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Kennon Hulett
Third Page of her "Archived" Articles from Denmark
This is the third page containing "archived" articles removed from the main page of
more recent articles from Kennon Hulett. Select to return to
Kennon's main page of recent articles.
The articles below were moved here simply due to the fortunate
condition of Kennon writing so frequently and so voluminously. To save download time, the
Webmaster has split these articles off Kennon's original page.
Kennon Hulett is from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. She is an American Abroad for the 2000-
2001 School Year in Denmark. Kennon writes articles for the Hattiesburg American newspaper,
which articles her mother has provided for us to post on the AFS Miss Tennky web
site.
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You may select an Installment below to jump directly to that Installment (which was previously
on Kennon's main articles page) or you may scroll down, down, down for archived articles.
They are numbered according to the order written. I have listed
such dates as I have, but I don't know if they are the dates written, or the dates published by the
Hattiesburg American. I will correct or add any dates that anyone knows and shares with
me. The Webmaster.
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Select to return to Kennon's main
page of recent articles.
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Select to go to the first page of Kennon's archived
articles.
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Select to go to the second page of Kennon's archived
articles.
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The following articles appear on this second archive page.
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45 |
Looking Back, Moving Forward - June 24,
2001
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44 |
Remembering and Anticipating Memories - June 15,
2001
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43 |
Final Outing with AFS Friends - June 12,
2001
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42 |
Tivoli Gardens - June 5,
2001
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41 |
Danish Exams - May 29,
2001
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40 |
Rainy Day and Danish Transportation - May 25,
2001
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39 |
The Danish Summer - May 15,
2001
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38 |
Dreaming in Danish and Daydreaming of Home - May 8,
2001
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37 |
Will Danish Lifestyle and Uniqueness be Lost in a Modern
World - May 1, 2001
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36 |
Danish Spring and New Environment Offers Comfort - April
24, 2001
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35 |
A New Host Family and a New Home - April 16, 2001
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34 |
Packing to Leave My First Host Family - April 9, 2001
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33 |
Meeting My New Host Family - April 3rd, 2001
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32 |
My School Trip to Prague - March 27, 2001
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31 |
Discontent and Changes - March 17, 2001
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45th Column -- Looking Back, Moving Forward --
June 24, 2001
Many times, you can only be aware that something is ending when you go over the details of
the event in hindsight. Rarely in my short life have I gotten a chance to fully understand that I am
going through the end of something as it is happening. That is the opportunity that I have now,
though, because I know very well that this the end of my year in Denmark.
My relationships and experiences here are ending, and I am now returning to the place I left
before. I am riding on a train, speeding away from the Djursland peninsula of Jutland's east coast
and my home for the last eleven months. We're following the coastline closely, and every once in
a while the huge bridges that link the mainland to the island of Fyn appear in the morning sunlight
and dominate the horizon for a few seconds.
On the other side of the train are pastures and fields growing young corn, which a month
from now will be nearly five feet tall. This is the way I will remember most of Denmark,
constantly in growth and renewal, and smelling slightly of cows.
Eleven months,-- I can't believe it. I remember at the beginning of my exchange when that
seemed like such a long time, then as the fall and winter slipped away behind me, I became aware
that it is really no time at all. But I have grown to feel as though Denmark is my home. I came
here mostly by chance, the reason I picked this country was more or less for the weather,
knowing nothing about the political background, language, or major cities. It was a totally new
experience, and I know that a year and a half ago if I had been aware of the rainy little country I
was entering, and the tiny hamlets I would inhabit, I would have said flat out "no" to coming
here.
How glad I am that I was thoroughly uninformed. The people I have met in this place and the
things that I have seen have all changed me. I have learned more about people, and myself, than I
had ever in my previous life. This has been the year in which I have grown up, and I know I am a
better person for it.
The exchange experience is so amazing. It's not all fun, and sometimes is a bit boring, but
just living somewhere else, without the support of those you normally would have thought of is so
valuable in your teenage years. You learn self-sufficiency, and diplomacy, and generally just the
way that people work. Your horizons expand to include things that may not even be considered
in your homeland, and you learn how to make decisions based on more than just what you are
told.
Travel and understanding different cultures is so important, it is quite sad to me that many
people in the United States do not have the impulses or resources to do it. Now I will always be a
part of something larger than my self. I will join the ranks of "returnee" exchange students from
the AFS program. I will be a member of a group of a 150 or so "internationals" who spent the
year from 2000 to 2001 in Denmark through the same program as I did, and will now have friends
in Italy, Australia, Japan, and all over South America with whom I have shared an experience and,
hopefully, will stay in contact with.
I will also have my friends here in Denmark, either in my host family or otherwise, with whom
I will always have a connection. My world has expanded and will continue to do so, because after
learning Danish and the culture of Denmark, I hope to continue on to other languages and other
places. The only thing that stands in my way are the two years I will spend back in my home
country finishing high school. The sky is the limit,-- and my drive to learn has anything but
diminished.
In my year, I have been able to experience many different parts of Danish culture; the new
Danes, or immigrants and refugees I met while I was attending language school. Then the older
Danes, the generation which lived through the second world war, still are living independently in
small country cottages and city flats, and can be seen drinking beer and smoking cigars in cafes
anywhere in the country. The rural Danes, for whom the world stops more or less outside their
small towns or kommunes. The teenagers who are fascinated by American culture and spend their
time at parties and school. The 20-somethings, who are starting businesses and enjoying
autonomous life, preparing for the next big transformation in Danish culture. And finally just that
group between 30 and 60, which is governing the country and dealing with the new world on the
horizon. All these groups living in relative harmony in an area about the size of Mississippi, and
making up many of the facets in this country that I have grown to love.
On the streets of Grena one day, I passed some American tourists and literally stopped to
stare after them. "Wow, they were speaking English! I'm going to have to get used to that!"
American English is bizarre when I hear strangers speaking it. I am so used to the Danish accent
on the [English] language that when I hear it spoken natively, then it sounds, well, foreign. I'm
going to have to get used to watching American TV shows without Danish subtitles, and stop
speaking to people in Danish when they don't understand me the first time around.
A lot to get used to, I'll have to relearn the etiquette and mannerisms that I grew up with, and
which now seem a bit out of the ordinary. I have a long road ahead of me, one in which I may
evolve into something completely different from what I am now. Since I have been able to go
through the turmoil of entering a new culture already once, it may be a slight bit easier than I
make it out to be, but I can't help wondering what I have forgotten about the country I left.
"Don't think of this as the end." my friend Frederik told me as we said goodbye, "It's the
beginning of something new."
As I think about it, I guess he's right. It's always about endings and beginnings, a constant
cycle that never really stops in life. Where do I go from here? This train will take me to Kastrup,
where I will meet some of my friends from AFS, and from there we will continue on to the
Copenhagen International Airport. From there I will fly over the Atlantic back to the land of my
birth, where my family and life will be waiting.
44th Column -- Remembering and Anticipating Memories --
June 15, 2001
My final two weeks in Denmark have come, and with that comes the realization that many of
the places and people who have become familiar to me will soon be an ocean away; while I myself
will be attempting to resume my life back in the place where I grew up. I am now finding myself
revisiting memories of home and revisiting the things that I will long for once I leave.
When I try to remember the small things about life in Hattiesburg it almost seems like a
dream. People from my life back home have turned into rough sketches in my mind, only being
made up of a few attributes that I recall about them, and making my memories seem surreal.
Those whom I have kept in contact with have "fleshed out" a bit, but when I try to recollect those
whom I have not spoken or written to since I left the US, the details become annoyingly
hazy.
