Today I took a long bike ride along the water. It still feels summery out in Dragør - I love it. Nothing to report except general contentment. And I think this video pretty much sums up how I feel out here.
But it also works double duty. RIP Paul Newman, one of the greatest movie stars and philanthropists. His legacy will be as luminous as those baby blue eyes.
Showing posts with label bicycles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycles. Show all posts
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Always remember you like a child, girl
I think everyone should have a Danish childhood.
These kids are so free. They have no fear, no reservations, nothing but a need to explore. The same could be said for most children, I'm sure, but the difference here is that their parents and teachers appreciate their hunger for adventure and cultivate it. The kids at my practicum are under 3 years old, and they are far more independant than many American children of 6, 7, or perhaps 8 (I'm sorry I can't go into details. Policy.)
One of my favorite things about my host family's house in Dragør is the huge trampoline in the backyard. Tobias and Jonathan are up there whenever they have a free 15 minutes. Their favorite trick is to fall straight back, bounce, then jump up onto their feet again. They don't look down - they just fall, bounce, and land on their feet.
I'll spare you the obvious metaphor, but watching the boys has made me re-evaluate the way I live. I wouldn't say that I'm a fearful person or that I avoid risk or don't enjoy life or any such nonsense. What I would say is that I am afraid of falling.
Literally.
Re-learning how to ride a bike last week, I wobbled so terribly that Trine looked away. "If you think you're going to fall, you're going to fall," Jacob said.
I didn't see one of the funniest, most comically obscene signs in Copenhagen (a green cartoon woman with grenades for breasts - I'll upload a photo tomorrow) because I was too busy watching my feet on the cobblestones, making sure my heels didn't get caught in the cracks.
Last weekend, I took baby steps walking down from the old fort because the rotting wood felt a little too rickety underneath.
Danish people don't do this. I need to get over my literal fear of klutziness. If I fall, I fall. So what? Scraped knees build character and street cred. Plus, maybe taking more physical risks will lead to intellectual, emotional, experiential risks as well - who knows?
Yesterday, Robin and I got "pizza" (huge, thick blocks of Sicillian-style, folded in half, wrapped in wax paper, and served vertically. Not bad for 11 kr.) and wandered around Rådhusplasen. He says that, on a scale of 1-10, Danes are a 9.2 "Even New Yorkers don't rank that high!" he laughed, shunning his fellow downtown Manhattan intellectuals. We cited the healthy lifestyle, freedom from want, closeness to nature, love of food and culture, and general lack of neurosis as reasons the Danes collectively rock our socks. "I'm glad I came here for study abroad, because I really do think that life is better here," he said, "So when I go back to Swarthmore, and say that everything is better abroad, I won't sound like as much of a jerk because Copenhagen is really obsure. Anyone can talk about Paris or London, but Copenhagen? People just ask if that's in Sweden."
True story. These people deserve more global props.
We then went to an exhibit on Nordic children's books at town hall. They were beautiful, creative, funny, and fucked-up. We were especially captivated by the story about a dog who gets eaten by another dog, then gets pooped out, run over by a car, covered in blood and gore, and, finally, stitched back together. Could I make this up? Lordy, I hope not.
Later that day, I rode my bike to the airport. I enjoyed the view of the ocean, watched the cruise ships glide to Finland, and scattered a group of sparrows as I pedaled my 3-speed down the pavement. Then I heard a whirring noise, looked up, and saw a HUGE SAS plane directly overhead. It is the lowest I'd ever seen an aircraft fly. 10 minutes later, another plane came in for a landing - so we raced. I picked up the pace and flew my bike directly under the aircraft. This game continued through the end of "rush hour."
Exhausted, I came back to an empty house. Immediately, I hopped on the trampoline. I let myself fall blindly backwards, bounce, and land on my feet again.
These kids are so free. They have no fear, no reservations, nothing but a need to explore. The same could be said for most children, I'm sure, but the difference here is that their parents and teachers appreciate their hunger for adventure and cultivate it. The kids at my practicum are under 3 years old, and they are far more independant than many American children of 6, 7, or perhaps 8 (I'm sorry I can't go into details. Policy.)
One of my favorite things about my host family's house in Dragør is the huge trampoline in the backyard. Tobias and Jonathan are up there whenever they have a free 15 minutes. Their favorite trick is to fall straight back, bounce, then jump up onto their feet again. They don't look down - they just fall, bounce, and land on their feet.
