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?”

I’ve never seen Lost in Translation, but judging from what I’ve heard and read so far, I think it’d be a movie that I’d really like.

The reason I brought it up—have you ever found yourself in the middle of this huge place, with people shuffling past you in every direction, and the only one that seems to be stagnant is you? I love that: stopping still and watching the world move—anyway, the title of the movie always reminds me of that.

So on Saturday I was Lost in Oslo S, in the interim between Xenia and Eric’s departure and my train to Holmestrand. Usually I don’t think too much about Oslo—it’s not an exciting place—but I guess in these last days here you start to appreciate everything a little more. So on Saturday, Oslo S was an exciting place to be: the hustle and bustle of people, all headed to different places—the airport, Drammen, Vestlandet, Sørlandet. But I was going to Holmestrand.
Of all the possibilities, of all the different trains you can take from Oslo Sentralstasjon, I was taking that particular one. (Actually, I ended up taking a replacement bus because of “tog innstilt.”)
I guess what I’m really trying to say is: I have a really bad case of the wanderlust.

I want to go places, see the world, do things. I want to sleep in a Mongolian ger, I want to bike around Iceland, I want to go Scuba diving again. I want to be in those pictures you see in those DK Eyewitness Travel Guides, not just look at them. Ahhh!

Two other thoughts that have been nipping at me i det siste:

1. What if you’re not who you want to be, but who you’re good at being? I mean, let’s say a person is amazingly gifted at computer programming. It’s not shabby right? A computer programmer earns good dough! So let’s say this person has everything it takes to be the next great computer programmer, but: what if it’s not his dream to be the next great computer programmer? What if he really wanted, more than anything, to be a weightlifter? The typical clichéd advice would be to follow his dreams right? But what if he was really scrawny and sucked at weightlifting. What would he do then? Continue doing something he’s really good at but not really agreeable “with,” or pursue something he wants but never achieving the success that he wants? What would you say to him then?
Sometimes, I don’t like the things I do, and there are many qualities about myself which I don’t necessarily agree with. But I would never want to be a second-rate version of somebody else, even if I admire them profusely.

2. 这个산쟈오…
I’m not even sure what my true intentions are anymore. I know what my role is and what is appropriate and not, but I’m dancing dangerously along the edge and I’m not sure if I can even control myself. When does this stop becoming “no strings attached?” I will not let passion undermine my morality; I have more respect for myself than that.

PS: There was no appropriate place to integrate this into any of the above so I’ll just write it here.
Etter jeg kom hjem på søndag sykla Mamma, Pappa og jeg ned til en privat strand for å se på solnedgangen, grille marshmallows og feire St. Hans (Midsummer) med Hans-Ingar, Christina og Henning.
Og formiddagen idag tok vi våre kajakker ut til den samme stranden og paddla sammen med Mariëtte rundt Mellomøya og Løvøya. Det var kjampedeilig med sjokolade og bølgane.

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…

Today, for those of you who are not aware, is Norway’s National Day: a day of parades and marching corps and general “hip-hip-hurrah” celebration. Literally all of the townsfolk were gathered on the main street to watch the happenings; I’ve never seen so much people in Horten before (or Fremont/Union City for that matter)–it’s incredible. Kinda makes me think, if Horten, with a population of just over 20,000, had a turnout like this, how would it look like if all of Fremont and its 210,000 citizens were gathered in one place…I think I would feel so small.

I honestly can’t recall the last time I saw a parade, and despite the mucky image it probably invokes in your head, it was really quite a pleasant experience. For starters, I got to wear a bunad (the Norwegian national costume) for the day. I swear, if it wasn’t so expensive I wouldn’t hesitate to purchase one myself. I always thought it kinda sucked that the USA doesn’t seem to have a national costume that could be worn for those exceptional occasions. It was very special to put on late [bestefar] Erik’s old bunad. I think, in the future, when I can afford it, I will definitely come back and get my own, haha.

