Katia Takes København

Reflections on Departure and Return

2009-12-22T22:52:00.003+01:00

Previously written:
So here I am, 1:15 pm EST, just flying past Reykjavik on my way to Chicago (arrival sometime between 7 and 8 pm EST): almost home(-ish). The air temperature outside is -84 degrees F, and after a post-sundown take-off on the shortest day of the year (around 4:30 pm, CPH time), I could just barely glimpse the gradation of colors in the sunset as I head into younger hours for the longest day of my life thus far. I just finished watching Julie & Julia and enjoying my last chance to pretend that I speak Danish whenever I inform the "air host" which drink I'd like. And maybe it's the hvid vin talking (so little does so much when you're at 34,000 ft.), or perhaps the fact that I had been eagerly eyeing the concoctions in the film, but the airline food did me right this evening. Of course, this is only my second trans-Atlantic flight, and I was not all that impressed back in August. But man, that chicken with a mushroom sauce (really rice and broccoli?) was just what I needed, and I told myself mentally that the chocolate mousse was divine.

But enough about food and airplane statistics. I'm gone; finished with the physical, tangible piece of this adventure. Teary eyed as I left René, Kirsten, Nanna, and Jonas who had been kind enough to leave work early and drive me to the airport, I travelled down the corridor to security, worrying someone would eventually stop me from taking a carry-on bag AND claiming my full backpack as a "personal item." I got on alright, but perhaps it's just bad karma that I was assigned a seat without room for my backpack underneath, and the poor guy next to me offered to bear that burden. My next step is to brave US customs for my first time, but I don't expect that to be too big of a deal.

It was my plan all along to write as soon as the film was over, but now that I've watched Julie blog for two hours, I'm even more in the mood. I felt a kind of ridiculous connection to Julie, who also blogged on a definite time frame (365 days, 524 recipes). I don't really want to be done with my writing; I've enjoyed it too much for the past 4 months. It wasn't an escape from reality, like Julie used, but a constant support, assurance that my reflections and memories won't die. I've been much more diligent with my blog than my gratitude journal (assigned for Psychology of Happiness) or my notebook of clippings (which, trust me, I have a pile to tackle and glue down once I'm home).

At any rate, while I still have a few more entries up my sleeve, I wanted to take this opportunity to write a few remarks that bare some semblance to a conclusion. So without further ado . . .

What I Didn't Expect to Find in Denmark:

A bizarre sense of pride for the E-line to Køge
Two words: flat farmlands (but this was my own lack of preparation)
Learning that 60's movies are more risqué than I had thought (thanks to TCM on the tv in my room)
Gratitude
While I expected some sense of humility as an American in another culture, I did not expect to find a greater sense of pride with my own nationality and to occasionally have a distaste for Danish culture.
To like leverpostej (liver paté), and more food that I won't soon forget
Different educational expectations
Awesome public restrooms
A greater appreciation for art
A sense of the character of an entire city and its different components
The wish to be farther away from a city
So many 7-Elevens
My American consuming habits dying hard
A failed COP15
The meaning of coming home for Christmas
An experience not yet defined

What I Expected and Did Not Find:

A third home (Bloomington being my first, DePauw my second); this is not a discredit to my host-family, but rather, a cultural disconnect I never remedied
Not being so broke at the present moment.
Somewhat of a utopia
A similar sense of pride/connection for/with my study program and its student body that I have to my own home university
More Danish Butter Cookies (though the ones Nanna made were EXCELLENT)
A routine more like at home (e.g. in regards to cycling, homework, etc.)

I like that the first list is longer and also that some of these are important, while others are a little mundane. But still, where does this leave me now? As I mentioned above, there is still a less tangible piece of my experience to complete. I don't know how much re-entry shock will affect me or how I'll look back on everything after a month or four (my perspective certainly changed even within my 4-month journey), but I do know that I still have challenges ahead of me. In the short term, I'm faced with helping my family re-create a Danish Christmas back in the states. In the long term, I must rise to the fact that I can't let all that I've seen, heard, tasted, or felt die. These four months were too big of an opportunity to not let it consciously shape the future of my life experience. I'm still 'iffy' on the details, but I accept.

A Little About Hopenhagen

2009-12-21T12:03:00.002+01:00

With one Goolge search, you could easily find hundreds of blogs that could help you piece together what exactly happened at the Bella Center in Copenhagen over the past two weeks (for those of you living in a turtle shell at the north pole: COP15, which attempted to ratify a replacement to the Kyoto Protcol). I don't proclaim to be one of those blogs, because I don't think I could even begin to explain what happened to myself (if it's any clue to you, many have changed the slogan from 'Hopenhagen' to 'Nopenhagen'). Nevertheless, I saw how COP15 changed Copenhagen from the 3 months leading up to it to the raw, broken end, from the CO2PENHAGEN music festival to the clean-up of Hopenhagen Live in Rådhuspladsen. COP15 highlighted the best and worst of the sustainability frenzy (which is a term I use quite lovingly), and it vastly affected my perspective.

I don't know at which point Copenhagen became somewhat of the epicenter for climate-change related actions, but from what I've seen, it started really kicking off around October with the launch of the Hopenhagen ad campaign to coincide with the UN Climate Change Conference (COP15) coming in December. Before that, of course, the city had its own buzz with the world's first carbon-neutral music festival and a pledge to become carbon neutral itself by 2025. By November, Copenhagen had been declared the greenest major European city, and its own faction of 350.org's International Day of Climate Action received a lot of press simply because, "hey, it's Copenhagen!"

And December? That's when the madness started. I've never had an easy time resisting the messages of good marketing, so I remained a total sucker for Coca-Cola's posters and the giant billboard in Rådhuspladsen. Yes, even Coca-Cola, a well-known irresponsible water user (who I still adore and patronize, nonetheless), was a sponsor of Hopenhagen. Then we were faced with the depressing feat that is the WWF's Copenhagen Ice Bear: a polar bear ice sculpture that melted to reveal a cast of the skeleton. Or the ads for Vestas that took over the metro and were featured prominently as the only ad on the Politiken news ticker over the two week period. Their message? That the world will end and the one solution is wind power. Thank you, Vestas, for pushing only your own agenda and steeping almost as low as fear-mongering.

I guess I'm most surprised at my how my own opinions changed. When the volley of marketing first came up, it was powerful, moving, and made me feel so excited to be in Copenhagen for this historic conference. But I burned out by the end of week one. This could be contributed to a parallel burn-out with school or just correlated with the obvious negative mood about the conference itself. Either way, my attitude changed abruptly from Hopenhagen to Dupenhagen.

That being said, I'm still much more impressed with the marketing than the majority of the flood of people who invaded the city this month. They produced one incredible thing (which I was unfortunately unable to participate in): a 100,000-strong march for a deal on December 12, peaceful with the exception of the 700 arrested. And then what? You hung out at KlimaForum09 or the Climate Bottom Conference in Christiania and got all your aggravation out of your system? Or maybe you were one of the violent protestors that continued to set the movement backwards? Or you helped Friends of the Earth block delegates from the Bella Center because you were angry NGO's couldn't enter anymore? This is what gets me: everything is in disarray, and there are a handful of news articles or blogs complaining about the carbon impact of the conference itself and all the delegates' transportation, but what about the the carbon impact of the thousands who came here and did nothing productive? I went to a presentation by the Will Steger Foundation at KlimaForum about the importance of the US Midwest in negotiation climate agreements. I thought it was really interesting, except there was that one note about how we have to make 'fun' things like concerts to get youth involved. I love concerts, but that's a little insulting, and I do think Hopenhagen Live was a bit of a waste (as much fun as it was to see Gogol Bordello one night). The 'fun' is getting over-emphasized now, and democracy is overwhelming. Power to the people, of course, but the people need to learn to chill unless they can rationally contribute, because we're now left with too many voices to be effective.

Those of you who know me outside of this blog know I consider myself an activist, but I felt that in Hopenhagen, my only reasonable option was to take a step out of the melee. This isn't the first time I've felt like this, and it's not a personal crisis about the purpose of life. But it IS disconcerting and all-around disappointing. I guess there's always COP16 to save the world . . .

The Definitive Guide to Danish Christmas Pop-Culture (2009)

2009-12-19T23:21:00.004+01:00

Every night from December 1st to 24th, the two national Danish television stations (DR or TV2) air Christmas Calendars: 24-part serials with Christmas themes. Originally, these programs were targeted at children and correlated to a nightly paper advent calendar that kids could open at home. I have to admit this is something I think is really cool. It's not something you can really do in America because of religious considerations, but the concept is nice all the same. The closest thing we have is the 25 Days of Christmas on ABC Family, but honestly, who has the time to watch an entire Christmas movie each night?

So, using my limited knowledge drawn from various basic explanations by my host-family and neighbors (and help from Google Translate on the Danish Wikipedia), I bring you a definitive guide to three of this year's Christmas Calendar shows. Get ready, because I'm going to give you so many details that you will feel like you were here watching them with me.

Pacten (The Pact)
Let's start with the basics: this show airs on DR1 at 7:30 and is the only new Christmas Calendar this season. But, I've only seen it once, so . . . that might be all I can tell you. Really, I think I'd like Pacten, but I can't watch it on my own since I rely on Danes to translate. Pacten is one of those fantasy-world, secular Christmas shows, with nisser (elves), an evil snow queen, and a LotR-esque soundtrack. I get the feeling that Pacten is an attempt to draw the older kids in by veering away from the religious theme and actually having some really creepy elements. I really have no idea what the plot is, but I know it has something to do with how only kids who believe in the nisser can see them (or the evil snow queen), and one of them has to go find "the pact" in order to save them: or the evil snow queen will kill them all. Also, creepy demons kept attacking one kid in a forest, and he could throw dust on them to make them melt away into the ground.

Jul på Vesterbro (Christmas in Vesterbro)
Vesterbro, if you don't know, is the old meat-packing district in Copenhagen, and Jul på Vesterbro, on DR2, is an adult (comedy, social commentary with songs like "The Social Welfare Blues") Christmas Calendar, originally produced in 2003. I know I have a biased perspective (since I've only been around for one Christmas in Denmark), but I get the feeling that Jul på Vesterbro is pretty famous. When I was buying æbleskiver in Tivoli a few weeks ago, the guy in the kiosk had a song from it playing on his phone, and he proceeded to tell me how superior it was to the children's Christmas calendars; I heard some drunk guys singing it at the train station on Friday night, and, finally, the creepy animatronic penguins in the window of a shop on Strøget (the main shopping street in CPH) were singing it last week (complete with one penguin threatening to stab the other with an icicle). One Danish comedian (Anders Mattheson, who apparently is friends with Ellen DeGeneres) plays all the parts: from the pølser salesman on Strøget, to the salesman's junkie son (and his girlfriend), to the woman from the city who comes to help them out. Unfortunately for both of us, I don't know anything about the plot. But I do know that at the end of each episode the characters look up in the air, confused, as the narrator talks about what will happen next time. The character also gets a "surprise" everday as Christmas calendar (the surprise is always a beer hanging for the wall that he bought for himself). The theme song--if you're interested--is here.

