ALUMNI LINK

A PUBLICATION OF THE YFU-USA ALUMNI ASSOCIATION

When I boarded the plane in Omaha, Nebraska, I was bawling my eyes out. There was a Campbell Soup salesman sitting in the seat beside me and he helped me calm down and focus on the grand adventure ahead instead of the tearful family I was leaving behind. I was on a plane for the first time in my life and was headed to Denmark -- a country I knew little about, and to a family that I knew only from pictures and letters.

It's the funny things that you remember. I remember my mother insisting that I send a letter from the airport in New York since I had a ten hour layover. I remember getting an ice cube stuck in my throat and the terrific ice headache that I had until it melted. I remember seeing Wolf Man Jack. My two carry-on bags were frightfully heavy since we didn't want to go over the luggage weight restriction, and the arm strap on what used to be my brother's diaper bag broke in New York. I still don't know how I managed to carry all four of my bags from Customs to my waiting Danish family.

My Danish family was wonderful and they began my exchange experience with a whirlwind car tour through Copenhagen. I was on my best behavior and oohed and aahed at all the appropriate times, I think. My Danish sisters chattered away in Danish, a language that sounds like you've got a potato in your throat; my Danish "mor" (mother) chattered away in English. That night, we watched the second half of "A Brave New World" (in English) and I fought to keep my eyes open. The next morning I slept until 11:00 am and was mortified when I awoke; I feared that my new family would think that I was lazy and ungrateful. But breakfast was still on the table, the flag in the garden was raised to celebrate the arrival of the American, and I got a cheerful "god morn" from Mor, who was puttering around the kitchen. I had never had pickled herring for breakfast.

That day I met the horses, cats, dogs, and neighbors. I was taken on an after-dinner walk through the Christmas tree farm they owned, and heard the story of how Mor and Far (father) met selling Christmas tress and how Far really believed that nisse (elves) lived within the forest. I learned how to count to 10 in Danish and got laughed at for my efforts; I laughed, too. When I went to bed that night, the sun was still shining even though it was 11:00 pm, and I snuggled under the down cover on my bed not quite believing that I really was in Denmark and that I had survived my first day as an exchange student.

I remember all these things as vividly as if they had happened last week, instead of 23 years ago. That's the profundity of exchange. I wish that I could do it all over again.