I almost killed myself with Starbucks yesterday: never have a venti anything, no matter how much anyone means to you. I didn’t think I could get intoxicated from coffee. You learn something new every day.

And apropos that, onto the topic du jour! I feel like I should begin by writing out a bit of background first. I was born in 1990 in Yanshan, Beijing, China. In 1991, my father left for the USA on a business project (which caved, but he decided to remain nevertheless), and I was raised by my mom and grandparents in rural Beijing until September 21, 1996, when we boarded that plane for San Francisco.

Contrary to America, “single parents” were practically unheard of when I was growing up, and I distinctly remember being in kindergarden, watching all the other kids being picked up, and I thought, “One day, my dad is going to pick me up from school.” It was weird, knowing you have a dad out there, and knowing he knows about you, but not knowing anything else about him. So September 21, 1996, was a big day for me: it was the first time that I met my dad.

I don’t dwell much on psychological explanations, but I don’t disagree that things would’ve turned out a hell of a lot different if I had had him in my life those first six years. (It makes me question a lot of things: Would they still have gotten divorced? Would he still have hit us? Would I still have turned out gay, or bi, or whatever the hell I am? [Troubling questions for a pubescent teenager!] That’s what I’d use my time machine for.) The reality of having “Dad” was much less romantic than I had envisioned for myself and my mom. And I realized after a while that I didn’t like calling him Dad–he wasn’t what a dad should be like.

Until then, I didn’t know that it was possible to be estranged from a stranger. But I was only distancing myself from the image that I had built of him.

But anyway, getting back to the point: I was always close to my mother’s side of the family because of this absence–soon distance. Sure, I was the son of a daughter–with my father’s last name being a constant prickly reminder of that–but I considered myself as legit as any 文 (Wen). And I guess my interest in the Wen family history stems from that desire of inclusion (an apparently recurring theme in my life…faen, they’re all related). Which is why I’m getting so excited over this:

The Wen family, my family, is Manchu. Our people were a nomadic group of hunters and equestrians from northeastern China that spoke a Tungusic language. We belonged to the Plain Yellow Banner (along with Aisin Gioro, the royal Manchu family–something my grandpa was rather fond of mentioning) under the eight banners administration set up by Nurhaci. This much general information I knew. However, what was interesting to me was that after the Manchus set up the Qing Dynasty, they began to practice sinicization in order to stay in power, which included sinicizing Manchu clan names into Chinese surnames. (For example, the clan name Aisin Gioro became sinicized as 金 [Jin], although this doesn’t mean every Chinese person with the surname Jin is an Aisin Gioro.) And ever since I could remember, I’ve been trying to find out what our clan name was.

Well, after a crapload of tracing and retracing our steps, we’ve finally found the…rather anticlimatic clan name. (文氏, it turns out to be. And 氏, or “hala” in Manchu, just means clan. So before we were Wens, we were Wens.) But after digging a little bit further, we came upon something else:

My grandparents came from Dalian, in the Liaoning province. My grandpa’s parents came from Jinzhou, a prefecture in the same province not to far off from Dalian. The Manchus in Jinzhou–more specifically–Jinzhou Tiger Village, are the descendants of those who were stationed there by the emperor. They had previously lived in Beijing in an area called 老虎屯 (Tiger Corridor), in which they settled into in 1671, after the Manchus had taken over the Chinese empire. And before that, the Wen hala had come from Baekdu Mountain, on present-day Chinese-Korean border, and were known as “花色” (Hwase).

So, uhm. That was all the personal genealogy I know. Bless you if you’re not a Wen and have read this far. Although it does make me think: AP US History would have been so much more fun if I had ancestors aboard the Mayflower.

This is it. It’s over. Today marks exactly 11 months since the day I set foot in Oslo Gardemoen. Today is also my last day in Horten. Happy anniversary. Farwell. We’ve come full circle.

I’ve already said goodbye to Joakim. Now I’ve got the TV set to NRK 1: sandvolleyball verdensmesterskap i Stavanger. It feels like a throwback to the first days here, when we watched the OL matches. The world doesn’t stop, but it revolves round and round; I suppose life is like that too.

I wonder what Pappa’s last bad joke would be. I wonder what would be the last thing we would laugh at. I wonder what is going to happen tomorrow on Bones.