Jesus & Josefine
Before I start with this description, you need to pronounce the name currenctly: "YAY-Seuss oh YO-sephina." It just makes the theme song that much better. Jesus & Josefine was also produced in 2003 and is a children's Christmas Calendar on TV2. My host family watches it almost every night (sometimes I watch it with them), and so they've been able explain a lot to me. I love it for its somewhat heretical plot (in some Christian traditions), and ridiculously catchy Europop songs.
So, Josefine is a religion-doubting Danish girl living in Copenhagen with her family. Her mom is a pastor, and her brother Lukas is . . . adorable. I have no idea what he says, but I laugh every time he makes some humorous interjection. Anyway, Josephine finds this nativity scene in an antique shop where if she presses her finger on the manger, she lands like a meteor in Nazareth, 12 CE, coming out of some coffin at Mary, Joseph, and Jesus' house. She becomes friends with Jesus, and then somehow ends up taking him back to Denmark, where he is briefly trapped because Joseph closed the lid of the coffin in Nazareth. In the meantime, Josefine's parents think Jesus is crazy because he says his dad is God, and taking Jesus to church ends up being a bad idea. Josefine and her friend Oskar even make Jesus resurrect Oskar's pet rat, quoting the story of Lazarus in the Bible. Eventually, Jesus learns he's going to die (and this it the possibly heretical part), so he decides he doesn't want to be the son of God and decides to become a gladiator instead (GENIUS, right??). The modern world becomes Hell, and the evil old man who owns the antique shop tries to stop Josefine from going back to Nazareth to fix the problem (so ends today's episode).
However, the best part about Jesus & Josefine are the subtle cultural references that I may or may not be understanding correctly. I mean, first the show is obviously an attempt at remedying the drop of Christianity in Danish culture, which is evident through the plot, the copious amounts of praying, and the scene where Josefine's mom is preaching to a big church with only about 10 people in the pews. But in today's episode, I particularly enjoyed when the evil guy drew back the shades at Josefine's house to show her that the entire world was Hell. Hell, apparently, consists of smoke stacks that shoot out flames and three nuclear reactor cooling towers. Fabulous subtle message, there, TV2! I also thought one scene where Josefine was pouring some non-descript pale yellow beverage from a bottle into cups for Jesus and Oskar was a little humorous, although Kirsten assured me it was "apple juice" when I made a comment about it.

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On another note, I just spent the last hour watching a list of favorite Christmas songs on DR2 with Rene and Kirsten. A little more than half of them were British or American songs, and I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that a large majority of the songs were from the 80s: Wham!'s "Last Christmas," Run DMC's "Christmas in Hollis," Mel & Kim's version of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree," and, of course, the Danish favorite "Jul Det Cool" by rap-group McEinar, among others. Rene and Kirsten then both observed that all the Danish Christmas songs are making fun of Christmas (especially the materialistic aspects), instead of singing about Christmas. I can't give you any more names of songs, but, the videos spoke for themselves as Kirsten and Rene sat on the couch: "I wish you could hear these lyrics! They're so ridiculous they're not even really translatable." I actually find this pretty interesting, for a country that loves both Christmas and shopping so much.

At any rate, there's more in my head to write. Hopefully I can get it down before I leave, but who knows, at this point?

På Stranden

2009-12-12T16:18:00.003+01:00

I finally took René's advice and went a walk all the way around the little peninsula that was formed (along with an inlet marshland) when the sea receded about two decades ago. I'd been to the strand (beach) before, but never as far as the waterfowl nesting reserve on the south end, since I always felt like I was too busy to take the time. I'm so grateful I decided to use this sunny, chilly day to so, and my walk confirmed a feeling I've had for a while: southern Sjælland (the island where I live and where Copenhagen is) seems so much more tranquil and beautiful now that it's winter. Maybe it's the cold stillness of the air, or the way the sun shines on the golden earth and through bare trees, always either rising or setting. Or it could be a trick of the mind, where any day with clear skies and sun feels infinitely phenomenal after day after day of darkness and grey. It could even be partly influenced by the joy in the Christmas atmosphere. But whatever it is, I'm glad I'm here for it, and it's time I stop analyzing the magic and just live in it.

A Second Honeymoon? (aka The 9-Days-Left Blues)

2009-12-12T00:10:00.002+01:00

One of the hardest weeks of my entire life is finally, mercifully, over. I realize that sounds dramatic, but it's also a logical statement for a week where I've had at least one sort of final assessment for 4 out of my 5 classes (6 projects total), and every "last day of class" there's at a handful of people I won't be able to see again before we leave. Not to mention the fact that while I worked, my consciousness was just incredibly frustrated and distracted, since one of the MOST IMPORTANT POLITICAL EVENTS OF THE CENTURY is going on all around me, and I couldn't get involved.

I'm now in the home stretch, with one paper left and plenty of time for frolicking in eco-ecstasy, despite the fact that I've written myself one of the largest to-do lists I've ever made for myself. And that's not to say, of course, that things aren't starting to get incredibly sentimental any time I ride the train while there's still daylight, and I have time to think about how those buildings will soon be removed from my daily routine, and how I'll soon be apart from this wonderful family I've been living with for four months. I'm even getting sentimental over the Danish language, which has been a source of complaint from the start from almost everyone in a Danish class. My final oral presentation was today, and while the memorization was a little rough, I was so proud of myself for being able to answer simple, non-rehearsed questions without being nervous. I was even more proud when I was sitting on the train this evening and I realized that I might be able to have a small conversation with a ticket-checker if I'd needed to (I was out of my zone at the time, since the train decided to just pass right by my stop). I wouldn't jump to conclusions that I'm 'falling in love' with the language, but I've certainly developed a connection to it. This wasn't really a big concern of mine until today, after the minor catastrophe of possibly losing the Dansk-Engelsk dictionary I bought about a month after I got here. Part of this is because I like to consider myself responsible and hate losing things that I invest any money or time in. Well, I carried that dictionary around everywhere I went in Denmark, as if it was some sort of lifeline (although in reality I could get around just fine; I just wanted to be able to read signs). Only now do I realize just how much I was counting on having it with me back in the states, both symbolic of the experience and as something that assures me what little language I picked up won't slip away (although it probably wouldn't have ACTUALLY helped that). It's odd, really, like I'm starting to enter reverse-culture shock before I even leave Copenhagen. I suppose I could buy a new dictionary to help whatever this feeling is, but now I just hate that I have to decide if it's worth the money.

At least I'm starting to let go of regrets of not going out and experiencing as much of city life as students who lived in the city or with other students were able to. Though, it is a little sad that just today I discovered an amazing library to work in just outside of the hustle and bustle of Kongens Nytorv plaza (and actually, the buildings block out the sound from the square in an absurdly effective manner). I went to Danmarks Kunstbibliotek (Art Library) with my friend Jill to look for some sources for our Women, Art, and Identity papers. It's in what used to be the Royal Academy of Art, and the first part of the building is a warm, yellow room set up in a very contemporary style. What's even better is the amazing old reading room to the side. What drew both Jill and I to the room was the traditional "private library" set up: high ceilings and two stories of books around the perimeter, with a tight corkscrew staircase up to the second level balcony. But more important than its spacious charm were the wide black desks with double lamps and an atmosphere that promoted just the right noise level (quiet by lack of population). I can't remember the last time I felt that at ease working in a library. But maybe it's for the better that I didn't try it out earlier, since it has incredibly inconvenient hours anyway.

More pics are on fb. For now you can see this one, which I took lying on the floor. Yes, a librarian saw and probably thought I was a little over-excited about the stairs. I can't blame him, since he was right.

Danes and Happiness

2009-12-07T10:22:00.001+01:00

I just came out from my very last Psychology of Happiness class, so I thought I'd share with you a short essay (and supplementary photos) I wrote about Danes and happiness as part of a portfolio mosaic that we turned in last week. We were only asked to write two pages, so it's definitely a topic that could be expanded on, but I also thought it would be a good way to briefly relay my thoughts on the matter to you, the blog readers. Consider it a blog with references.

On another note, if you want to hear about what's going on with COP15, some of my friends from DePauw are keeping a great blog of updates here!

The ~~Happy~~ Socially Secure Danes:

A Reflection on How Culture Can Beat the Happiness Test

Aside from the original data in the Happiness in Nations report, my observational experience about Danes and their top-ranking happiness waters down to two types of sources: popular media reports with interviews that make causal speculations, and members of the greater internet community who angrily strive to prove the news wrong, listing evidence from personal experiences. On the other hand, my own observations indicate that the people in Denmark are no different from Americans in terms of expressing happiness. I cannot count the possible solutions to these discrepancies, especially with the debates over both the definition of happiness and the question of life satisfaction that the Happiness in Nations report is actually measuring. Nevertheless, we know that they are measuring some difference, and from analysis based on both research and my experience, I believe that Danes report higher life satisfaction ratings due in part to the values they have formed as a national culture—be it a sense of contentment rather than extreme joys, principles of unanimity and community, and even language that supports and emphasizes a pleasant mentality.

There haven’t been too many studies done to crack just why the Danes rated so high on the Happiness in Nations survey, but Kaare et al., who compared Denmark with its northern neighbors Finland and Norway, noted the crucial difference that “Danes have consistently low (and indubitably realistic) expectations for the year to come” (1289). Theoretically, this mindset can keep people from becoming bogged in the disappointment experienced when one fails to reach his self-expectations. Plus, when the threshold is lower, increased instances of exceeding expectations might even improve self-image, however temporarily. It also fits well with excerpts from Knud Jespersen’s account of the formation of Danish national identity and culture, which I read in my Danish class. Jespersen notes that the loss of the German duchies in 1864 did not only whittle the kingdom to its smallest size, but also sprung a change in the collective attitude. Thus, when the Danes acknowledged they were not fit to be a world power with a strong military, the people began to reflect this modest mentality on themselves—working and farming to support the community that they all valued. In short, the attitude became “we don’t have a big world, but we do our best to keep it running, and we are happy doing it together.”

Although Denmark has a western, individualistic culture, this intense sense of homogeneity means that the people also take on characteristics of traditionally eastern, collectivist cultures. In an article on how the self and culture influence subjective well-being, Eunkook Suh explains that people from individualist cultures rate life satisfaction with a locus of internal emotions, while those from collectivist cultures tend to focus on social appraisal. Can the Danes, then, be getting the best of both worlds—satisfied not only with their own successes, but also with the roles they have secured within their tight communities? There is also the fact that the mutual understanding within the homogeneous community and the work to support it economically are two factors that have directly fed the welfare system (Jespersen), which in turn supports people with basic needs and allows them to devote more attention to eudemonic concerns.

Lastly, the Danish language has its own contributions to the Danish mentality. In 1928, when linguist and anthropologist Edward Sapir first wrote about what would later be known as the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis, he proclaimed that “the fact of the matter is that the ‘real world’ is to a large extent unconsciously built up on the language habits of the group” (qtd. in Joseph 72). In Danish, the existence and frequent use of certain words supports a positive outlook. From arbejdsglæde—which describes happiness in the workplace—to hygge—that cozy feeling of fellowship that is so emphasized both within the culture and as a selling-point for tourists—Danes use a language which puts a focus on happiness and contentment. But it should be noted that hygge also carries the connotation of a group wrapped up in their own fellowship and cares, excluding anyone from the outside. So although hygge’s place as the Danish social ideal promotes coziness, the society pays the price of promoting exclusivity.

As an American, the notion of a universally happy society elicits images of constant joy and elation. It’s an unrealistic ideal, and for the scientifically proven happy society in Denmark, the truth lies more in perception and values than it does in the emotions themselves. Like in any country, Danes are gleeful when they put themselves towards their passions, or they may be gloomy and sullen when they are less interested in their current activity. The mastermind behind their high life satisfaction is the strong sense of national identity and community with other Danes—trusting, respecting, and fostering their neighbors, socially and financially. Danes are not filled with happier emotions, but rather supported and supportive within their tight group. The question left now is if it can—or should—be a formula to repeat these results in other cultures.

Flying Colors

Helsingør, Denmark
29 August 2009

The Three Grouches

Køge Festuge
Køge, Denmark
29 August 2009

Still on the Honor System After All These Years

Samsø, Denmark
20 September 2009

Arbejdsglæde: Happy People Make Happy Beer

Samsø Bryghus
Nordby, Samsø, Denmark
20 September 2009

Works Cited

Jespersen, Knud J.V. A History of Denmark. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004.
Joseph, John Earl. From Whitney to Chomsky: essays in the history of American linguistics. Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing, 2002.
Kaare, Christensen, Anne Maria Herksind, and James W. Vaupel. “Why Danes are smug: comparative study of life satisfaction in the European Union.” BMJ: British Medical Journal: 333.7582 (2006), 1289-91.
Suh, Eunkook M. “Self, the Hyphen between Culture and Subjective Well-being.” Culture and Subjective Well-Being. Ed. Ed Diener and Eunkook Suh. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000. 63-86.