What scares me about it, though, is that now I know that after I return to the States Denmark will
become as two dimensional to me as Mississippi appears now. Since I really love this place I am
making sure that the people and places I know I will truly miss will not "fade away" in
hindsight.
In facing the end, I have found myself looking back upon the beginning of my exchange,
remembering the way this country seemed to me when I arrived here for the first time. The space
disoriented me, since I had been used to the Pine Belt's trees and had never seen the full horizon
except when looking out to sea. The electricity-generating windmills looked interesting and
futuristic when I first saw them dotting the landscape around Djursland. And how quaint the little
towns like Lyngby,-- where I lived during the first eight months of my exchange; with about thirty
small houses, one store, and a old church,-- seemed upon my arrival.
Now all of these things have become commonplace. I have become disillusioned by the small
towns, grown used to the space, and the windmills are now a normal sight. This country now
seems like home, both with its good and bad qualities, and the aspect that scares me now is that I
will soon have travel back to the place that I left a year ago, and still feel as though I do not fully
understand: Hattiesburg.
As I try to keep the future memory of this place alive, I find myself revisiting friends and
places that I do not want to "disappear." I find myself wandering around the cities in this area
that I have gotten to know and grown to love,-- Gena, Arhus, and Ebeltoft.
Gena is where I attended school and for most of my exchange has been the place where I go
to "hang out" and spend any extra time I have. Though it is rather small, it is still a very nice and
accommodating city with a sizeable array of shopping streets and quite a few interesting
landmarks. One of my favorites being the Gena church, which instead of just chiming, plays short
and haunting songs with a array of bells on the hour.
When I needed a "taste" of a larger city, I would use a Saturday and take the train to Arhus,
the second largest city in Denmark, which is only about an hour and a half away from my town.
As soon as I would step off the train into the city, I could tell that I was in a different world by
simply the feel of the place; the streets were filled with people and every few minutes one of
Arhus' many busses would rumble by. Here you can find a wealth of small boutiques and cafes,
along with many museums and beautiful Old World architecture. With numerous gardens and
unexpected side streets, it is really a great place to spend a day and explore.
Ebeltoft, though being the smallest of the three cities, invariably comes out as my favorite
every time I recall it. Though it is extremely touristy during the summer months, and therefore is
positively crowded between May and September, for the rest of the year it is a place of nearly
absolute serenity. The buildings around the center of town are all centuries old and built in the
same design, though with many different colors and interesting details of originality. Even if a
new house is built, city codes state that it must fit in with the rest of the existing architecture, and
therefore Ebeltoft has been able to retain a lot of charm. It is also a hotbed for artists; especially
glassblowers, of whom Ebeltoft has about six. It is built more or less on a hill sloping down to
the sea, and the narrow streets wind around endlessly, making the going rough for anything as
large as a car. Mostly this is a city for pedestrians, which really adds to the peace and quiet.
I also find myself in these last two weeks saying goodbye to the friends and people I have met
over here. My last school exam a couple of days ago marked the last time I will see most of my
schoolmates from this year. I also find myself taking my time to visit and to talk to those whom I
know I will be thinking about once I step back onto American soil. I strive to keep them from
fading away into the sketches of personality traits and vague attributes that characterize the things
I remember about people back home.
And now as I face the end,-- as the curtain closes on this period in my life and I am forced to
move on I wonder: how will I remember Denmark? What small things will bring this place to
mind once I'm back in my accustomed environment? It is impossible for me to ascertain the
answer to these questions in my current situation; the things I am wondering about are too close
for me to get a clear idea of what the most vivid traits about them would be. Yet I still try to find
some way to remember this place while keeping it from becoming warped by my imperfect
memory.
43rd Column -- Final Outing with AFS Friends --
June 12, 2001
As Scandinavia grasps more firmly the concept of summer, the days stretch to the point
where sunlight is visible nearly twenty-four hours a day. Since I am the kind of person who
enjoys being up until the early hours of the morning, I can say that it is quite odd when there is a
glow on the horizon at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. In fact the amount of sunlight is no indication of what
time of day it is anymore; and my internal clock is finding it just a bit hard to adapt. The sun
never reaches its apex, merely moving along in the upper half of the sky for most of the day,
giving everything a permanent look of early afternoon.
With only two weeks remaining in my exchange I am finding myself getting distressingly
nostalgic. "I miss Denmark already" I explain whenever I find myself getting too unbearably
poetic in the presence of others. Once as I was waxing about how much I will miss Denmark, my
host mother said with a smile, "Well, if all else fails, you can always come back as an au
pair."
I smiled as well; it is a kind of joke between us, because I have stated on numerous occasions
that I would never be able to stand that exchange option. But with the end of my exchange also
comes the last excursion with the AFS Arhus group of exchange students. There are seven of us
in all, and throughout the year we have gotten together every few months to see each other and
catch up.
This time, we would be meeting in Djurs Sommerland. Djurs Sommerland is a theme park
outside of the mid-Djursland town of Nimtofte, and is one of the most popular attractions on the
Djursland peninsula. Despite the fact that most of its attractions are geared toward younger kids,
it is still a rather popular place for Danish teenagers to hang out during the summer, it is by no
means as large or high-tech as most American theme parks, but is a nice place to go and have a
day with the family.
The mascot for the park is a Danish animal,-- some kind of marmot or something. At the
gates a person in a large character costume meets the little kids, and from there, the park begins.
It is separated into several "lands" or areas with different themes for the booths and rides. Africa
Land was in a jungle theme, for example, and there was even one in a western theme, becoming
the embodiment of the Danish fascination with the "Wild West" of American myth. It was
complete with a model "western" town, a place where you could "pan for gold" and a
stereotypical Native American area with teepees and feather headbands for sale.
Despite the 50 and 60 degree weather and the occasional rain, my friends and I enjoyed the
"Water Land" water park in Djurs Sommerland. In fact, most Danes also negate the weather in
favor of the season; the ice cream stalls were doing a brisk business, and people were dressed for
a summer afternoon,-- in a cold, rainy country like Denmark you get outside to enjoy the
occasional sun whenever you can; whether the weather is agreeable or not. But with us exchange
students, it was just a good chance to meet with each other again.
With a few of my AFS friends, this will be the last time I will see them; either because they
are leaving the country on a different day than I am or because they are getting a "release" from
the AFS program at the end of June, so they can stay in Europe a bit longer. But now I had a
chance to see them all,-- Guillermo, from Venezuela, the ultimate class clown who is always
making a joke about something. Laurens, from Baltimore, who is the only other American who
was staying in the Arhus area. Nicolas, from Ecuador, a soccer player and all around nice guy.
Masahiro, from Japan, kind and calm, through each other we learned a lot about each other's
home country and culture. Then Sarina, from Tasmania, one of my best friends from the year I
have spent in Denmark. And finally Francesca, from Italy, who lived in Kolind, a town quite close
to my first host families and also was one of my best friends.
I really will miss them all, and the kind of family that formed while we were here in Denmark.
Everyone was different, and everyone had something interesting to offer to the group. I find it
hard to believe that in a mere two weeks we will be boarding separate planes and returning to our
home countries, not knowing if we will ever see each other again. With all of them here, so
close, I guess it's hard to think of them being so far away,-- two even on the opposite side of the
globe. But, life goes on, and once again I hope that time and distance will not break the bonds
that I have formed with the people I have met over here,-- whether they happen to be exchange
students or not.