A few hours ago Alexander Rybak came on TV, and I realized that might have been the last time I got to see “Fairytale” on public television. As overplayed as it is, even it has snuck its way into my heart: a little something uniquely Norwegian, a little something belonging only to us: 2008/2009. A little something that only I—and perhaps the other partakers on this journey—will know, love and appreciate.

This has been an incredible year, and I’m glad to have finally experienced what I’ve always dreamed about—if only for a short 330 days: a complete family, a dad. I don’t know why, but it’s always so hard to say how I genuinely feel, and I don’t really know if I have it in me to tell him all the thing I want to say when I leave.

An uncomfortable pressure at the back of my throat is pushing me to stop writing, so I will.

And a parting question: I know I will come back, but will I come “hjem?”

Glurgh, I am so sick of it! How come the guys I like never like me back? Am I just that unlucky in finding love? I feel like I’m gonna die an old lonely spinster.

I think I’ve seen more sun these past two days than I have in all the other 300+ days that I’ve been here in Norway. Chilled with Tilly at the beach yesterday. Transportation problems; walked back to Asker station. Honestly, I think sometimes we’ve become more Norwegian than some Norwegian kids here. I mean, I’m taking hikes and sykkelturer for leisure now.
“Hei, åsen går det? Har du lyst til en tur?”

At night the family minus Marie plus Joakim’s girlfriend, Rebekka, took to Borre Golfbane to hear nightingales and sip cocoa. (Haha, see what I mean? Midnight Songbird Badge: Check!)

Today, we were at a huge family gathering near Holmestrand: lots of tremeninger that I haven’t met before, grilling, and oddball but fun games. They also had a helicopter fly in dropping candy over us, which was pretty darn cool.

As of tomorrow, I will have been in Norway for exactly 10 months, although nowadays, all of us are counting how many days we have left (a month and four days). I don’t think the anxiety of leaving has really hit me yet. I know it’s coming, and I’m expecting it to bother me, but it doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to leave at all; despite school more or less sucking ass, I still love many things about Norway. But I can honestly say that after having lived here for almost a year; I find myself…disillusioned. I remember an email from a boy was in Sweden for his exchange year, and he said he had a love/hate relation with his host country. I can definitely understand that mindset now. In a sense, it’s quite painful because I can’t openly declare that I love this country without feeling a bit antipodal. But I suppose that’s how you also know that you’ve truly lived in another country: when that coat of sugar dissolves.
Just something to gnaw on for your brain…

噢凯，昨天晚上我梦见了벨기에的토마스。非常的随机，但是……挺精彩的，至少可以说。在我梦里头，我请他来我的家给他按摩后背。我们俩开始聊天儿，话变得越来越激切，然后不知不觉我们俩就在洗澡堂里了！我不记太多，只能回忆道他潮湿的皮肤，宽阔的肩膀儿，和肌肉的体魄。可能我的潜意识在告诉我什么，哈哈。（其实토마스真的很섹시，可惜他是个混蛋。）

흠，今天又没有上学。我知道，我知道。“坏孩儿。”但在学校里根本没有朋友，连想去的力气都难找。因此我想，还不如自己在家混一天呢。但是今天我的接待妈妈告诉我루이사和엘니为了跷课和她的不诚实吵起来了架。我不想走下那个道，我不想在我接待家庭背后偷偷摸摸儿的。我想跟他们又一个好的，信任的关系。所以我决定从今天以后会对他们真实。这是说，无论我多么不喜欢，多么的恨上学，我必须得上。我必须得保留他们的信息。

Hei hei, I am writing for Bergen and man, it is amazing here! I just have to be honest and say: Bergen is so much better than Oslo, hands down. For those who are unfamiliar with Bergen, it is Norway’s second largest city and is situated on the western coast of Norway. What’s really amazing about the city is that it lies on the edge of the water, but also surrounded by mountains.

We are here to spend påskeferie, and are living with Geir and Irene, and their children: Mathias, Jonas, and lille Lisa.

It was quite a ways to get here: over seven hours of driving across Norway–saw quite a lot of Norwegian landscape (sure beats your average Californian road trip).

On Tuesday, we went around the city center to do some shopping. (Or rather, window-shopping. I have pretty much sworn off shopping for any clothing here in Norway and have regulated myself to only wasting money on transportation fees and the occasional yogurt from the school cafeteria.)

