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! :)