42nd Column -- Tivoli Gardens Exams --
June 5, 2001
Copenhagen! I find it so hard to describe how much I love this "city of green spires." Maybe
it is because I have lived in the countryside for the most part of my exchange but every time I visit
Copenhagen I am struck with a deep love of this old, old city. Winding streets, beautiful
architecture, and the hustle of urban life are three of the things that I really love about it. I
traveled to Zealand, where it is located, with a few of my host family members in order to attend a
family reunion about a week ago, and the beauty of the place once again struck me. During my
time on the island I was also able to visit two of the most well known sights within the city: The
Little Mermaid and Tivoli Gardens.
For the first time in my exchange I was able to see the Little Mermaid,-- one of the most
famous landmarks of Copenhagen, and in fact, Denmark. It is quite a ways from the center of
town and I had heard that it was a bit overrated, so I had not made the trip until now. My host
mother, Tove, host sister, Inanna, and her friend Camilla and I drove up to Kastellet, the park
where it is located. The park itself is to be noted,-- it is home to Saint Alban's Church, and the
Gefion Fountain, the largest monument in the city, but in another part of the common, which
meets the harbor, there is a rock pier and here is where the Little Mermaid sits.
From quite some distance I could see the crowds surrounding it and only a matter of yards
away from the water was a parking lot filled with tour busses. "Oh tourists!" I said, in mock
exasperation. I knew that now these busses would drive for a day around Copenhagen then head
to Stockholm or London or Oslo. To many of the people who came in tour groups this statue
would be Copenhagen. This may be even the most lasting memory that they would come away
from Denmark with, having not experienced any of the truly interesting or amazing things about
this place.
But I joined the crowd and got as close as I could to the small statuette, weaving around the
groups that queued up to have their picture taken, and was saddened by the whole situation. But
the sadness was soon to be quelled because directly after Kastellet Park we drove on to
Tivoli.
Tivoli Gardens is the kind of place where you can believe magic happens. It is almost as if
upon entering you are automatically transported back to age nine, where anything and everything
is a source of wonder and awe. It is situated in the middle of downtown Copenhagen, adjacent to
the Town Hall Square, an unusual place for a major amusement park.
It was built in 1841, and is one of the places that inspired Walt Disney when he set out to
design his theme parks. It is absolutely amazing. The first thing that hit me was that it was
beautiful. There are 140,000 plants that are replanted each year and it seemed as though all were
in full bloom when I visited, making it a kind of oasis of trees and flowers in this city of brick and
stone.
Out of the dense vegetation loomed the amusements, most fairly old fashioned in the theme of
smaller roller coasters and booths, the kind of which one might find at a traveling carnival. But
Tivoli is anything but tacky; it is also home to a concert hall, daily performances of ballet and
pantomime, and some of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in the city. It was a really
amazing experience to just be there.
But this trip was mainly about family. While on the island of Zealand, my host family and I
stayed with my host grandparents, a great treat for me because I have not really felt a part of a
family since I arrived in Denmark. My host family is quite connected to their relations, and so on
this trip I was able to feel more included in the entire scheme of things than I have felt during my
year abroad. The family reunion took place in a small town in South Zealand, and brought out
about fifty people who are kin to my host mother.
It was so amazing to almost have a family again; complete with its hierarchy and love.
Though I was only a visitor in this one, I could feel the connection. It also reminded me that in
only a matter of weeks I would return to my own. Though it scares me a bit that I have no idea
of the extent to which my family and I have changed in the eleven months during which I have
been gone, I am nonetheless looking forward to seeing them again, and the reunion was like
getting a taste of all the good memories that thoughts of my family conjure up.
This trip to Copenhagen very memorable; and it was accented by being the last trip I will
make there before my final "orientation" with AFS at the end of this month, at which I will be
traveling back to the US, and during which I will not get a chance to experience the town. So I
consider this to be my last real journey to the "city of green spires" made all the more magical by
the old Tivoli Gardens.
41st Column -- Danish Exams --
May 29, 2001
I stare dully at the computer screen before me. My fellow students are typing away
unconcernedly as I try to focus my mind on the task at hand. As I try to read the words I have
just keyed in, I suddenly realize that the text is in another language. In fact, the guideline I'm
reading from is in a foreign tongue as well. As I try to think of something else to write, I ask
myself again why I agreed to take the Danish final exams.
Since I am an exchange student, I was given a choice as to whether or not I wanted to, and I
had consented to take three of them; English, Math,-- and for some odd reason which I am still
not sure about,-- Danish. The written section of the test is just one of the several aggravating
steps that are included in the exam process.
The exams are split into two parts; writing and oral. The writing exams take place in late
May, and the oral exams are scheduled sporadically throughout June. The official last school day
was on the 23rd of May, but thereafter we students have what is called a "study vacation" when
we do not have regular school, but just our exams, which only take up one or two days out of the
week. The only oral test that I have taken, as of now, is the one I was dreading the most,--
Danish.
I had been hearing all sorts of things about the oral exams in Denmark from my classmates,
teachers, and friends. Every time someone attempted to explain it to me it was different from the
time before. The most I could discern from the scattered accounts that I heard was that it was
absolutely nothing like the American final exams. Since Danish was my first to try, I decided in
the end simply to "wing it" and see how it resolved itself. I had no idea what to expect, and had
no clue how to prepare for it anyway. So on the Monday it was to take place, I headed down to
the school.
We were apparently going to be taken in individually, so everyone was scheduled to be there
in timeslots that were staggered by about 40 minutes. I joined the group of my classmates who
were waiting in the hallway outside one of the rooms and one by one my friends were called
in.
After disappearing into the classroom for a matter of minutes, they were led out by a teacher
to a different classroom. When my turn came I stepped in, trying to seem as confident about the
whole process as I could. I was given a few sheets of text to read, and was led to another
classroom, where I was given about twenty minutes to summarize it by myself. After doing so I
was called into the first classroom again, where two adults,-- one of my regular teachers and
another person whom I did not know but knew was the "censor" who would make sure
everything went according to Danish rules,-- were waiting for me.
I then had ten minutes in which I had to explain the text that I had read, with the teachers
generally assessing my reading comprehension in the language. Needless to say, I was nervous.
The notes I had prepared in the other room were sufficient, but simply having to speak for ten
minutes in a language I feel I barely know about a text I couldn't hope to understand was hard to
attempt. I felt as though I couldn't understand myself half the time I was speaking, so I had no
idea how they managed to get anything out of the examination. Somehow, though, I got through
it and even got a passable grade. All in all I'm happy that I attempted it at least. The ordeal of a
Danish oral exam is something that I feel I will not have many other chances to try.
The writing part of the English exam was relatively easy; seeing as I've had fairly regular and
public practice of my English writing skills throughout the year, but I am fairly dreading the oral
exam; my speech skills have taken a nosedive since I have begun speaking Danish nearly
exclusively in everyday life. My first language has become limited quite a bit below my comfort
level, and though I am still able to write fairly well in English, for the first time in my life I have to
use a dictionary and thesaurus while I do so.
The "sidste skoledag," or final school day, activities in my Danish school, the Tiende Klasse
Center Djursland, were very enjoyable. The tradition all over the country is for all the students
and teachers to dress up, in order to add to the celebratory air. It started at school, where my
class and I had breakfast, played a few games, and gave presents to our teachers in one final
ceremony.
Then as a group we all headed to the park in Grena. We spent the afternoon there with the
rest of the students in the town, enjoying the sunlight and the company of our former classmates.
That evening we headed over to one of my friend's houses, and cooled our heels for a while
before the party that was going to take place that night.
Even though I still have two exams to go to before I'm officially done with class, I'm quite
relieved that I've entered the "home stretch" as far as school is concerned; though it does mean
that I have less than a month left in Denmark.
