you can run straight through hell with a smile.

I have been bad at updating my blog, yes, but to be fair, I've been quite busy. That's always my excuse, but it's true; I've never been quite so busy as I am during my hectic exchange life. I've moved again, to Aabybro, two weeks ago, making this my third move in three months, and Aida, roughly a month ago, jokingly called me a fugitive. It doesn't really feel like such a joke anymore. It's a little difficult to feel like you have a home when you're moving about so often, when just as I get comfortable, everything familiar becomes unfamiliar again. I've moved from Aabybro to Biersted to Birkelse, and now I'm back to Aabybro again, albeit in a fourth home.

accurate representation of my
relationship with nickolai

I haven't met with my language tutor for a really long time, due to the fact that we had a lot of trouble communicating; he didn't speak English very well (and sometimes he was speaking German on accident), and I had a lot of trouble understanding his Danish, and right now he's actually quite sick. He was also incredibly busy with his wine business. Instead of giving up, though, I've had a lot of help from my friends, especially Nickolai, who's being altogether fabulous, giving me a Danish lesson every two or three days and helping me read through/translate the first Harry Potter book from Danish to English. Everyone told me Danish would be hard, and of course I believed them, but as someone who always prided herself on her mastery of language, not being able to communicate in the native language is a massive blow to my pride. It's intimidating to do anything alone, from going to the post office (which I still haven't done, because I have no one to go with me) to the convenience store to ordering a sandwich in Aalborg, everything is a potentially embarrassing situation, especially when the words for chicken and kitten are also nearly identical to a word that directly translates to "a woman who yells obscenities at her children from her porch." It has an easier translation to an English swear, mind you.

I also have supervised a "sweet-16" birthday party for someone's younger sister, which is significantly different from its American (or at least Hoosier) counterpart. With alcohol abound, I got to see adolescent drunkenness in a very unprecedented, though endearing, way. The same weekend I had a girl's night with Aida and Johanne, where we feasted on food that they cooked, as I came late and am useless in a kitchen anyhow. We watched the movie Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging and ate so much that I thought I was going to throw up and I still don't know how I haven't gained weight here because I feel like all I do is eat and play League of Legends.

With my new family, I've taken two short trips already (a day trip to Den Gamle By in Aarhus, and a weekend in Copenhagen). I went to Aarhus with my host mom and her children and three grandchildren, and it was much, much colder than expected. I had been to the Old Town (Den Gamle By) before, but when we went this time, the Christmas decorations had lit up everything, and Julemanden came to town. Both of my host parents were quite excited to be part of my first excursion to Copenhagen, even though the weather started to get bad early Sunday morning and we had to head back home earlier than expected. They lived there for several years, and while we were there, I got a dress for the New Year's party I'm attending in Aalborg. We also visited Rosenborg Castle, and I got to go to Tivoli to see all the Christmas lights there, as well as Statens Museum for Kunst, a gigantic art museum that was more lovely than I ever imagined.

In the next week or two, I have Christmas, my host mother's birthday, a Christmas lunch with a friend's family, a New Year's party, and a julefrokost with my class on an undetermined date, and after that maybe my life will slow down in January and I'll be able to catch some sleep.

no self-esteem and vertigo; she thinks she's made of candy.

Today, my friends, has been a hard day. I've been in Denmark for over a hundred days, and I have enjoyed probably ninety-eight of them, but today is a hard day.

There's a funny thing about language, where some days things feel like they're flowing beautifully and that one can understand nearly everything that comes their way, and the next day it's like the first time you've ever heard the tongue. I should've known, really, after such a stellar weekend, that it would have to come crashing back down around me in one way or another. Danish is so hard, and it's such an obstacle, that today I want to just sit down and cry and sob and maybe rip out some of my hair. It's like no matter how hard I try, at the end of the day, I'm always back to square one.