Pre-Christmas Wonder Weekend

2009-12-06T20:26:00.213+01:00

What is Christmastime but that 3-week chaotic rush until you're off from work and school, filled with the pressures of finalizing gifts, the semester's projects, and spending family time? For a student abroad in ~~Copenhagen~~ Hopenhagen for the fall 2009 semester, there's the added tasks of worrying about packing, fully experiencing Danish Christmas culture, and the fastly approaching events surrounding COP15. Although I remain incredibly optimistic about these final two weeks (*eek!*), the anxiety over my forthcoming demands kind of hit me hard today at the DIS Christmas lunch party. My host-family had to leave a little early, but I decided to stick around people for a little while longer instead of getting to work. However, my plan was to leave before they started dancing around a tree and singing Christmas carols, which just wasn't an idea I was that into. As you could probably guess, that plan failed, and I got sucked into the loops of people mumbling to Danish songs, skipping around the giant Christmas tree.

Yes, it was hokey in a way not unlike Christmas in Dr. Seuss' Whoville, but that didn't keep it from working its magic on even the most cynical in the group. There were probably about 300 people in concentric circles around that tree, and while the dance started out a little forced, we soon became wrapped up in the music (in both Danish and English), the connectedness of us all holding hands, and in the movement to the beat. I decided not to play by the rules, and three times attempted to create a new circle (by just breaking free on one side and pulling the other side forward with me) whenever I felt the loop I had been slowed by congestion. This worked the first time, but the second time I had to rejoin the original loop after causing a runaway spiral effect, and someone I didn't even know was laughing at me as she passed-by: "I think this is happening because of you!!!" I guess I was kind of experimenting with mob-mentality, but I know I wasn't the only one. After all, the third time I tried to make a new circle failed because it was simultaneous with the entire group breaking out into conga-lines around the room, speeding up and slowing down the the music and the traffic. It was insane; it was joyous, and it was the type of Christmas spirit and fellowship that change how your day feels. Well, that and baking chocolate chip cookies at a friend's apartment right afterwards.

The earlier part of the weekend had also been an adventure and a half. I spent Friday evening back at Tivoli. Now, you know I love Halloween and had a complete blast when I went to Tivoli in October, but my experience at Christmas Tivoli surpassed expectations and blew Halloween Tivoli out of the water. Many factors contribute to this opinion: it wasn't raining, there were less people, Tivoli has had more experience making a Christmas season, and my friends and I managed to find a part of the park that we had missed before (the lake on the north side of the park). But most all, the Danes just know how to do Christmas. I mean, they start the season in late October, remember? The lights are fantastic, intricate, and glistening (much unlike the hideous, carelessly decorated trees at the Solrød shopping center), the food warmed us in the cold, and the plaza that had once contained a windmill and miniature straw maze now holds a building with a new kids ride and a village of animatronic nisse (gnome-like mythical creatures at Christmas-time). That building alone proves that Christmas Tivoli is, of course, just as kitschy as ever, but the spirit and traditions put into it creates an unforgettable atmosphere.

For the record, I also hopped in the front row of Rutsjebanen/Rutschebanen--the ca. 1914 roller coaster--with my friend Leslye. The ride is somewhat similar to Disneyland's Matterhorn Bobsleds in that it smells like an old coaster and is contained within a fiberglass "mountain," but that's where the comparison ends, since the track winds around up and down a pretty small space. It's also operated more like we're in the early 20th century. There are no recordings of safety warnings (only Danish signs that I couldn't really read) or miniature queues that line riders up for each seat in the train. Instead, the trains pull in, stopped both by the breakman and the hands of riders getting on, who fight in an unorganized scramble for seats. I don't remember if anyone even checked that I'd buckled my seatbelt: the next thing I knew, operators were just pushing the car down the track to be picked up by the chain that would take it to the first peak. From there, it was up to the breakman in the center to control the speed of the car. I must admit that I had no idea how incredible it would be to ride a machine where the uphills provide a bigger thrill than the downhills.

Finally, I spent all of Saturday on at trip to Lübeck, Germany, a cute and historical little city famous for its Christmas markets. Teeming with tourists like myself who had come in packs on buses and were undeterred by rain or cold, Lübeck caters directly to their crowd with Santas on motorcycles and in boats and five or six different marketplaces with glühwein, bratwursts, fried goodies, marzipan, German nativity carousels, and some high-quality artisan crafts. The atmosphere felt a little odd--like a cross between Black Friday and a county fair, except with German cultural items. But I was also glad just to experience some of the rich German history, which ranged from a restaurant built for the sailors guild in 1401 to the forever resting fallen church bells of a WWII-era bombing. I obviously don't know what the rest of the country is like, but Lübeck appeared to be a cross between the brick, medieval style of Roskilde (especially the churches) and the central European nature of Prague, which simply exemplifies the gradation of styles across regions.

In other words, it was one busy weekend, and this week will not be any calmer. But I'll be sure to keep you updated, alright? Facebook photos from these two days are here.

Psykologi Skål

2009-12-03T22:41:00.000+01:00

So I don't know what YOU did this evening, but I went to my Psychology of Happiness reception, drank some wine, and did this:

Obviously, we kind of butchered the lines in Danish, but it was fun, and I'll provide the lyrics here for your reference. The words we used are either "yes," "cheers," "I would like to have," or different foodstuffs.

Dashing through the abyss
Of my dismal existence:
Maybe I'll go to Denmark
See what life's like there!
JA! JA! JA!
Jeg vil gerne have
Chokolade kage!
Danish food is on its way to help people each day!

[CHORUS]
OH!
Wienerbrød, æbleskiver, øl øl øl øl øl!
Rød grød med fløde og flødeballer,
And then we'll all cheer skål.
SKÅL!
[repeat]

So, then I'll take a class
Called Psych of Happiness
Helle's teaching it
And we think she's the shit!
JA! JA! JA!
We'll romp around the highlands,
Explore our character strengths
Positive psychology is on its way to help people each day!

[CHORUS}
OH!
Seligman, Peterson, Ben-Shahar, Ed Diener
Carol Dweck and Frederickson,
And Philip Zimbardo
HO!

Wienerbrød, æbleskiver, øl øl øl øl øl!
Rød grød med fløde og flødeballer,
And then we'll all cheer skål.
SKÅL!

A Few Curiosities and Comicalities

2009-12-01T19:30:00.002+01:00

November is the rainiest and cloudiest month in Denmark. According to Kirsten, the clouds come from the ocean and help keep the frost from coming really early, although this particular season, Denmark experienced one of the warmest Novembers in over 30 years, with a few hours of sunshine on occasional days and temperatures in the upper 40's. I'm guessing December usually has fairly similar weather, but this year, December made sure to make an entrance. The sky was CLEAR, the air was BITING, and man did I wish I had my camera as the setting sun lit up the buildings on my way to class at 3 this afternoon.

So I thought I'd celebrate December's arrival with small list of linguistic curiosities that I've learned recently:

The Danish word for reindeer is "rensdyr." Pretty similar, right? But instead of literally translating to "reins" and "deer," this actually means "cleaning animal."
Instead of saying something is "cool," you can say "Det er fedt." Yes, folks--that is fat, isn't it? Thankfully, it comes without the connotation of "phat."
The titles of kids movie translate so awesomely into Danish. I mean, yeah, it's simply fun to say "Nat på Museet To!" in your head, but I personnally like Ice Age: Dinosaurerne Kommer. The literal translation is "THE DINOSAURS COME!" (I capitalized that just for effect.)
I thought the Latin word for "beautiful" (pulcher) was ugly until I learned the Danish word: "smuk."
I ride the purple commuter rail line, but three months after looking at the names of the stops every day, I realized that four of the towns (including mine) end in the word for "red."

Lastly (and this one is both too long for a bullet and not-language related), my host-family and I had the strangest revelation yesterday evening when Rene turned on the tv so that he could check if his parent's flight back from their vacation was on time (he had to pick them up).
Me: *jaw drop* "You can check flights ON THE TV?!?"
Kirsten: *palms hitting the table* "You DON'T HAVE Text-TV!!?! We're actually ahead of the US in something!!"
Well, that and, you know, public health care.
But in all seriousness, all of us were pretty surprised. Apparently Text-TV is something they've had for at least 25 years, and you hit in a code so that you can see traffic, flights, the weather, etc. I explained to them that the most similar thing we have is cable access television, but even then, it's mostly pictures of animals at the shelter. Maybe there is Text-TV somewhere in the US, but not from my cable provider, certainly.

Cross-Cultural Adventures

2009-11-30T11:12:00.003+01:00

When I left for Denmark in August, there were only a few things I was fully expecting. One of these was that, this year, folks, there would be no Thanksgiving. I was more than ok with that. As a holiday, Thanksgiving is really just time set aside to spend with family before the Christmas rush, and since I knew I wouldn't be seeing family for 4 months anyway, it wasn't a big deal that I'd miss it. But after Kirsten approached me about joining forces with her to make Thanksgiving dinner if I was in Denmark over Thanksgiving break (which was also two extra free days I didn't expect to have), I realized that this was a wonderful opportunity to share some of my culture with those who I've been learning from the past three months.

And so it was set: I decided what dishes were most essential, asked my mother to send recipes from home, and then Kirsten and I went through the ingredients and worked out what we needed to buy and what could actually be found in Danish stores. We pretty much knew from the start that there wouldn't be any frozen turkeys in the grocery stores of Solrød Strand, but turkey breast was a fine substitute. Cranberries, sweet potatoes, and green beans were all fairly easy to pick up as well, while explaining and finding chicken broth was a bit of a challenge. The thing that gave me the most trouble, though, was my insistence on having pumpkin pie. Rumors of canned pumpkin in an imported American food aisle at a Super Best in Frederiksberg had been circling through the students at DIS, but attempts at finding this mythical place failed miserably. And there were some people who ended up buying pickled pumpkin in a jar without realizing that it's not what they wanted. So, while I come from a family that always buys pie from the store at home, I was now faced with making it from an actual pumpkin.

Of course, all the Danes had to work or go to school, so I gave myself the task of waking up early enough to get started. Kirsten had set out for me things I would need, but, nevertheless, if anyone had been watching me cook the whole time, I imagine they would have thought it quite comical. There was one scale for measuring things in grams, but I ended up using it only a few times. Mostly, I would just search for a container that looked like a cup, fill it to what I thought was the correct place, and ran with it. Luckily, they actually have proper tablespoons and teaspoons here, so I think those measurements turned out rather well. It ended up being me on the pumpkin pie (and seeds!), sweet potato casserole, and the stuffing, while Kirsten came in later to make the turkey, cranberry sauce, and green beans, and Nanna (my host-sister) baked some bread.

The result? Success! I wasn't sure how much of the Thanksgiving spirit was going to go into the meal, but the table was set with the nice plates, the extra pumpkin I bought served as a centerpiece, red wine was set out, and two family friends who had been at the house for the advent crafts came over to join us. It was definitely Thanksgiving--chatting away and eating more food than our stomachs could handle (though I think the Danes participated less in that factor, which isn't a bad thing). Though, a word to the wise if you plan to try this on your own: leave out the sweet potato casserole. While the marshmallows on top were a novelty, the Danes generally consider it too sweet for a side-dish. Stuffing, on the other hand, is a big hit (even with the people who don't like celery!).

