Farvel Kobenhavn

I would like to start with a disclaimer- the current downward trend in my blogging will probably continue. The next two months of backpacking, Africa, no computers or telephones, and very little money are not conducive to regular blogs. But I will update you nonetheless, so stick with me if you can bear the incoherent and erratic blogs.

I would like to begin by making a corrective statement from my last blog. Someone (whose name I will not mention, for her own sake) has complained about my use of "cosy" when referring to Thirissa. This unnamed person felt Thirissa was not cosy, rather they felt it was horrible, awful maybe, any word with a negative connotation can be entered her. I think it is important to mention that this same person also was dragged up the narrow streets of Thirissa by an overly aggressive donkey who, in his pursuits of biting another donkeys ass, threw her off his back, manging to catch her leg in the saddle. This consequently resulted in this unnamed person being dragged up the cobblestone streets by her leg while her donkey chased after the other donkeys trying to bite their backsides. Hilarious site, but allegedly not so cosy. Given that, I stand corrected.

Last blog I also mentioned a quarter marathon... which I did in fact survive. I managed to win my age group, finish in the top ten percent, and walk away feeling pretty good. That was until I found out that the person who won was a twelve-year old girl. Yes, twelve years old. She ran at a pace one minute faster per km, a pace that my marathon running host dad could barely keep up with. I do not know what they are feeding these children, I do not know what genetic mutation these Scandinavian children seem to have, but they are none other than beasts. If I had been in one age group lower, I would have not won but in fact been beat by this twelve year old and a posse of her four other twelve-year old friends.

The good news is I am now officially done with school, after two weeks of basically developing carpal tunnel from being hunched over my computer for days at a time, I feel liberated. I am now a senior in college, about to embark on one of the greatest year of my short life.

Monday I pack up and leave Denmark, a sad, sad reality. But... I pack away my life in Denmark, and put on a backpack that will carry me through my new adventures for the next two months. I start in Brussels, eat some waffles, drink some beer, go to Dublin, eat some cabbage, drink some beer, got to London, eat some chocolate, drink some beer. No, actually that is not how I will be spending my time Mom and Dad, rather I plan on hiking through the Irish countryside, exploring Dublin, going to some museums in Brussels (and eating waffles), and getting to see what I couldn't in London the first few times I was there. In London I'll be meeting up with my friend Ali from high school and together we'll be going to Mallorca, the Spanish islands renowned for their beautiful beaches and mountains. After that we're off to Morocco, probably the place I am most excited about. We're staying in Marrakech and considering doing a two-day camel trek through the dessert, watching the sunset and camping with the nomads. Hopefully not getting dragged across the Sahara by camels. From Morocco I'm off to the French Alps for a two week intensive French language school where I will be met by Evan. Evan and I will enjoy Chateau Schiffer and then jet off to Amsterdam. From there its back to Copenhagen (maybe the other most exciting part, but what part isn't exciting?). Some Nyhavn, Tivoli, King's Garden Picnics, all the things I was deprived of when the alleged "springtime" weather turned out to be 40 degrees and rain everyday. After that we're back to London and then (may this is the most exciting part of my trip...) off to Ghana!!! Three weeks back with my family, in Darmang, and with all the people I love and have missed so much. Also back to holes in the ground for toilets and constant marriage proposals, back to tro tros and bartering. Oh how I missed it so, except maybe the toilets.

From Ghana I plan on coming back to London from which I will fly right to Seattle, back to the home I missed, but not that much. Back to the people I missed so much, although most of them won't be there. But back, nonetheless. After that it's Colorado for a week and then a week long roadtrip up the West Coast.

I will return home exhausted, probably with some strange disease, completely broke (literally, no money, not a cent), and with every single penny well spent. These past fours months have been amazing beyond belief, and I only expect it to get better.

So now I'm off, off to great places, I'm off and away.

The Santorini Trip and More

So, as promised, I am now going to divulge the details of my glorious Santorini (Greek island) adventure. To begin... Greece is amazing. Words cannot accurately describe the natural beauty and atmosphere. When we arrived we stared in awe at the deep blue water, rugged cliffs and white village sitting atop the towering volcanic rocks, standing speechless. When then subsequently spoke when we realized that the white village sitting atop the volcanic rocks and cliffs was the white village where we would be staying, a white village that happened to be four hundred feet above us only accessibly by winding roads on the edge of the cliff, an hour long walk with the constant threat of imminent death. With suitcases packed for two weeks of travel and a fear of heights (and death) this was problematic. Luckily, the hotel we had booked (a cheap hotel, 10 euro a night per person) sent a van to the port to pick us up which was surprising, but surprisingly delightful. The hotel was owned by a family that owned four other hotels on the island and we had stops at each one of those as well. We arrive at the first hotel, a four star hotel (not ours...) only to find out it was in fact ours! The family had not opened their other hotels because it was the off season and so we got upgraded to a four star hotel, everything included, for 10 euro a night. Yes, luck was on our side. It was quite the nice beginning, needless to say.

The first day we explored the island, hiking up along the cliffs, traversing the narrow streets, passing the donkeys and blue tiled fountains. The next day we took a boat trip to the volcanic island just to the side of Santorini, the hot springs, and to Thirissa, another island, untouched by tourism and quite cozy and, dare I say, authentic. We witnessed the sunset from atop the volcanic cliffs, fell in love with pitas and Greek yogurt. We rented ATVs and explored the island, making our way to the black sandy beaches, hiking atop the ruin of the ancient city of Thira, and to an old winery converted to an art gallery off the beaten path. We rode donkeys up the hills and through the town. We ate dinner at the some of the finest restaurants, as they were willing to give us quite good deals to eat there since it was off season, overlooking the island as the sun set. We sat on our balcony, soaked in the sun, and literally rejoiced at the warmth we had been so unfortunately deprived of in Denmark. We lived it up.

It was paradise.