Despite my complaining, I've had a good time recently. Last weekend was my gymnasium party (the first one I've attended; the one before that I missed for intro camp). The prevalence of alcohol reminds me how foreign I am. There's a total difference in mindset while Danes are under the influence; they don't necessarily drink to get drunk. They drink because alcohol, to them, is a social tool; while sober, Danes are chillier than many, but after a drink or two I think it would be impossible to find an American that's any friendlier.

I stayed the night at a friend's that night, and the Sunday after was something of a comedy of errors. In Denmark, everything is closed on Sunday; only very recently has the law been repealed that required businesses to shut down on Sunday, and businesses are still adapting. We went to the zoo only to discover it was closed, and then to the mall, only to find that that too was shut down for the day. In the end, we wound up eating and watching poorly made scary movies late into the night.

While I miss America, and I'm still very proud to be an American, I've found that in a lot of ways, language conveniently not included, I fit in better here in Scandinavia than I ever did at home.

Tonight, I'm going to see a French movie at the cinema, with subtitles in Danish, which will probably be the biggest mindwarp of them all. Wish me luck?

<3
-Lex

it's okay to say you've got a weak spot; you don't always have to be on top.

I suppose I'm due a blog post, and I have to apologize, but I do have something of a legitimate excuse this time. I abruptly and in a very scary fashion have switched host families. It hurts to say goodbye to Biersted, but I wish my first family nothing but the best, and I hope they get on well; there are much bigger things in life than my exchange, and I know I'll be fine wherever I am. My biggest worry is for them. I live in Birkelse now, a town a little further from Aalborg and Noerresundby than Biersted was, but it seems like a nice enough place. I've only lived there a week, but I'm still quite happy, and I'm adaptable enough to make it work wherever I wind up.

I went to London with my class a couple of weeks ago, and I was there for about five days. It was an absolutely exhausting trip; in the span of five days, I saw the London Eye, the Olympic Park, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the London Dungeon, Buckingham Palace, Oxford Circus, King's Cross Station, the British Museum, the Lord's Cricket Grounds, Parliament, the Millenium Bridge, Shakespeare's Globe Theater, and a lot of other things that have since slipped my mind. It's a very good thing I get along with my class, because spending that much time with any group of people, no matter how much you enjoy their company, can wear on a girl. Even if I was ready to get home, though, I will always count my trip to London as one of the most fabulous life experiences I've had, awful wi-fi at the hotel and all.

It was really a great trip for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being everything I saw; going somewhere so special with friends who are close enough to be family makes you even closer, and that's what exchange is all about. I got to spend great quality time with a lot of my closest friends in Denmark - Johanne, Aida, Anne, Nickolai, to name a few - and they indulged their Danish baby (as they're fond of calling me) and palled around London, catering to her every childish whim, including going to look at Marc Jacobs that was much too expensive for an exchange student to afford.

Upon returning, I didn't have school the next week either - efterårsferie was in full swing, and that meant another week off school. Much to the chagrin of a friend of mine, this is actually known as the POTATO HOLIDAY AS WELL; that means I was right, and he was wrong. <3

I didn't do a whole lot over this holiday, especially as it was in the aftermath of the family tragedy that occurred in Biersted, but here's your blog post, mother. Quit nagging me.

<3
-Lex

the devil's on your back, but i know you can shake him off.

It's so absurd to think that I've been in Denmark for nearly two months already. Time being a fluid, fickle mistress really rings true here; it's like I've been here forever, and still no time at all. I love almost everything about being in Denmark, and the only thing that really comes to mind that I don't like is my physics teacher. I've managed (somehow) to make really good friends out of many people in my class, and quite a few more who I've met in various other ways - and I'm really not sure how. I only hope the feeling is mutual, and that they don't mind having me around too much. I love my class, and I really feel lucky to have been placed with them, especially as I hear all the horror stories of other exchange students who have had trouble being accepted. I don't know if it's something I've done to endear myself, or if they're really just that kind to everyone, but I'm incredibly happy with my class.

