350

(completely awesome photo by Jasper Carlberg and featured on the NYT homepage!)

This is the first Monday evening in several weeks that I haven't spent with a group of students and Danish climate activists in a small office in Vesterbro.  While that in itself is a relief, it's even better to know that the event we were working towards--Copenhagen's part in 350.org's Global Day of Climate Action--was a great success on Saturday.

It's not that it didn't have its kinks: rain, permit communication issues, general volunteer confusion were all a part of the package.  But it just pulled off so well with dancing, cheering, the lovely army of Mr. Green, the solar-powered bicycle DJ Karmakonen, and lots of media attention.  Best of all, the 300-or-so people that showed up to our Copenhagen event were just a small portion of the people participating worldwide at over 5200 events in 181 countries.  2000 people showed up in Auckland, NZ alone.  I don't have much to say about all of this except that it just felt . . . powerful that there was such an enthusiastic turnout.

Check out photographic evidence and Danish description here.
Fellow DIS student Blaine also created an awesome frame-by-frame video!
P.S.  If you enlarge the photo, you can see me waving and holding the 350 banner in the back on the left side.

The World is Ours , aka "modern art just gets me every time . . ."

My brain is still buzzing a little from the amazing field study I went on with Women, Art, Identity yesterday afternoon/evening.  It was a 6 1/2 hour trip with sensory overload and aching legs, but it was something I'd do again if I could!  We went both to the Ordrupgaard in Klampenborg and the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Humlebæk.  Both were old summer homes/villas with added on modern architectural extensions, although the Ordrupgaard houses mostly the private, largely Impressionist collection of the original owner, while Louisiana is more of a proper museum.  Either way the setting in the Danish countryside was perfect for both galleries.  Art should be graced by the changing leaves, wildflowers, and/or the lapping waters of the Øresund Sound.

One of the best parts about Ordrupgaard was the building.  The old home had gorgeous and intricate woodwork, melded into the high ceilings of the late 19th century.  But Iranian architect Zaha Hadid also perfectly blended her curvy, glass-paneled extension onto the grounds.  This wing currently houses Munch og Denmark--a selection of paintings and drawings by Edvard Munch when he spent time in Copenhagen.  I didn't know much about Munch before, but I have a huge appreciation with what he does with color--both to make things to stand out and how he blends bright colors into neutral ones that we expect in images.  He also had this crazy story called Alfa og Omega.

But the Louisiana museum was just INCREDIBLE.  It's a very large estate--with part of the museum hidden underground, while the rest is either hidden by trees or is outside as a part of the sculpture garden (to the right is a picture of Janey-Waney by Alexander Calder).  The building is joined in a circle, so it's very easy to navigate around, although--like with many art museums--it's hard not to feel like you're missing some totally awesome corner.  I didn't really spend much time in the permanent collection or in the green architecture exhibition because there were two others that really took a lot of my focus. 

The first was called Faith, Hope, Love, and was a series of photos in America by Danish photographer Jacob Holdtz.  I took no pictures, but was just in awe at how he captured some of the darkest corners of American society, taking notes from an outsider perspective, judging it, and still making friends:  with Klan members, revolutionaries, the poorest of the poor, millionaires on plantations, a serial killer.  It was incredibly moving, and surprisingly not at all offensive with his (obviously) negative story to tell about my own country.

Then there was The World is Yours, which captured contemporary art in some of its best moments.  It was the single most interactive (yet still serious) art exhibit I have ever visited--including a wall you had to smell, a microscope that played the Police, a mirror that creates an army out of one viewer, a cloud of microphones that sings the sounds of India and Pakistan, a stage that allowed the audience to manipulate radio playback by stepping in the lights, and (last but not least) a toilet that gives the user a chance to relieve oneself with full view of the sculpture garden.  The whole exhibition just gave normal museum-guests agency that they wouldn't normally have.  Some pieces were joyful, ridiculous, but others--including Singing Cloud--addressed a very real, modern problem.  But the world is ours, right?  If we can have agency in a museum, we can have it in the real world.  I've only ever been to three different countries, but that doesn't mean I have any less ability to explore, to feel, and to change.