But, as all things do, it came to a end. Only to have us thrown back into reality when we arrived back in Denmark with two group projects, a 1000 pages of research to submit, articles to write, and insurmountable reading to do. It was time to go back to Greece.

Since returning I have developed less of an appreciation of volcanoes as they seem to erupt at incredibly inconvenient times. They seem to erupt when I was planning on taking four girlfriends to the French Alps for a weekend of relaxation, hot tubbing, wine, and cheese. But, hey, I guess since Iceland is running low on cash, they tried to compensate by sending ash.

Enough bad jokes and nostalgic tales, I'm off to rest up for my quarter marathon tomorrow and my extreme joy for when its over.

The Travel Adventure

Sorry for my slacking on blogging, although I do have a legitimate reason- I have been gallivanting Europe for two weeks and returned to essays, group projects, presentations, and academic chaos. But the chaos didn't seem to phase me as I was still in "Greek-mode", thereby unaffected by anything.

The trip started in Copenhagen with my mother (and you all now know how well that went). We then proceeded together to Berlin where we literally walked ourselves to exhaustion. A four hour walking tour trying to sum up the entire last century of Germany and Berlin history (which is impossible, even the last sixty years could fill a library). We saw the East Berlin Wall, the waterfront, the Turkish market, some of the old areas that were bombed, the remaining Berlin wall, the Soviet headquarters, Checkpoint Charlie, Hitler's bunker some other things I can't remember.... basically, we saw it all. Our feet can attest to that. We ate incredible food (none of which was traditional cuisine which consisted primarily of some unknown meat, covered in some unknown sauce, with a vegetable of some sort that lost all of its nutritional value when they doused it in butter and fat). We stayed in West Berlin which was surprisingly quaint, much like London and really came to love the area. We also discovered that Berlin is not a pretty city, it is not the kind of city that you go to and fall in love with the architecture and beauty of the city. It's ugly. Mainly because it was bombed to bits, rebuilt mainly in the 1950's and 1960's (an area not know for their aesthetics or quality architectural design), and the Soviets had a big say in what it looked like. But it is a city with more history than one can begin to imagine, although the ghost of Hitler and the shadow of the Holocaust remain ingrained in the city, a constant reminder of the horror and a feeling of persistent unease. We visited the Holocaust Memorial and Museum, an incredible and powerful remembrance site. We also saw Sachsenhausen, the concentration camp outside Berlin, which was a sobering experience, although too touched by tourism in my opinion, loosing some of its value and experience.

Prague was a far, far more beautiful city. The architecture was beyond incredible, anywhere you looked was amazing. The gardens were beautiful and the food was better than the Germans (although still doused in unknown sauces). Prague was overwhelmed with tourists to the point of nauseau and we found the best parts of the city at the end. But the city was great, the hot wine was not and the astronomical clock was a hilarious disappointment and there were far too many laughs to recount.

Then came Greece, quite possibly the best place I've been in Europe thus far (also the warmest, the longest time spent there, and cheap- those may be contributing factors in that statement). We started in Athens on their labor day, which happens to be the one day a year when all the ancient sites are free. So we saw the Acropolis, the Ancient Agora, all the of ruins for free. They were incredible to see, their age alone is astounding not to mention we could literally touch the work of one of the greatest civilizations in the history of mankind. The next day was the best though. We hiked to the top of the biggest hill in Athens and had a 360 degree view of the city. Then we ventured through the gardens of the ancient Agora (the ancient city centre in Greece) enjoying the olive trees, fresh flowers, and beautiful scenery. We went to the local market after that, which included the fish market- a very, very bad idea for me. For you see I am scared of fish- terrified may be a better word- to the point of absurdity. I don't touch fish, I don't look at fish, I especially don't interact with them (I do eat them, maybe as a means of revenge, may because they taste good). This fish market required I not only look at them, but I jump over the dead one's flopping on the ground beneath my feet. I was touched by them as men passing by hit me with their flopping, sliming fish. I came out of the fish market (barely) alive, with sardines stuck on my flips flops and one of the more disturbing experiences of my trip. Really, though, I showered twice.

I cant finish my trip as I dont have time today (school is always getting in the way), but Santorini is still to come...

And it begins...

Where to begin...

I have had incredible luck since arriving in Copenhagen, things just seem to be going my way. With the exception of the weather, I really must say I have had extraordinary good fortune. Everything just works out...

That is until my mom arrives, then it all goes to hell.

My mom arrived on Friday and we spent the day rushing around Copenhagen with my host dad and ended the night with a lovely dinner. A short and sweet first day made possible only because we were chaperoned by Carsten (my host dad).

But then my host family leaves and the adventure begins...

Saturday morning we wake up early so we can get into Copenhagen and see everything possible. I planned the day so we would do a walking tour of Copenhagen- stopping at all the best sights, eating at the best places, and enjoying the best of Danish culture. We would enjoy the warm spring weather and it would be perfect.

But perfect is not the word I would use to describe this day. Perfect is not even close. Disastrous maybe. Unfortunate maybe. Challenging maybe. But perfect, no.

So we get ready quickly so we can be out the door by nine to arrive to the Royal Palace early to see the newly renovated Prince and Princesses quarters open to the public only for a month or so. We get to the bus stop right outside my house only to find our walking tour would be complimented with the torrential rains Denmark seemed to be experiencing. We sit in the rain and wait, and wait some more, and shortly realize that the bus schedule was different on Saturday so we had missed the bus by two minutes and had to wait another thirty minutes. We go back home, already behind schedule, and emerge thirty minutes later, get on the bus to the station, and hope we'll make it in time. When we get to the station we find none other than a message saying the train in cancelled, the next one comes in twenty minutes. Now we're over an hour behind schedule but just decide to roll with it.

