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Meet a Norwegian family, through a missions’ organization, who happens to live in the same town that I am studying in; Kristiansand, Norway. Coincidence? I don’t think so. I have been emailing the mother, Heidi, and daughter, Julie, of this family for a few months before I left the States. Julie and I planned to meet at the Spicheren bus stop at 14.40 on Thursday afternoon. I got out of class at 14 and took care of a few things to eliminate off of my “Get Done Soon” list and was headed for the bus stop at 14.35, perfect timing. As I meander my way to the bus stop my mind is overloaded with expectations and ideas and plans and suddenly I realize, I don’t actually know what she looks like. I’ve only seen her in pictures, I don’t even have my spectacles on, and since the bus stop is outside everyone I see will be bundled up hiding their real identity anyway. By the time I go through this whole predicament in my head I’m already in the vicinity of the stop so I figure I’ll just wait and see what happens (which has become a large percentage of my everyday life here). I get closer and realize there is someone standing by the bench so of course I get excited thinking its her but as we all know I can’t just run up to the person and start babbling in English about how excited I am to meet him or her, especially if its not actually her. So I nonchalantly walk by peering out of my peripheral vision and out of my best judgment I decide that it is most definitely not her. So now what? I already walked by so I can’t just pull a U turn and go back, I already committed to walking past it. I guess I’ll just keep going, I make my way through the frozen tundra up the corner and pull a quick 360 onto the other sidewalk and go up the little hill above the bus stop. Now I have an exceptional view of the stop so I can scan the region for any newcomers that may look like an 18-year-old Norwegian girl (which is a lot more difficult than you’d think considering everyone has on a plethora of winter apparel and I am watching a bus stop by two schools and a gym).

But on I wait and watch. I notice a few people but thankfully can tell that they are guys so I don’t bother going to pull my whole walk by number. After what seemed like a millennium I glance down at my watch, its only been ten minutes. I start questioning whether or not I’m at the right stop on the right day at the right time and after confirming in my mind I conclude that I will just wait a few more minutes before starting my trek home.

No longer than two minutes later I am aware of a girl standing next to me creepily glaring at my face. So I turn and look at her and she whispers, “Kelsey.” My face bursts into a smile as she hugs me and apologizes for being late. We trudge down to the stop and get on the bus while chatting like we’re old friends. Julie wanted to go downtown and to the city so of course I accompanied her and she informed me a considerable amount about the town, her family, Norway in general, and that her mom is making dinner for us. Well that worked out wonderfully, you don’t have ask me twice. After two hours of bus rides and looking around at all the stores we made our way to the grocery store to pick up some butter and wait for Heidi (her mom) to pick us up.

We arrived to their house and escaped the icy air of the night as we hurried into the front door of what seemed like a fairy tale cottage. The home was just that, a home. I was immediately welcomed and realized the drastic difference in living conditions. A mini, cold, poorly illuminated, lonely room is what I was use to. Walking into a cozy house that smelled of heavenly “mat” (food in Norwegian) with a family and all the ingredients of a home was refreshing. Then the best was yet to come as I sat down at an adorable candlelit table and was served an authentic Norwegian meal: meat cakes, mashed potatoes, and milk. I’m not usually one to just dig in to something called a meat cake, especially when the type of meat is not specified but apparently my appetite took over my habits and before I knew it I was scraping my plate and gulping down the most delicious milk my taste buds have ever encountered. We had a lovely evening and I think they could tell that I hadn’t actually had a meal in awhile because later Julie made us popcorn and we drank Christmas soda while Heidi made “boller” (like cinnamon rolls without cinnamon) and tea for us. When the night came to a close Heidi and Julie dropped me off at my dorm and came in for the grand tour: which took all of four and a half seconds. We said our “ha det” (goodbyes) and I showed them out thanking them persistently for everything. I smiled to myself as I walked back to my room thinking of a quote I once heard in high school, “Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.” - John Ed Pearc