It was also great to watch people you know in the borgertog (a parade consisting of town clubs, teams, and miscellaneous interest groups). And in between the parades (there were three: barnetog, borgertog, og russetog), we walked around the park, ate some ice cream, and greeted everybody. Which is kinda cool yet pestering at the same time because you can’t walk more than five steps without stopping to chat with somebody. It took us a good 30 minutes to get to the ice cream stands, which was less than ten meters away, and by the time we got there, it had been all sold out. Anyway, afterwards we went home to a hearty barbeque courtesy of Pappa.

And last night, we were witness to Norway’s history-making victory in Eurovision. A great evening spent at the Weschke household with Gayoung and Elaine. Here’s to the end of a very koselig weekend. Skål!

L’inquietudine

Well, considering I’ve smoked half a carton and downed a liter of beer within the past two hours, it warrants me an excuse to blog now and regret later.

I’ve had as much as I can take. I’ve tried to keep my mind open, my spirit up, my attitude positive, but I can only keep up this façade so far. I’m tired, and I’ve stopped trying. If you were to tell me to pack up my bags tomorrow for California, I wouldn’t argue a word. I’m ready to leave.

I’ve held my trap for as long as possible, thinking “just wait it out, it’ll get better,” but now I see that it won’t. To say that I hate Norway would be an overexaggeration and an insult to my family here. They’ve been nothing but patient, generous, and kind to me and believe me, I’ve guilted myself enough for thinking what I am about to say.

But I hate it here, I really do. I can honestly name you all the people that I talk to at school on one hand. I wake up in the morning to the thought of “How am I going to get through the day? Who am I going to talk to?” Do you realize how hard it is to wake up every morning to that thought? To even worry about how you’re gonna get through the day because you’re afraid that you might not make it to 3:30 without going bezerk? And you wanna know what I do at school? Break? Lunch? Stare at my fucking computer screen.

But I suppose it’s my fault right? That I’m not putting myself out there. That I’m not trying. That I’m not persistent. Or desperate enough to keep on leeching to people that don’t give a damn about me. That don’t want to know me, that won’t even remember me, or if they do–only as “that one kid last year that was boring and didn’t say anything and was by himself the whole time; that ‘mann.’” That after nine fucking months here I’m still as foreign as the day I set foot in Horten.

And I suppose it’s my fault that people here are only friendly when they’re flat out wasted. Because they need the liqueur to warm up their frigid Scandinavian hearts. Because they need 22 cans of Tuborg in order to truly feel free. To say “Hey! How’s it going?!” To give you a high-five, a pat on the back, a hug. Because without alcohol, there’s no way they can even greet you in the hallways!

I know these people, I watch them everyday, and I know that they’re not cold. I can see the way they interact with each other and they are as lively as any American, but they’re so fucking private and excluding. “You get used to it, it takes a long time to be accepted into their circle.” Well you know what? They can keep their privacy and their drunken stupors. I’ve lived without it for nine months, I can live without it for two more.

I came here with an open heart, ready to love this country and know its people, but Norwegians have really disappointed me. I’m sorry that I came here. I’m ready to leave.

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!

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?

I’m gonna take some time now to write about a very special person in my life here in Norway. Her name is Luiza, and she lives around the corner and down the street from my house–my fellow Hortensk exchange student semi-neighbor from Belo Horizonte, Brazil.

It’s very strange and interesting to see my relationship with her develop throughout these six months. I honestly can’t imagine life in Horten without her now; funny to think that at the beginning of the year, I didn’t even want anything to do with her!
I think both of us thought similarly; after all, we were in Norway to get Norwegian friends, not to hang around each other, right? But as the months rolled by and our novelty in town wore off and the weather got colder and the times got harder, it hit me–here was a girl who was going through the exact thing that I’m going through, I should be supporting her, not competing against her for “hvem har det bedre i Norge!”