We go to buy our tickets for the train while at the station (without tickets each person is charged $120 fine) and the machine doesn't seem to be working, but we can't be so sure as it is entirely in Danish. We fight with it for about ten minutes, try another machine, try another card, try another obscenity, only to find out that the machine only accepts Danish credit cards which it explains clearly when you go to purchase your tickets, but does so in Danish, a language I unfortuantley still do not understand. So we have no tickets as the train pulls up, but are unwilling to miss another train (as it would be our third) and so we plead with the worker to allow us on. She agrees and we find our way to Copenhagen now almost two hours late.

We find our way to the Palace, the line by now is over two hours long and so we skip it, missing an incredible opportunity but still optimistic. We wander through an old church and a museum on Danish design, both of which we enjoy. We power walk to Rosenborg Slot (an old castle) so that we can see it and make it in time to Norrebro Brewery where we will be having a late three course lunch complimented with local brews (a must have experience in Copenhagen, one I had been looking forward to for months). We get to Rosenborg, rush through seeing the first floor before it closed (we had about five minutes) and then crown jewels and opulence at its greatest.

We then power walk (and I mean power walk, olympic style) to Norrebro Brewery so we could enjoy our meal before we had to go home to change before the theatre we were attending that evening. By this time it was about three, we hadn't eaten since eight a.m. and were starving and anxiously awaiting this meal. We find the brewery after a bit of a detour and walk in only to find the restaurant is closed Saturdays and the cafe closes its kitchen at three p.m.- it is 3:01.

We begrudgingly walk back towards the station, frustrated at our incredible misfortune and decide to just go home, change and go out for dinner instead. We sprint to the station to make the train and arrive back to at our home station only to find the bus won't be coming for another thirty minutes. We call a cab to get us home earlier. The cab doesn't come. The bus, after thirty minutes, still hasn't arrived. Since being in Copenhagen I have yet to have a bus not be on time. Today, it was ten minutes late. We get off the bus, give up on being able to go out to dinner because we would now have thirteen minutes to change and catch the next bus. So instead we invest in some nice beer, some wine and go home, sit down and laugh at how absoltuley wrong everything went.

Well it wasn't over yet...

We try to buy a ticket to Ghana and the websites won't accept our payments so we have to go through three different websites to get the ticket, then we find out each website charged our card $700 and so the last website won't accept the payment because we are over our daily charge allowance. Then...We call a cab to take us to the station for the show we were seeing that evening and it arrives late, so we almost miss the train to the show but somehow managed to get on.

Needless to say, we ended the night in a bar taking advantage of the two for one cocktail special and left only to find two inebriated men peeing outside the station, not afraid to show their junk. And another one even more confident, willing to be directly in front of us onto the tracks as we waited for the train we just missed. What a way to end the day.

So.... My mother is never allowed to come back to Copenhagen, the entire city falls into chaos. She comes to Copenhagen and things just go to hell. So if you think of inviting her to your city, beware.

Oh Copenhagen

I have been slacking in my blogging as of late due to a high influx of homework and research to do. In the last two days i have written eight essays and read well over 300 pages while documenting my research about sexual violence used during the 1994 Rwandan genocide and the human rights framework used to deal with such violations while also studying the role religious institutions in Eastern Africa play in local communities understandings of HIV and AIDS and the causes of such epidemics. Needless to say my brain is dead and I am developing carpal tunnel, a delightful combination for a twenty year old.

But... I felt I had to blog today because I have been seeing the most hysterical sights lately in the streets of Copenhagen:

Sight #1 (while walking to the library): I walked down one of the side streets I often pass through on my way to the University of Copenhagen, there is a quaint tea shop on this road, a hygge cafe, a sneaker shop, a store exhibiting a wide range of furs and hides.... and then two starkly (and completely) naked girls standing on the side walk painted like cats. Nothing but body paint on the corner of one of the busiest pedestrian streets in Copenhagen. No one was phased- no stares, no gawking, no double-takes. I am going to assume naked women painted like cats is a norm for the Danes, but one never can be sure. Well it actually turns out they were PETA protesters, protesting the fur shop above them and advocating for animal rights. I love there are activists here, but that was new for me. I was definitely the one doing double takes and gawking... I guess I'm not a true Dane yet.

Sight #2 (right before fur encounter): Near my school is a small convenience store in the downstairs of a building, selling candy, beer, soda, cigarettes all for relatively cheap prices. What makes this store different than the five other convenience stores on the road is that is seems to attract the drunks of Norreport (the neighborhood the school is in). Everyday a small community of mostly middle-aged men gather for twenty or twenty five beers outside of this store, sitting on milk cartons and chatting away. This starts on my way to school (around 8:30, they're early risers) and I'm not sure if it ever ends. There are usually the same people, sometimes new. They would be the homeless in America, but here they have homes, some even night jobs, but they retain a kind of community that mimics the homeless community in the States. Today I noticed something new... a baby! An old man, scraggly, white hair and a beard, with a Carlsberg in hand came walking up pushing a baby stroller. Upon closer examination I realized there was not in fact a baby, thank goodness, but rather he had hijacked someones baby stroller and proceeded to push it around the street of Copenhagen (it is very common to park your stroller outside shops, sometimes with a child in it, sometimes not, luckily this time it was not). He had taken this stroller, tucked in his 'babies' (aka a sixteen pack of beers) underneath the blanket and pimped out this stroller with flashing reflectors, Hawaiian flowers, stickers, fabric, etc. It was quite hilarious to see an old, haggard (and usually drunk) man pushing a very nice, well decorated baby carriage around , every once in a while tucking in the blanket around the cheap beer that sat inside as to protect it from the wind. Only in Copenhagen....

There is a lot more than went on in my past two week... more bad dancing and more Danes loving my bad dancing (and me loving the Danes more for loving my bad dancing), more studying, more sights, and definitely more sun than I have ever seen before while in Denmark.

But.. now I'm off again! It's first to the airport to pick up my lovely mother!! Then it's around the sights of Copenhagen, off to Berlin and then Prague. From there it Vienna for the day and the Athens and finally its Santorini for a lovely week in the Greek Isles!