A lot has happened since I last wrote, and I suppose that's why I haven't had the time to update this blog. I've been to Aarhus to visit Jenny again, I've learned to love Aalborg, I went to a party with a few girls from my class. This exchange has been magic. People, before I left the United States, told me that it was a waste of a year to go to Europe when I could be moving on with my life, but if I'd done what they said and gone straight to university, I think I would have regretted it like I've never regretted anything before.

There was a festival in Aarhus, and Jenny really wanted me to see her city during it the last time I visited. I didn't get the chance that time, but this time around, I managed to make the trip to see her. Everybody told me that Danes would be cold, and I've already addressed that I don't think that's the case, but they're friendlier than almost any American I've ever met once they've had a beer. It's really amusing the different stigma that's placed on alcohol here; it's seen as a social tool, something to give a person more confidence and to make them more comfortable in their skin. Juxtaposed with the United States, where people my age are told that alcohol is Satan's right-hand-man, this is one of the starkest cultural differences I've seen. It's not right, and it's not wrong. It's just Danish.

Friday, school was cancelled, so Thursday night I went to a party at my friend Benedicte's. There were only five girls there - myself, Benedicte, and three others named Anne, Frederikke, and Kristine - and it was really something enjoyable. We ate french fries with ketchup (something I didn't realize I would miss so much, when ketchup costs extra from the fries), listened to loud music, and then went into the city. It was the next morning, when I woke up, that I realized that I really feel at home here. Anne told me the other day that she'd heard something from a classmate - "Other than that she can't speak Danish, she doesn't feel American. It's like she belongs here, and that she fits in." That they've accepted me, so totally and without question, is enough to bring me to tears. Everything here just feels right, like I've been here forever without ever having lost the honeymoon period. I've already said this exchange was magic, but it's the truth; thinking about not coming here, now that I have been, is heartbreaking.

Even with all that being said, I had my first breakdown yesterday. I got on the wrong bus after school, and then the bus to take me home was late. I'd had a hard day to begin with, because it was my sister's birthday and I missed her, and it was just the final straw. Nickolai picked me up from the busterminal and drove me home, because he's the greatest friend I could ever ask for, and when I got home I found out that my tutor, who doesn't speak very good English, was upset with me because he couldn't understand why I was late for my appointment. I've never been happier to live with my host family than I was yesterday, because my mom just gave me a hug, promised it would be okay, and called my counselor to explain what had happened and to ask if she could straighten things out with my tutor. It was the first time in a long time that I've cried, and between Nickolai coming to pick me up without me even asking and my mom taking care of me as if I really was her blood daughter, I know that I'll always be safe and looked after here, in one way or another, by people who care about me.

Denmark is beautiful, the people are beautiful, and I still can't ride the bus.

<3
-Lex

with all their lions and all their might and all their thirst.

This is me, diligently updating my blog like a good foreign exchange student is expected to do. As I sit here in samfundsfag (a class designed to teach politics, government, economics, and the like), it's easy to contemplate life's great mysteries, because I have no idea what's going on in the class itself. I have a general concept (we're comparing the cultural differences of Lebanon, Denmark, and the United States, at the moment), but it's certainly not enough to write home about and far from enough for me to be worth anything in class discussion, even if I had the Danish at my disposal.

Last Friday was idrætsdag, a sort of field day where all the classes in the gymnasium got together and were in activities focused on teamwork and things like that. Each class was assigned a country, making the day something akin to the Olympics; another exchange student's class was Italy, my host brother was given France, and so on, and so forth. My class, 2.e, was given the prestigious honor of being North Korea. Here I am, in Scandinavia, prancing about with a makeshift North Korean flag, and I think that itself speaks to a massive cultural difference between the United States and Denmark. In the US, doing something like this would possibly be risking media coverage for imitating a political enemy of the state; here, it's all just good fun. For all the preaching about free speech, I feel I'm much more able to speak my mind - especially ideologically - here than I ever was at home. Perhaps that's because, at least politically, I'm a little more Danish than I am the stereotypical American.

