Oslo Syndrome

The Sun, Edvard Munch as seen in the University of Oslo Festival hall at opening ceremonies.

I feel like a sleeping child who's awoken to a noise in the middle of the night. Listing all that's happened in the past five days would make for a boring read, so I pray God inspires me to say all it is you expect to hear from me. In the very least, I'll keep it short.

If the Oslo International Summer School were a rap song, the bass dropped at Monday's opening ceremonies. The severity of our setting made me wonder what I've ever done to deserve the treatment and confidence ISS confers to its students. We found ourselves 89 nationalities surrounded by the genius of Munch-- the gravity of the Nobel Peace Prize. We were entrusted with the Oslo city center's finery. More than this, we have been declared stewards of a tradition of academic excellence and goodwill.

Studying Scandinavian politics and the much-divisive Norwegian welfare state is intensive and inspiring, and I cannot wait to share what I have learned-- riddled with analogies. But I cannot help asking: who am I to be here? I am reminded of the selfishness of such a question. I am here because of you, for you, with you; and I intend to make good on the trust with which you've sent me.

Entrance to Festival Hall, City Council Chambers, and Oslo City Hall