More good stories and sights to come! (and hopefully more sun!)

The Amsterdam Adventure (Continued)

(Read blog below first...)

And so Kellye and I rushed from the Telegraph to our hotel to get our luggage in hope of making the train to the airport on time. We hired a cab to go what would otherwise be a fifteen minute walk in order to expedite the process which (unfortunately) resulted in a twenty minute drive in which the cabbie repeatedly told us we were in the wrong place (we should be going to Victoria Station and not Kings Cross he insisted) and then told us he was going to drive us to the right station to catch our train (we were in the right place and going to the right station, might I add). He would then turn towards the Victoria station at which point we would yell "STOP, we want to go to King's Cross" and he would subsequently turn around and go towards the station. Thirty seconds later we would again slam on the breaks and engage in a similar conversation in which he would turn the car around towards the Victoria station. This happened three times until we asked him to just stop, just stop, pull over, and please don't give us travel advice. We ran towards the train, cursing the cab driver, offending the people we screamed obscenities next to, and arriving completely flustered to find there is a train every fifteen minutes. That would have been nice to know. That would have caused less obscenities to be shouted. That would have caused us to not run through Kings Cross station with fifty pound suitcases, smashing into young children and innocent bystanders (and hot dog stands). That would have just been good. Needless to say we made the next train, arrived at the airport, made our plane with plenty of time to spare, and slept the entire flight... all 45 minutes of it.

We arrived in Amsterdam on a rainy afternoon, successfully navigated the public transport system and arrived in our hostel- Bob's Hostel. The Bob, of Bob's Hostel turned out to be a master deception artist with a keen ability to attract the grungiest and dirtiest bunch around, many of whom are middle aged punk rockers. Bob's Hostel did not look like the pictures... at all. Not to mention Bob's excellent architecture skills which were of equal glory. There were one-foot wide, steep and winding staircases that Kellye and I had to climb with our giant 50 pound suitcases (four flights of winding stairs to be exact, and yes judge our over packing all you want, we didn't think it through). I believe our exact words as we climbed the stairs were not "Thank you Bob" but more like "F*** you Bob" (sorry again for the profanity, it was essential in grasp the full experience).

But.... we survived, left Bob's immediately, and went straight to the gorgeous city of Amsterdam. I fell in love at first sight. Amsterdam is one of the most gorgeous cities I have been to, built around wonderful waterways with beautiful architecture and so much to do. Kellye and I had dinner at a cute cafe on the water, enjoying the famous Danish pancakes (spinach pancakes stuffed with ricotta and spinach, topped with a mushroom sauce...yumm). We visited Anne Frank's house, went to the food markets bought some fresh baked bread and local cheese and picknicked on the water. We ventured to the tulip markets and old traditional flee markets. We toured an old church turned into an exhibit on Oman and ate every baked good we saw (just imagine... hot waffles covered in dark chocolate with whipped cream, bananas, strawberries, and powdered sugar).

Saturday afternoon we decided to take a break from exploring and see "Alice in Wonderland in 3-D". We arrive in the theatre, excited, filled with sweets and ready for an adventure. I sit down, watch the previews and then fall asleep for the entire movie. Every single minute of it. I heard it was good though.... After that Kellye and I decided to go back to our hostel to take a nap (it was about 6p.m.) and when we said "nap" we meant sleep. We slept until 9 the next morning. So pretty much I slept my way through Amsterdam.

We did find our way to the Red Light District.... on accident. On our way back from Anne Frank's house (impeccable timing) we took a different route and ventured into an alley way in which I met Martha. Martha was a somewhat obese woman in a thong bikini, stilletos, chewing gum with one leg up on a stool while scratching her chest. And that was all it took for me to get over the glorified Red Light district... I didn't ever need to see that again.

Basically the past week has been incredible, I plan on returning the Amsterdam this summer and loved every minute of it (well except that minute with Martha and Bob, but those were all a part of the experience, right?). I've spent the past few days home sleeping, recovering, and trying to cleanse my system from the massive intake of baked goods.

The London/ Amsterdam Hang-Over

Oh man. I am recovering from vacation right now, I am in vacation hangover mode. Since I don't really know where to begin in recounting my adventures I would like to foremost apologize for how pretentious my last blog sounded in retrospect. It's not that I regularly blow off celebrities (or that I usually come across them) or that I run super fast because, admittedly, I exaggerated a bit, but it was more an issue of me having an inexplicable tendency to look like I'm drunk when I run, running from side to side incoherently, and that tendency combined with the very narrow treadmill belt is recipe for disaster (as exemplified by Evan in one particular, quite hilarious instance). Needless to say, treadmills are dangerous beyond mention and I take that threat seriously. But enough of treadmills and me trying to justify myself, I just spent a week in London, Stonehedge, Bath, and Amsterdam which is far, far more interesting than treadmills.

My trip comprised of a visit to the Saatchi Art Gallery, a modern art gallery exhibiting modern Indian art which was incredible.

After that was a visit to Buckingham Palace and a chance encounter with the changing of the guards. We took a stroll through the Queen's Garden which has a striking resemblance to Central Park but far more quaint. We explored Piccadilly Square, found an old pub, fish and chips and good English beer. I got the incredible opportunity to see Magnum Photo which is a photo co-op of sorts and they provide some of the famous photographs found in National Geographic and Time Magazine. We were lectured on the history and evolution of this co-op and background on some of the greatest photographers of all time. I saw Abbey Road, the infamous cover to the Beatles last album, and their recording studio. We ventured to an alley way in the Pakistani neighborhood to find street food and picnic tables set up with a wine bar. Right inside the alley way was a building that showed six short films once a week for free from film makers all over the world. The films were...interesting. Some incredibly well-done, others of less quality, and some just weird. The most notable is one in which a cannibalistic cat stole parts of human bodies before eating them in an attempt to turn himself into a human being... Speechless, yes, I know. We followed that up by a visit to club and a night in the VIP room. That, ladies and gents, was just my Monday.