Tivoli Titillation

For the past two months, the main entrance to Tivoli Gardens taunted me as I passed by it on my morning walk from Vesterport station to DIS.  My childlike mind could only imagine and eagerly anticipate entering the gate and seeing what spectacular carnival lay behind the wrought-iron fence and stucco walls that surround an entire city block.  I wouldn't be surprised if the lit-up letters on the entry-arch were permanently imprinted on my retina, for how many times I longingly gazed up at them.  They just radiate an early 20th century charm that screams 'nostalgic glee' (although more so in the summer season, which I unfortunately was unable to experience)!  Cross that with the fact that it's currently decorated for Halloween (my favorite holiday), and you've got me practically bouncing to get in. 

Well, I finally had the opportunity last night, and I made my way down the main path of pumpkin lanterns into a crowded plaza, layered with shop stalls, mature trees, a lake, lighted eclectic buildings, and performance arenas. Amusement rides are packed in between all of that in ways and at angles that I had never thought possible.  Put this into a space of just over 3 square miles, and you'll find yourself a part of something so kitschy that it rivals Dollywood, Disneyland, and Holiday World combined.  It smells of churros as you walk down the tight alley of shops on the southern edge, and you can happily sip on Pumpkin Pale Ale or varm cacao med 'creamy beige' (that's Bailey's, for those of you not in the know).  You can munch on a mass of candy floss in the rain, as it dissolves and leaves tufts of pink fur on your fingers.  You can even speak English and occasionally insert Danish words (but if you do so, expect your friends to make fun of you for it the entire night).  Personally, I didn't know what to be more excited about--being surrounded by jack o'lanterns or the fact that I was in what I now know is the second-oldest amusement park in the world (est. 1843, although if it was still the summer season I'd only have to travel an hour north to visit Dyrehavsbakken, which opened in 1583).

It really is the historical tradition that makes Tivoli so appealing.  Originally built outside the city fortifications, the park is now totally engulfed by an urban environment, but it still manages to expand as an attraction without actually adding any area.  We're talking here about the park that inspired Walt Disney to make Disneyland--both of which operate on a principle of "never being finished." Rutsjebanen (The Roller Coaster) was built in 1914 and was the oldest operating wooden coaster in the world (until 1999 when a park in Pennsylvania renovated a ca. 1902 coaster).  It's so old it was designed to have a breakman riding the coaster to operate it, AND it's still the most popular ride in the park.  I didn't ride it myself, but I might have to if it's still open when I return for the Christmas season.

I decided to try some of the newer rides, like Dæmonen (The Demon, a steel coaster) and Himmelskibet (The Star Flyer), which, standing at 80 meters tall, is not only the tallest carousel in the world, but also just about the tallest thing in Copenhagen.  It was a new experience to be on a coaster in my winter coat, but the view from Himmelskibet just took the cake.  I could hardly breathe from the wind, and as the swings changed their speed and elevation, tilting the seat in different directions, I was torn between feeling a little like I was about to die and  total elation.

But after that was over, I just enjoyed a crisp, drizzly fall evening, as music played and kids screamed.  And when I got home, I curled up in bed and watched some comedy shows on BBC Entertainment.  I need to take more advantage of that channel while I still can.

Tivoli photos are a part of this FB album and start on page 7.
Disclaimer:  that note about Walt Disney?  It's from Wikipedia.  I hope it's trustworthy.

Of Flags and Fridays

Being in Copenhagen does not prevent Friday syndrome, i.e.  the inexplicable urge to do nothing while thinking about how much there is to do in the next few days, feeling disgusted about how you poorly you've planned your day, and complaining about things you can't change, all while waiting for the real excitement of the evening to begin.

However, I had promised that this post wouldn't be a downer like the last one.  My host family got back from Dubai Wednesday, but before they got home, I woke up and noticed that someone had been to the house while I was asleep.  At least, that's if the bag on the doorstep and Danish flags planted along the driveway and in the wreath were any indication.  I've learned over the past two months that the flag is used pretty frequently:  birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, football games, royal birthdays, etc.  It's part of the pride that comes with both Danish homogeneity and having the oldest state flag in the world (which dates to the 13the century and is said to have fallen from heaven and inspired the Danes in a battle against the Estonians), and I have to admit that I'm a little jealous they can use their flag everywhere without looking like an arrogant tool.  Thankfully, I've never heard of flags being used in midnight attacks on unsuspecting residents, so I managed to smile and snap some photos instead of interpreting this particular display (which was a 'welcome home!' gift) as a threat to my life.

