Steinar hosted our group of 30 at his home last night, and provided us all with memories we will most likely not soon forget. After processing my emotions from the day, I walked with the group to Steinar’s home. The day had been exhausting. During a dialogue session with students from Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia and Chechnya, I developed an uneasiness about my position within the group. Identifying that unease took several conversations with my PLU colleagues and much time spent walking and thinking. Eventually, I started to realize that my discomfort developed because I felt like an outsider; one whose life experiences were so drastically different than many of the others that I could not fit in. As we walked to Steinar’s I felt unsure about the evening ahead of me. Would I be able to relax with the group? Or would I feel to awkward and different?

I spent the first hour of the party sitting in the evening sun, talking to a Macedonian dance teacher. A bit later, I moved on to a conversation with a man from Serbia who is studying to be a chemical engineer. The hours passed and people started to sing. Students from all over the Balkans sang folk songs with smiles on their faces, and with some urging, the students from Azerbaijan also shared a song with the group. Finally, everyone started singing American songs, and embarrassingly, the PLU group knew very few of the lyrics.

Singing led to dancing, and Steinar’s porch transformed into a mini outdoor club. Students belted out lyrics, shook their hips and waved their hands in the air. No longer did it matter where anyone was from, just that we were dancing and laughing together.

Walking home from the gathering just after midnight (the sun had set at about 10:50 and it was still light outside), I reflected on the change in my state of being. Dancing with my fellow seminar students dissolved my sense of lonely isolation. I no longer felt as if I were “the American” in the group, but like a woman who just had a great night dancing and talking with the people around her. Of course, our night of camaraderie will not change the different realities of our lives, but it will help us start to build a common narrative. I can now begin to look at the people I am meeting as peers who enjoy getting up early to watch the sunrise, just as I do; who like to eat Norwegian jam and cheese on crackers for dessert after lunch, just as I do; who believe the world can become a better place by working to change the lenses through which we see conflict, just as I do.

Discomfort and uneasiness will no doubt play a major part of the rest of my life as I continue to pursue a vocation in peace-building. And most likely, finding some relief from those feelings will not come as easily as it has at Nansenskolen. The interactions I have had here, though, will form a foundation for effectively and positively managing my identity as a United States citizen, and more importantly, as a global citizen.

Jenn and Ingrid at the outdoor portion of Maihaugen, a museum of Norwegian history.

I have realized that many reading this blog may not know much about the Nansen Dialogue Network. Therefore, I have included the link to the Nansen Dialogue Network's website, the NDN's mission statement, and a few pictures of Nansenskolen (which houses the Lillehammer part of the NDN) to provide further elucidation.

Link:

http://www.nansen-dialogue.net/

Mission:

The Mission of the Nansen Dialogue Network is to empower people who live in conflict situations— through application of ideas and techniques of dialogue— to contribute to peaceful conflict transformation, democratic development and promotion of human rights (…) and providing neutral and open space where different actors in a serious conflict can meet face to face in truthful and honest communication…” and also to “break down enemy images, as well as to increase understanding of each other’s positions, interests, and needs.

Nansenskolen entrance.

Nansenskolen Lane.

Main Building of Nansenskolen.