Bergen airport. Shoved all my stuff into Tord's car, made small talk as we drove through this foreign country that looked strangely familiar. Drove down a street I'd stalked on google maps, like a strange dream, to a house and family that would become my own for the next half year.

There's no dramatic status when I first opened my laptop in Norway. Just a simple "Norway :) " One word that opened up whirlwind of new sights, tastes, sounds and experiences.

Then we continue back in time to Canada.

"Starting to pack up my room", "last night in Canada", "goodbye Canada, see you next year". And then even further back. "17 days til Norway". Back through grad to statuses about the frustrations of calculus, and the prospect of finishing high school.

Wall posts like "question, in that first Related Rates booklet she gave us, on number 23, where did Sin(theta) magically come from in the key? i am confuzzled", back before I became an exchange student, when math class mattered.

Then continuing on: "First barefoot walk home of the year" and exactly a year ago: "off to Whitehorse for Nationals"

In art class today we were looking at books about the history of Bergen, and it hit me that not too long ago the city was just a few pictures searched on google images, and a wikipedia page to me. It was a year minus about two weeks ago that I got an email from the rotary club telling me where I'd spend the next year, and the name meant nothing to me.

The chances that lead me to where I am right now still amaze me. I remember walking down to Safeway with Meghan after school one day a year and a half ago, on one of the few days we had shifts together. Talking about what we would do next year, about travelling and taking a year off. The fall air suddenly seemed crisper, the leaves on the ground crunchier, as the full weight of being able to do ANYTHING sunk in. I sliced bread and took food out of the freezer in a daze that day, suddenly convinced I was going to do something exciting after graduation.

She told me about the Rotary exchange her sister went on to Poland, and how she was applying for the next year. I was skeptical; why go to high school again, just when I was beginning to see the light of freedom after 13 years in school? Regardless, I filled out the forms, wrote several pages about how I wanted to travel, learn a new language, and do something different before University.

I booked an appointment with the school counselor, and talked about options for a gap year. This short conversation convinced me 98 percent against the exchange. I absolutely didn't want to do another year of high school. I went up to the principal's office to cancel my interview and take out my application. I don't remember why, but it was completely chance that I didn't end up doing this. Maybe the Principal wasn't there, or the applications couldn't be found, or I felt bad cancelling. Regardless, it could just as easily have gone the other way.

So I went to the interview, not knowing what to expect. I told them I didn't really want to do it, but wanted to get a bit more information. They went through the questions, everything from "name the past three Canadian prime ministers and American presidents" to "What are your weaknesses?" Instead of me convincing the rotarians I should go on exchange, they persuaded me that I should give it a shot. I could take fun courses in school, and this kind of opportunity would never come again. I was still uncertain, but decided to think more about it.

Then comes this facebook status:

"ahhh decisions....one week to decide if i want to do a rotary exchange next year...or something else"

The responses were:

-"Do it."

-"ya Lauren, do it, you will never get the chance again. Where would it be?"

-"I don't know where it would be, but in Europe somewhere, hopefully Norway or a French speaking place"

-"Go with Norway that'd be nice and different"

-"DO IT. Rotary exchange is awesome (I'm talking from experience as I'm currently on one)"

-"Great idea Lauren"

-"Make a pros and cons list! you would love Norway, it's gorgeous!"

-"Do it Lauren. A girlfriend of mine did it in high school and loved it"

I decided yes, obviously, and kept blindly going through the steps of applying, knowing I could pull out at any time, but realizing it would be harder and harder as time went on. It got more and more serious; payments were made, doctor's appointments booked. I still didn't really believe it though. At any moment someone would pop out behind the shower curtain, or under my desk, and say "hahahhaha this was all a joke, you're not going ANYWHERE next year!"

But that never happened.

From that post on, my facebook mentions nothing to do with exchange right up til "17 days to Norway". I guess I thought I would jinx something by writing it down, or make it real.

When people asked what I was doing next year, my answer was always "I'm not really sure, but maybe an exchange." Even though I was accepted and almost certainly going somewhere.

When I got the phone call telling me I was going to Norway, I was eating dinner with my family. I don't remember how I reacted, but know the first thing I did was get the atlas from the coffee table, and have a good look at the country, trying to fathom that in a year I would be somewhere in that finger shaped mass of fjords and coastline and mountains.

Then I read everything I could find on Wikipedia, and searched "Norwegian language" on youtube. Those strange sounds are now part of my everyday life.

Then we fast forward again until I found out where I would be in Norway, got an email from Ingeborg, my counselor, and one from my first host family. I still kept expecting someone to tell me it was a joke, or to wake up and realize it was just a dream.

A year later, and I'm still waiting to wake up.