But it's certainly good to have my host-family back.  We shared pictures of our respective trips, and I learned about how insanely commercial Dubai is (which isn't really a surprise).  I also got to eat biksemad again (which was fantastic) and watch Rene use the new pineapple cutting tool that they got in Dubai.  I mean, who knew those even existed?  Granted, both Rene and Kirsten are pushing me on the language now, but I suppose I asked for it when I stated in my welcome letter that I was "super-excited to learn some Danish!"  It's much harder now that I'm actually here and my ears can't differentiate between common English phonemes and new Danish ones (especially vowels and a few silent consonants).  But I think I may know more than they think I do--especially when it comes to reading it.

I also went to the climate seminar that DIS held on Wednesday evening, which was meant to set the frame for COP15 in December.  I know a lot less about COP15 than I should, and the picture that the speaker painted wasn't exactly a pretty one.  There's only one more set of negotiations left (in Barcelona--WHILE I'LL BE THERE!), and the negotiators haven't really dug into the biggest issues (financing and mitigation for developing countries).  There's also the whole issue that everyone still loves coal, which wasn't something I was expecting to hear outside of the midwest.

More rants concering my return to Copenhagen

This morning I was thinking about yesterday's post, and I felt like I should make something clear.  Do you remember my first post back in August, where I claimed that I wasn't really suffering from culture shock?  Well, it's been almost two months since then, and I need to modify my public statement:

I am most definitely experiencing the 'negotiation' stage of culture shock.  Just in case you couldn't tell.

I don't hate Denmark by any means; I love it!  It's just getting a little tougher to clearly define my feelings and opinions about being immersed in Danish culture, and it's harder to be polite.  For example, my stomach hurt on the train this morning and I decided it would be more comfortable to prop my feet up on the seat facing me (there was no one in it).  I try to avoid doing this unless I'm completely exhausted, but there are plenty of other Danes who do it, too, so I never feel particularly bad about it.  At one of the stations, the woman across the aisle from me gets up and starts talking to me in Danish.  I knew immediately what it was about, so I put my feet down. But then she just keeps talking, and instead of saying "undskylde" and hoping she goes away, my dominant reaction was to put on the deer-in-the-headlights look and said "I'm sorry, I only speak English."  Her response was, "Ok, then.  You don't have to put your feet on the seat," and she walks away.  It was all I could do to keep myself from cruelly retorting, "Oh, I don't have to?  Well what if I want to?"  How come Danes are perceived as cold in friendly situations, but they're perfectly happy to ridicule people on the train?

But alas, I know that's an unfair generalization, so please value that question only as a rhetorical tool within this post.

And for cheerier news, I did have a good first weekend back in Denmark!  My host family--like many Danes in week 42 (they number the weeks here, and everyone knows what week people talk about when you reference the number; I think it's a very efficient planning tool)--are on vacation, but I've kept myself occupied.  I came home Friday evening and was unfortunately too exhausted to attend Kultur Natten--a monstrous annual Copenhagen event that keeps almost every cultural venue open into the wee hours.  But Saturday I managed to not only unpack all of my stuff, but I also saw Giselle--the ballet currently playing at the Royal Theater.  It was so good to hear the orchestral music!  I may have had some trouble interpreting the story, but it was definitely worth seeing just for a change in my usual plans.

My other weekend highlight was the Baltic Sea.  Since I didn't know the combination to my host-dad's bike, I couldn't go on the bike ride I had planned to with my friend Kristina.  So instead, we jogged (haha, yes, I, Katia Satterfield, actually jogged . . . -ish) to the beach.  The tide was high, lapping aggressively at the shore and the stationary dock, which I had last seen with happy swimmers when the sea was much calmer.  I just couldn't resist it:  so I took off my shoes, rolled up my tights, and ran out onto the dock, where the white spray would make clapping noises as it shot up from in between the planks.  Yes, my feet were absolutely freezing afterward, but the feeling was absolutely glorious. 

And that, is enough rambling for now.

On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond!