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The rest of my break I spent relaxing, working very slowly towards my final psychology of happiness synthesis, and catching up on a few sights in Copenhagen. On Friday, I went to the Nationalmuseet, which is a completely free museum that includes a permanent collection on Danish history (pre-historic to present), as well as a portion of the oddities collections from former kings (Kongens Kunstkammer). To be honest, I was unimpressed with the museum as a whole. They had nice facilities, but the presentation was cluttered and confusing, and it was often so dark that my eyes were straining, so I couldn't absorb what I was reading. However, I am glad I went, as the museum helped me see history in the western world at a larger level than I am used to. While artifacts from the viking age were something new for me to see, once I had progressed through the exhibits into the late 1800's, everything seemed rather familiar. Granted, the recent political patterns in Denmark are much different than in the US, the Danes was affected much more by the world wars, and there was no western expansion in Denmark. But the artifacts themselves--clothing styles, furniture, technology, propaganda from social movements--are very similar in each era across the continents of the western world. One of the most bizarre things was to watch Danish people and music in propaganda-type films on farming from the 1930's, and then there was a display about how big Elvis and The Beatles were in the in the 50s and 60s. Once I think back on it, these realizations should have been obvious beforehand: I know what globalization is! This just puts it into perspective; it's been a long time coming.

On the contrary, America is way behind on globalizing the goodness of Danish beer culture, as I learned from both a microbrewery tasting on Wednesday night and a visit to Carlsberg (which included tastes of some specialty brews) on Saturday.

And Then There Was One

2009-11-24T21:13:00.048+01:00

It's so hard to believe that a few days days ago I crossed the three month point, and now there's only one left. It's actually just the right amount of time to make a mix of feelings, really. Travel break is over, so I can loosen up the purse a little bit and buy some more gifts and enjoy the Christmas markets that are popping up. Then I'm both motivated and anxious about getting all my papers done (one decent-sized paper for each of my 5 classes). This was an especially weird feeling, because coming back from travel break I had all these papers in mind, so I was motivated to push through them. But I also found that I was comfortable enough on return to Copenhagen that I was moving into my American routines instead of ones I had created when entering this new environment (i.e. lots of procrastinating and staying up late--which I guess is more of a reaction to a sudden influx in workload--instead of staying more on top of things and going to bed early). I'm relieved that things are coming to an end and soon everything can be normal-ish again, but I'm sad it's almost over and a little unsure how the month and half until school starts will go. And THEN I'm excited to use Thanksgiving break and some of the remaining weekends to pick up things I missed in Copenhagen, and enjoy the jul atmosphere!

This last part has been going pretty well. Since I had 4 days until classes started when I returned to Denmark, and I had no travel pass to get me into the city, I decided to venture outside of my normal transportation zones into Roskilde. I went mostly on a personal mission to see more of Denmark than I have been (though this doesn't near complete seeing the entire country), and, considering my recent revelation about churches, I thought it would be important to visit the Roskilde Domkirke (Cathedral).

It was a cold Saturday, but I found a pleasant city of about 55,000 (close in size to my hometown in America), with shops lining the old streets, a placque honoring Denmark's first railroad from Roskilde to København in 1847, and a weekend market with fresh produce, music from political campaigns, and some pretty nifty antiques (I almost bought this really awesome old bottle opener, but instead opted for the pre-WWII Carlsberg soda water bottle). While there were quite a few British and American tourists around, and the municipal signs included English portions, it was nice that the town retained a distinctly Danish feel. That's one thing I've noticed when visiting smaller Danish towns: there's a distinct look to the older architecture and layout, especially with similar designs for brick churches. The Domkirke was no exception, although it was on a much grander scale and dramatically changed the skyline.

While I was not nearly as affected by the cathedral in Roskilde as I was by St. Vitus in Prague (which may not be a fair comparison, to be honest), it certainly had its merits. But then again, no one goes to see the Domkirke for the cathedral itself, but for the chapels surrounding the sanctuary, which are all magnificent tombs for the Danish monarchs. Some of the tombs were marked not only as "King of Denmark" but also added "Norway and Sweden," which is a fascinating reminder that Denmark was once much more powerful than it is now. Unfortunately, I missed some of the more important tombs due to reconstruction, but I'm still glad I went. AND it was weird to see the very back wall behind the altar lined with portraits of bishops instead of holy chapels--as it would be seen in a normal cathedral.

I then walked to the Viking Ship Museum, which houses the remains of 5 viking ships recovered from the harbor. It wasn't an incredibly extensive museum, but I did get to try on viking clothes, and at least the walk there led me around 3 different natural (although not potable) springs used for healing and water supply in centuries past. One of them (Maglekilde--the large spring) produces 15,000 liters a day, which is 1/6 of it's former production. (On a side note, I just noticed that "kilde" must mean "spring," which means that "roskilde" is something about a spring. Unfortunately, "roskilde" isn't in my dictionary, and "ros" means something about praise, so, I have a feeling that MAY not be the meaning. A few websites say the name derives from King Roar.)

Finally (and you may not stop hearing about this for a while), Christmas is really starting to settle in! Køge and Vesterbro have hung greens across the streets, while Tivoli is alight in white, and Nyhavn by the harbor has a Christmas market set up. But my favorite thing, by far, is the advent candle crafts that Kirsten (my host-mom), Nanna (my host-sister), and two neighbors made last Sunday. I had a group project that kept me from joining in for very long, but I got so excited when I saw the table was covered in a craft table cloth! Not only did we munch on æbleskiver (balls of pancake batter) with jam and powdered sugar, sipping on gløgg (spiced wine--in this case, white wine with white raisins), but, I got to decorate a Christmas candle for my room with a tray, some moss, and pine cones. Every one else had been making these as an annual tradition for several years, so I just tried to sit back and watch what they were making--from individual candles, to a tray with a large candle you burn down a little bit for each numbered day until Christmas, and a tray with four large white candles for advent. Nevertheless, I thought mine turned out all right--smiling wooden angels and all.

Pick Your Party

2009-11-19T20:43:00.002+01:00

As the first election posters for the major parties started showing up in mid-October, I was amused both by the universality of political campaigns and my sorry attempts at guessing what the parties were promising. Copenhagen and the trains were the only places with posters that really focused on issues, while the suburbs were just plagued by a face and a name/party name on every light pole down the main streets.

But all of that was nothing compared to this past week, as parties geared up for the kommune (municipal) elections on Tuesday. I knew Denmark had a multi-party system, but this was just insane. Not only did the Venstre ("left") party hand out croissants Monday morning as people entered the train stations, but the streets of Copenhagen suffered from a poster explosion of more designs and party names than I could count. In my opinion, some of them were the type that had no business in politics--existing only for the sake of one agenda (the most vocal of which was a party hoping to save Christiania). Granted, I'm not exactly happy with the American stuck-with-two-parties system either, where many voters have to sacrifice some of their opinions in order to prioritize others, or choose solely on social issues (this includes myself), because it's what divides our country the most. However, I need to learn more about both systems before I can decide which I prefer.

And surprisingly, only the poster with the picture of the blowup doll was fake, while the Liberal Alliance's promise for free parking and the satirical recommendations of the Nihilistic People's Party were completely legitimate. Though, to be fair, I don't believe the NPP was even trying to win, but instead pointing out the failures of politics. According to their website, they want to get rid of church bells, save baby seals, and make the metro more lively with psychedelic colors.

The Red-Green Alliance/Unity List--the far left party; not sure what it says on it, though.

"Stop churchbells! Fuck your salvation--we have a hangover."

The Danish Resistance

2009-11-18T21:16:00.001+01:00

I went with my Danish class to the Danish Resistance Museum today, which is a free of charge, nationally owned museum over by the Kastellet and the Little Mermaid. I've been learning a lot about more about European history in the past week (well, since Prague, really). That's something I'm really grateful for, since it's a topic that my high school education severely lacked (I didn't even learn that much about WWII in those years). For example, today was the first time I learned just how much of Europe was controlled or allied with Germany, and the rest were either apathetic or British (and half of France). I'm astonished at those odds.

Denmark, obviously, is a small country, and it would be incorrect to say that it played a large role in WWII. Despite this small effect on the grand scheme of things, Denmark still has its own stories and battles. Our tour guide through the museum was a young Dane whose grandfather and great-uncle were both part of the Resistance Movement. I don't know how much of that affected his decision to work in the museum, but it certainly added more reality to the history he told us. Yes, even the small Danish tribe lost children by orders of hate and under the name of patriotism. As a temporary resident, it was also enlightening to realize what happened here. In footage of the German invasion on 9 April 1940, I thought I spotted the town square in Køge, and footage from the liberation on 5 May 1945 included scenes from the plaza down the street of my school. It was slightly more eerie to realize that a movie we watched referred to the Nazi headquarters as Dagmarhus, which is a building I pass everyday on my way to class.

If you don't mind, I'd like to (succinctly) share some of the history I learned with you, since I feel that it was a fairly unique situation. Denmark did cooperate with Germany with the occupation, as it allowed the government to stay in control of daily affairs. While this was unfortunate, as it kept resistance movements from sprouting and made Denmark a tool for Nazi weaponry, it was a good situation for the state itself. There's an old tale about how the King Christian X ordered all Danes to wear a Jewish star to stand in solidarity with the Danish Jews, but this is simply a story that sprouted from a statement the king had once made. In reality, the star was never introduced to Denmark because the Danes managed to hold basic control.

When the resistance did start to appear, the first group were boys aged 14-17 who called themselves the Churchill Club (Dumbledore's Army, anyone?) and sabotaged German buildings. Although they were ordered for arrest, this was not entirely the case, as Danish law stipulates that no one under 15 can go to jail. But in time, organized resistance increased, with the "liquidation" of Danish traitors, aided by the blind eye provided by most law enforcement groups. Activity especially increased after the Danish government absolved on 29 August 1943, and chaos ensued on 26 June 1944 when the Vesterbro district began an uprising. Granted, not everyone felt that these violent methods were the right way to handle the situation.

Finally, the most uplifting part of the story is how Denmark was able to save over 95% of their Jewish population. Of 7,000 Jews in Denmark, 116 died, which is a stark comparison to the number of deaths in the remaining German-occupied countries. Around 6,000 of them escaped to Sweden when the Nazi giving the order for their arrest sent advance notification. Of the remainder, about half stayed in hiding in Denmark, while the other half were sent to Terezín, in the Czech Republic (which I had mentioned in my entry about Prague). Conditions, of course, were terrible in the ghetto, but it's said that the Danish Red Cross often sent officials to check that they were being treated sufficiently (although sometimes what they saw and approved was a propaganda hoax).

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In other news, today is the worst weather I have yet to see in Denmark. I'm ok with it being cold and rainy, but it's also too windy for my hood to stay up, and I was wearing flats. I even heard thunder for the first time since I've been here. What's worse is that the weather encouraged me to break a HUGE rule in Denmark: crossing when the street when the light is red, and cars are about to start driving again. I just really didn't want to be stuck in the wind on the median.

J-dag og Fødselsdage

2009-11-17T18:45:00.002+01:00

Before I commenced on my travels a few weeks ago, I had a few remaining responsibilities: plan an itinerary for Spain, pack, and remember to enjoy Denmark. I crossed two of these off Friday night (30 October), when Nina and I met for planning, drank a cranberry (holiday?) version of Somersby's (a very sweet cider that's popular here), and went out into Køge to celebrate J-dag: the annual release night of Tuborg's Julebryg (Christmas brew).

When I started seeing ads for J-dag in early October, I was disgusted that the commercial beginning of the Christmas season was the day before Halloween. But as the clouds became more regular, the sky darkened a little more each day, and I grew accustomed to the lack of Halloween spirit, the idea of celebrating Christmas didn't seem so heinous. Either way, it's not like J-dag is really about Christmas, anyway; it's about selling some beer. The marketing behind J-dag rivals the perpetuation of Valentine's Day in the United States. True, the decorations aren't quite as extensive, nor is it celebrated in schools for children under the age of 16 (and yes, the schools DO host J-dag parties for the 16 and over crowd after school. No joke). However, it's still an excuse for a big, national party that includes a song (to the tune of "Jingle Bells") and free rides on the s-train to anyone who's headed to the bars.