Yesterday, we took a fjelltur (mountain hike): Bergen is practically built into the mountains so it’s easy access to many great hiking routes. And I just have to say, it’s so incredible to be back in Vestlandet again; the scenery in eastern Norway just doesn’t compare to here, and it’s great to revisit the places which made me fall in love with Norway in the first place.

Later in the day we went to Vestkanten Ishall to play curling. I’ve never even heard of the game before, but it was great fun play. And in the evening, we kosed ourselves with some games and music.

Today, we toured some more around the city. We got to see the neighborhood of old houses and buildings behind brygga (Bergen’s harbor, which is also a UNESCO World Heritage site). The houses there were built so close to each other, and the old cobblestone walkways were still intact: it was very charming and distinctively European. Got me thinking that I would love to live in one of those neighborhoods for a while; de ser så koselig ut.

We also got to try out Geir’s new boat. (And by trying out, I mean drive, hehehe.) I now completely understand the whole yacht/boat obsession. It was incredible: so simple.

And hmm, what else? Ate lots of good food–including something called blings, which is more or less a huge brødskive (slice of bread) with a lot of pålegg (topping)–and went to the aquarium and otherwise just chilled with Jonas and Mathias and the rest of the family.

Oh, and I forgot to mention one thing: the Bergen dialect! It’s hard to understand, but very very cool. And what’s insane about Geir and Irene’s family: the 5 of them speak 4 different dialects! (Irene is from Vestfold while Geir is from Rogaland, and they speak quite differently from each other and from Bergensers. Mathias, their oldest son, was born before they moved to Bergen, so his dialect is a mix. [In fact, the way he speaks to me is very different than the way he speaks to his brother.] However, the two younger children were both born in Bergen, and both have the typical Bergen dialect, even though their parents don’t! Amazing, huh?)

And now, I think I shall get some sleep. Go kvæl!

Wow, tonight has been so good. It’s been a long time since I felt like I’ve really spent quality time with Mamma og Pappa, and that’s exactly what tonight has been.

Etter pizza dro Joakim, Chris og Rudi til kinoen og da var det bare oss tre hjemme. (Marie er på konfirmantleir i hælja.) Jeg viste dem mitt prosjekt om Kinas minoriteter som jeg har brukt masse tid på, og innemellom lysbildene begynte vi å prate mye om litt av alt–fra Kinas historie til kulturforskjeller til hvordan jeg trives i Norge til mitt forhold med mamman min. Jeg fikk sjansen til å si så mye som har plaga meg ganske lenge, og det føles så bra at jeg kunne være helt ærlig med dem, særlig om min dårlige samvittighet at jeg ikke er med mamman min lenger. Vi snakka mye om det, faktisk–om hvorfor det er viktig at jeg ikke skulle føle ansvar for hennes problemer, og at selv om det er vanskelig må hun bli vant til livet uten meg. Også sa Pappa noen ting at jeg ikke hadde tenkt på før: at kanskje hun skal bli lykkeligere når hun klarer til å gjøre ting sjølv! Jeg vil huske disse tingene at han sa til meg.
Men vi snakka om andre ting òg, og det gjør meg så kjampeglad å høre at de er glad i meg–og jeg selvfølgelig føler det samme! Det var veldig rørende òg å høre at jeg var velkommen tilbake når som helst; vi har enda snakka om en Kinatur i fremtida! Men først skal vi til Bergen i påskeferie for å besøke Irene og Geir (søstra og svogeren til Mamma) og deres barn i flere dager. Jeg gleder meg masse til å se Vestlandet igjen!

Men ja, jeg virkelig trengte den samtalen. Når føler jeg meg helt correct og alt ordner seg igjen. (Even that forelskafølelse I’ve been getting lately doesn’t seem to char as much, haha.) I love my family!

Wow, this week has been hard. I swear, all I do is complain nowadays, and while that in no way is an accurate representation of my experience here thusfar, denne uke har vært forferdelig!

Had a blow-up with Mom over the phone. It started as an argument about withdrawing from the ATM but escalated into a flurry of rage, tears, and even a suicide threat. Though it ended on a mollifying tone, it set the pace for the rest of the week.

I’m also reminded of the fact that this experience–going on exchange–doesn’t just affect me. While I’m off trollying around and licking poles in Norway she’s still living the everyday life at home…except with one less person in the household. I used to assuage myself by thinking that it would’ve been just the same if I had gone off to college, but at least then she could see me during vacations and holidays.