I'm a little unsure about how to do justice to my long study tour to Scotland in just one post.  It's a beautiful country--not just for the breathtaking highlands that surround the cities, but also for the layered streets and tight  closes of historic Edinburgh and the modern vibe of Glasgow.  Yes, we had our visits through Edinburgh Castle, we ventured into the haunted vaults underneath the South Bridge of Edinburgh in a historic ghost tour, and we critiqued aspects of positive psychology with members of Scotland's Centre for Confidence and Well-Being in Glasgow, but I feel like the real value of the trip was the mutual experiences shared with my fellow classmates in Psychology of Happiness.

This was undoubtedly facilitated by the abrupt change in cultural contexts.  On our first night in Scotland, I spoke with many students who felt the same way I did--how absolutely refreshing it was to be in a country where people on the street would welcome you and joke with you over a beer in a bubbly little pub.  That just doesn't happen in Copenhagen (with the exception of the Jutlanders I had met a week before).  Granted, maybe the outward 'coldness' of Danes has more to do with the language barrier.  Sure, they speak English, but I don't speak Danish, and I think that changes the way I act around Danes (I often have a mentality of staying silent, thinking it might be better they just think I'm quiet then know I'm American; I don't want to embarrass myself, right?).  But stick me in Scotland and I'm all over the place obnoxiously speaking English, (even though it did take me a few days to stop saying tak instead of "thanks" and undskylde instead of "excuse me" or "I'm sorry"). 

That behaviour was what got 3 of my friends and me turned into the butt of several jokes at The Stand Comedy Club in Glasgow.  It was certainly all in good fun (and one of my best memories from my time in Scotland, aside from hiking up Ben A'an all of Tuesday), but it's just fact that a guy can't simply walk into a Scottish comedy club wearing a human-rights t-shirt accompanied by 3 loudly-cheering girls and expect not to be called out as American.  Indeed, it was Eli and his human rights ideals that were subject to most of the jokes, while Jill, Katie, and I just sat next to him; together we were a group of overly-happy positive psychology students that exemplified American over-optimism (and the downfall of Halloween, according to one of the acts).  This all meant an overly-giggly night (though, admittedly, the beer didn't help). 

Don't get me wrong, KBH has been good to us DIS students (and did I mention that while I do enjoy haggis, I'm a much bigger fan of Danish food?). But I think I prefer the open, chatty mockery by the Scots to the lurking "am I being judged?" feeling you can get around the Danes.  That can make a big difference, and I'm going to make an effort to be more aware of cultural perception within Denmark: maybe holding back isn't the right way to go about things.

Jill, me, and Katie on the stage at The Stand.

Remember, you can click on pictures to enlarge them (like the one from the top of Ben A'an at the beginning of this entry), or view all my photos from this trip on facebook!

Triple-O Fever! (Obama, Oprah, Olympics)

Well, today it actually rained all day.  And I spent most of it inside:  eating, curled in bed, on the computer, playing guitar hero with Jonas and his friend, or working with Kirsten on figuring out how to get the massive amounts of laundry dry while still using the dryer as little as possible (I'm leaving for Scotland tomorrow, and they're going to Dubai on Wednesday, so we're all scrambling for clean clothes).  At least I had a real Danish lunch today (I love Danish lunch food!):  various combinations of curry herring, smoked salmon, frikadeller, beets, pickles (cucumber salad, they call it) all on Danish rye bread.  And then Rene (my host-dad) gave me half a shot of snaps, since it's traditional to eat with herring.  It wasn't pleasant (the Danes don't really like it that much either--they just drink it!), but hey, I still think it's better than tequila.

Friday was a good day.  I was hoping it would be really political and inspiring, but it ended up completely turning around into just a regular old Friday night with friends and drinks . . . plus a free concert.  The morning was great!  By 8 o'clock, I had taken the metro to Bella Center, which is where the IOC conference was going on.  Obama helicopters didn't start showing up until around 8:20, but it didn't really matter, because the cameras were huddled around the small group of people organized by Avaaz singing "I Want You Back" by the Jackson 5.  Our goal?  To get Obama and the other world leaders to come back to Copenhagen for COP15 in two months! No, I didn't see Obama or anyone famous, but it was still super fun.