I went to Aarhus to visit Jenny on the weekend, because there was a festival there that she wanted me to see. It's great having her so near, knowing that I have someone who really is family to talk to and within driving distance if there is ever an emergency. The festival was a prime example of the fact that me not speaking Danish is even funnier in open streets when people try to approach me. I'm fine once we get past my initial greeting ("I'm foreign, and if we're going to speak Danish, you're going to have to do it slowly."), but it's nerve-wracking to experience someone who doesn't know that I'm a foreign exchange student coming my way. All Danes that I've met speak English, and they speak it well, so if they ever really need me to understand something, there isn't a problem.

Everyone told me that Danes would be cold, but I haven't experienced that yet. I think they're quieter people (for the most part) than Americans, and they aren't going to go out of their way to approach you if you don't make the first effort, but that's not fair to call them cold because of something like that. I was told Danes would be rude, and in some ways it appears that way; they don't say "excuse me" as superfluously as we would in the US, and they aren't as likely to begin a conversation, but hugs are still common, and people are always friendly and helpful so long as you ask. A lot of it comes from not being the ugly American that I think many Europeans expect when the USA comes to mind. They're happy to talk, if you'd like, but calling Barack Obama the Kenyan Antichrist isn't going to much raise their esteem of you. Americans have given themselves a reputation of stupid loudmouths who are unwilling to give any opinion but their own the time of day, and if you're truly like that in a society as egalitarian as Denmark's? You're in for a rough exchange.

In short, I love it here, and I don't think the Danes mind having me around too much either.

<3
-Lex

take me to your best friend's house; i loved you then, and i love you now.

Mark, and a disgusting amount of candy;
note the price tag on just one bag

So, today is the second-to-last day of intro camp in Bjerringbro, and I'm a little behind on blog posts. Persecute me, please, but I've just been so tired and happy and busy that I'm finding it difficult to keep up on all the commitments I have. I've had a lot of fun here at this Danish-intensive camp, even if it isn't as intensive as I'd hoped and I didn't learn as much Danish as I wanted. It's really hard to ask any week to fulfill my thirst for knowledge of the language, though, so I'd consider this week a success, despite my misgivings before attending. I've made a couple of really good friends here (one of them, Mark, is from New York, and he is obscured by the obscene amount of candy he held up so I could get a picture of us being the epitome of obesity), and that's really all I can ask for. I did miss my first gymnasium party for intro camp, and that's really upsetting, but that's probably my biggest complaint for the entire week. I missed a couple of other things back in Aalborg, too, I think, but that's okay; I'm leaving here knowing more Danish than I began with, so at least I'm making progress.

I really enjoyed my Danish class itself; my teacher, Anders, was phenomenal, and a friend and teacher both, and I got along well with many of the people in class, sweet girls from Paraguay, Brazil, and the USA, great guys from the USA, Mexico, and Brazil, and more that I can't think of at the moment. My biggest complaint was that I felt stupid on occasion, and never because I was made to feel stupid by Anders or my friends. Rather, there were a few other students in the class who were much more advanced than I was due to their participation in language schools. My Aabybro Rotary Club has chosen instead to provide me with a private tutor, and he has been great, but these language schools have left my classmates clearly more prepared for the nuances of Danish. An ill-placed comment or two was all that it took to shake me; I'm so used to picking things up quickly at home, easily understanding things without them ever really going over my head. I still haven't cried here yet, and I hope I can keep that up a while longer, but feeling stupid is not something with which I've ever been comfortable.

Jaidan (Canada), me, and Cigne (Alaska)

I got to go to Aarhus with all of the other exchange students plus Anders and the rest of the teachers, and they showed us to ARoS, the art museum there, and afterwards we were allowed to wander around the city on our own. Mark, Cigne (a girl from Alaska who I feel like I've known for years despite just having truly begun talking to her a few days ago), and I wound up at Bruun's, a shopping center, and then we had a bite to eat at McDonald's before we met Jenny for a couple of hours. I was Jenny's host sister in the USA a couple of years ago, and it was wonderful to see her again; her, Cigne, Mark, and I all went to get ice cream together at Manu, which is arguably the best ice cream joint in the whole city. After that, though, we had to say goodbye to the city, and we piled back on a bus to Bjerringbro.

