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

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.

A Few Curiosities and Comicalities

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.

Of Flags and Fridays

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

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

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

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