The rest of the trip was wonderful as well with trips to the London eye, absolutely incredible food (if you're looking for a study abroad program that hooks you up with delectable cuisine, which surely should be your main incentive, then DIS is the program for you), speeches from Tony Blair's "Spin Doctor" and a tour of the Telegraph. We saw Harrods and markets all over London, we toured the river-way and the streets of London. My favorite day, though, was our trip to Stonehenge and Bath. Stonehenge was fascinating given the sheer weight of the rocks and the ingenuity required to move those rocks from over 40km away (or more) and to play them vertically and on-top of each other. The theories surrounding the monument were equally interesting ranging from alien abduction sites to ritual prayer sites.

Bath, though, was the most incredible part of the trip. The old Roman baths were gorgeous and the entire city was built in the same stone used to build the Roman temple in which the baths sat. With gorgeous waterways and incredible architecture weaving through the city, it was more than remarkable.

This is Emma and I with some Romans we ran into.

After an incredible week in London, Bath, and Stonehendge we found our way to Amsterdam...

Amsterdam is continued in the blog above as this seems too long and combining the two adventure does disservice to both places.

Off to London

I would like to begin this post by making a list of why I am in love with Denmark (a short, condensed list):

1. I can go to a bar and break out the coffee grinder in a dance circle without being publicly mocked immediately after.

2. Not only can I do the coffee grinder, but I can moon walk across the dance circle and still remain socially unscathed.

3. The ocean is literally frozen for 20 meters out and yet you still find Danes swimming in the water.

4. Their bread weighs 10 lbs because it actually contains grains, real grains, not refined, processed, synthetically manipulated grains.

5. They invented hot lemonade.

6. I can see a 70 year old man riding his bike down the street while smoking a pipe.

7. I can be blunt and not offend anyone. That's the name of the game here.

8. They show replays of the Olympics in slow motion set to Mozart.

9. You can call the Parliament and chat with the representatives. I can call the head of the biggest party in Denmark and he'll talk with me.

10. There are more people biking than driving, and more people walking than biking.

11. They charge you for plastic bags at stores.

12. Companies have the most incredible benefits. Many companies pay for the cars of their employees (the employees get to pick the car, too), the gas, the insurance, they all have fitness centers inside, they pay for the employees lunches everyday and buy them drinks (wine, beer, shots) a few times a week at the cantinas they have in the office, they have department meetings over a glass of wine and cocktails, they have 6 weeks vacation, days off if their kids get sick, maternity and paternity leave, and the benefits go on and on.

I can't exactly remember my past week beyond the fact that it made it above zero degrees celcius which was probably the greatest moment thus far. My week, in summary, included Danish X-Factor and Wine Parties (yes, I got tricked into watching X-Factor again), Friends marathons and danish candy eating binges, gym mishaps (relatively minor), breaking dancing and falafel, tests, reading, eating, drinking, sleeping. Although I did have an odd moment I realized in retrospect might have been more than I originally thought....

I was running on the treadmill, watching some bad MTV Danish music videos on the screen on my machine (each machine has a TV attached to it). I was on my third mile, quite sweaty and almost done and this guy moves to the treadmill right next to me, turns it on, and starts walking while watching the same MTV channel. He then points to my screen and his screen and then himself, pointing out that we were watching the same thing, a Nik and Jay music video. I'm sitting there a bit bewildered and quite annoyed thinking, 'I'm three minutes from finishing my run, unable to see straight and quite frankly, I don't give a damn that we're watching the same MTV channel'. I smile, blow him off quite blatantly and keep going. Later, upon reflection, I realize that he was pointing out that he was the one in the music video. Nik and Jay are the biggest Danish hip-hop stars and he was Jay. After talking with the owner of the gym (who has befriended me, I think for pure entertainment due to my multitude of mishaps), my suspicions were confirmed.

(this is them) If the situation were the repeat itself, I would do the same thing ( I think you can understand why as the photo speaks for itself).

So I am off to pack for London and then Amsterdam for the next week. I'll be touring Magnum Photo, many museums, Stonehedge, Bath, tea houses, the London Eye, Billy Elliot, the Red Light District and enjoying myself thoroughly. Look for more adventures soon!

Hej Hej!

Thoughts Thus Far

I returned on Sunday night from a wonderful trip to Sweden to see Amanda, my friend I met while in Ghana. It was her 22nd birthday and we got to catch up, I got to see Sweden, meet her friends, and, of course, celebrate our birthday's together! It was wonderfully relaxing and I discovered a Swedish alcohol that literally tastes like mouthwash, which turned out to be perfect for Amanda's roommate who is a dentist and no so perfect for me who has developed an involuntary habit of spitting my mouthwash out...

Today was a monumental day. Today I became a (pseudo)Dane. Last week I got my 'yellow card' and became a temporary citizen of Denmark with all of the rights entitled to a Danish citizen and some would consider that the moment they became a pseudo-Dane, but for me it was not. For me, it was today at the train station when a confused and disoriented man approached me and asked if I knew what train to take the Lyngby. I asked him whether he meant Lyngby in Denmark or the nearby Lundby in Sweden (they sound almost the same). He informed me he was looking for the one in Denmark and I replied, to his misfortune, that I only knew the train to the Lundby in Sweden (odd and not very useful, but hey), but showed him the map and the route. Then a woman approached me at the station about five minutes later and asked me in Danish something about a train, Østerport station, and Østerbro neighborhood. Understanding half of what she said (which I was pretty proud of) I told her what train to take and how to get there, giving her multiple options on S trains, regional trains, or metro. I walked away feeling pretty damn good, like I finally blended. Today was a good day.

Given that... I am going to reflect a bit on my past five weeks here in Denmark and what I have learned thus far:

1. If you want to blend in, wear black. Do not wear yellow, or green, or God forbid, orange. Wear black, boots, and some kind of poofy black jacket. Luckily for me, I only own black clothing. Unlucky for most of my American classmates, orange and yellow are dead giveaways that you don't belong.