Neither Nina or I felt that we were able to feel the true spirit of J-dag (there was somewhat of a cultural barrier in joining the crowd), but it was still an experience to observe the college-aged kids dressed up in blue trousers, dresses, and as a Christmas tree, distributing more Julebryg to the various pubs. As for the beer? We thought it was the worst Tuborg we've ever had, which is saying something, because I don't like regular Tuborg in the first place. But if the celebration surrounding it sells, then keep brewing, Tuborg!

I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a family birthday (fødselsdag) party for host-parent's nephew on the next day, as well as a surprise birthday breakfast the day after that. This is the first time I've done any birthday celebrating in Denmark, but they're pretty much like any other get together, except this time with Danish flags as a key theme of decor. Bringing food to someone's house and waking them up on their birthday morning isn't all that uncommon (as was done Sunday morning, which I have to admit was a little strange). There's also a birthday song with too many words for me to remember (and 4 verses, apparently! though they usually sing two). I've also learned from my host family that for the big birthday parties (and baptism, confrimation, anniversaries, and weddings), friends and family actually write humorous songs about the person to common tunes. I think that would be a really nice tradition to have in the US, though I'm certainly not the type of person to start doing it on my own!

The birthday party on Halloween was definitely a lot of fun, though, as I had just gotten a Halloween package from my mom and we brought some of the candy over to share. There were mixed reviews on the candy corn, but Rene seemed to like it, and thought they looked like teeth. I'd never thought of them that way before, but when my host-mom's sister stuck them in her mouth like fangs, I could definitely see that interpretation.

P.S. I learned today that there's a cemetery in Edinburgh near the cafe where JK Rowling first started writing Harry Potter. Apparently, there are headstones for someone named McGonagall, and both a Tom Riddle Jr. and Tom Riddle Sr. I now feel like a Harry Potter Fan Epic Fail for not finding it.

Can I call myself an international individual yet?

2009-11-15T12:32:00.008+01:00

In the 20 days since I last posted, I have not only had some Danish cultural experiences, but also have embarked to Barcelona and Madrid in Spain and to Prague during the 2-week travel break that DIS offers us to explore a little of greater Europe on our own terms. I promise that I will attempt to give these adventures their due attention in my writing, and while I'm going to divide the entry into sections for each city (you can click the links above to skip down to those sections), I want to note that the post will probably have a more holistic perspective than what I would have written had I done so day-by-day (or even city-by-city).

Overall, the travel break was certainly a new experience for me, not only planning how to get there and where to stay on my own, but what to do, what to eat, and how to navigate my way through it all. Language was certainly a barrier, since I felt like I know more Danish than I do Spanish (although my Latin background and common sense helped me understand what was going on most of the time), and once in the Czech Republic I knew NOTHING about any of the words I saw, except that I couldn't pronounce it right if I tried. I'm proud of myself (if I'm allowed to say so), and it made me feel a little stronger and wiser for the wear.

One end-result that I found interesting was my eagerness to return to Copenhagen at the end of it all. I don't think it was just that I was looking for the relief of familiarity after the exhausting demands of traveling and sightseeing (even after only 11 days!). No, visiting a few other European cities helped me realize how much I like Copenhagen as a city itself. While in Edinburgh and Glasgow, I was restless wondering why I hadn't studied in Scotland, my trip this time around left me more satisfied with my decision to go to Denmark. Whether just a cognitive reaction or my true opinion on the matter, that's certainly a good feeling to have.

Barcelona: Sunday 01 - Wednesday 04 November

FB photos

I don't know what I was expecting in Barcelona. I knew it was going to be warm down by the Mediterranean, but as far as the mood of the city goes, I think I was picturing it alternately as the cold, yet spiritual ghost-town from Jewel's song "Barcelona" (yes, released when I was in 3rd grade), and then as whimsical place with music and spirit vibrating from Gaudí's mosaics (which, thanks to my longtime friend Ellen, I have been dying to see since I was 12). Surprise surprise, it was neither. We (my friend Nina and I) arrived on the evening of the first, but there was still enough time to take in some of the city's atmosphere and get confused trying to order some less-than-appetizing food and water from a non-native Spanish speaker. Maybe part of it was the palm trees and the colorful skyscraper our our hostel window, but there was something about the city that felt more like we were on vacation in LA or Miami than on a cultural tour in Europe.

The first day we spent walking almost the entire length of the city from Eixample right above the Gothic Old Town (on the coast) to the mountain bordering the northern edge, where we could have taken a funicular railroad up to an amusement park had we arrived an hour earlier (instead, we had a drink at a bar that overlooked the entire city; so that was pretty nice). It was mainly our own version of a walking tour of Antoni Gaudí's buildings, starting with La Sagrada Familia, down to Casa Batllo, La Pedrera, Casa Vicens, and on up to the public park he designed: Park Güell. For the most part, I love the curves and colors in Gaudí's architecture and public art, especially with La Pedrera and the forms of paths and structures in Park Güell. But for some reason, it also felt a little dirty and out of place within the context of Barcelona, and I was a little turned off by Park Güell, both for it's lack of open, grassy space and because it was originally funded by Count Eusebi Güell to be an upperclass garden city, closed off to the general public. It's understandable that you can't enjoy the interiors of his buildings without paying some pretty ridiculous prices (which I didn't indulge myself on), but his outdoor art could not have just been made for the sake of beautifying the city? I guess too I was a little irked that I had based my feeling of Barcelona off his work, when really it doesn't characterize the bustle of the city at all. While all Modernisme buildings are unique in their own right, other ones (like Casa Amattler) have a more traditional architectural style that just fits more with the character of the city. I realize that Gaudí was integral part of the Modernisme movement, which is specific to Barcelona, but may I politely wonder if his work might have been better in another city?

BUT, just because I was a little disappointed with this does not mean I didn't have an excellent time. On days two and three, we explored much more concentrated, yet touristy areas--including Wednesday when we mostly hung out on the beach in the mica-dusted sparkling sand, ate paella for a late lunch, and went to the ever-so-prestigious museum of chocolate. La Rambla, the main tourist street, was absolutely crazy with pet store kiosks, not-too-talented street performers, and annoying vendors selling pitos (this mouthpiece that helps you make animals noises, I swear, I was so sick of those sounds by the time I got to Prague). We even stumbled across our first Mercat (the Catalan word for "market"; in Madrid the name was Mercado, and the concept is common across Spain, apparently)--huge, age-old shelter structures with stalls that opened every day to sell fresh produce, fish, meat, ice cream, and all sorts of goodies. This one had beautiful stained glass panels on the facade.

Just to the east of La Rambla was the old Gothic town, with streets windier, taller, narrower, and darker than any alley I've seen in Copenhagen. Many of the upper floors were apartments with laundry or plants hanging off the patio, and it felt odd to be walking through common class residential areas in the middle of the tourist district. But, from the gorgeous cathedral with it's secluded chapels surrounding a courtyard and goose pond, and the remnants of original Roman walls surrounding the city, the Gothic section of town definitely was the most charming. On Tuesday morning we went underground to the ruins of Barcino (the original Roman city), where they showed us sections that used to be used for laundry and garum. There weren't a lot of detailed artifacts remaining, but it was still very cool to see the foundations of buildings that are 8 meters beneath the rest of the modern city. That afternoon after lunch, we headed to the Museu d'Picasso, where I was really surprised to see some of the sophistication in Picasso's earlier paintings (and childish mishaps in his earliest ones), as well as some of his pottery work, which was super cool. The museum also features his 58-image series of reinterpretations of Velaquez's Las Meninas. It was really interesting how looking first at Picasso's image, I had a lot of apprecation for them and the work that was put into finding the perfect abstract forms. But after viewing the video that compared Picasso's work with the sections of Velaquez's original, it seemed like a pathetic attempt of a copy. It's strange how things work that way.

We were really fortunate in Barcelona to meet up a few times with Nina's friend Lucy who was studying there for the semester. I like learning about things wherever I go, and that's hard to do when you don't know much of the language, the English displays are limited, and you don't want to dish out a lot of money for tours. So Lucy was not only a nice companion to show us some of the city life, but she was also a great resource for learning about politics in Barcelona and Catalan language and history in the context of the rest of Spain. On Tuesday, she showed us a restaurant for lunch called La Champagneria (I think), where for every two sandwiches you bought, you could get a bottle of cava (traditional Catalan sparkling wine) for 2 Euro. There were no seats at all to sit, just a crowded bar you had to push through to order, and small ledges to set your bottle and glasses, while sandwiches were kept in a wrap in your hand. It's not something I'd like to experience as a regular lunch routine, but it was certainly a fun time, laughing and attempting to converse over the din of loud Catalans crowded in a small space, drinking more cava than I should at one in the the afternoon, and enjoying some pretty good smoked salmon. It's also a little odd that lunchtime ended up being more exciting than that evening when we met up with some of the IES Barcelona students to chill outside at a bar in Plaza del Sol in the Gràcia district. That area of town was very pretty at night (and it was already pretty in the day), with magnolia trees, the lantern lights, and only the quiet murmur from the bars (though that might have been because 11 pm was still too early in the evening for things to really get started).

Madrid: Thursday 05 - Saturday 07 November

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Nina and I took the Renfe overnight train from Barcelona to Madrid, which was an experience in itself that I wasn't really expecting. Even though we had paid 10 more Euro to get bunks, I think the coach seats might have been just as good a deal, considering I was stuck in a tiny compartment with 6 bunks, pillows no more than a centimeter thick, and a girl right above me who hissed at me when I accidentally hit the bottom of her bed after I had gotten up for a bit (even though she was awake and watching something on her phone the entire time?). It was also during the night on the train that I started catching some sort of flu, and by the morning I was not in the mood to do anything. I had to, since we couldn't check-in to the hostel until noon, but we were able to drop our stuff off, chill out in the weather that once again felt like November (a surprisingly nice change), and warm ourselves up with our first taste of churros dipped in incredible, thick hot chocolate. However, once we did check-in, I was too sick to get back up and out to the city until 5 or so.

While Barcelona is a little smaller than Copenhagen, Madrid is enormous. But we chose only to stay in Old Town and Bourbon Town, which was small enough that we didn't have to use the metro at all except getting from the train station and to the airport. With the help of a guidebook on Spain and a little internet research in the evening, we were able to learn some about the old buildings and sculptures we passed as we walked back and forth through the two districts. There's a lot of history in a capital city like Madrid, almost to the point that it was overwhelming. But it was nice just to stroll through an area (arguably) less chaotic than Barcelona, hitting up awesome playgrounds, listening to slow trumpeters, and feeding sparrows (which, after just one crumb was thrown to one bird, flocked completely around our park bench). We had some tapas and beer in a bar while watching the muted telenovella about Antoni in the Time of Revolution (I think?), and we wandered into La Latina one evening to try a drink in one of the older bars. Even on the times we "went out," it was all just really chill.

But, there are also two outstanding art museums in Madrid that we couldn't miss. We managed to see all of one floor and parts of another in the extensive masterpiece collection of Museo del Prado during its free hours from 6 to 8 in the evening. Apart from seeing Spanish works, like the original Las Meninas and works by Goya and El Greco, the museum also had some really impressive paintings by Rubens and some of the most gorgeous inlaid tabletops I have ever seen (seriously--I enjoyed every tabletop displayed in some of the gallery rooms. There were even two where the artist full-out painted the design before moving on to the actual table). I was particularly struck (and a little disturbed, to be frank) of La Trinidad by Rubens, which featured incredibly realistic stigmata on the figure of Christ. There was also a more medieval-aged tri-fold panel with hell, earth, and heaven--a subject I always find a little interesting in interpretation. Unfortunately, I didn't get enough time to examine it before the closing bells rang and they ushered us out of the building.

