This week marked the end of classes and my time in Denmark. Although I’ve done some remarkable things while abroad—became friends with Danes, traveled to England, Sweden, and Greece, mastered public transportation, had amazing professors—I think the things I will remember most about my time abroad are those things that can’t be explicitly described. During my last Danish class of the semester, my professor gave a farewell speech that I think speaks to those ineffable experiences of living abroad.
A little teary-eyed, my professor stood up at the front of the classroom with a glass vase, a bowl filled with rocks, and a Carlsberg beer to her right. She prefaced her speech by explaining that what she was about to say was something very typical of Danish education, and something that other Danish students have likely already heard. She began by reaching into the bowl and grabbing the three biggest stones out of the bowl. She piled the three stones on top of one another in the bottom of the vase, filling it up about two-thirds of the way. She remarked that these three stones were to represent the most important parts of life, the foundations upon which the rest of our life relies. She said that these stones could represent close friends and family, an education, and hyggelit moments.
While she was explaining the importance of these foundational stones, I thought back to what my time abroad had added to my own foundation. I’ve started lifelong friendships in Copenhagen, I shared memorable experiences with my Visiting Family, I’ve been educated both in and outside of the classroom, and discovered the true meaning of hygge. Hygge doesn’t just mean lighting candles and being “cozy”—it’s a feeling meant to be shared, not described, with those that are closest to you. Thinking about hyggelit moments I’ve shared with professors and friends over the past four months, it’s no wonder that the concept of hygge would be something deserving of a foundational stone in the vase.
My professor then took out a handful of smaller stones and placed them on top of the large stones sitting on the bottom of the vase. She explained that these stones were to represent the important things in our lives that we could enjoy after we had tended to our foundational stones. These stones could represent the importance of travel, having a nice job, volunteering, or other recreational hobbies or activities. The smaller stones were to be an important part of who we are, but not as significant as the larger stones that preceded them.
This prompted my thinking about the smaller things that have made my abroad experience what it is. For me, these smaller stones have been the ability to travel outside of Copenhagen, seeing the different parts of Europe that have colored my experience. My other smaller stones include going out to great restaurants with new friends, the opportunity to write about my many experiences in Copenhagen and elsewhere, and of course indulging in the Danishes and sausages that have lined the streets. Thinking about these smaller stones made me realize that although the foundations of my personal vase stay pretty constant across time and place, the smaller stones I accumulated while in Copenhagen are the moments during my time abroad that I will remember for years to come.
My professor then took the smallest stones from the bowl and poured them into the vase, filling it to the top. She said that these stones were to represent all of the seemingly insignificant moments in life, that when combined, actually account for a significant part of the vase. These stones could represent going out with friends, driving a nice car, going to the movies, or reading a book. She then took a bowl full of sand and poured it into the vase, seemingly filling all the spaces between the stones in the vase. At this point in her speech, the vase was entirely full. She explained that if any part of the vase were removed, it would be incomplete. Our entire experiences, big, small, or seemingly insignificant combine to create the makeup of our own vases.
Thinking back to all the experiences I’ve had abroad proved my professor’s point. Although in the grand scheme of things my experience was wonderful, it was often the small trials of everyday life—shopping at Danish supermarkets, taking the bus everyday, braving the Danish weather, getting to the airport on time—that made this time in my life one of substantial maturation and learning. It wasn’t just the big moments that made my experience what it was; it was the collective experience, good, bad, and not so pleasant, that made this four-month period one that I will never forget.
What my professor did next surprised me. The Carlsberg beer had been sitting to her right during her entire speech, prompting curious glances from everyone in the classroom. Carlsberg is one of the major beer companies in Denmark, and as most of the world knows, beer is more or less the lifeblood of Denmark. My professor continued by saying that even when our vases are full, we should always be aware that we can make room for life’s simple pleasures. She took the Carlsberg and poured it into the vase. As beer wet the sand and spread through the vase, she said, “Remember, there’s always room for a Carlsberg.”
Laughing at the bluntness of her action, I realized that my professor’s advice, however absurd, is something that I’ll remember long after I return home. Denmark has been called the happiest place in the world, and the explanation is often that Danes have remarkably low expectations. However, I think my professor’s speech proved that it’s not just about managing expectations, it’s about making room for more experience, and delighting in the small happiness that these experiences can bring with them.
My professor ended the class by asking us to remember the small, odd country of Denmark and to think of it ever so often throughout our lives. Walking out of the classroom I realized that my vase would always have a small place for Denmark in it. It did, after all, change the makeup of my foundational stones.