I know that my life is just beginning, and I know that I want to see the world and experience life, but I still feel guilty for leaving her. It’s a different situation than it would have been if we had been a three-member family. Even though she has a boyfriend now, I’m not blind to the frailty of “long-term relationships”–she’s on her third one now. I ultimately hope that he’ll be the one to take care of her and keep her company, just as I hoped that the last one would do, and the one before that. (She’s also considering break up with him.)

I know she wouldn’t like the thought of anyone pitying her, me included (or maybe me especially), and I’m not. I just want her to be happy. And though she reassures me she’s fine, even the toughest of people can feel small and alone without somebody at their side.

So anyway, after that tearful phone call, my eyes never unreddened/unpuffed themselves and now I realize that I have pink eye.

And the thought of school doesn’t do anything but exacerbate matters. I spent pretty much the past four days doing nothing but cramming to finish up an English presentation on Chinese minorities. (Did you know that in addition to provinces and municipalities, China also has five “autonomous regions,” each named after the most populous minority nationality in that region?)

I’m in no way giving up or calling it quits, but things could go just a tad better, you know? Well, at least Ungkaren is on TV tomorrow.

Anyway, påskeferie (Easter Break) is coming up and we’re headed west to Bergen to spend a week with Mamma’s sister Irene and her family. I’m looking forward to seeing western Norway again. And hopefully, I’ll be able to come back with a better grasp of that darned Bergen dialect. (Who knows? I might even begin to understand Leif and samfunnsøkonomi.)

So thanks to Xenia/Jessica/Italian girl, I realize that we only have four more months left in Norway. I can’t begin to relate how I’m feeling right now: overwhelmed and empty at the same time. It’s a difficult feeling–knowing that the end is coming, and that this year will never happen again.

The fact that I’m used to life here, that nothing’s out of the ordinary anymore, only makes it that much harder to leave–because I’m not just leaving Hvitveisstien, I’m leaving home; and I’m not just leaving a “host” family, I’m leaving Mamma, Pappa, Joakim and Marie. I’m so amazed at how lucky I was to be placed in this household–so welcoming, endearing, and fun. And I’m so amazed at how natural it feels, and how attached I’ve become.

I remember all those evenings coming home after a night or a weekend away. I remember that familiar, cozy feeling as I’m walking up Apenesbakken, the house looming into view. And above Pappa’s Gecom company car, I can see the warm orange glow of the living room through the window. I love seeing that orange glow; it means somebody’s there…and awake. I love opening the door, taking off my shoes and enjoying the smell of home. And I love hearing the hi’s and hallo’s from whoever’s sitting above. I love going to my room to find Zaiko kosing on my bed (even though he sheds EVERYWHERE), and going up the stairs all the while wondering what we’re having for dinner that night, and seeing them and telling them how my day or weekend went, and hearing theirs. I love that feeling of coming home; it feels so right.

I love our hytte. Up in the mountains where there’s nothing there but forests and wilderness. I love picking mushrooms even though the trees make me dizzy. I love kayaking, ice-bathing, and grilling sausages by the nearby lake. I love the lack of technology and the feeling of being immersed in nature. I love sitting outside at night, with a warm fire, gazing up at the starry night sky, listening to Eva Cassidy or Josh Groban while sipping a cup of glugg. I love getting into that bed at night–I have never slept so well as I do when I sleep in that bed, no exaggeration. I love the feeling of not having a care in a world when I’m up there.

And I love Pappa’s jokes, especially the terrible ones; I love how he’s always in a good mood. I love Mamma’s patience, and the special way she explains things; I LOVE her cooking–I swear I have been culinarily spoiled rotten this year; I even like her occasional reminders on taking shorter showers. I love the differences between me and Joakim; he’s opened my eyes to so much, whether he knows it or not; I love his determination and fierceness. I love sitting on the couch with Marie every night: Top Model Mondays, CSI: Miami Tuesdays, CSI: NY Wednesdays, Bones Thursdays, and all the other miscellaneous TV shows that she watches; I love her fjortis, her sharp sarcastic sense of humor, her infatuation with make-up. And I’m leaving all of this behind. È follia!

