As a girl with strong British roots, resulting in pale skin and red hair, I don’t stand out in Norway. As an American, my mannerisms, customs, and behavioral norms also align with Norwegain culture. We dress largely the same and enjoy the same types of hobbies. In fact, Norwegians are so convinced that I am one of their own that they always begin speaking to me in Norwegain. Then, predictably, I give up the game as they see my eyes glaze over right before I recite the phrase: jeg snakker lit norsk. It is my way of communicating that I am still a student of Norwegain. Then just as predictably, they switch to perfect English, the Norwegain superpower.

Anyone who has attempted to learn a new language knows the all-consuming energy and time required. Fluency generally takes years because learning grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation is not enough. You also must learn the common phrases, idioms, and perhaps the most difficult: the proper use of prepositions. Take one example, in Norwegain when referring to what will happen tonight, the preposition om is used: om kvelen. If you refer to something that will happen in 10 minutes, you use the same preposition: om ti minuter. In the first example, om is replacing the English word this, and in the second, it replaces the English word in. This is where it gets confusing because if you look up the word om in Norwegain, it does not mean this, or in; om means about. Examples just like this are met daily. Learning Norwegain takes patience, time, care, dedication, confidence, and most importantly, being willing to look and feel like a fool at times.

Last week, I had my first informational meeting for volunteering at the Bergen International Festival. When I arrived, I wondered how much I would understand. Shortly after I sat down with the large group of Norwegians, the guy next to me began a conversation. Not understanding what he had said, I employed my usual song and dance, and we continued in English. Some minutes later, the host began the meeting by asking if anyone could only understand English. I raised my hand a bit sheepishly, as well as a few other international students. We were then directed to a separate room where the meeting would be conducted in English. As I weaved my way through the tables, I heard someone mutter: Maybe you should take a Norwegain class when you are in there. My heart sank at the unfair comment.

A couple of days later, on the bus home, the lady next to me pointed at the stop and asked a question in Norwegain. I made an assumption as to what she had said and responded with: nei, nesten. Communicating that no, I am getting off at the next stop. Just as the words left my mouth, I realized that she had used the word vitte (know) and I had misunderstood what she had said. At about the same moment, she shook her head in a gesture of never mind, and the brief conversation abruptly ended. Two days later, over breakfast, it dawned on me that nesten actually means almost, and what I had meant to say was den neste, the next. No wonder she was baffled!

On my journey of learning Norwegain, I sometimes feel as if my ego is being ground into an unrecognizable pulp, while at others that the divide that separates me from the natives is deep and uncrossable. But I have also come to see this experience as an important one. It has taught me compassion for others, granted me patience with myself, and instilled in me a confidence that I never could have attained without feeling a fool time and time again.