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Coming home for the first time.


It’s been some time since I’ve last written here – about two weeks, actually. In that time, it’s been a whirlwind of activity – settling into classes, meeting new friends, exploring the beautiful city of Copenhagen, traveling around Denmark, trying new foods, calling my friends and family and keeping them updated on my doings while also trying to stay updated on their lives.

I’ve shared this feeling with many of my peers, but even with the astonishingly small window of time to enjoy the sunshine, the time I spend here seems to be longer and longer. I feel like I have called Copenhagen my home for at least a month or more, and when I step out and take my commute to Marmorkirken metro station as if I’m a local, I feel as confident as if I’ve done it a thousand times before.

It takes some reminding – like looking at the calendar, or my friends from college hitting me up and asking me about how studying abroad is – for me to recognize the short amount of time that I have been here. But I am so incredibly grateful for the slow passage of time – I feel as though there is so much to do in each day, so much to see and explore and learn about, and each day is something new.

Reading that back, I sound like Caillou. But in all honesty, the exploration of such a novel sphere of life is so truly amazing, and I find myself looking up at the buildings around me even on the morning commute I’ve made so many times before and finding something new to see every time.

Yet despite the novelty of everything I experience and (as I’ve exhaustively mentioned, the short time I’ve been here), there is a certain familiarity that is deep-seated in the air of Copenhagen. Today, I came back from a weekend trip to Bergen, Norway. We went to explore the fjords and the mountains that Norway is so famous for, and I thanked my stars every moment of that trip for Copenhagen’s proximity to visit such spectacular sights.

But what shocked me the most was the feeling of home that I experienced coming back into København lufthavn, taking the M2 to Kongens Nytorv, and the long-rehearsed walk back to my RC. The friendly waves and hellos of my roommates reminded me achingly of my family at home. I was reminded of the Elvis Presley song, Home is where the Heart is, and it finally clicked for me. Though I’ve only been here for two weeks, and will only be here for a grand total of four months, home truly is where the heart is.

And right now, I am beyond happy to be able to call Copenhagen my home.


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