So in these past two months, we slowly began to spend more time together, mostly in the form of half-hour/hour long late-night walks around the neighborhood. And we began to talk: at first just common, superficial banter–what we did on a certain day, school, AFS gossip–but lately, more personal issues: our fears, our pasts, our goals. (I’ve actually just come back from one of our walks. [It was koselig, she sang me the "Norwegian birthday song," gave me a beer at midnight for turning 19, and then ended up drinking most of it herself. Typisk Luiza, haha.] Our topics du soir were Rio de Janeiro, our first condoms, being yourself, our dads, “professionalism,” how we want ourselves to be, being bullied, and snap judgements.)

I never thought I could learn so much from her. But I suppose knowledge and wisdom is imparted in unexpected ways. I think just by getting to know her, I am already seeing so much–beyond myself, my life, my experiences. And, although I’ve gotten to know people, I’ve never felt like I really learned anything about myself in the process. But us two–we come from such different worlds, yet it surprises me how well I am able to understand her. Because we’re so different, it’s kind of incredible to see that we’re still on the same wavelength regarding many things.(Excuse the metaphorical paradox. I’ve had one-tenth of a beer too many. And it’s late.) I think this is heightened by our unconventional way of…befriending one another; I have seen her both as just a casual person and as a close friend now, and the views and opinions that I have of these two characters are so drastically different. (It goes to show just how much you really know someone.) I could never have guessed what was on the inside just by looking at the façade.

And you know, for a girl who still can’t manage to say “I’m freezing!” (we’re working on that, by the way), she has a lot of smart thoughts. (In fact, just tonight, she said something to the extent of: if you don’t like them then why walk with them?…or something like that. Shit, my mind is turning into tomato paste. But believe me, it was really pertinent and epiphanous.) One that I really like: Don’t start a fight, just finish it.

Luiza: Estou muito agradecido que cê está aqui. Estamos juntos por apenas um ano, mas cê sempre será meu amiga.

In continuing the trend of reflective, dejecting posts, let me introduce my college woes.

I will be going to Franklin College Switzerland in the fall. I applied in 2007, deferred because of my exchange to Norway, and will be attending in fall, 2009. That’s all fine and dandy, except I haven’t received any information on scholarships and financial aid yet. I had $11,000 toward my tuition when I was accepted, but I have no idea if that money is still being held for me because of my deferral. So yeah, I’m worried. But that’s only half of it.

Going to college, it’s a big step. And the one thing that worries me is: did I make the right choice? I mean, it sounds good on paper: the good traveling opportunities, getting a dual diploma, an international environment–but is it really so; how is it beyond pen and ink? I think it’s a big committment to make actually, choosing a college. I mean, after all, you’re choosing your home for the next two to four years. And what if I don’t like it? What then? Transfer? Where? Would it even be possible?

I remember thinking the same things last year…I thought I was over it, but I guess worrying about college sort of resurfaced all the little issues I’ve had in going with my decision.

There’s so much more to it–the reputation, the unconventionalness, the doubts and the after-college fears–but I feel I’ll only end up fatiguing myself if I tried to explain every little detail. The only important thing to worry about, i hvertfall, is getting that award money.

Anyway, back to life: I’m sick again. I’ve actually gotten sick quite a few times this year, it sucks. I guess going on exchange takes a toll on your immune system.
Just this past weekend we had our mid-year AFS camp: it’s hard to believe that we’ve been here six months already. We’re more than half-way ferdig. It was a very different tone from the previous week’s hyttetur–there was a lot more reflection, seriousness, and…comfort. I guess lately, I’ve been tending to look at only the bad things rather than the good things. I also remember something important that Cecilie said: “You can’t compare experiences. Don’t think ‘If I had lived in this town, or had these friends, that everything would be better.‘” I think I need to stop thinking about what others have in their lives here in Norway and just focus on making the best out of my own. And I think that extends to so much more than just exchange–I don’t know how many times in the past I thought my life would be better if I looked differently, lived somewhere else, had different friends, or had a complete family. The problem is learning how to stop thinking this way. I wonder if this is how smokers feel…
Anyway, Cecilie also said something else that struck me: we only have five months left. And these five months go fast. If there is something you’ve been thinking of doing, don’t wait: do it.