2. Semi-socialists states brew some kind of political homogeny, but with seven political parties, all of which have a chance in power (except maybe the Unity Party which embodies the ideals of the 1960's hippie movement), there is a definitely diverse political landscape and openness for cooperation and compromise, it's not so "either or" like in the States and not as one-sided as people seem to think.

3. Trains don't run so well when the tracks are pure ice, I also don't run so well on ice.

4. The metric system rocks.

5. I thought that the cars would hit you if you got in their way, but those bikers are the scary ones. They will hit, they will not only hit you, but they will break your nose and give you a concussion (information courtesy of my friend Kelli)

6. Denmark is beautiful. The atmosphere, the natural environment, and the people. The people are especially beautiful thanks to the Viking who raided nearby lands and took the most beautiful women to be their wives and reproduce, thus creating a beautiful gene pool.

I keep adding to this list, but I do have another gym adventure to share with you...

Today I went to the gym, did a circuit training class (so much better), and then went back to the locker room, opened my locker, and proceeded to the sauna and steam room to relax. It is important to note that I went to the steam room and sauna only in my towel. I returned to the locker room only to find that the code I punched in my locker wasn't working and I couldn't open my locker. I tried three times. Didn't work. Finally I go upstairs to the main desk which is in the center of the gym (and the gym in the center of a busy square with every wall being comprised entirely of windows)... I did all of this in my towel. The desk assistant came to the locker room, opened my locker only to find out the locker I had been trying to open was in fact not mine. Sh opened the one next to it as I sat there bright red, that locker was also not mine. Turns out my locker was across the locker room and my code did work, I am just a dummy.

Delirium

I would like to let you know a blog entry is soon to come... but currently I am in a state of complete delirium, exhaustion, and I really should shower for everyone's sake, so instead of blogging tonight I will be sleeping and bathing. I'm getting too comfortable with this blog thing, my apologies.

Oh, but I do have one short story I feel inclined to tell for purely self-sacrificing purposes...

Wednesday morning I wake up early and head off to the fitness center I joined (the most posh fitness center I have ever seen, Danish designer chandelier, juice bar, ridiculous). I decided I was going to try the High Puls class which can best be described as a mix between bootcamp and turbo kickboxing. I arrive only to find six Danish women who can be described as nothing short of beasts. Now I use the term 'beast' often enough that you may not really understand the magnitude to which these women embodied beastliness- but trust me, these women can kick some ass. So I get all of the equipment and am relieved to see this pregnant woman, probably eight months along walk in, thinking maybe we're on the same level. We start the class with these combination turbo kickboxing moves that involve kicking your leg while simultaneously crunching your abs and pulling your arms in and moving from right side kick, to center, to left side kick. Then we do it at twice the tempo. Well turns out I am far more uncoordinated than I thought, I'm about five times worse at kickboxing than at dancing. Take a moment and let that sink in. Worse than dancing. Five times worse. So just imagine... Here are seven Danish women kickboxing just like the Bally Fitness commercials and then there's me... My leg is kicking to the left while my arm is flailing to the right and I'm crunching my abs to the center and my body is so contorted I look like some disabled teenage mutant ninja turtle. After a bit of watching this torturous attempt the teacher then comes over to try to help and after two tries she shakes her head, laughs, and walks away.

This embarrassment continues for a bit until we start to incorporate punching into the set and I find a way to make even more of a fool out of myself. Turns out I can't punch either. All I could think was, 'It's a really good thing I just slapped that guy in the bar because punching him would have been far, far worse, assuming I was even coordinated enough to hit him.'

I somehow made it through the class and scrounged up enough dignity to thank the teacher and then go run and hide for the next few hours. But it did inspire this list...

Things I learned from High Puls Class:

1. Danes are beasts, don't mess with them.

2. Pregnant Danes are even beastlier

3. Danes like to be naked in the locker room

4. They like to have long, intimate conversations with you in the locker room while naked.

5. I do not feel comfortable with naked conversations in locker rooms.

6. I feel even more uncomfortable after realizing my coordination is equal to that of a five year old.

7. I should never punch anyone, for my own sake

8. If you ever come to Denmark... never, never take a High Puls class.

And the travel adventures are in full swing

So I intended upon updating you on the rest of my week as my short blog entry was quickly turning into a short novel and increasing in vulgarity, but I never seemed to get around to it and now I don't even remember my week. So sorry to disappoint all of you hanging on to my every moment, but we're going to have to accept my state of temporary amnesia and skips a few days.

Let start Wednesday...

Wednesday night I cooked a delicious meal for my host family in honor of my birthday. Potato, kale, and leek soup (amazing), bruchetta, and mango cranberry salad followed by my favorite childhood dessert, dirt cups. Unfortunately, the Danes aren't as sophisticated as us Americans and I had to settle for chocolate mousse instead of pudding, dark chocolate cookies instead of oreos, and I just skipped the worms for the sake of my own embarrassment when I tried to poignantly explain why I had just placed gummies shaped like bugs in their chocolate mousse.

Thursday I was off at six in the morning for my study tour to Western Denmark. We drove two hours to Jelling (pronounced Yelling) to stand and look at the two Jelling rocks, Viking historical landmarks in the beautiful Jelling, population 200. One of these great landmarks was hidden in a wooden box for fear that it is "loosing its structural integrity" and the other was an equally exciting rock covered in snow. We then went to an old inn and from there headed off to Ebeltoft. Ebeltoft is renowned for their beautiful beaches, their lively summer cottages, and their wonderful festivities... in the summer. In the winter they are renowned for grey skies, bleak, flat landscapes, and the epitome of stark direness. That's harsh, but true.

