I had the idea to start learning Norwegian this week. Whilst crammed onto the train to Dresden, I watched a rather fantastic movie in Norwegian (subtitled, obviously) and the language sort of intruiged me. This week, whilst photocopying another mind-blowing number of pages for my weekly reading, I actually had a Norwegian author named ‘Kaare Strøm’ amongst my literature. Coincidentally, I was also standing next to a Norwegian exchange student, who promptly enlightened about the actual pronunciation thereof: Unlike Dutch, a double A turns into a long, subdued O. And if you then say “Kore Strøm”, it suddenly feels like you’re already halfway there in the language learning experience. Try it, you’ll be amazed.


So at any rate, this kind of thinking alerted me to a few things- the routine I was seeking after my time in Barcelona has turned on me a bit. I spend my days huddled over university literature, while outside November rages in its predictable atrocity. The sudden fascination with something so far fetched as Norwegian thus probably stems from a more fundamental desire to get out of what has quickly become a bit of a drag. “Getting out” in this sense does in no way imply quitting, it is rather a surprising alert to think about what comes next, starting summer 2010 when I will already be graduating. It is sort of an interesting and exciting question to ask oneself: How much change do I want? And further: Is this becoming a bit of a compulsion? As soon as I settle in (and with the trappings of permanence settling in, it does feel like I am finally there), there’s something akin to a desire to start living in yet another, completely new place… time will tell.