40th Column -- Rainy Day and Danish Transportation --
May 25, 2001
The rain has chased most of the other clientele from the cafe back inside, but I stubbornly
hold my ground against the drizzle as I sit with my coffee and mineral water outside the door. It
isn't as if I am getting wet; the open-air cafe is a standard European concept, and here in Denmark
most of them are set up with awnings to the protect patrons from the light rain that is present for
most of the summer months.
The precipitation was making the day very moist and comfortable; it felt as though it was
around 60 degrees Fahrenheit,-- normal for a Danish May. The summer had come and gone, and
after a week or so of sunlight and warmth it seems as though Denmark has now switched directly
over to fall.
I dress for the Danish summer like I would dress for a Mississippi winter, with a light jacket
and long-sleeve shirt. But I have no problem with the cold; any time I began to wish for warmer
climes I would simply remember the 80 and 90 degree weather that I will be getting plenty of
when I return home to the US, and was also one of the main reasons I had picked a Scandinavian
country in the first place.
It is a Friday, but as the school year is nearly over with and my class is using today to go over
the German exam,-- which I am not taking,-- I was not required to go to school. So I decided to
come down to Arhus in order to do some shopping and spend some time here in one of the small
cafes.
It had been a wonderful day. So I sit here with one of my journals spread out on the table in
front of me. It's actually my third to have filled up with my exchange experience; though lately I
have gotten quite behind in my personal writings. When I am simply putting words down on
paper I can really see to what extent my spelling and grammar have degenerated. Sometimes I'll
write a paragraph of text and look back over it, to notice that I had made errors that would make
my American English teachers cringe, and likewise, myself. Sometimes I wonder what I would do
if I did not have the "spell-check" function on the computer.
A few friends of mine from school, who apparently weren't taking the German exam either,
pass by on the shopping street. We spot each other and they stop by to say hello. One of them is
my friend Line (pronounced like Leena), who will actually be living in Alabama next year as an
exchange student. Now that I have gotten a firmer grip on the Danish language, I have found it a
bit easier to make friends in my class.
We talk for a few minutes, and they ask me "Are you going home with the train?" I answer in
the affirmative, and eventually they go on to explore the rest of the small boutiques that line the
side streets and alleys of downtown Arhus. But that had reminded me that I had to check when
my train was actually leaving, so after they depart I get out my train guide to check when I would
have to leave.
The Danish transportation system, otherwise known as the DSB, is one of the most confusing
establishments I have ever come across. If one is traveling from one large city to another then it
consists of a rather simple configuration of trains, but once the smaller towns and establishments
are involved, the order and logic seems to disappear into oddly timed departures, trains, and
busses only going halfway through a route, and the fact that after 8:00 p.m. most transportation to
smaller towns stops completely.
So all my transportation had to be planned so that I arrived in the city of Gena before the last
bus left from there to Hyllested, the town in which I am currently living. The train ride from
Arhus to Gena takes about an hour, while my time in the bus would be about 30 minutes. I had
told my host family I would be home by 6:00, and since it was around 3:00 in the afternoon, I
believed that I had plenty of time to make it home. I was quite mistaken.
Since Gena is a bit out of the way, it is not on the "inter-city" train plan, and therefore the train's
arrival times are anything but regular,-- the only way I could get into Hyllested before about 8:00
p.m. would be to take a train that only went halfway to Gena then to catch an assortment of
busses to the town of Tirstup, where I knew my host father could pick me up. I groaned
internally; I really do not enjoy taking the busses through Djursland for any real distance. Also
the place where I would have to get off would be a small Danish town that I had never visited
before, and it would be a bit hard to find the bus stop from the train station.
As I gather my things and set off for the train station I try to gripe,-- it would be much easier if I
would be able to,-- but the fact is that I am in quite a good mood; and as illogical as the Danish
transportation system seems, it is still one of the best ways I have traveled. In Denmark, if you
are unable to drive a car it is still possible to get to small towns relatively cheaply; and also as I
leave the cafe, the drizzling rain begins to let up.
39th Column -- The Danish Summer --
May 15, 2001
The Danish summer is a lot like winter in Mississippi; if you aren't there at the exact right
time, then chances are that you will miss it. Earlier in the year, I was told that summer only
consists of a few choice days in either May or June where the sun shines, the flowers bloom, and
the temperatures are swelteringly hot. But I have learned that the Danes' interpretation of "hot" is
as humorous to me as my idea of "cold" was to them.
One morning I noticed that there was warm sunlight coming in through my window. When I
went over to investigate the strange phenomenon, I realized that there was not a single cloud in
the sky, something I cannot remember happening since I arrived here. The sun was shining
pleasantly and small yellow flowers had bloomed in the fields around the house. It was absolutely
beautiful.
This, I quickly learned, was the first summer day in Denmark; a nearly religious experience to
those used to the overcast and rainy weather that fills the most part of the Danish year. The
duration of summer can last anywhere from four or five days to a month. After this short period
of warmth and light, the skies close up again and the climate returns to it's normal dark state. But
in the few precious moments they receive, Danes usually make the most of it.
Summer affects Danes in an interesting way. As soon as it gets to this precious week or so of
sunlight everyone suddenly migrates to the coasts; no place in Denmark is more than thirty-three
miles from the sea, and there are plenty of fjords and streams which reach far inland, so nearly
everyone goes to a body of water in order to cool off or sunbathe. But the latter is a bit of a
mistake for a country that only gets "real" sunlight for half a year. When the sunlight came, I was
ready with my hefty SPF 30 sun block, my normal companion for summer, but after the first few
days of sunshine nearly every person I met had been burned a deep red by the sun.
One Danish pastime during the summer is picnics. Not long ago, my host family and I went
on one near the ruins of Kalaa, one of the many castles on Djursland. It is nearly seven hundred
years old, and now only the foundations and one tower remain. It is situated on an island in the
Kalaa, Vig Cove, and is a beautiful spot. With my host parents, my nine-year-old host sister
Inanna, and my older host sister Maria, who was visiting from Copenhagen, I made the ride from
their house outside of Hyllested to the small land bridge that connects the island to the Djursland
peninsula. We had packed a basket filled with pA,lsebrA,d, salads, and even a full pot of coffee,
the last of which is nearly required when two or more Danes meet anywhere in the world.
It was a sweltering 72 degrees Fahrenheit, and whenever my host family would comment on
the heat I couldn't suppress a smile. If that was considered hot here, then it was fine by me; one
of the reasons I had chosen a Scandinavian country was the cold climate.
We spread our blanket in a nice out-of-the-way spot and sat down to enjoy the sun.
The island was already filled with couples and families like ourselves, either lying on their blankets
or exploring the ruins. The sun was shining brightly, but there was a nice breeze coming from the
water, which itself was dotted with sailboats and windsurfers, so there was nearly no heat. It was
an immensely enjoyable day.
It is a fairly normal thing for Danes to visit one of these spots during the summer, and is very
pleasant. Djursland alone has seven castles, sports one of the best beaches in Denmark, has many
forests, and in the south has the "Mols Bjerge," Denmark's mountains, which are a range of gently
sloping hills. During the summer, all of these scenic spots are filled with Danes and tourists from
the rest of Europe.
Along with summer, suddenly everything has begun growing again. The fields, which during
the winter had been the uniform brown of upturned soil, have either turned a bright green with
young wheat, or a vivid yellow with mustard plants. Daisies and daffodils grow in pastures and
along roads, lending unexpected color to the landscape. Danes keep their gardens up throughout
the spring and summer, and when these few days of constant sunlight come, the flowers burst into
color, though an interesting change from the hibiscus and other tropical varieties I was used to in
Mississippi; here tulips are grown, along with lilies and many varieties of herbs.
