My BTS CI internship in Norway: three months at the end of the world that changed everything
Honestly, if someone had asked me a year ago where I imagined doing my BTS International Trade internship, I would never have answered in Norway. Really never. I saw my classmates applying for internships in Spain, Ireland, Portugal… countries where companies are used to taking international interns, where the climate is milder, where the language is easier to tackle. And yet I went to Oslo. Go figure.
It all started on a bit of a whim. My school had told us about the possible destinations and at the bottom of the list there was Norway. It was almost slipped in by chance, like an exotic option for the most adventurous. And strangely, that’s exactly what attracted me. The idea of doing something different, of completely stepping out of my comfort zone. I told myself that an experience like that would really help me grow. And, between you and me, when you tell a recruiter that you did your internship in Norway, it always arouses curiosity.
I started sending applications somewhat at random, not really knowing what to expect. The first responses came back quite quickly. That’s actually what surprised me: Norwegians reply. Even to refuse, they take the time to write a polite email. In the end, after two video interviews in English—where I found myself much less comfortable than I thought—I received an offer from a maritime logistics company. Three months in Oslo, starting in January.
The departure was both exhilarating and terrifying. I had read on forums that Norway was expensive, very expensive even, and that the winter there was nothing like the mild French winters. But I was ready. Well, that’s what I thought.
Arriving in Oslo immediately made me feel out of my element. As soon as I stepped off the plane, the cold air hit my face. It wasn’t the aggressive cold I had imagined, but a dry, almost clean cold. Everything around me seemed organized, silent, fluid. Even the taxis drove calmly, and people didn’t speak loudly. It was a different atmosphere, a different pace.
I had found a shared apartment through an expat Facebook group—a small flat shared with two other students: a German and a Finnish woman. We got along immediately. Our first evenings often consisted of improvising simple meals, talking about our respective countries, our administrative headaches, and trying to decipher Norwegian habits. Very quickly, this flatshare became my little family on site. I don’t know how I would have managed without them.
My first day of work remains etched in my memory. I had put on my shirt and polished shoes to make a good impression. My tutor, on the other hand, greeted me in a sweater and sneakers. Very quickly, he made me feel at ease: here, there’s no exaggerated formality. I was introduced to the team in a few minutes and immediately given files to work on. No long weeks of observation, watching others work. Here, you do the work. And if you do it poorly, they correct you, but they don’t judge you. I really appreciated that approach.
My tasks were very concrete: researching new international prospects, updating client databases, exchanging emails and sometimes speaking by phone with foreign partners. The first time I picked up the phone to talk to a supplier in English, my heart was racing. I was almost trembling. But the person on the other end, very patient, quickly put me at ease. Moments like that teach you far more quickly than a classroom.
What struck me very quickly was the management of working hours. The days start early, often before 8 a.m., but by 4 p.m. everyone is gone. No one stays to “put in extra hours” like in France. The work is done during the scheduled time slot, and afterward, private life takes over. Norwegians have a true culture of balance. Work is important, but it shouldn’t encroach on everything else.
Coffee breaks — the famous kaffepauses — are sacred. Several times a day, everyone puts down their computer, we gather around the coffee machine, we talk about the weather (of course), the weekend’s hike, yesterday’s cross-country ski race. Those moments helped me a lot to fit into the team. Little by little, I became more comfortable speaking and dared to join the conversations.
The cost of living, as expected, was high. Every trip to the supermarket became a small financial challenge. Fresh fruits and vegetables were incredibly expensive. I became an expert in spotting discounts and making simple meals: lots of pasta, rice, and canned goods. Eating out was rare and reserved for special occasions. Fortunately, my roommates shared expenses, and we often organized home-cooked dinners.
Outside of work, I discovered a completely different lifestyle. Norwegians live outdoors. Even at –10 °C, people go out to walk, run, or ski. On weekends, I often joined my colleagues or roommates on hikes around Oslo—Sognsvann, Frognerseteren, Holmenkollen… Each spot had its own charm. Walking in the snow, surrounded by fir trees covered in white, with nothing but the crunch of snow under your boots, is an almost meditative experience.
One Saturday, my colleagues took me cross-country skiing. I had never done it before. I spent more time falling than moving forward. But everyone laughed, encouraged me, and helped me get back up. It was also in moments like these that I understood the Norwegian mentality: you don’t judge someone who’s a beginner. You support them.
I also remember those quiet evenings at the flatshare after our busy days. We would sit with a beer (expensive, of course), play cards, talk about our internships, our respective countries, and our plans for the coming weekend. Those simple moments created very strong bonds. We all came from different cultures, but we shared the same adventure.
Around mid-internship, I felt much more confident. I handled my files without stress, participated in meetings, and even suggested a few ideas to my supervisor. I had overcome the fear of making mistakes. I understood that what mattered was trying. Norwegians value initiative, even if imperfect.
I also took a few getaways outside Oslo, starting with Bergen. I traveled there by train, passing through breathtaking landscapes: snow-covered mountains, frozen lakes, and small isolated villages. Bergen charmed me with its colorful wooden houses and its bustling port despite the persistent rain. There, I met other French interns. We spent the evening sharing our experiences over fish dishes and long conversations.
Then Trondheim, a student-driven, innovative city. There I met a BTS classmate who was working at a startup. We spent a weekend wandering the streets, visiting the cathedral, and sipping coffee in cozy little cafés while talking about our future, our ambitions, and our doubts. Those conversations reassured me a great deal. I realized that we all share highs and lows and face the same questions.
There were also the more difficult moments. The winter days when night fell at 3:30 PM sometimes weighed heavily on morale. I felt a certain isolation, a longing for my family and friends in France. But those moments also taught me resilience. And fortunately, my roommates, my colleagues, and outdoor activities always helped me bounce back.
The last month flew by. The closer the end got, the more I felt the need to savor every moment: the final hikes, the last coffees by the fjord, the final impromptu dinners at the flatshare. When departure day arrived, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I felt like I was leaving a second home.
Today, several months later, I realize how much this experience has transformed me. Professionally, of course: my resume has gained significant added value, and recruiters are always curious when I talk about Norway. But above all on a personal level. I’ve gained autonomy, confidence, and adaptability. I learned to work in a multicultural environment, to overcome obstacles on my own, and to create a balance far from my usual reference points.
If I had to give one piece of advice to those still hesitating to try an internship in Norway: go for it. It won’t always be easy, and there will be moments of doubt, but every day there will make you grow. And one day, like me, you’ll look back on those vast landscapes, those simple but sincere evenings, those little unexpected moments, and you’ll know that that Nordic chapter marked a turning point in your life.