We hung out at this folkhjskole which is a kind of a commune of sorts in which students come to take time to study philosophy and the humanities, this particular one focused on film. An although this school is focused on free expression, breaking out of the mold of ordinary life, and exploring the existential questions of life through film, the movie they happened to be showing the night we were there was none other than "Twilight: New Moon". So on my birthday I was forced to watch one of the most painfully horrible films in the history of my twenty years in a school dedicated to preserving the sanctity of film.

From there we went to Odense and visited a museum on modern art and mass media called Brandts and then visited TV2 the largest media group in Denmark. We met the "Anderson Cooper" of Denmark, Johannes the host of News at 7 and were off again to Kolding. We arrived at our hostel and were promptly provided with beer, courtesy of our school (gotta love Europe), and had a lovely, drunken dinner. From there we went out to each of the three bars located in Kolding, only to find that everywhere we went there were either other American students from our school (there were 100 of us in a town with a population of 500, or so it seemed) or middle aged men playing ballads from the jukebox. We ended the night with pizza slices the size of my upper body, literally, and found our way back to the hostel with the help of some seriously inebriated Finish boys who only could say, "America... it's good. McDonalds and Desperate Housewives. That's good, real good. Cheers to America!"

The next day we went to this incredible art museum called Trapholt and saw this incredible artist (check him out at http://www.petercallesen.com/) who makes art out of single sheet of white paper which are beyond incredible. Oh and there was an exhibit on Danish chairs, too. Lots and lots of chairs, none of which you could sit in.

Needless to say the trip was awesome, although gave us all a rather bleak view of the Danish country-side. There was some bonding among communication students (it was a trip designed for each "core class", mine was communication and there were 36 of us) and some breeding of severe dislike as well. Most of my group was great, but I did manage to find three girls who epitomized everything you should hate about the picturesque sorority girls because they were it. They complained about not having their Blackberries, God forbid, and how they were going into withdrawals from not being able to check Facebook whenever they wanted. And they chatted about how they hate the water in ketchup and proceeded to ask the waiter for "less watery ketchup" and "new fries because the ketchup water touched them". Needless to say, it's been good. As we speak I am planning my trip to Berlin, Prague, Greece, Crete, and maybe Istanbul in March and then some weekend trips to France, Budapest, Amsterdam and getting my visa for Ghana! Oh man, this is heaven.

Oh man... What a Week.

Let me start by saying that people watching here is fantastic! Today I sat on the bus on my way home and watched a woman, probably eighty, ride her hot pink bike next to her friend, also eighty, while she scootered along the road. Yes, rode her Razor scooter. You can't beat that.

The weather here has been ridiculous. We are currently in a blizzard, a full-blown blizzard and chaos is ensuing. It snows here about as much as it does in Seattle, and they handle equally as well as Seattle did. The trains are delayed, cancelled, the busses are fishtailing and sliding, not driving, around. Today I got on the train (a ten car train) by squeezing between two people right in the corner where the doors close. There was not a inch to move from one end of this train to the other. Chaos. I love the snow, I must admit. It is so so beautiful but I like it far less when I spent hours each day standing in blustery winds and blowing snow.

Last Friday I spent the evening with some Danes, we watched X-Factor (American Idol pretty much, except in Danish) which turns out is worse than American Idol, mostly because the only thing I understood were the bad lyrics of the American pop songs they were singing and I wasn't able to tell who moved on because they cried if they lost, they cried if they won, they cried before they performed, they cried after. This led to into a state of complete disarray, resulting in my strong dislike of X-Factor. But besides that it was quite fun I must admit. Good beer, even the cheapest.

Saturday I went to my host mom, Lotte's, brother's farm. Her two brothers, their families, her mom and dad were all there for a nice gathering. The farm country is beautiful. Lots of pigs. More pigs than people. In fact, five times more pigs than people (yes Stephanie, your dream come true...) This gathering was quite extraordinary actually... we arrived and were served beer from the local brewery and Danish candy (quite good). Then we sat down for sweet rolls and butter, followed by more beer and Danish cake (which is white cake filled with berried and topped with heavy cream). After that they brought out chocolate... chocolate mints, chocolate nuts, chocolate chocolate, hot chocolate. Lots of chocolate. That was our appetizer... a child's dream. After that we ate rice, vegetables, bread, stew, a full blown meal. So, at that point, I thought we were done. No. Wrong. It's then time for more chocolate. Then gelato. Then tea. Then beer. And then... you're done. Finally done. You're on a sugar high coupled with a state of complete lethargy, but done. It was actually really fun! We played cards, watched a movie, talked about politics, had a snowball fight, watched the sunset and, of course, ate.

Saturday night, though, was not so wonderful. As a forewarning: This content is not suitable for children or those weak and feeble souls.

So Saturday nights I went to this bar in Copenhagen, known for being fantastic. They have live DJ's and play great music. We arrived and the music was great, reggae techno, and it was pretty slow, not too many, although it started to pick up. After a while my friends and I go to dance (which is quite difficult because the beat keeps changing, like I can hear a beat, and the Danes do this convulsion type dancing where they move their shoulder in quick, seemingly irregular ways, leaving the hips to just follow). Needless to say I looked more ridiculous than usual, convulsing off-beat, trying to continually adjust to the changing rythms but failing miserably. After a while the dance floor gets crowded and this guys ends up in front of me. Unfortunately he keeps slamming into me and elbowing me so I start pushing him off me. After a couple times he turns around, looks me in the eye, and backhands me in the face. I stood there stunned... then slapped him back. Then a screaming match ensued in which he yelled in Danish and the occasional English 'Fuck you' and I just repeatedly said 'Fuck you. What the fuck?' because I was so shocked, disoriented, and had no idea what the man was saying that the only thing I could muster was a 'Fuck you' (surprisingly, I know).

Needless to say...no more of that bar for me.

This is too long already but I'll update soon. The fun continues...

Hej Hej!

