The advent of spring aligned nicely with the arrival of my friend and roommate, Elizabeth, who visited last week from her study abroad program in southern Spain. I was a little concerned that she would be scared away by sub-optimal temperatures and the looming threat of snow, but there was, thankfully, no need to be concerned.
When we stepped off the bus, I thought I was dreaming. It was as if we had strolled into the pages of a storybook, or a movie set — cobblestone streets and quaint cottages, deserted and lit by moonlight. With our suitcases in tow, we made our way to City Hostel Bergen, which was just a short walk down the street.
I have been coming to terms with an important realization: despite the novelty surrounding me, I'm still the same person I was before I arrived in Stockholm, and that's okay. I think the notion of studying abroad in college, especially as an American in Europe, is so intensely glorified that we expect a transformational experience within weeks of being here, but that's often far from reality. It's okay to feel anxious or depressed, and it's okay to stay in all day or sleep past noon. As one of my friends put it, there's no right way to study abroad.
Although it would be cool to play fetch with a T-Rex, I think I would be hard-pressed to find a museum open that late — I just felt like this post called for an ABBA-centric title.