My mindset right now is definitely different than it was when I first came here, no doubt about that. Living here for half a year has shown me the whats and what-nots of Horten. And while I can’t make a second first-impression, I am determined to make this second half the best yet. “Jeg skal leve fullt og helt hver dag.”

Okay, so I haven’t blogged in a while. With samarbeidsuka and hytteturen this past week and a half, I’ve more or less put blogging on the backburner. So here’s what’s been up:

Samarbeidsuka var kjampekoselig. Jobbet med mange søte barn på Mammas barnehage. Det var en nydelig pause fra skolen—ingenting å bekymre meg over unntatt barna. Bare lekte hele dagene—bygget med Legos, laget snømennesker, osv.—noen ganger mer enn dem, faktisk. Men det var slitsomt óg! Tenkte ikke at jeg kunne være så sliten av leking! Realiserte at jeg er sikkert ikke klar å ha barn enda, haha.
Også på den fredagen hadde vi en svensk vikar på barnehagen. Hadde en ganske interessant samtale om California, Norge, Stockholm, og opplevelsene mine som ”utbytesstudent.” Følte meg helt stolt at jeg kunne forstå henne til tross for tonefallet sitt. (Det var helt annerledes. Så overraska var jeg å kunne prate med henne, siden jeg aldri forstår hva de sier på SVT.)
Blei kjørt til Holmestrand togestasjon rett etter jobb. Tok toget fra Holmestrand til Drammen og der møtet jeg opp med de andre AFS studentenes. Og så tok vi et annet tog fra Drammen til Hønefoss som var helt opptatt—hadde å sitte oss ned på inngangen. Fra Hønefoss togestasjon gikk vi til bussholdingplassen og da tok vi en buss til Smeden, where we were finally picked up.

The weekend up in Hønefoss was amazing. It’s always so nice to see everyone again, to be with people who are in the same situation as you and understand you. Spent quite a lot of time playing and kosing in the snow (which, as I have found out, is actually quite enjoyable and not nearly as cold as it sounds out to be) with Xenia and Jessica, and had some good conversations with Jessica and Doug. It was also great to see Anbjørg again; last time we saw her we couldn’t even understand her, but it’s nice to see how much we’ve all learned in this past half year. Even if everything’s less than perfect or expected, we’ve come quite far.
And it came as a surprise to me, but I even got a little homesick on the second day—for my family here!

But I guess the good times had to come to a stop sometime, and this time it was Monday. So anyway, I had a History & Philosophy presentation on Max Weber’s theory on the relationship between Calvinism and capitalism to do on Monday, right?—something which I spent all of last week and Sunday night working on, and something which I was looking forward to present.

但我新奇一去学校的时，老师并不在。所以我只能坐下来等他。谁知道等着一个半小时！等这一堂课快要结速了，他才近来。到这时候，我已经有点不耐烦，所以告诉他，＂我不知道你今天在那儿，但是我有我的 presentation。知道他回个什么答案吗？＂你应该查网上，我贴了一个 post。＂既然给我态度！
一：你从来都不个网上写东西，突然写这么一次我就应该知道？你把我是读脑人哪！
二：你知道我费了多少的时间和功夫去做这个 project 吗？你从前留过学！你应该比谁都更知道一个留学生的困难！你怎么可以这么不了解哪？
肏他奶奶的！把我气疯了。

And that was actually the first time I’ve cried since I came here. Ironic, isn’t it?: not because I don’t have friends, not because I miss home, but because of a fucking philosophical theory. Typical of me to get worked up about something academic. It seems kinda stupid now to cry about it, but fuck, I was so pissed! I have half a mind not to show up to History & Philosophy for the next two weeks.

But anyway, that kind of wraps it up for the past week and a half. And now I am going to take a lunch break because I’ve been blogging since school started in the morning. (Yeah, take that, school. This is some serious rebelling.)