Now that I have seen Denmark in the summer, I must say that this is the time of year at which
this land is most beautiful. It is the kind of weather that would make anyone want to go outside
and walk around for a while; even a person like myself, who usually is not one for nature. But
even I must say that Denmark has some of the most beautiful countryside I have experienced, and
if I take in mind the rain and darkness of the Danish winter, I am able to appreciate this sunlight
even more.
38th Column -- Dreaming in Danish and Daydreaming of Home --
May 8, 2001
My days in Denmark are numbered. The month of May has snuck upon me, and suddenly I
realize that I'll need to start packing pretty soon. Back home my friends are wrapping up the
school year, and here I,-- along with the rest of the Danish teenagers,-- am doing the same, while
gradually realizing that in Scandinavia it's finally gotten as close as it will to what I have always
considered appropriate weather for this time of year.
It seems as though summer has finally crept up on Denmark. Colors are brighter; the budding
fields are turned a stunning emerald green by the sunlight, and the water of the Kattegat is a deep
blue with beaches of rocks polished an ivory white by the surf. The wind is as relentless as ever;
whipping around the hills and valleys of this area constantly, but the temperature has hovered just
below 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and I have officially retired my heavy winter coat in favor of lighter
attire.
The sun does not set until about 9:00 or 10:00 in the evening, and is up by 6:00 a.m. Now
that there is sunlight again, I suddenly have the urge to go outside as much as possible, which is
odd for me because I have never really been a nature-lover. Suddenly I find myself walking
through the woods and fields that surround my host family's house and just enjoying the fact there
is sunlight and that finally things are beginning to grow again.
Still I work on learning the language of Denmark. As I become more proficient in Danish, my
life is simplified in many ways, yet at the same time more and more problems crop up. Now that I
am able to express more than just basic things in Danish, it has begun to become more of a part of
my mental processes; I find myself thinking and even dreaming sometimes in Danish, and that, it
goes without saying, has caused quite a bit of confusion on my part.
When you learn a new language, you still are thinking in your original one, so whenever you
hear something in your second language, you automatically translate it to your first in your mind.
As you become better at understanding and communicating it sometimes get a bit confusing,
because of all the mental translation going on. Life sometimes seems as though I'm watching a
badly subtitled foreign art movie, and if I'm having a particularly trying day then I may say
something in Danish, thinking I am speaking English, and vice-versa.
Some days I can hardly get out a simple conversation in Danish, and other days I can discuss
or debate anything without using my native tongue at all. And this entire time my English
pronunciation and grammar is slowly dissipating; to the point that I find myself second guessing
my own English skills ("Is that actually a word, or did I just make it up?"), and hardly trusting
myself to be able to type out a coherent sentence.
The first time I dreamed in Danish it caught me completely off guard. An AFS representative
once told me that when you start dreaming in your second language, it has really taken hold in
your mind. Despite the fact that this is a good sign, it still bewilders me and is a bit of an odd
sensation whenever it happens.
As I near my return to the States, I have begun to reconnect with my family and friends. It's a
bit odd, because as I begin to write and call these people who had populated my life before I left
for Denmark, I am once again swept up in the daily dramas and dreams that had made up my days
with my friends before I left. It's comforting because while I was growing and evolving on my
own here in Europe, they were doing the exact same thing. I am also re-introduced to the family
network which I had all but forgotten while I was here.
And it scares me a bit, because while I was in Denmark I learned how to stand on my own;
Danish teenagers are given far more responsibility than American ones, and also start off their
lives much sooner. Generations are closer together, and mutual respect is a very important part of
the culture. It may be a bit odd to go back to the states and "just be another teenager" again.
But as I am re-assimilated into the culture that I left ten months ago I become a bit anxious,
because I have no way of knowing what has been going on back home in my friends' and family's
lives. AFS, my exchange organization, has a saying, that an exchange experience is made up of at
least two years,-- the year that you spend in another country and the year after you return
home.
The unknowns about my next year in the US scare me, but as I have learned here in Denmark,
it's useless to sweat the stuff you can't change or be sure about from your present situation, and
that's just the predicament that I'm in now, since I have no way to know the extent of the changes
that have occurred until I set foot back into Hattiesburg, Mississippi.
37th Column -- Will Danish Lifestyle and Uniqueness be Lost in a
Modern World -- May 1, 2001
I am lost in speculation about life back home these days. My time in Denmark is drawing to a
close, and I am sharply reminded that soon I will have to return to that same place I left nearly ten
months ago. What's happened to my friends? My family? How much have I changed? I think
going on an exchange for a year is good, because it gives you just enough time to start taking
things in the country you're experiencing for granted.
I have become so used to the temperament and mindset of the Danes, I'm not sure how I will
react when I return to southern Mississippi. I have really grown to love this cold, rainy little
peninsula, and grieve for it at the same time,-- because I fear Denmark will not exist in its current
state for much longer.
During the recent US presidential election Denmark was having a vote of its own,-- to decide
whether or not to adopt the European currency of the Euro in place of the Danish Krone, one of
the steps that the European Union is taking to unite the continent. They voted against it, but
Denmark will not be able to hold out against the EU much longer. Large countries like France
and Germany do not stand to lose much from uniting Europe, but smaller countries, like
Denmark, risk losing everything.
They are a mere five million people living in the northern corner of the continent, with their
own language, culture, monarchy, and history, and as more and more young people leave the
country and study abroad, the next generation of Danes may not be Danes at all, but Europeans.
Though it is the inevitable outcome, it saddens me a bit, because this is a great culture that is
being lost to globalization.
Many older Danes live in a small world, one where the boundaries are drawn just outside the
kommune or county in which they live. One sign of this is the wide range of dialects that exist,--
every region of the country has its own way of speaking. If I were to go to southern or west
Jutland, then I would have a bit more difficulty understanding the people there than I do in
Djursland, the area in which I learned to speak Danish. Every place has its own history, culture,
and identity; all which is being lost to the future.
It's not just happening to Denmark, though, as the world is united though the electronic world
all small places are losing themselves a bit. And with progress, there will always be casualties.
It's interesting, because when the US branches out, so does its way of life, and as American
culture sweeps the world it replaces the things that were there before,-- nearly every movie that
plays in a Danish theater is from the US; Danish kids grow up with Telletubbies and Winnie the
Pooh; and American products line the supermarket shelves. Denmark has received an infusion of
the USA in order to make up for its dying self-awareness, but the fact is that once the American
culture is brought in, the original one is pushed away.
Young Danes are raised with the same concept of "Californication," as the Red Hot Chili
Peppers described it, that the media gives many American kids. As I have understood it, this
concept is the idea that California is a place where all your dreams can come true. Only, on a
global scale it is applied to the entire USA. Imagine that all your experience of the US came from
our media,-- what kind of impression would you be given then of our country? It is just this
impression that I have confronted with a lopsided grin for the past ten months, as Danes ask me
satirically if I have my gun with me today,-- stemming from the prejudice that every American
carries arms,-- or when they are telling me they have always wanted to go to Hollywood and
become an actor/musician/artist, as though as soon as you stepped over the border into Los
Angeles you were one of the three instantaneously.