I would like to add to the list of things I've learned since being in Copenhagen:

1. Biking in a blizzard is less than desirable.

2. Biking in a blizzard and coming home to find your road is blocked is even less desirable.

3. Standing in the blizzard with your bike one hundred feet from your house and waiting for the giant truck to unblock your road for twenty minutes in the wind and snow just plain sucks.

4. It is easy to compare people's treatment of their bikes with their treatment of their babies. Someone will get on the bus with their stroller, park the stroller (and child) at the front of the bus, and go sit in the back, reading and chatting, leaving the baby sitting there by itself. Someone will also go into a cafe to get lunch with a friend and park their baby outside, lock it up, and leave it. Much like a bike. The biggest (and best) difference is that bikes get stolen far more than babies.

5. The sun does come out.

6. If you jay walk, people will hit you. Hard.

7. I think I will be falling in love with handball.

8. There are politically conservative Danes that are opposed to taxes and like Bush a lot ( I met one and engaged in a relatively long debate ending repeatedly with me asking "Why do you live in Denmark then?", "How can you like Bush?", and "Are you delusional?")

Next week I start tutoring kids at this international school in Hellerup. I interviewed for the position yesterday and will be tutoring a 2nd grader in math, a 4th grader in general subjects, and a 7th grader in organization. Most of the kids that attend this school are children of diplomats, business men and women, and international families that move from one place to another frequently. It is an interesting dynamic and I am excited! I am also going to a seminar on Climate Change tonight with the Ministry of Finance for the EU to talk about what happened during the COP15.

I found out about my two classes at the University of Copenhagen last. Both my class on the "Social Context of HIV/AIDS in Africa" and "Human Rights in Africa" have one single grade.. a final exam. That's going to take some adjustment... I'm excited to actually meet some Danes though and experience the Danish education system though.

Well I am off to get my green card!

Hej Hej!

First Week

I have successfully survived the first week of being abroad (although I did not expect anything else given I was actually going to a more developed and stable country). I am living with the Braagaard family; Mathilde (13 year old girl), Mathais (15 year old boy) and Lotte and Carsten (mom and dad). Lotte and Carsten and nice beyond words and extremely helpful (which is good for me given that I tend to get lost in foreign countries and take the wrong bus home finding myself 10km from home, at night, in a blizzard, completely disoriented). Mathias is chatty and quite funny, whereas Mathilde is shy, but equally as funny when she opens up a bit.

The house is literally the epitome of an IKEA showroom (but... I mistakenly mentioned that which turns out is quite offensive to Danes who find IKEA cheap. They informed me most of the house was Danish designer's work, except my room which was IKEA).

I have to take the train to school everyday because I live twenty minutes north of Copenhagen. I take the bus to the station (about ten minutes away) or bike, and then take the train for twenty minutes into Copenhagen. I am in love with trains. Something I have noticed on the trains- Danish people don't do small talk. They just don't understand why you would sit there and have a meaningless conversation with someone you will never see again. Valid point. Danish people also don't apologize when they run into you, or knock you- there is no point in saying "sorry" or "excuse me" over and over again if those type things happen naturally in everyday life, no need to apologize. Another valid point.

I started some of my classes yesterday (the rest I don't start until February). My "Current Trends in News Media" class should be alright, mostly information I have already learned in other communication classes and a focus on news production which I am rather uninterested in. My "Biomedical Ethics" class looks awesome, and my "Political Rhetoric" class should be tough given I have to write five 10-page paper in five weeks time. Yeah, I know.

This turning into a short novel....

Something else I have learned- when people speak to me with accents I have this inexplicable tendency to make up an accent (example: my accent in Ghana). And I have done that yet again. I sound like I am a British woman with a speech impediment. That would be the best way I can describe it.

Finally...

I would like to thank my five followers. I now feel like less of a freak.

Miss you all!

XOXOX

Fun fact: There are no homeless in Denmark, the government gives all people housing and jobs if they want them. There are a select number who refuse government help and voluntarily choose to live on the street, they are the homeless of Denmark. These homeless people can be found drinking lattes (which cost about $7 here), wearing NorthFace (I can't even afford NorthFace), and wearing Tim's (which run about $100 here). Gotta love socialism.

Velkommen to Denmark

I have arrived in Copenhagen only to find out it is not Copenhagen but Kobenhavn, two words that sound nothing alike and thereby cause confusion to disoriented Americans. I also found out that I can successfully butcher the pronunciation of every Danish word known to man. Here is an additional list of things that I have learned in my first twenty-four hours in Denmark:

1. Not sleeping the night before you leave on a twelve hour journey to a country eight time zones away doesn't help you adjust, it just make you tired.

2. Rushing to buy a ferry ticket to some nearby country in proof that you will in fact be leaving Denmark is entirely unnecessary although it will provide for a fun adventure come May 21st.

3. Danes like IKEA.

4. Not all Danes like to drink, or are liberal, or take shots in the morning (aka my host family).

5. The Danish public transportation system is amazing.

6. It is true that everyone bikes, even in the snow.

7. It is also true that it is cold, dark, and grey (even when compared to Seattle).

8. Everyone wears boots. Men, women, children, dogs.

I am sure there is more that I learned in these last twenty-four hours that I am forgetting due mainly to memory number one, but I am too tired and will update you with my findings as the days go on....

Hej Hej.

And the adventure begins (almost)...

Today it all set in, I leave in a little over a week and everything is set. My host family is wonderful... A mother and father, both younger, who are avid marathon runners and love to travel. They have a 15 year old son and 13 year old daughter. They spend their winters skiing the alps and travelling Denmark and their summers on the Italian coasts or gallivanting Europe. So today I ran and extra mile or two because I accidently mentioned that I love to run in the letter I wrote to them and "loving to run" is very different for people who run three marathons a year and for people like me. I don't love to run 26.2 miles, I don't even love to run 6.2 miles, I don't even know if I could run 6.2 miles even if I loved it. Nevertheless, I am excited. Very, very excited. And so my packing adventure begins... and in t minus 8 days my real adventure begins...