Since my last blog post, and before intro camp, I moved in with a new host family, and I couldn't be happier with them. They've welcomed me in with absolutely open arms; my mother and father, Marianne and Jens, have been trying very hard to make me feel at home in the family, and it's definitely working. It's just like I'm one of their kids; I have the same responsibilities and privileges that their children have, and I have a lot of freedom as long as I don't lose their trust. They have three other children (Martin, 17, who goes to my school and is just back from exchange in NY; Frederik, 16, who goes to a boarding school and whose room I stay in; and Matilde, 14, who goes to a different school in Biersted and helps me whenever I ask for assistance with the buses), and each one has been really welcoming to me as well, which I really appreciate.

I probably shouldn't be in here writing this blog post when all the other exchange students are out and about having fun, but I've been social all week, and, if we're being serious, I have quite the permanent headache. It's good to sit out and take a breather for a moment, especially when I've got so many plans once I get back to Biersted again. I have to go to the zoo sometime with Anne, Aida, and Johanne, and I'm supposed to spend some time with some other friends as well.

Vi ses! <3
-Lex

still, that mockingbird won't sing.

It's been nearly a week since I flew into Aalborg, and good golly God I cannot believe I'm actually here. When I filled out the application for RYE, it was just that; it was twenty-some sheets of paper that I had crudely fastened together, ones on which I'd written everything I could to make me appealing to a panel of people that I'd never met. Denmark was my fourth choice of  country, mostly because I thought for certain that there was no way I'd be accepted when I would have turned eighteen before I ever arrived in country. Here I am though, laying in the room that my counselor has furnished for me while I live with her before moving in with my first family, and somehow it's like I've been here for forever already although it's been almost no time at all.

I've met one girl in my class, named Frederikke, and she was very nice, but I'm nervous about school; I mean, it's just like when I switched schools at home, except it's totally different because I don't speak Danish and I'm in a totally foreign environment. I was invited to go shopping on Friday with two girls from school, and I will if I can, and Monday I'm supposed to meet another girl who will be in my class.

My first Rotary meeting, in true Danish style, was at a rustic potato farm~ It's been preserved as it was in the "olden days," as in the late 1930's and early 40's, but I didn't catch a whole lot more than that except for what Britta translated for me. I can pick up words here and there, but the language is proving a real difficulty. The people I talked to in the club are great, and they're providing me with a 750kr allowance, money to go on my studietur to London with my class, and many other things that I can't remember because I'm a little tired.

I had my first session with the Danish tutor that my Rotary Club/Britta (my counselor) has provided for me, and he's wonderful, but his English is probably the worst I've encountered since I've arrived, which will be interesting, I think. He's teaching me Danish with the equivalent of Curious George (Peter Pedal?), and I'll meet with him once or twice a week; I didn't know, and he didn't remember what it was that Britta had said. This is the second year that he's taught an exchange student, and he says I'll do just fine, but I'm rather nervous. Last year, he taught a girl named Augustina, and she was from Argentina, but somehow she had managed to get a Danish teacher a few months before she came to Denmark, so I feel a little behind the curve. This is especially frustrating because in English I pick things up very easily. Tomorrow, a Rotarian is taking me to show me the countryside at some point. I haven't had a day without something to do yet, which I suppose means I'm still in the "honeymoon period."

The food here is something wonderful. It isn't as different as home as I'd prepared myself for, but it is still different - especially the way that Danes eat. They eat with the knife and fork in the opposite hands that I use, for example, and there's more that's different too, like etiquette with what to do with your silverware to show if you're finished, if you'd like a little more, or if you're not even close to being done.

