An Exchange Abroad? Norway!
I never thought that I’d be the sort of person to go on exchange, never in my life. In my old comprehensive I attended, despite teaching three modern foreign languages, we never did an exchange programme. Given, there were trips abroad, once the German department organised a trip to Cologne in the south of Germany, but that’s as far as it went.
But, one day, as I was walking through college to class I saw a poster up for a Norwegian Exchange Programme. South Wales is twinned with Hordaland province in western Norway with its regional capital being Bergen, known as the cultural hotspot of Norway and this is where the exchange stems from. It offered to pay for your whole trip, as long as you subsidised it by one hundred pounds. I thought about it for a few moments; I’d never been away from my family for more than three days and I knew nothing about Norway whatsoever. Given, there was a Norwegian exchange student in one of my classes, but I knew little about it other than local authorRoald Dahl’s connections with the country and that we had a Norwegian church in Cardiff Bay.
To this day, I can’t tell you what made me apply. I was wary of being on a trip with nine people I knew nothing about and staying with a host family, a family I’d never met. Maybe it was my mother’s or my form tutor’s encouragement, but I applied.
A few weeks later, I’d had an interview where they gave us team-work exercises and a personal interview. I heard back from my tutor, and I’d gotten in. The college organised meet-ups with the hosting Norwegian students, we stay in Norway for a week but the Norwegian students come here for a year to learn through the medium of English.
The day to leave came and I couldn’t prevent it. Until I got to the train station I really didn’t want to go. I was nervous about staying with a host family, and even more nervous about the people on the trip; what if some of us had a fight? What if it was awkward?
We took two trains and a flight, and the time we spent together on the trains was invaluable. When you’re thrown into a position like that, getting to know each other comes easily. With twenty thousand students both part time and full time at college, it’s understandable how most of us had never come into contact with each other. It’s a necessity, and we all just clicked with each other. I’d never experienced anything like it before.
That night at midnight we arrived in Bergen, a historical city and traditionally a port city, just like Cardiff. It’s the rainiest city in Europe, but by some stroke of luck we came during a week where it was around 23 degrees every day and bright sunshine. We stayed there for one night, and in the morning, disorientated by the bright sunlight, a few of us headed out for breakfast. Norwegian food varies so much from British food where there’s been a noticeable Americanisation of food, whereas Norwegian food is still very much traditional with lots of fish and potatoes, albeit there were fast food joints you get everywhere.
There began our holiday. The next day we set off for Voss, a small mountain town with the scenery you only see on postcards or on the television. The town housed a lake 26 kilometres around and snow-capped mountains which reflected in the lake. For the next two days we hiked, rode bikes, ate fantastic food, tried more cheeses than can be listed on both hands and stayed up late, smoking cigarettes [Sub-Ed Note: TheSprout does not endorse smoking, it is very bad for you], taking full advantage of the tea and coffee making facilities while we watched the sunset over the mountains on the beach-like shore of the lake.
Our time at Voss came to an end; we caught the train to Bergen to meet the families. On our way back, we saw more of that imagery Norway’s famous for. We drove through mountains, around mountains and saw the well-known fjords; the waterways between the mountains.
My host family picked me up from the station, a lovely girl named Marte and her father, Kye. They lived east of the city, and after being around in the country for the past few days, I was unsurprised to hear they lived on a mountain. The family (consisting of three daughters and two parents) also hosted another girl from the trip, Heidi. We all slotted in together and into their family life. Unlike staying in hotels or hostels where you can live in a tourist-bubble, living in a host family you get to see the real day to life of things. I found that when I went out with Marte and Heidi, people would approach me in Norwegian and we got to see the city. I was fortunate to visit Bryggen, a part of Bergen that was the port.
Bryggen is a part of Bergen that’s marked as a UNESCO world heritage site. It was a part of the Hanseatic Trading Empire, and because all of the houses were made out of wood, they’d periodically burn down. Nobody cleared away the ashes, they fell into the foundations of houses which caused a lack of oxygen in the water (many of the foundations are underwater, Bryggen was claimed back from the sea with man-made structures) preventing the foundations from rotting, therefore keeping up the structures. Many are newer ones, but there are foundations and stone cellars dating back to the 1300s.
A few of us met up in town, visiting some KunstMuseums (art museums) and saw the work of famous Norwegian artist, Edward Munch, most well-known for paintingThe Scream. In addition, we managed to catch Bergenfest! Bergenfest is a music festival held in Bergen, but unlike British festivals where they’re all in a camp (such as Glastonbury), it took place in different venues all over the city. We got to see most of Bergen this way, walking from venue to venue. One of which, in Old Bergen, was named USF and is a converted sardine tinning factory where we saw French jazz act Nouvelle Vague and Welsh band Marina and the Diamonds. In addition, of course we did things at home. We watched movies, ate popcorn and were introduced to some of the finest Norwegian rock bands, like the Kazier Orkestra who are actually pretty bad-ass.
Our time came to an end with the host families, it was hard saying goodbye. They become your family for a few days, so you get to know them well. My host family even took us to a birthday party where we met all of their extended family, and all of us sat at a long dark wooden table and eating various types of cake. It was really like we were a part of the family.
The group met back up at the YMCA hostel, went on various excursions up mountains and into town. My last night in Bergen was marked with the same empty feeling as the night before I left Cardiff. I didn’t want to go, and now I didn’t want to leave. I noticed this irony while I smoked a cigarette [Sub-Ed Note: TheSprout does not endorse... you know the rest] on the harbour, nursing a cup of coffee and writing in a journal. Norway was beautiful, but I had to leave. My time was up. Our last night in Bergen was marked with the same tomfoolery I had experienced in Germany, the excitement, the ingestion of too much caffeine and a contagiously happy atmosphere everyone shared.
I never took myself as the sort of person who’d go on an exchange, but I did it. And I loved every moment of it, every single moment. It was a life changing experience; it was my first time away from my parents. It was the first holiday where I’d had some form of freedom to choose what I wanted to do, and it taught me valuable people skills, especially being put into a group for the better part of ten days with nobody I knew. Most of all, above everything else, I learnt about a whole new culture first hand with a host family.
If you get a chance to go on one, even if you doubt even applying like I did, do it any way. Do it and get on the programme. Do it, because you’ll love it and it’ll open up your eyes to a whole world.
IMAGE: Bryggen reflection by Today is a good day
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1 Comment – Postiwch sylw
Sam (Sub-Editor)
Rhoddwyd sylw 11 mis yn ôl - 9th June 2011 - 12:00pm
"...but unlike British festivals where they’re all in a camp (such as Glastonbury), it took place in different venues all over the city." What like Swn festival in Cardiff?
Great article dirty, one of my biggest regrets was not visiting Bergen when I was 19, I wanted to take the ferry across from Newcastle, but they don't run it any more. Sad face.