Sitting in the empty lobby of Nansenskolen, I have an empty feeling in my heart. I have spent the past four days with 25 highly motivated, intelligent, interesting students from the Balkans (Serbia, Kosovo, Bosnia, Macedonia and Croatia) and the Caucasus (Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan and Chechnya), and now they are all gone. The students boarded a bus to Oslo at 2 this afternoon, in preparation to start their six weeks of study at the International Summer School.

Saying goodbye to these diverse and inspirational people was much harder than I would have imagined. After all, we have been together for less than one week. The connections that we forged in those days, though, are ones I believe will last a lifetime. As one student said in the closing session this morning, the interactions we experienced here at Nansenskolen were not ordinary, shallow ones. “They were genuine.”

From these truly genuine relationships, I learned much about myself, dialogue and the workings of relationships. For one, I was able to put to practice some of the communication theory I learned at PLU in a setting that was drastically different than any I have ever experienced before. As part of the week’s seminar, we spent several hours in small groups dialoging about different aspects of ourselves. The intensity of the topics (the role of ethnic identity, for example) demanded my full attention and awareness of my communication practices. For example, I almost never crossed my arms to avoid appearing closed off, and I tried to ask thoughtful questions to other speakers to contribute to a positive communication climate. These are practices I try to use in everyday life, but they became that much more relevant when I found myself in a position where complete strangers were asked to share their stories (oftentimes sensitive and quite personal) with each other. Engaging in these dialogue sessions helped me reflect upon theories I learned in the classroom, and how they become important in a dialogue setting.

Secondly, I have learned the meaning and power of reframing an experience or perception. One of the lecturers, Erik Cleven, shared an example about a Nansen Dialogue Center project in Macedonia that is seeking to foster peace between Macedonians and Albanians in a particular municipality. The project has created opportunities for Macedonian and Albanian children to learn English and computer skills together, and to learn each other’s languages. Rather than concentrating on the conflict between the two ethnic groups, the project builds on skills that would be useful to both groups. Thus, the conflict becomes a secondary focus to the primary importance of learning new skills. Looking at this conflict in a different way allows new possibilities to open up. Realizing these new frames is a liberating. I experienced the reframing phenomenon several times this week, and each one turned on a light bulb in my head and my heart.

Finally, I witnessed the power of music and the way singing and dancing can bring people together. Our first night together, we danced the night away at Steinar’s house. Last night, we had a talent show that showcased singing and dancing from students’ cultures. We saw dances from Afghanistan, Iraq, India, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Chechnya, as well as from the Balkan regions. All in attendance were invited to get up and join in. The tunes were new for many in attendance, but that did not seem to stop anyone from putting on a smile and busting a move. The jovial spirit in the room produced a dynamic of connection and relation. After PLU taught the final dance – the Electric Slide – the group dissolved into conversation, volleyball and more dancing. As I looked around me, I saw people talking and laughing together, sharing the party with one another. I do not deny that ethnic tension still persisted within the group, but I sense these social nights together will cement bonds across ethnicity. The group will always have these memories together to look back upon.

The lectures I heard, the conversations, stories and laughter I shared have already begun to weave themselves into the fabric of my identity. Yes, I am an American and yes I am a lifelong student of conflict management. Now, I am also a person who understands what it means to listen – not simply hear, but truly listen – to stories and experiences for which I have no personal reference point. I know what it means to ache for the tragedy that I once knew only through the television screen. I also know what it means to rejoice when two people find understanding.