Four years ago today, I boarded a plane and flew half-way around the world to study in Denmark.

I was a junior in college, fiercely independent and was accustom to being in unfamiliar environments and not knowing a sole, having moved every few years during my childhood. But this was different. Not only would I not know anyone when I landed, but I would have to navigate in a foreign country and get myself from Copenhagen to Aalborg, 260 miles to the north.

My Danish skills were minimal at best and while I had been told that most Danes spoke English, I was nervous about not being able to communicate. However, my nerves were no match for the excitement I felt.

Finally, I was going to study abroad, just like my sister had done before me. I was going to be completely on my own, in my own flat, in a foreign country.

So while my parents were teary eyed (out of both excitement and concern for their youngest), I could not wait to get on that plane and be off.