More has happened, of course, but quite frankly I don't feel like writing it all done at the moment.

Farvel! :)

hailing from rock-bottom, loser-ville, nothing-town.

Less than a month to go; I'm so scared. I've never been this excited before, but I can say without a doubt that I've also never been so terrified. I'm really lucky that the kids in my class have been great so far. They have honestly reached out to me and made me feel like a part of their community before I've even entered their country. My first family, too, has been incredibly receptive to me, and to all my questions, even though the best adjective to describe my mastery of Danish is still, "horrendous."

The Calvin College retreat was last weekend, and I can't imagine having had a better time. The food was of questionable quality, but other than that, not only was the excursion to Grand Rapids informative, it was also a lot of fun. I met some great people; there were a few rebounds who I owe a lot (one from Poland, three from Denmark, one from Argentina, one from Brazil), an inbound or two that I really enjoyed having conversations with (one from Denmark and another from Belgium), and some outbounds who were just incredible (one going to France, one to Denmark, one to Turkey). I learned a lot, but even as I get more excited about leaving for Europe, I get more scared as well. There are so many horror stories of people who had terrible experiences, but an exponential amount more who have been ever-changed for the better by their exchange.

I am so ready, and so nervous. I hope I'm able to do this, but I guess it doesn't matter what I hope for; I don't have a choice. I have to be ready. It's going to change me, for better or worse, but it's all in what I make of it, and if I have my way, Scandinavia is going to be the setting for the best year of my life.

Que sera sera.

hey, man, sing me a song.

I'm down to two and a half months before I leave the United States for ten solid months, and I'm absolutely ready, even though I've never been so scared in my life. This is me packing up my life and throwing myself into an abyss of European culture with which I'm not sure I'm equipped to deal. The beauty, though, of this exchange is that I don't have a choice but to be adaptable. If I don't adapt, I'm still stuck in that situation, and it's up to me to make whatever I can from it.

Since last I spoke to you, oh most lovely of blogspots, a lot has happened - and by that, I mean I have been personally victimized by Regina George. No, but a lot has happened; I went to prom, and I had the best date a girl could ask for (THANK YOU SO MUCH, ALEX, IF EVER YOU READ THIS!); I graduated as salutatorian of the class of 2012; I've spent a lot of time with Haley and Melissa; I got a job with the United Way for the summer.

This is my last summer as a "child," I suppose, so I have to make the best of it, no?

she ain't got a thing on me.

My life is the most hectic kerfuffle that I have yet been involved in. Our first performance of "A Pirate's Life for Me" is tomorrow (the school production; it's just a glorified dress rehearsal) and then I have State for academic bowl on May 5th. Prom is May 19th, and I have a dress, but I don't have it altered yet and I need shoes that won't dwarf my 5'9" date when I stand 5'7". On top of that, I'll spare you the personal strife, but there you have it - I'm a busy girl.

I've started my visa form, and I attended a Rotary meeting yesterday. I love my club more than I love anything else, I think; they're wonderful to me. They always want to know how I'm doing, and if I'm excited, and they always reassure me that if I need anything, they're always there to help. Without them, this whole venture wouldn't be possible in any capacity, and I don't think they know the effect that they've had on my life.

I haven't gotten a good night's sleep for what feels like months. I'm so burned out, and I'm ready to pack up my bags now and go to Denmark tonight. I'm through with Hamilton High School; it's served its purpose, and there's no need for me to be attached to it any longer. I don't belong here anymore, if I ever have, and I'd like to go out into the world and come to terms with myself. I don't have the resources to do that here.