I tend to like contemporary art better, but I surprisingly ended up being more impressed with El Prado than with the Reina Sofia 20th century art museum, which features some Dali, as well as Picasso's giant mural Guernica (which is pretty incredible, I must say). The art on display was great overall, but the building used to be a hospital, so the layout (and English descriptions . . . ) was a little to be desired for. On the other hand, it was still super cool to see some of the earliest films, a giant metronome by Man Ray, and a temporary exhibition on Russian Constructivism (which was a nice transition theme for my trip to Prague that evening). Plus, the Reina Sofia was nice enough to offer free student admission.

Last but not least, we spent one afternoon visiting the Catedral Nuestra Señora de Almudena (Cathedral of Our Lady of Almudena). Interestingly enough, "almudena" is taken from an Arabic word for city, and the name references the time that the Virgin Mary appeared in the city walls and she was named the patron saint of Madrid. While I liked the colored lights shining on the cathedral at night, it didn't have a particularly attractive exterior (Neo-Classical = not my style). However, I'm really glad we ventured inside, since it features a Gothic-style sanctuary (my favorite), very modern stained glass, and speakers that filled the hall with some incredible choral music. The ceiling is painted in bright colors, and words representing the word of god appear in several different languages in the stained glass behind the nave. The building itself didn't particularly call to me, but especially with the music playing, wandering around the cathedral had a very calming effect on my day. We also ventured underneath into the Neo-Romanesque designed crypt. Apart from offering the BEST English-translated brochure I have ever seen (including such gems as "sumptuous the columns" and "Ahhh! the tombs!"), I saw a beautiful stone interior with unique capitals on the hundreds of supporting columns.

While the morning I arrived in Madrid I had some good first impressions and was hoping to like it a little better than Barcelona, I wasn't so sure of this by the time I left, and I didn't feel like the two cities were ALL so different. Spain, in general, may just not have been my type of country. With the exception of the Modernisme buildings in Barcelona, the buildings weren't particularly my style; the food, while tasty, did not leave me starving for more; and the prevalent Catholic culture--while not over-bearing--felt like just a little too much to handle. But that's ok! I've seen it, and I'm happy to say I've visited Spain.

Prague: Sunday 08 - Wednesday 11 November

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Let me just say this first: I LOVE PRAGUE. Despite a little bit of trouble getting there, the city left me with a sense of awe: with natural beauty, with the centuries of stories etched in the stone structures, and with the fighting character in a city ravaged by despotic governments in the past 100 years. On top of that, it was just really nice to be able to spend time with my friend Kate, not only just to see a friend, but also to learn a little about the Czech Republic, eat some really cheap American-style Chinese food, and share experiences both about our time abroad and in relation back to DePauw.

With only five hours of sleep, we took our time just talking and slowly getting up and out of her dorm on Sunday. But for the afternoon we headed out to Divoká Šárka--a nature reserve on the edge of town (with some interesting legends, if you'd like to read about it). Even though I live a good 25 km south of Copenhagen's city proper, it has been tiring for me to be stuck in a city environment all the time, and this walk was just what I needed for a little refresher. The wet yellow and red leaves stood out brilliantly against the black rock wall face, the air felt crisp and clean, and families flew kites on the grassy top of the rocks. From the top, we could see the star-shaped summer palace that Kate had learned about in class but had no idea how to get to, and so we decided to embark on an adventure to find it. We ended up winding through more forested paths on steep hillside until we got up close to it, but we still made it!. Although the building was closed, we still found an open park with several Czech families playing frisbee, walking with their dogs, or just enjoying the fall air.

Since Kate had classes almost all day, I spent the next few days exploring some of the city on my own and eating pastries from Tesco that were one third the price of Copenhagen 7-Eleven pastries. Kate walked me up to the grounds of Vyšehrad fortress, where her classes, a pleasant park, the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, and the cramped yet charming Vyšehrad Cemetery stand. After that I just saw the main sights, admiring art noveau at the Mucha Museum, watching the apostles bid you "hello" at the hour on the Astronomical Clock in Old Town Square, walking by the darkened statues on the Charle's Bridge and wondering about their stories, and admiring the (mostly relevant) proclamations of peace on the John Lennon Wall in Mala Strana (Small Town). Prague was also bustling enough to let me find some perfect Christmas gifts, which I am very relieved to have gotten (almost) done.

Although I didn't pay for the audio tour of Prague Castle, I was still able to visit St. Vitus Cathedral, which is the tallest structure in the complex and the most beautiful cathedral I have ever seen. Construction started in the 14th century, but it wasn't not finished until the early 20th century, so the building features a Gothic style in old, worn stone, some Neo-Gothic designs and experimental structures, art noveau embellishments in the stained glass, and some extravagant crypts in the chapels around the nave. Although there were no speakers to echo music throughout the sanctuary, my visit to St. Vitus Cathedral affirmed a suspicion I started to get in Madrid: my favorite thing to visit in cities is not always the museums, but cathedrals and historical places of worship. Even in a very agnostic and/or atheistic country like the Czech Republic, the buildings feel so powerful and speak so much about the people who built them. I wish now I had taken the time to inside the Old-New Synagogue in the Jewish quarter, but at the time, I had not really given thought to it. And, maybe I WILL go back to Spain some day, post-2025, so that I can see the inside of La Sagrada Familia.

The last thing that really struck me in Prague was how recent history has left its mark on the city--with some really ugly Soviet-era buildings and older ones left in disrepair--and its people. In the states, we learn about the Holocaust and about the later Communist regime in school, but to see what it has done to the regions they affected is a totally different experience. I was fortunate enough on Monday to attend a guest lecture at Kate's study program with a Holocaust survivor who painted her life in Terezín (a Nazi-German Jewish ghetto in the Czech Republic) when she was 12 and later, drew some of what she saw in Auschwitz. Now, she is a lucid and happy-appearing 80-year-old woman, but her stories were horrid and moving. I guess I least expected the very visible effect that Communism left. Whether through the funny, yet obviously biased posters for the Museum of Communism, a very striking memorial to the victims of the regime, or just the temporary exhibit that displays personal stories from the tumultuous 20th century, it is apparent that the Czech people have not yet come completely to terms with that period in their history (which ended 20 years ago this coming week). I think that's a good thing: we shouldn't forget.

Europe: A Rant

2009-11-15T11:31:00.001+01:00

Written Saturday, 7 November 2009, 8:53 pm

For this first time, I'm harboring strong feelings of anger at Europe--mother of internet cafés and of no-frill/low-cost airlines with shitty service, land of a union of westernized nations that for some reason refuses to make roaming rates cheap across borders. The only reason I'm experiencing these emotions is because right now a combination of these circumstances have left me completely lost. I'm in the Madrid airport at 9 pm, and my travel buddy from Spain left for London almost 2 hours ago. My flight--which was supposed to get into Prague at 11:15 pm--will be getting in around 1:45 am. The metro in Prague closes at midnight, and my friend who was supposed to be meeting me at the metro station does not have a cell phone. I blew my last Euro on 15 minutes of internet, attempting to e-mail her on the kiosks provided in the airport. Too bad they use a shitty software with an older version of IE that a) doesn't support Facebook, b) doesn't support the web version of Groupwise (my school e-mail), c) for some reason wouldn't let me sign into my Gmail, d) doesn't allow copying or any keyboard functions involving ctrl + something, and e) doesn't even tell you how many minutes you have left. The wireless I can pick up on my laptop would cost € 5 for 30 minutes, and I wasn't comfortable filling in information about my card when it was only in Spanish (not to mention the ridiculous price). So, Europe, what the hell have you left me with in terms of options??? Gracias, amigo. You suck.

At least they gave us vouchers for a free Fanta and jamon sandwich. But it's Spanish ham--which means it's smoked and doesn't even look cooked (though it did taste wonderful!). And that does not solve my transportation problems. At all.

Editor's Note at time of posting: I have to admit I was a little embarrassed later, but I'm posting this anyway. I'm 20 years old. I should have been able to handle this without breaking down and beginning to pinpoint who I thought was American and I could communicate with if worst came to worst and nothing panned out. But, I was very lucky, and Kate was waiting for me at the airport when I got there. Granted, I scared her when the flight was coming in and I had not come out until after everyone else (since I was sitting by baggage claim frantically checking if she was on Skype via the Prague airport's gracious free internet), and then the night trams didn't get us to her dorm until 5 in the morning (at which point we saw the day trams beginning their rounds). BUT, it was fantastic.

Also, the stupid Madrid airport changed our gate post-delay without announcing it. Poor service.

350

2009-10-26T21:44:00.001+01:00

(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 . . ."

2009-10-22T22:21:00.001+02:00

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

2009-10-17T14:30:00.008+02:00

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

2009-10-16T14:03:00.002+02:00

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

2009-10-13T21:15:00.001+02:00

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!

2009-10-12T23:36:00.002+02:00

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)

2009-10-03T23:08:00.002+02:00

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

2009-10-02T15:39:00.000+02:00

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

2009-10-01T21:54:00.006+02:00

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.

The Small Things--Touching Base After a Month of Pretending to be Danish!

2009-09-28T21:56:00.002+02:00

There's so much to talk about here in Denmark, but so little time to blog! I feel like I skip over a lot of the little things I'm experiencing, but I promise to write more about it in the future. Some of the ideas are even in my head--I'm just waiting for the right time.

In the meantime, I finally had a weekend without major plans, where I was able to both chain down some travel break reservations and bounce around the vibrance of Copenhagen in the evening, lit with a little neon, dusted with nightlife litter (and the beggars who pick up bottles to get the 1 krone refund), and filled with the sounds of people--alive, laughing, and dancing. I even went to a bar made out of ice, where we had to wear fur-lined ponchos and a group of Danish women from the mainland approached my boisterous group of Americans to learn about why we're here and make us congo around the ice table. DIS students were told that Danes are often considered 'cold' because they don't like to approach anyone they don't know. But skål (cheers) to these women for defying the norm!

My host-mom, Kirsten, gave me a pile of Danish CDs to try after I went to the library on Friday and unsuccessfully attempted to select some music that I might like. I'm slowly working my way through it, although I haven't been incredibly impressed so far (it's just not my style). But right now I'm listening to Lars H.U.G., who's pretty good! He kind of reminds me of Toad the Wet Sprocket with a little more of country and pop sounds and hooks. I wasn't sure what to expect because Kirsten had said he was "very special," and the last time she used that phrase was in reference to Christiania. I also need to listen to a little more of Grand Avenue, though, which she claims is kind of like Coldplay (and her sister LOVES them).

Lastly, I feel a need to write about a potentially sensitive topic about national identity and outsider perception. In my Danish class, there's a lot of effort to learn not just the language, but also the concept of 'Danishness' as it applies in both historical and contemporary cultural contexts. There are, surprisingly, quite a few articles on the issue (not to mention sometimes conflicting views from my host-family), and I'm not having the easiest time sorting it out. Plus, everytime we learn about something that is supposedly a staple of Danish culture, I can't help but wonder, "Is this truly universal, or is it just what we're learning? What do most Danes actually think?" We hear about how Danes are so homogeneous that they're almost a 'tribe'--does this still hold in the 21st century?

As an American, I've always lacked a sense of a concrete, shared culture with my nationality. However, I know that someone, somewhere is being taught the ways I supposedly think and act, and either they're completely wrong, or I'm completely clueless about how I fit into American culture. I learned this week that my host brother Jonas' English class is currently going through a unit about school shootings in America, and I'm at a loss for how I feel about this. On one hand, it's downright insulting to insinuate that school shootings are a 'part' of American culture. On the other hand--I doubt that's what they're trying to say by including this unit in the curriculum. It is, after all, a horrid phenomenon that is increasing worldwide, and it's important to remember these disasters and learn how to locate warning signs. And maybe I'm wrong about its place within the history of American society! I mean, I just looked at the Wikipedia article about school shootings and was surprised to see 14 events listed from 2008 to present--most of which I had no idea occurred. Kirsten said there has only been one event in Denmark that could be called a "school shooting." Is this a specifically American problem, or is it also due to the fact that we're so much larger? I'm still just unsure. I'm not trying to say that the English classes here should only focus on the positive aspects of culture, but I can't help but question the appropriateness of this particular subject.