Smørbrød with salami, the special cheeses Mamma would buy from time to time, the bottle of maple syrup on the counter that I would occasionally over-abuse à cause de Tilly, PIZZAKVELD, visits from Bestemor, Firkløver chocolate after volleyball practice (which I don’t go to anymore on account of laziness/snow), the geniusness of saft, Zaiko sleeping on my bed.

And my friends! Midnight walks with Luiza when she could still walk. Going to Tønsberg with Xenia to get my ear pierced and finding out how strange she really is…Learning how to break on slalom skis from Balazs and our desires to visit Prague–and sing Lips all night long. Listening to Francesco talk about music, and philosophy, and life. Watching a cup of tea seep with Tilly and Marie and talking about whatever random thing is running through our minds. Going up to Drammen to make and eat authentic and GOOD Chinese food with Yanzi and reminescing over our–or rather, my–childhood in China. Yo sé que nada es para siempre, but couldn’t it last a little bit longer?

今天是一个不好的天。不知道为什么，但是就感觉呆呆的和没有劲儿！对什么东西都没有兴趣。也想过很多不愉快地事情。

我感觉玛丽亚不太喜欢我。其实，要你问我的话，我也没有 evidence，但是我感觉她觉得我–傻。也可能是我过分装傻冲愣了。但是，啊，我只想跟他交一个好关系，但是我们俩的距离还是那么远。我也最近发现她比较–讽刺，有时候开的玩笑艇伤人的，好像他真的不喜欢我住在这里一样。（你没看她今天晚上给我的眼神儿，够可怕的。）我真的不知道他对我的看法是怎么样子，但是我准备升白旗了–也就这样吧。我还以为我们会做很好的朋友呢，但是现在看来，够呛。我真的挺失望。

我跟老二的关系其实也没有我想象的那么近。虽然我们俩是同岁，我们没有一根铜线儿！我非常喜欢和崇拜他，但我们实在是两个太不一样的人了。我觉得这是很可惜，以为我说真的很想跟他和他的朋友在一起。他们就像在电视上的少年–又快又 cool。但是不管我多么的想跟他们在一块儿，我发现自己不配。他们太疯；我太乖。Y no puedo ser lo que no soy。我，向大家，当然也想享受自己，但是可惜不能跟他们一样。我不喜欢把自己看成一个 marmy 无聊的人（我也其实没有把自己看成那样儿），但是我真的不喜欢他们“庆祝”的方法。我觉得最好的，最愉快的时候还是跟一群儿好朋友在一起享受–不需要设么毒品和（太多的）酒。我觉得那才是真正叫 cool 呢。

Because I was inspired by Chris, I thought it’d be an artig idea to come up with my own personal highlights of 2008. I suppose it’s good to look back once in a while to remind yourself of the things that you did do right and are proud/fond of. Although, I can’t be too sure how well this is gonna turn out considering I have the worst memory, so I’m bound to forget things I probably should remember…

1. Tim Papp. ‘Nuff said.
2. Telling Mom I “can’t make up my mind about meat and vegetables” on my 18th birthday.
3. Asking Nick Sherred to Senior Prom on Jesus Christ Superstar’s closing night. It didn’t work out, but I’m happy to know that at least I don’t have anything to regret.
4. Getting the Talon Award. I’m probably the least deserving candidate but I never thought I’d get an award like that. And it’s nice to leave high school knowing you’ve left your mark, however minute it is.
5. Last days spent with Katherine in the USA. It was so bittersweet. We were both so excited for the future, but it also meant saying goodbye to everything that we’ve known for the past six years. And for the first time, eating at Texas Roadhouse, I got a glimpse of ourselves doing the same thing five years later: cracking peanuts over gossip, plans and current events. I couldn’t have thought of a better way to capsulate our high school experience.
6. Hytteturer: canoeing, shooting cans, icebathing, sitting by the campfire listening to Josh Groban while looking at the Milky Way, far far away from the world’s troubles–it’s heaven.
7. Pizzakvelder med Beatforbeat.
8. Coming out…again. Gotta stop doing that.
9. Juleavsluttening and fucking up my song. But at least now I know the purpose of a sound check. And hey, something good did come out of it, I suppose. Vi får se da!

Ja vel, det var 2008: a year well-spent, for the most part, I think.

Forresten, do yourself a favor and go see Hugh Jackman Australia. It’s got the whole family talkin’. (Mais de quoi parlons-nous exactement–alors, vous trouverez.)