Until next time.

on the other side of a street i knew

Six months and counting, and while I wouldn't say the time is flying yet, I'm well aware that it will be in the coming days. I don't have an attachment to my community like most do, because I don't know as though I have a community, and I feel as though that will really be to my benefit in the long run. Living almost twenty minutes from any of my friends has always been a hindrance to me, and I feel sometimes like it's robbed me of a part of childhood, but in this facet of life it is definitely to my advantage. I will miss people - I'll miss Melissa, Haley, David, Cole, Sara, Kaela, Alex, and Dakota, and that isn't even touching on the family aspect - but I won't have a neighborhood to miss. My house won't be always there for me anymore, but I can handle that. I won't have to worry about leaving Hamilton behind, because I'm not attached to it; I'm only attached to its inhabitants.


This last weekend I had another Rotary retreat at Lindenwood, and the other two outbounds are great. The inbounds are phenomenal, too, and I have them to thank for answering a lot of questions that I didn't even realize I had. The Rotarians are magnificent, and I can't get over the vast amount of knowledge that they have at their disposal; knowing that I have people like that to get me through what will be (simultaneously) the hardest and most fulfilling year thus far in my life sets my mind at ease.


Danish is still a work in progress, but I can conjugate some verbs now. Add the 'r' to the infinitive, you're good to go. Jeg gå i seks måneder, if that tells you anything. And if I did translate it right, for that matter.

i could finally crash again

Danish is so incredibly difficult. I know that's something of a, "Um, duh?" statement, but it's really true; it's nothing like the French or Spanish I've taken, and while the grammar isn't terribly difficult, the pronunciation is something I've barely been able to wrap my mind around. I don't think it's an ugly language or anything, but there's something so guttural to it that I just can't comprehend.

It's starting to sink in that I'm leaving, and while I'm not having second thoughts, I am starting to feel the nerves, for better or for worse. I'm going to leave behind everything and everyone I've ever known, and I won't be able to come home for the weekend like I would if I was just going to college. I know I won't be alone - I'll have the support of the Rotarians in Denmark, as well as my host family - but I will certainly be without anyone I'm familiar with.

I don't actually know what I'm doing.

I just make it up as I go along.

I guess this is the start.

Hi; I'm Alexis, but most people (friends at least) call me Lex. My family calls me Lexi, and my dad sometimes calls me Moron, but usually only when I deserve it. He probably would have called me a moron when I took the picture to the right, if we're being honest.

I am far too naïve for my years and simultaneously too aware to stay stagnant much longer. I am a senior at a high school with a graduating class of forty-five, and I like Jude Law, potatoes, and watching soccer and football more than any girl probably has a right to. I love reading romances and having dinner parties with my best friends, and my parents are beautiful people who I don't deserve.

I am a Rotary Youth Exchange Outbound for the 2012/2013 school year to what is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Denmark is no stranger to me; I was blessed with the chance to visit for my birthday in July/August of 2011. When I return, however, things will be different. Going to Denmark, this time, will not be a vacation. I will leave my home, my country, my family, my friends, and my cats and dog in the summer of 2012 to start a whole new life in a whole new world. I'll probably have to learn how to ride a bike, for that matter.

My wanderlust has always been brimming just below the surface of my consciousness, and, after four or five years of waiting, it had truly become unbearable. I had become infatuated with different parts of the globe at different points in time - my first fascination was the Far East, and I've progressed into quite the Europhile since - but there were words that my mother said to me that make me blame her for my condition.

"There's a whole world out there. You've just got to go and see it."

My mother had started saying that when I was in elementary school, and it was something to dream towards. It isn't a want to travel, although seeing the world is a wonderful thing altogether. It isn't even the idea of getting away from home, which I have to admit is appealing as well. The rub in my hometown is this - nearly everyone is near the same. In sociopolitical, financial, ethnic, and religious terms, the place that I have grown up is a one-note area. I have never known anything but that, save the frequent trips to Chicago that I love to make with my mother, and that is what I believe my exchange is about.

Going to Denmark will be about language, about culture, about people. It will be taking myself and transposing my life into an entirely new environment, with no rock to hold me up in a land entirely unfamiliar, with people who have grown up under completely different circumstances.

It will be terrifying, and it will be entirely worth it.

I can't wait.

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