Though it is inevitable,-- Europe will unite, for better or worse, whether one nostalgic
American exchange student wants it to or not,-- it does sadden me. I entered this country at the
beginning of a new century, but this is very clearly the end for Denmark. In ten years' time this
may just be a bridge between Scandinavia and the rest of Europe whose inhabitants are unaware
of the millennia of history that was made in this rainy little country. I guess it saddens me because
as a good Southern girl I have always been taught to respect and be aware of history. Or maybe,
I would just like a place to come back to after my exchange is over where I can sit outside a cafe,
get some good, strong Danish coffee, and watch people drift through the boutiques and small
specialty shops that line the shopping streets, which at this point still have prominence over the
few malls that exist here. Or who knows;-- maybe I'm just being stubborn.
36th Column -- Danish Spring and New Environment Offers
Comfort -- April 24, 2001
Suddenly, everything is normal again. I've noticed that things get back to regular more
quickly these days; I guess it comes from the experience of constant changes I've had to face since
my exchange began. You get used to changing homes, friends, and ways of life on a nearly
day-to-day basis. I have now spent the equivalent of a week with my new host family, and the
time at my former one already is taking on a dream-like quality.
Spring has sprung in Denmark. Over Easter it was snowing, but in the last few days the sun
has shone brightly and the sky has been a beautiful shade of blue, with the kind of fluffy, white
clouds usually associated with Renaissance paintings. Sunlight covers the land like a welcome
friend, creating unaccustomed warmth on floors and faces, while the wind, though no less
ferocious, brings with it the smells of earth and sea. The days have stretched to over twelve hours
now, and it does not get dark until about 9:00e p.m. It's much easier to wax poetically about this
country in the spring and summer, but the good weather and sunlight are no guarantee.
Denmark's climate is unpredictable, and it just might snow again. A few days ago it was 60
degrees Fahrenheit, the highest the temperature has gotten in about five months, and I was nearly
ready to break out the t-shirts. It felt swelteringly hot. I had gotten so used to the cold that even
that low a temperature seemed like summer in Mississippi.
The animals have returned. Deer, quail, and jackrabbits the size of small dogs scamper across
the landscape, getting nary a glance from the Danes,-- there are not very many hunters in the
country, and therefore animals come into the open more often. But it is amazing to me to see so
many animals running around after the long Danish winter had confined them.
I have many chances to appreciate the beauty of the Danish landscape now that I am living
farther out in the country than I ever possibly thought I would be. My new host family, the
Vetters, live in a farmhouse surrounded on all sides by fields. There are several houses nearby,
but all require a few minutes walk to arrive there. The silence out here is more absolute than I
have ever experienced on a day-to-day basis. At night there are no cars, no insects, and nearly no
birds to break the tranquility of the land, and on days when I am home alone, I keep the stereo on,
to fill the house with some kind of noise. It is a bit lonely out here, but I'm actually finding it quite
nice. This is a place where you can truly be by yourself.
I have gotten to know my new host family a bit more, as well as the landscape. My host
parents work in the city of Grena, My host mom as a lawyer and my host dad rents out
apartments. It has been a really good experience to get to know them, and I think it will work
out. And then there is Inanna.
Inanna is my host sister, she is nine years old, and every day, I learn something new from her.
The language barrier is becoming less scary to me, but still communication is a daily struggle.
Since Inanna is only nine, she has not learned English in the Danish school system yet, so when I
speak to her it is in exclusively Danish. It's a bit frustrating at times, but I have usually been able
to get my point across.
When you are in a country where you do not know the native language, then you learn how
to communicate without words, either through hand signals or using voice inflection to help
people understand you. I have learned how to do this, and now have found it less frustrating
when someone is speaking a language I don't understand; by just watching them and listening to
the cadence of someone's voice I can eventually understand what they're trying to say. But with
Inanna it is actually quite easy; the Vetters have had an exchange student before, and she is used
to not always being completely understood.
A bit more is expected of me in this family than in my last; there are many chores which all of
the members take care of together, and also on their own. The house is kept immaculately clean,
and every day we all help out in the daily responsibilities. All the time, we speak Danish and I feel
as though I understand and can speak more every day. I have even started reading books in this
Scandinavian language. My first to have finished was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's
Stone, by J. K. Rowling; translated into Danish.
The only other host sibling that lives in this area is Joachim, and just recently he became a
father. It was odd to be included in this important part of family life after only having lived here a
short time. But it was good to feel accepted into this family network, and during this joyous time
I felt just like another sibling in the family, and really, isn't that what this whole exchange thing is
about?
35th Column -- A New Host Family and a New Home -- April 16,
2001
I heard Kirsten pull in the drive and felt myself tense up. The moment I had been waiting for
had arrived. As I took a deep breath and got up from the chair I had been occupying in front of
the TV I thought to myself "OK, this is the last time in the foreseeable future you're going to be in
this room. This is the last time you're going to see these people; this is the end of your time at the
Rasmussens'."
The importance of the moment failed to be impressed on me, despite my best efforts. Kirsten
walked in, and saying hello with a smile helped me carry my things to the car outside. I said
goodbye to my former host family and with a final wave to Sanne, my former host mom, got into
the car next to my exchange representative. This was it -- I had officially changed families.
It was the culmination of a month and a half of waiting, something I had been thinking about
constantly since I started the moving process. As I looked out behind me at the pile of belongings
occupying the back seat I was happy I had gotten a chance to see how much space it all took up,-
- that will help when I'm packing to go home.
We backed out of the driveway and I tried to look at the surroundings and house in a new
way, trying to give myself one final image of the place I had been living for the most part of this
year. No final impressions or insights came, and we headed out past the center of town. By the
church, the rest home, and Lyngby's one and only store I tried to feel some regret, or make myself
miss these small landmarks. I felt nothing but a wave of relief as we drove out of the village. I
knew I never need come here again.
While making small talk, Kirsten and I drove through the countryside. My nervousness
seemed to have disappeared with the town of Lyngby, and I found it easier to relax as we drove
out to my new host family. As we moved into southern Djursland, I noticed the landscape
becoming hillier, and the endless fields giving way to more forests and larger farms. Then,
overlooking a valley of sorts in the countryside, I spotted my new home.
The house is quite large and airy, with a lot of windows and a very relaxed air. It's the
quintessential house in the country, surrounded by fields with a tree line about half a mile away. It
was quite modern, and was a place where I found it very easy to feel at home. Kirsten helped me
move in my stuff again, and over the following weekend I got to know my new surroundings a
little better.
Neither of my host parents were farmers, but they did own much of the land in this little
valley. The shore of the Kattegat is only about a mile away, and on quiet days you can almost
hear the waves breaking on the shore. The hills around the area, though form a kind of natural
barrier against the harsh wind that whips around Denmark, and the house is protected in that
respect.
My room was a bit larger than my former one at the Rasmussens'. I like to arrange things,
and one of the things I had been looking forward to doing was having my own space again. Ever
since I had begun packing, my room in Lyngby had ceased to be my own. It has always been very
important to me to have a space for myself to occupy and call home, and this room has now
become that. Over the process of unpacking I started to really feel at ease there, and once my
suitcases were all back in storage, I felt a huge wave of relief.
On my first night there I was able to meet the family. Tove and Leon are my new host
parents; they have four kids, two of whom live in Copenhagen, the largest city in Denmark. Their
oldest child has settled nearby, working with a technology company, and their youngest is nine
years old, living in their house.
My first night there passed without me even noticing it, and I woke up with my new
surroundings already seeming familiar. I got ready for school and headed out of the house. To
get to the nearest bus stop I have to bike for about ten minutes. It was a bit windy and rainy, but
not even that could dampen my spirits as I headed out into the dawn.
It was a quite good day at school, much better than any that I can remember having recently.
