Good old Norway
I knew I was on my way home the moment I heard two Norwegians talking in Heathrow airport. They complained about the prizes of passports and how everything was too expensive in Norway. Then I got off the plane in Oslo, another couple complained about the state of the stairs. And finally, when I tried smiling to the security guards, brainwashed by the smiling American people, they frowned and looked extra closely at my luggage. And that's when I knew I was home.
Yes everybody, I'm back in the country.
Then, of course, my mom met me and hugged me and gave me dinner. The next day I came back to Oslo and got drunk and happy with aj_stalin and Eivind and today I'm trying to get into the whole studying thing and it's working halfway. So all in all, I'm happy to be home. But, you know, I wouldn't be Norwegian if I couldn't find a way to focus on the bad parts to justify my need to complain, would I?
This icon is called "lost", and it fits surprisingly well with how I feel at my university right now. But soon, my friends, I will remember how good it is to be here studying and will stop feeling out of place and disconnected, I'm sure (I hope...)
Yes everybody, I'm back in the country.
Then, of course, my mom met me and hugged me and gave me dinner. The next day I came back to Oslo and got drunk and happy with aj_stalin and Eivind and today I'm trying to get into the whole studying thing and it's working halfway. So all in all, I'm happy to be home. But, you know, I wouldn't be Norwegian if I couldn't find a way to focus on the bad parts to justify my need to complain, would I?
This icon is called "lost", and it fits surprisingly well with how I feel at my university right now. But soon, my friends, I will remember how good it is to be here studying and will stop feeling out of place and disconnected, I'm sure (I hope...)