There's Something About Samsø

2009-09-22T22:57:00.007+02:00

First and foremost, Samsø is a municipality of about 4000 permanent residents--2500 in the main village of Tranebjerg, while the remaining 1500 are scattered throughout the other villages and connected by a network of quiet roads and a patchwork quilt of increasingly industrial farming projects. It is also one of the 78 inhabited Danish islands, 114 km2 (44 mi2) in area, and home to maybe 25,000 vacationers throughout the year. Despite the charm of the 300-year-old half-timber houses with their thatch roofs, Samsø is a polarized community, separated historically by a bog in the northern part of the island and a now-dry canal that dates back to 737 CE. The accents heard across the island are more similar to the accents at the nearest mainland ports than they are to each other, and even in such a small space, the islanders divide the regions in terms of class.

And yet, there is a high amount of trust. Samsø is a place where farmers set up shelves outside their homes to sell their goods day and night--with nothing but a locked box to deposit money in. These kiosks were everywhere on the island, selling garage sale junk, crafts, extra vegetables, famous Samsø kartoffler (potatoes--the island boasts the most delicate in Denmark), strawberry marmalade, and pumpkins (the recent increase in the popularity of Halloween has made this place the 'Pumpkin Capital of Denmark'). And if you see someone walking down the otherwise deserted street, you might just be able to get her to lead you to the oldest house in the village: a circa 1600 Captain's homestead that has been in the same family for the past 12 generations. Then, the 11th generation granddaughter might lead you around her home, where she'll show you the old gravestone that her 5th generation grandfather took down to use as a place for the milk jugs and tell you about how in the early 20th century, 1 person in every third house on the street would emigrate to America.

However, in most recent years, tourists don't come to Samsø to see this community of old European villages. Instead, they (including myself and 29 others in my group that went last weekend on a DIS-sponsored trip) come to see an island that has made themselves carbon neutral and energy-sustainable in just 10 years, thanks in part to a competition the Danish government held back in 1997, which called for a public-driven energy project that used existing technology and government subsidies. Today, residents generate all their electricity from 11 wind turbines on the island. They heat their homes by burning straw or woodchips at district heating plants, and solar panels in the northern section provide hot water. Plus, 10 off-shore windmills export energy to the mainland, which offsets the island's transportation and heating carbon enough to lower each resident's carbon footprint to -3.7 tonnes per year. In the meantime, the rest of the country still chugs along at 10 tonnes of carbon dioxide per person per year. The average American? We'll . . . we emit 20 tonnes.

I realize that all I've done here is throw s list of facts at you, but I don't really have a better way of expressing this feat. How can a small island, graced with that conservative mentality of waiting before trying anything new (much like Indiana) achieve this goal? Was it the way the project made sure all voices around the island were heard in the process? Or maybe it was the emphasis on personal gain for both the projects themselves and involvement with their construction? The focus on use of local resources and businesses?

As far as my experience on Samsø goes, I sure can say how much fun I had biking and hiking in the gorgeous weather, collecting smooth rocks in the Baltic Sea, and climbing a wind turbine. I can marvel over the history of the community as it develops from it's long-built dichotomy to a place that attracts forward-thinking businesses, like the organic Samsø Bryghus (brewery) and restaurant. But what I won't forget for a while is the impression that these people have made on me. Even with somewhat of an opposition, they worked together to do something miraculous. Indiana may not have the same resources or the laws in place that could allow this to happen (yet), but I direly hope they can learn from this example.

For more information, visit Energiakademiet.

Kage

2009-09-17T21:06:00.001+02:00

Check this baby out!

This would be the hindbær brombær kage that I bought myself today because I got everything done in a timely matter.
Ok, really, I was just in Christianshavn where there's a really good bakery that I had been planning on going back to for one of these--I just needed an excuse to do it. It was good! The blackberries could have been a little more ripe, and I wish I had a napkin, but the raspberry cream was awesome, and the cake--which was covered in a cold, chocolate shell--tasted kind of like banana.
What was even more exciting was that it was the first time that, after I'd used more than just monosyllabic Danish words, the cashier actually responded to me in Danish! Of course, I then had to embarrassingly admit that I only spoke English when she asked if I wanted it to go. Oh well.

And then I got an awesome seat in the front of the Metro, where I could see it going through the tunnel. The Metro also utilizes video ads that are projected on the opposite wall of the tunnel when the trains are stopped at stations? I must say it's a little weird.

Adventures in Happiness

2009-09-16T19:15:00.003+02:00

Pre-departure for Copenhagen, both my parents had the habit of telling people that I was going to Denmark solely to take the "Psychology of Happiness" core course. This wasn't entirely true. In fact--from what I could see about it online--it looked like a wishy-washy class about staying positive, and my first response was to suppress the gag reflex. But hey, if you're going to take a course like this, why not take in in the "happiest country on Earth"?

Well, while it's true that any place we have visited with this class has buttered us up with a combination of tea/coffee, snacks, and a non-traditional seating environment (all of which I couldn't be more stoked about!), I could not have made a less accurate prediction of what the "psychology of happiness" entails. Positive psychology is a very real (and fascinating) science. Sure, it may be more on the social spectrum of psychology fields (which isn't particularly my preference), but that doesn't stop it from peering into what makes humans tick at our best levels. That statement, at any rate, is what I like about psychology--not the abnormal, but the parameters in which we normally operate, which help us feel emotions, react to them in certain ways, and excel over other species.

I write this now because I spent last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday with my classmates in this course on our short study tour to Jylland (Jutland, the western peninsula in Denmark). In addition, I had a field study for the course today, and I have a reflection paper due tomorrow (blog-writing is a good way to collect my thoughts on the matter). Every single place we visited has been an inspiration to me--right down to the non-academic/cultural visits to Koldinghus castle and the Trapholt museum in Kolding. Who knew that efforts to preserve the ruins of a burnt wing in a castle or the smooth and well-crafted forms of furniture could help form my perspective of happiness within the Danish "tribe"?

Our academic visits, on the other hand, had a strong base in applied psychology, bringing research and positive psychology theories into pedagogy and the workforce. I was especially expecting to get a little bored at the visit to the Kaospilots in Århus (Denmarks' second largest city). We were told that they were school that focused on entrepreneurial skills for youth. What they should have told us is that it's a secondary school of awesomeness, where students (some of which already have a bachelors degree, and others have just spent time doing something else since high school) spend three years learning how to direct their own skills to something good for the world. Kaospilot grads essentially learn how to live a meaningful life, and while most do not choose to get an actual degree for it, they can still find a job or create their own business.

We also had visits to the Universe Research Lab and Danfoss Universe experience park, both run by the Universe Foundation in conjunction with Danfoss--a huge Danish company in the heating/cooling business. I know that doesn't at all sound related to psychology, but what Danfoss has done is comparable to if Ford built a science/kid's museum on the outskirts of Detroit and devoted a separate foundation to improved education for young Michiganers. The Universe Research Lab was behind a lot of what gets put into the Danfoss Universe park. They also have a two-year project with the schools in Vejle, researching working conditions, well-being, and learning for students, teachers, and administrators. What's even cooler is that the project makes schools to develop their OWN improvement plan, based on the results from the surveys.

And then there's Danfoss Universe, which was just pure awesomeness in only a few acres of space. I think a lot of Danish parents are skeptical about the quality of this park. After all, there are no rides--just learning. However, you get to ride segways, play with energy, spin around on awesome playground equipment, play with ACTUAL excavators (not the kids-sized ones we had at my pre-school playground!) and lift a car, for pete's sake! Do you know how many 20-year-olds attacked the lever to lift a car? Pretty much all of us. And we all had to have a turn being lifted on the ropes when other people let go. Danfoss Universe also features a giant blue cube that was Iceland's pavilion in the 2000 World Expo, and an exhibit that encourages kids to explore their multiple intelligences (which I unfortunately was not able to spend a lot of time in).

These businesses don't advertise as part of the positive psychology movement. They don't sell self-help books that will just make us feel worse when we don't need them. Instead, they improve the world by helping individuals grow on their own terms. And that's what it's all about.

Vesterbro

2009-09-15T19:19:00.003+02:00

Yesterday evening, I took my first jaunt through Vesterbro on my way to a meeting with the Danish Climate Movement. Vesterbro is the southwest borrough of Copenhagen, and the area is lined with nearly mature trees and buildings that feel a bit more spacious than those in the city centre. It's odd, because while the city centre consists of winding streets and tight buildings from the 17-1800's, Vesterbro looks like it's older--even though it was probably only built in the early to mid 20th century (at my best guess).

It seems to gradually be developing into a hip sort of place, and it feels more like a city of youth than the other borroughs do. I'll have to explore it more another time, but my goal yesterday evening was to find the office and talk about climate with 3 Danes and several other DIS students. It was good--just eating Danish butter cookies and working in the dark, inadvertently saving some energy (at least until someone noted the humor in it, and we turned on the lights). Danish butter cookies, by the way, are not quite as good here as they are in the US. They also don't come in giant tins.

P.S. Dinner with my host family this evening was a delicious meal that consisted of a cubed potatoes with bacon, beef, and pork, sitting on top of traditional Danish black bread, topped with fried eggs and beets. My host family added ketchup, but that's not really my thing. I believe it might have been called something that sounded like ~~bækesmad~~ biksemad (with a soft 'd' that sounds more like an 'l'). ~~I probably butchered that word~~.

Weekend Update

2009-09-09T22:41:00.004+02:00

Looking ahead for my schedule, I decided it was best to post one massive entry about recent goings-on. After all, I'm going to Jylland (aka Jutland, the western peninsula) this weekend, and I don't want to be behind on my entries when I get back!

Weekends continue to be a haven of various experiences from different aspects of Danish cultures. My Saturday was the most normal day, per say. It started with some cleaning (ok, I vacuumed my room, after they literally vacuumed the entire house at about 8 in the morning), and then I went with my family to watch my host brother's (Jonas) handball game. Handball is a sport that is more commonly played in Denmark than anywhere else, and it's like a cross between football (soccer) and basketball, with physical contact/defense added in. Afterward, my family was hosting a dinner party. We had been warned that Danish dinners (even on normal days) can last for several hours, and this was no exception (though it wasn't that different from a dinner party back home). The length is aided by the long space of talking (or watching tv--like Denmark vs. Portugal world cup qualifying match) between courses: salad, meal, desert. The drinks changed with the courses, too! We went from beer, to wine, and then to coffee and tea with desert (after which the men went back to beer).

This little party was less of a lesson in traditional Danish meals and more of just an experience of Danish life through the conversations. This included a much-anticipated (albeit small) discussion about the American health care debate. All that really happened was a consensus between the four adults and I that a change was needed in American health care to provide it for those who can't afford it. They noted that wait times can be long for care in Denmark, but they didn't complain. I also learned that most businesses provide employees with a basic insurance for normal, minor doctor's visits. They only rely on the government care for the bigger issues, like heart surgery.

The only shock I had was when one guest--14-year-old Thomas--was offered some food in Danish, and he responded, "Fuck yeah!" I could only laugh, because while "fuck" is a common word among American youth--we usually don't dare use it at the dinner table. In the subsequent discussion, I learned that it's common here because it's on the American movies on the television so often (the subtitles are censored; the audio track is not), and because it's an English cuss-word, it's generally considered ok. What was even more surprising to me was when I went to the "children's" section of the Statens Museum for Kunst (the National Gallery) this afternoon and I saw a painting entitled, "OH MY GOD! That plant is a fucking vacuum!" It should be noted that said painting was not the only questionable item in the kid's gallery. I'm getting the sense that anything goes when it comes to art in this country.