I don't think it was my class or curriculum that had made the difference, it was myself, and the
fact that my attitude had made a change of about one hundred and eighty degrees. By changing
host families I had been able to drag myself out of the emotional valley that I had been occupying
since I had started the changing process, and suddenly I felt as though I was going to be
okay.
34thd Column -- Packing to Leave My First Host Family -- April 9,
2001
How to pack one's life up after living somewhere for eight and a half months is quite a trying
problem. I was faced with the dilemma when I decided to change host families three-fourths
through my AFS exchange.
Due to problems with the family that I was living with while in Denmark, I decided a few
weeks ago to change, a choice available to exchange students. AFS had found me an alternate
family in a small town nearby, and so now was the time that I was going to move out to their
house.
My new placement was in a town called Hyllested about fifteen kilometers away. I had
started packing when I had received the official clearance from AFS, and the final week before I
was to change saw me cleaning out my room.
It's amazing how much stuff one can acquire in just eight months. I had come over to
Denmark with just one suitcase, a carry-on bag, and a backpack. Now I had several boxes of
winter clothes, books, and just general things that had either been sent from home or bought since
I had arrived back in July. Even after sending two boxes home, the sheer bulk of the stuff I had
acquired was immense.
Of course, I still had my old host family to live with in the weeks that I was packing up.
When I had decided to go, things were very hard for me there; but in the time leading up to my
moving, things had become more tolerable. It was sad, really, because now my host parents'
house on Fladstrupvej had really become home for me. I could negotiate the steep staircase up to
my room, I had learned how to use the heaters, and I had even made peace with most of the cats.
I could sit in my room and feel absolutely comfortable with the scattered pieces of my life from
back home nd thus far in Denmark littering the walls and surfaces.
And as I put it all in boxes and suitcases I couldn't help but feel a bit melancholy. Despite the
fact that my host family and I had grown apart, things had mostly worked out while I was here. I
felt as though I had upset a delicate balance when I had decided to move, and though I knew it
was for the best, that didn't make it any easier. But then I remembered how cut off I had become
from my host family; the way that we had begun to more or less run separate lives, and I knew I
had made the right decision.
Now I was going to have to learn a new set of house rules, bus plans, and people. I look at
my calendar and see that only a couple of months remain, and I almost wonder why I bothered,-- I
only have eleven weeks left. It's possible for me to span the entire range of emotions in my
musings over this decision, but every time I come to the same, chilly conclusion: I need to
go.
As I neared the day I was to change, the stress of the entire situation began to weigh down on
me, making it hard to sleep or spent a few minutes unoccupied. The closer I got, the more I was
looking forward to having the entire ordeal over with, and to be able to at least attempt some
semblance of peace. Changing families is nerve-wracking; I never want to have to go through it
again. I realized how lucky I was to have not had to change host families until now, several
exchange students I knew had changed two or more times, never being able to find a family they
could live with comfortably. Changing host families is a quite hard thing to do emotionally, and I
don't know how some manage to uproot themselves two or maybe even more times.
It was not this hard when I was simply coming over for my exchange, because then I had little
or no expectation or idea of what I was getting into. I had not been able to find any recent or
relevant books about Denmark, so I didn't know what to expect. Now, I had an idea of what I
might be getting into, and my mind was so full of worst-case scenarios that I found it hard to
think sometimes.
But as I sit in my room,-- the walls bare of my decorations, the surfaces cleared of my
trinkets, and my boxes and suitcases standing in a heap by the door,-- it pains me to see this room
so empty, to have it seem as though these last eight and a half months never happened, with the
room I occupied returned to the barren anonymity that I had inhabited back in July.
On my last afternoon in Lyngby I sat there, with all my possessions gone, the bed stripped
and the room as immaculately clean as it had been since the day I had arrived. I walked out of it
for the last time with hardly a backwards glance. Downstairs I seated myself on the living room
couch with the rest of my host family and was not nervous at all, until I heard my AFS
representative turn into the driveway.
33rd Column -- Meeting My New Host Family -- April 3,
2001
The day was absolutely beautiful,-- the kind that you get this time of year in Denmark which
almost fools you into thinking it's spring. The sun was shining brightly, with hardly a cloud in the
sky, but there was almost no heat and the temperature still hovered right above freezing. I was in
the Rasmussens' car, traveling over the fields of Djursland.
I had arrived from Prague not too long ago, and now I was taking the first step to getting a
new host family. The regional director of the American Field Service, Kirsten, had found me one,
and now was the time for me to have an introductory visit. I had already spoken to the potential
host mother, but we had decided that before we plan something definite I would come out and
meet the rest of the family and also get a chance to see the house where I would be living.
It had been over a month since I had first spoken to Kirsten about changing families and it
had been a week since I had met with the host mother, Tove, about coming to stay. The time in
between had been spent in the worry and strain of speculation. The feeling is akin to being on the
peak of a large roller coaster,-- you know that you paid for your ticket, and in essence this is
exactly what you wanted, but now you're able to look down and see the distance you're going to
fall, so suddenly all you want is to be very, very far away, but there's no way you can turn back
now.
The reason for the long wait in this matter was simply that AFS has a very hard time finding
host families; and since I had to stay in the same school district (it's too late to switch schools in
the Danish system) the problem of finding a family was intensified. But luckily Kirsten had found
one for me.
They lived in the southern district of Djursland. The house was a small island in the middle of
fields, which stretched to the far off tree line in every direction. But the landscape was free of the
monotony that dominated the land around Lyngby. This area has the biggest hills in Denmark,
and despite being extremely rural was beautiful even to an urbanite like me.
They lived in a farmhouse on a slight rise in the landscape, giving a stunning view of a small
valley-like depression behind a garden that was filled with herbs and flowers. The Rasmussens
dropped me off, and I walked to the front door, where I was met by Tove. We exchanged
greetings, and she explained that her husband was not in right now but her youngest daughter,
who was the only child who lived at home, was somewhere around the house.
I was a bit scared when I heard that my new host family had a nine-year-old girl in it. Being
the youngest child in my family back in the states, I was not used to dealing with kids on a regular
basis. I had been given a bit of practice from my host-niece in Lyngby, who is three years old, but
never have I lived with a kid before. I was reminded of some of the fights and disagreements that
my older brother and I used to get into, and wasn't exactly heartened. Also the fact that young
Danes can't speak English until they are at least eleven wasn't completely lost on me either.
She appeared from the kitchen a few minutes after I had arrived. We both introduced
ourselves in Danish, and after a few minutes of talking to her, I thought it would probably work
out.
While I was there, I was able to see the house, meet a few more of the family members, and
take a walk around some of the fields surrounding the farm. The family was good, and the longer
I stayed there the more I could feel the place and the people growing on me. I could definitely
see myself living there. By 6:00 in the afternoon, both Tove and I were ready to make the call to
Kirsten, telling her that we were both OK with the idea of my staying.
We called her, and after speaking a few minutes with Tove, she asked to speak to me. We
talked for a while, and eventually set up a day for me to move. I could feel the metaphorical
roller coaster start its descent. We worked out the details and as the many unknowns that had
been dominating my thoughts were replaced with dates and facts, for the first time I was
absolutely content about changing host families.
I said goodbye to Kirsten, and hung up the phone. Tove and my host sister had moved to
another room while I had been speaking. Their voices came faintly to me, but other than that the
house was filled with the silence of a Sunday afternoon. I got out of my chair and walked to the
middle of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I felt myself relax as the strain and worry which had
been consuming me for the last few weeks slowly disappeared.
I closed my eyes and smiled, saying quietly to myself, "You came out on top, Kennon.