I guess I'm totally surprised about how crazy the Danes got about Obama and Oprah being here.  I swear, it was all they talked about on the news, and I ended up feeling bad that the city had to put up with all the extra security just for Obama's 5-hour stay.  But at least it doesn't seem like they minded all that much!  I was surprised he bothered to come at all, but I read that it's believed that part of the reason London won 2012 was because Tony Blair came to Singapore for the vote.  So, for this vote, almost all the leaders of the bid-countries were present.  And Chicago may not have won the 2016 bid, but the Copenhagen Olympic Festival was super fun.  I had no idea it was such a big deal to select the Olympic cities, but hey--if you can't host the Olympics, host the IOC conference, instead! And provide lots of crazy bands ("the best of Danish music from around") to play for free!  I mean, how else would I get to see Aqua a second time?  And DAD, the kings of Danish rock (and leather pants and pyrotechnics)? 

Anywhere, there are awesome pictures of the bands on facebook.  Sorry for a less-interesting entry than usual.  Friday was just too exciting not to tell you about.  But now I'm getting ready for my long study-tour to Scotland with my Psychology of Happiness course!  Hopefully I'll be able to update from over there.

Untitled Poetic Remarks 1

When they told us that it rains a lot in the fall in Denmark, what they really meant (I think) was "The sky can be blue, but you can still get wet.  Wear an umbrella hat if you're not absolutely sure."

When in Rome, do as the Copenhagen cyclists do

In the past week, I've seen more of Copenhagen than I have in the entire month I've been here.  I may have had one or two appointments in parts of the city I didn't know existed, but I owe most of my coverage of new ground to a very important machine:  the bicycle.  I don't think I quite made it clear before that Danes bike everywhere--even in the cold, the rain, and in their business suits and heels (not usually with that particular combination).  Granted, the weather's never humid, and the entire country has the infrastructure to support this healthy habit.  Outside of the city, paved trails connect the various towns, schools, and train stations.  IN the city, there's a vast network of bike lanes (including their own traffic lights!) and confusing blue lanes that guide cyclists across the busiest intersections.  In many places, the pathways are stratified, so the road is 6 cm below the bike line, which is 6 cm below the sidewalks.  It's hardly noticeable, but it does a lot to help keep every commuter in their place. 

Anyone who knows me can guess that I was super excited about trying my hand at city biking, but when I jumped into it on my first day here . . . well, let's just say it was going to be a while before I was comfortable giving it another shot.  I had no idea how intimidating the flow of traffic would be until I was behind the wheels of a purple city bike.

On Saturday, the perfect opportunity arose to get some pedal-sense when some DIS interns were leading a small group of students up the scenic coast through the well-to-do neighborhood of Østerbro.  The route may have been simple, but I was sold to city-biking!  I saw so many new buildings, murals, and parks, all on the backdrop of a chilly fall day made perfect by a social outing.  Plus, we got ice cream from Lydolph Isbar--a shop famous for their giant ice cream cones.  My four scoops were just about too much for me to handle in the end (but thankfully I didn't have a salt-licorice flavor in the mix!).  Maybe it was the whipped cream and jam that Danes traditionally top their is with.

At any rate, I was inspired to spend my Wednesday free-day with a friend of mine, sitting in the saddle and exploring the western neighborhoods: into Nørrebro, and then south through Fredricksburg, Valby, and Vesterbro until returning to the City Centre.  It's amazing what you can find when you're at street level and have the abilities to both move quickly and stop whenever you want:  retro junk shops, creepily awesome cemeteries with famous dead guys (H.C. Andersen, Kierkegaard, and more), the zoo, and even an actual hill or two (no, seriously--you don't know how rare those are)!  Although I do admit, it was a bit tougher without a guide leading us down a specific route, and sometimes you just had to make up rules about how to get around congested intersections and sidewalks plagued with construction.  Besides, that's what everyone else does, and it's safest just to go with the flow.  The cyclists of Copenhagen may be a little insane sometimes, but they know what they're doing--even with the mob mentality they put themselves in.  And after watching their graceful management of these situations, I can't think of a group of people I'd trust more in any traffic situation.

These experiences in the past few days have taught me not only about Copenhagen and how to work my way through its maze, but it also helped me build a stronger connection to the Danish mentality.  The weather may be getting colder, but exploring by bike is definitely something I'll have to do a few more times before I leave this city.  Biking just may be the only way to really live Copenhagen.