All this being said, the greater part of my weekend took place not at home, but at the Technical University of Copenhagen (DTU) in Lyngby for CO2PENHAGEN--the world's first carbon-neutral music festival. It was a pretty uneventful Friday night--when I took an 8 pm to 4 am volunteer shift so that I could get a free pass to the festival. This involved me essentially bouncing for the lounge area for bands, which is normally a student bar. I met more Danes than I have on any other occasion! Unfortunately, they were drunk and the conversations usually didn't go very far beyond the set of 5 questions I was consistently asked. At least they were friendly (no, really--they could be a lot of fun). It was also unfortunate that I didn't get to spend much time with the other volunteers because my supervisor kept me at my post most of the time. They were an interesting bunch of people, though--mostly international students (only one was Danish--all but 5 others I met were American). I think that speaks a lot about the universal appeal this type of event has.

It was more eventful when I went back on Sunday. I wandered around and saw the tents about the earth. I signed a giant petition that will be given to the delegates at COP15. I paid 25 kroner and hopped on a bike until I reached 75 kcal to have a smoothie. I watched some short films, stopped by the music, and took some Danish buttons about loving the environment from the transportation representatives there.

One thing that was great about the festival was that they didn't buy any carbon offsets, which are kind of a cheap way to reach "carbon neutrality." However, that doesn't mean that they used completely carbon-free energy supplies. In fact, while all their sources are renewable, the majority of them are biofuel and do emit CO2. The organizers argue that since this involves re-planting, this can be considered carbon-neutral. I'm not sure if I agree, but I admire the festival's purpose just the same. Either way--it's still a step towards being conscious consumers in all aspects of our lives: even the exorbitant entertainment sector.

And I mean, really--any place that can get teams to bike to power a DJ and LED lights is cool. Because of this, I can actually officially say I biked with an Italian cycling team, since "Bella Italia" needed help generating more power than "Denmark + French guy" and I was bored and wanted to get on a bike again--even if I was wearing a dress, leggings and snow boots! Besides, those stationaries that they had were pretty cool. This also inspired me to finally get on my host-bike this morning and explore the countryside and the network of pedestrian/bike paths around my municipality, but that's another story entirely, and it's time to sign off from this long post.

Enjoy and please tell me your thoughts! If you're interested, more photos of the festival are on Picasa and fb.

Advent of Autumn

2009-09-07T18:54:00.004+02:00

I thought I'd be a little upset once fall creeped in and the weather got cold and wet. However, I always change my minds with the seasons, and it's not so cool or constantly rainy yet that I can't enjoy a walk through Langelinie and the Kastellet--which together are essentially the Central Park of Copenhagen (though they are smaller--the effect is the same). Most of the leaves are still green, but they're yellowing at the edges, and the ground is dusted with crunchy early falls. The water in the two moats around the Kastellet is some of the clearest I've seen since I've been here, and it's calming to watch the grebes, swans, and the great blue heron around the underwater plants. And, just like any other place in Copenhagen, the park is full of the charming green copper monuments and statuettes.

I'll take the time to explain my weekend later, and post more pictures from this gorgeous day on facebook and the picasa gallery. There will be captions there, too (you just have to visit the blog album in the picasa gallery; a link is on the right).

Destination Dystopia: Christiania

2009-09-05T13:53:00.002+02:00

DIS students have Wednesdays set aside for field studies--3 hour trips to places around town as a supplement to class material. We usually have about two of these per class, which means that some days, we have an entirely free day. My friends and I decided it would be worthwhile to take a trip to Christiania--the "free town" on the southern outskirts of Copenhagen in Christianhavn. My host family referred to it as a "special place," and were surprised when I said I hadn't heard of it before. It's famous for its antics around Europe.

I must say that we were a little disappointed. The concept of a "free town" sounds incredible (though not necessarily ideal), and I was envisioning a bustling little village of hippies. That is half-true, but Pusher Street (yes, you heard me right) was the only place the slightest bit lively, and even then, it was mostly drug paraphernalia, rasta-related souvenirs, and your regular hippie clothing and accessories (though I did see a purse I liked . . . thinking of going back to get it). It was surprisingly unoriginal.

There were some very cool parts, too. It is a very open community that has an emphasis on sharing resources and rules by consensus. I also loved the murals on the walls, mosaic sculptures hidden in bushes, a few art studios, and several make-shift hand-painted playgrounds with tree forts, tire swings, and old equipment (I really wanted to play on them, but I also just kept wondering, "Kids live here??"). Since the land the town rests on used to be military area, the majority of non-residential buildings are warehouses, which means that cafes tended to have this welcoming, open atmosphere.. One of them--The Moonfisher--not only had a giant mural of a man sitting on the moon, smoking a joint and fishing, but it also proclaimed itself the "Safest Cafe in the World--over 6000 armed police inspections since March 2004."

That being said, this was all in the context of a rather dingy area, with overgrown plants, neglected roads and pathways, and houses that ranged from the visionary to something so make-shift that it was almost slum-like. Since the residents are essentially squatters on land owned by the state of Denmark (although the rest of the town has to approve for them to build there), residents don't pay property tax (they still pay income tax if they have a job and they recently started paying taxes on utilities). Personally, I think that's a little selfish of them to take advantage of Danish welfare while not fully participating. It's stupid that instead of focusing on how to make Christiania more self-sufficient, residents instead declare their freedom with frivolities like minting their own currency.

I know it could be argued that without Christiania, there would be a lot more people who can't afford to live in the Copenhagen area. To be honest, I think the town should stay--there's no reason to get rid of it. The issue with pot trade could probably be dealt with a lot better, but I have no opinion about it. However, despite its "free" nature, I wish the country and the town could come together to arrange an official agreement about their status. It might make it easier for everyone, or even improve the state of living within the town.

(on the back of the entrance gate to Christiania)

Umbrella fury

2009-09-04T06:49:00.000+02:00

Really, how pathetic do you have to be to steal an umbrella? Especially when you already have your own that will cover you on the rainy streets of Copenhagen--even if it has no handle?
Some people are lame.

Øl and Festuge

2009-08-30T23:13:00.002+02:00

Despite the fact that I spent an hour Friday evening on a canal tour and the greater part of Saturday touring Kronburg Castle in Helsingør*, this weekend was my first look into real Danish entertainment culture: food, drink, music, and football.

When I returned to my small town on Saturday evening, I left with my family only a half hour later for Køge--a city of about 55,000 that's one of the oldest towns in the country and 10 km south of where I live. Every year, the town holds the Køge Festuge--several days of free music, expensive beer, and carnival stands in the middle of their town square. My host family had already been the night before to see a fairly well-known band called Infernal, and tonight we were returning to see the headliner--Aqua (of "Barbie Girl" fame).

For dinner, we went just down the street from the festival on the square and had a small cook-out on the back patio of my host-dad's sister's house. It was small, but the weather has been cooling--so all of us huddled around the small grill, chatting (mostly in Danish) and drinking some beer (øl) was very hygge (cozy--big Danish word). There wasn't a wide selection of food, but rather, a large quantity of Danish-style hot dogs--extra long franks just piled on top of the grill, with heated buns, Danish remoulade (so much better than ketchup or mustard! although those were also available), homemade cucumbers, and roasted onions (they look like bacon bits, but they're extremely popular).

After dinner, I joined a friend from DIS who's staying in Køge to wait for Aqua to start. We only knew three songs, but that was besides the point. It was just fun to be a part of this solid mass of people in the middle of a city at nearly 11 at night, excited about listening to some music and getting slightly annoyed at the two men behind us who were ecstatically into the show. People around who lived on the square just stuck their heads out the window, and the silhouette of the copper statue was always present in the backlighting of the stage. The one thing we worried about was pushing our way through the crowd to find a spot where we could see decently enough. This ended up not working out anyway, since there were multiple five-year-old girls sitting on their father's shoulders, right in my line of sight for the stage. But nevertheless, I was unsure about how us two English-speaking crowd-pushers would be perceived, and I was not yet comfortable enough with the Danish words to say anything at all except my English conversation.

I had a similar situation this evening at the FCK vs. Brøndby football match I went to for my Danish class. It would have been an incredible opportunity for me to try to use some of the Danish I've learned (especially when ordering my French hot dog), but I forgot to, and the woman behind the counter knew I spoke English just by the way I said "park dog" when I was ordering.

The game itself, however, was pretty incredible. It was between the top two teams in Denmark, so, naturally, each side has a very fervent following. I got there a little later due to transportation confusion, and it was a little disconcerting to see the riot vans lining up outside the stadium as we were going in. Both teams were obviously very good (it ended up being a tie!), and the fans were so loud at some points that it was almost deafening. Poor sportsmanship was abound (the players shoved each other when the ball wasn't in play, and Brøndby supporters through things at the FCK goalie, who later had to be taken out on a stretcher from being hit by another player), but I was still impressed by the fan dedication. And it's nice not to have all the cutesy videos and cheerleaders during time outs: it was all game!

*(side note: Kronburg is completely gorgeous and has some fascinating historical background. It's the setting for Shakespeare's Hamlet, and also where Jude Law is currently performing as Hamlet; unfortunately, I didn't see him. More pictures will be on Picasa and Facebook)

Culture Shock?

2009-08-27T22:04:00.003+02:00

I needed an introductory post for you all graciously reading my cliché blog. Please ignore the cliché title--it's part of the package.

I have been in Copenhagen for nearly a week now, arriving Sunday morning after an exhaustingly boring flight. Since then, I have been thrown information and opportunities at every angle by DIS and my host family. It's certainly been overwhelming, and the 600-strong student body (of which I only recognize about 30 at this point) has not been a huge help. Nevertheless, classes started this morning, and as we move into routine schedules, get into the groove of learning, and arrange social and travel plans, it will all start to feel right.

BUT, you're not here to read about my mental and emotional well-being. What about the city? The food? The people?

Well, let me say from the get-go that I do not like to set hard expectations. Hopes and dreams, yes. But expectations? I can't set them or I will be very disappointed when they are not met. I fantasized all summer about what Europe would be like. My Dad mentioned to me yesterday that many people who have never been outside the US may seem to think that everything "Euro" is perfect. And yes, I think that is what I was envisioning pre-departure--after all, I'm going to the happiest country on earth! I was also grappling with my identity as an American. I mean, obviously, someone who's lived in Indiana for all 20 years of her life is nothing BUT American. But I've also always liked to think of myself as somewhat classier and less culturally arrogant than the majority, and I was fully anticipating those visions to be horribly shattered once I began my studies in Copenhagen.

It was the airplane to my layover in Stockholm that brought me my first touch of reality. First it was the realization that everyone on the plane was able to speak English to me, and I could not have been more grateful. It would have been so indescribably alienating if the situation was different, and I could only feel a little shame for not being able to reciprocate.

Second, I had the sudden realization mid-flight that Copenhagen is a city . . . like New York or Chicago. It's not just a totally awesome historic district, but a city. I don't think anything could have prepared me for what I would find on the ground: the woosh of bicycles at every intersection, the sudden light changes at the crosswalk, the tight, winding streets, and the fact that I have to walk down an alley way to get into my classes, which are held in a building that also rents office space to other tenants. And then there are things you would find in American cities as well: incredibly complex graffiti on the S-trains, immigrants digging through trash cans for food, and ads for something every 20 meters. I quickly became accustomed to this reality, but I'm still working my way through it and balancing my comfort level with a place my host mom described as somewhere you need to be careful, but where there is no need to worry about safety.

For the most part, I do not believe I have a horrible case of the "romantic" stage of Culture Shock. Granted, I am still very much a tourist (and not too ashamed to admit that). I will be for a while until I know the city and stop being so interested in every new corner. I love the colors of the buildings, the ornate metal work, the canal, the eclectic shops, and all those beautiful corroded copper statues. But the people, their attitudes, and the symbiosis of land and social strata are more important.

So, with one week short of three months left to go, I declare this blog open to my every observation I wish to make public. Maybe I'll make a few conclusions on the way, finally learn to think a little like a Dane, or simply just notice way more than might be healthy. We shall just wait and see.