You came out on top." At which point I went to join my new host family.
32nd Column -- My School Trip to Prague -- March 27, 2001
If I don't watch myself, I'm in serious peril of falling in love with Prague too. I have already
been enchanted by European cities like Copenhagen and Lucerne, but Prague is a very special
place.
[Webmaster's Note: Here is a photo of Kennon's Class in Prague. She's the left end one
on the back row. Click on the photo to see the full-size version. (725x504, 80k) Close that
screen to return to this one.]
Every year in the Danish school system students take what is known as a "studietour" where
they travel to a different country for about a week, and generally go around as tourists, learning
about the place in which they are staying. This year my class decided to go to Prague, in the
Czech Republic.
I did not know very much about the city, and didn't know what to expect, but as I have
learned: having no expectations is a very good way to travel. That way you are not trying to
make everything you see live up to those ideas, and it's much easier to be surprised by the place in
that you are visiting.
It takes eighteen hours to drive from Grena to Prague, and so I met my class at about six in
the evening, then we boarded the bus and headed out of Denmark. It didn't take long to leave the
country,-- most of our drive was through Germany, heading vaguely southeast. As the sunlight
dwindled we settled down for a long night of driving. We only had to get out of the bus once, at
the German-Czech border, in order to have the wheels of the bus sprayed and our shoes washed
in protection against Mad Cow and Foot and Mouth Diseases.
I find it very hard to sleep in cars or busses, and so I spent most of the time writing, reading,
or watching the occasional movie that they played over the bus TV set. I like traveling.
Sometimes it is more enjoyable to go somewhere than to actually arrive. There is a time during
all long trips when it seems as though you are the only one there, everyone else being asleep or
themselves lost in their own little worlds. I always like to spend these few hours thinking,
because for some reason I find it easier to think in a car.
At about ten the next day we arrived in the Czech Republic. We drove through the hilly
terrain and made it to Prague at around noon. Prague is another old European city, complete
with small cobbled streets, very few of which are able to admit cars, and spires, which adorn every
official or religious building. In the mornings it's wreathed with fog, and the weather is
unpredictable. The city was overrun with tourists like us, which detracted a bit from the
atmosphere, but still it is an amazingly beautiful place.
It has taken me a while to learn how to make school friends in Denmark. In fact all the Danes
that I had sat down and been able to get to know before going to Prague were over twenty.
Danish teenagers are a bit hard to read because, as opposed to American teens, they are not very
outgoing in everyday life. Also, my class in school was almost completely girls, and in the US,
most of my friends were guys. I found it hard to get back in the swing of these girl-only
friendships, but on this trip both my class and I were trying a bit harder to get to know each other,
and it ended up working out well. Now that I have a rather good grip on the Danish language,
people in my class are more willing to speak and also listen to me. It is a bit unfortunate though
that only now, three months before I return home, I have only begun to make friends. But I hear
that this is a normal problem for exchange students to have.
"Oh, this here is the exchange student. She says she's an American, but she speaks with some
weird European accent." This is a comment a British student staying in the same hotel as my class
made upon introducing me to one of his friends. I haven't noticed the loss on my American accent
too much, but American exchange students tell me what little southern dialect I had is almost
completely gone, and Danes whom are familiar with the American accent find me a bit hard to
place geographically. I still notice myself slurring a bit, which my Danish friends call "swallowing
words," and also "y'all" is a word that I have to explain every time I use it.
The week was great; in fact, it almost seemed to fly by since I was enjoying myself so much.
We visited the churches and castles around the area, all under the changeable Czech weather. It
was nice to have a vacation, to have a chance to simply sit back and not worry and Prague is a
very easy city to relax in.
As we pulled out of the city on Friday, I settled back down into the bus, trying to make
myself as comfortable as possible. I then took a deep breath and started finding things to occupy
my time. I know things will move very fast when I return to Denmark, in fact the speed at which
things will be moving is a bit scary to me. But at the moment life is slow, a pace which I enjoy
and love. When I return I will have to face reality. But right now, I'm just traveling.
31st Column -- Discontent and Changes -- March 17, 2001
"Hi Mom" I said into the phone one fateful Saturday.
"Hi Honey" she exclaimed, with the outpouring of happiness which I had gotten used to
accompanying the times that I would call her.
"I, uh, need to talk to you about something."
"What's up?"
I took a deep breath, and decided to let the bomb fall. "I'm changing host families." Well, so
much for that subtlety thing I was planning on trying out.
"Oh," she sounded genuinely surprised, and no wonder,-- I hadn't wanted to worry her with
the problem until I had something definite to tell her.
When you go on an exchange with the American Field Service, you spend your year living
with a volunteer family, called your "host family," and are meant to include yourself in their
day-to-day activities. Now that I think back on it, I can't put my finger on the exact place where
my relationship with mine, the Rasmussen family, had started to strain. It was definitely some
time between New Years and the first week in February, when I returned from my mini-exchange
to Copenhagen -- that was when I first felt a problem.
Not really a problem as much as just a slight discomfort. I wrote it off as just the anxiety of
returning home after a vacation, but the feeling stayed even after I had been "home" for a matter
of weeks. It continued until I left the area again, and when I returned to Lyngby the second time
it was definite: I was completely unhappy in my current situation.
It was a mix of many things,-- my town, with a population of two hundred and fifty people
was quite hard for me to enjoy. It was just too quiet; and I had been having some problems
finding things to occupy myself with after school, leaving me in my room most afternoons. My
host sister and I had also gradually grown apart, to the point where we would go about our daily
routines without a word to each other.
On the outside, Pernille and I looked very similar, but basically we are completely different
people. That, along with other things, is what I think caused the rift to form between us, and
since we are both usually not very confrontational, it materialized as just a mutual hostile silence.
It turned out that the only person I would speak to in my host family was my host mom, Sanne,
since my host father and I did not speak very much to begin with.
That, coupled with the small town and my lack of social activities finally made me explain
things to the only AFS contact I had developed a friendship with,-- my contact teacher at school.
She got me in touch with the head person in the AFS Arhus area, who was the one to talk to
whenever an exchange student had a problem with their situation. There was an obstacle though,
AFS has trouble getting host families in the first place, and when they need a replacement it
becomes even more difficult. After the meeting I had two and a half weeks of waiting before I
heard anything about it.
Then one day my host mother informed me that she had received a call from a prospective
host family that lived on the outskirts of another small town nearby. I arranged to meet the host
mother, Tove (pronounced like Toh-va), at her law office. It was down in the harbor area of
Grena, and a thirty-minute walk from my school.
It was a very pleasant meeting, and as we discussed the situation, I learned more about her
family. She has four children, only one of which lives at home,-- a nine-year-old girl. She and her
husband live outside the village of Hyllested, on a farm.
"I have heard that you're going to Prague on a study tour with you class next week."
I replied in the affirmative.
"Why don't we wait until after you get back to make any final decisions, then you can have a
chance to come out and see the house and meet the rest of the family once you return."
"That'd probably be the best way to go about it."
From there we said our goodbyes, and I made my way back into the town, contemplating the
turn things had just taken. The family sounded perfectly nice, and there were several good
reasons for me to go there, but the meeting left me wondering if by voicing my dissent with my
current host family I had made that proverbial leap "from the frying pan into the fire."
Kennon Hulett can be e-mailed at
rejsende@excite.com.
For information about hosting a foregin student, or living abroad, contact any "Miss Tennky"
Area Team volunteer leader. If you like, they can put you in
touch with Host Families or US students who have gone abroad to ask how great it is. Or, you
can call (800) AFS-INFO.
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