She was an American Girl

Yesterday I realized two things:
1. I live in Europe.
2. I am such an American.

Now, I've had my suspicions about these facts, but they got up in my face yesterday like little punks looking for a fight. They puffed out their chests and curled their lips and invaded my personal space. "Yeah, Franni, yeah - you're in Copenhagen now. And you're not just visiting either. Nuh-uh, you ain't no tourist - this is your home punk. And guess what? You are a total American. Yeah, I said it - you couldn't be European if you tried. You heard me. Yeah, man, yeah - WHAT??"

It always takes awhile for changes in my reality to sink in. After 3 days, I accepted the fact that I am finally in Europe. I guess I needed 3 weeks to understand that I live here. This might be why I am so good with change - I don't comprehend that things are actually changing until after they happen! And then it is too late to go back. This can be a positive or a negative thing, but I'll continue my optimistic streak, thankyouverymuch.

The streets of Copenhagen and Dragør now feel familiar. They don't belong to me like the roads of Boston, nor do I ever think they will. You can live anywhere, but home only comes once or twice in a lifetime. Though I love this country, I don't think think I will ever want to expat permanently. Despite my complaining about "the U-S-and-A," I love those purple mountains majesty too much to ever completely leave them behind.

Which brings me to realization #2. At this point, I humbly request that you play "American Girl" by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers for full effect.

Friday night I went out with Gail and a few of her friends at DIK (Denmark's International Kollegium). We had a blast. Dinner was an abundance of carbs (pasta, bread, cake) and silly stories, followed by the silliest S-tog ride you could imagine. I don't have the time or energy to describe it all, but let's just say that the macarena and an "America's Next Top Model" contest were heavily featured. PS: we drank Asti at dinner, Kait, and obviously I thought of you and Mickey Av.

We went to a couple of bars with some Danish girls Gail had met while volunteering at a gymnasium (high school). While clacking along the Copenhagen cobblestones (in heels!), I talked to a girl from Barcelona. Irene - pronounced "Ee-rhen-ah" is very sophisticated and flirtatious and I found it hard to believe that she only just turned 20. She started telling me about which European men are the best kissers (Spaniards and Italians - the French are too arrogant) and how to ask for a cigarette light and how to get men to buy you drinks. We then practiced the "Barcelona walk," which basically involves sticking your tits and ass out to the point of physical discomfort. Irene thought it was sexy, I thought it looked like we had inverse scoliosis.

Irene is glamorous and sexy and very very very Euro. I was so wowed by her for the bulk of the night. "You speak how many languages? Five? And you've been smoking since you were thirteen? Wow!" I felt really young and unsophisticated and, ugh, American. I tried posturing like her to be sexy and mysterious, and it kind of worked because, over the course of the night, several Danish guys came up to me. And that felt pretty awesome.

But at the end of the night, I had more fun splitting a giant pizza at 2AM with Gail and Caitlin. And I had more fun taking off the high heels and padding around in bright green socks than strutting on the street. I'd rather make chocolate chip pancakes in the morning than wake up next to Andreas or Søren or whoever.

The next morning, hugging my pillow on the train ride home, I made peace with my American ways. I like being low maintenance. Some nights it can be fun to get dressed up at hit Retro or Wall Street Bar and pose and be impossibly fabulous. But I spent Saturday night in my tie-dyed sweatpants, watching "Amelie" on my computer and eating Nutella out of the jar with a spoon.

Of course then, later that night, I dreamed of moving to Monmartre and riding on a Vespa with my beloved Nino Quincompoix and being marvelously European...

... but those are the dreams of the American girl.