I'll spare you the obvious metaphor, but watching the boys has made me re-evaluate the way I live. I wouldn't say that I'm a fearful person or that I avoid risk or don't enjoy life or any such nonsense. What I would say is that I am afraid of falling.
Literally.
Re-learning how to ride a bike last week, I wobbled so terribly that Trine looked away. "If you think you're going to fall, you're going to fall," Jacob said.
I didn't see one of the funniest, most comically obscene signs in Copenhagen (a green cartoon woman with grenades for breasts - I'll upload a photo tomorrow) because I was too busy watching my feet on the cobblestones, making sure my heels didn't get caught in the cracks.
Last weekend, I took baby steps walking down from the old fort because the rotting wood felt a little too rickety underneath.
Danish people don't do this. I need to get over my literal fear of klutziness. If I fall, I fall. So what? Scraped knees build character and street cred. Plus, maybe taking more physical risks will lead to intellectual, emotional, experiential risks as well - who knows?
Yesterday, Robin and I got "pizza" (huge, thick blocks of Sicillian-style, folded in half, wrapped in wax paper, and served vertically. Not bad for 11 kr.) and wandered around Rådhusplasen. He says that, on a scale of 1-10, Danes are a 9.2 "Even New Yorkers don't rank that high!" he laughed, shunning his fellow downtown Manhattan intellectuals. We cited the healthy lifestyle, freedom from want, closeness to nature, love of food and culture, and general lack of neurosis as reasons the Danes collectively rock our socks. "I'm glad I came here for study abroad, because I really do think that life is better here," he said, "So when I go back to Swarthmore, and say that everything is better abroad, I won't sound like as much of a jerk because Copenhagen is really obsure. Anyone can talk about Paris or London, but Copenhagen? People just ask if that's in Sweden."
True story. These people deserve more global props.
We then went to an exhibit on Nordic children's books at town hall. They were beautiful, creative, funny, and fucked-up. We were especially captivated by the story about a dog who gets eaten by another dog, then gets pooped out, run over by a car, covered in blood and gore, and, finally, stitched back together. Could I make this up? Lordy, I hope not.
Later that day, I rode my bike to the airport. I enjoyed the view of the ocean, watched the cruise ships glide to Finland, and scattered a group of sparrows as I pedaled my 3-speed down the pavement. Then I heard a whirring noise, looked up, and saw a HUGE SAS plane directly overhead. It is the lowest I'd ever seen an aircraft fly. 10 minutes later, another plane came in for a landing - so we raced. I picked up the pace and flew my bike directly under the aircraft. This game continued through the end of "rush hour."
Exhausted, I came back to an empty house. Immediately, I hopped on the trampoline. I let myself fall blindly backwards, bounce, and land on my feet again.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Good Day Sunshine
I woke up bright and early Saturday morning (much to my chagrin, having gone to bed at 3AM the night before). After writing Ryan and Toke a brief thank-you note on a pizza box, I slipped out into the sunny Copenhagen morning. It was only 9AM and I had some time to kill before I was due to meet Courtney for a tour of trendy cafes and shops in Vesterpørt at 11, so I grabbed a romsnaegle at the closest Netto (how Danish of me!) and hit the streets.
What I found: several outdoor flea markets, cute boutiques on the Strøget, men drinking beer at 10 AM on a public street, and omg Topshop. Had Tracy been with me, I would've needed a defibrillator to be still her little hipster heart. During the tour, we discovered the trendy Copenhagen meat-packing district, cozy cafes and gauche bars, and smoothie places that give Jamby's a run for their money.
Then I headed back to Dragør for some quality time with the host fam. We decided to ride bikes to the town center to get ice cream and enjoy the sunny weather. Anyway, you know that aphorism about "riding a bike - once you've learned, you never forget"? Yeah... it ain't true. I made a complete ass of myself. No, I'm not being oversensitive, they were actually laughing at me. I mean, I did look ridiculous, so it's all good. We walked instead. I'll try again tomorrow.
Now, I am an ice cream aficionado, a connoisseur of the cold and creamy, if you will, but I have never had a frozen dessert like this: First of all, ice cream in Denmark comes in not one, not two, but three - count 'em - three levels, served in a big waffle cone. First, the ice cream itself. Its the regular hard stuff and they give you a decent portion. It would be satisfying enough until you get to the layer of vanilla soft-serve. Its a little overly creamy, more the consistency of a McFlurry, but still delicious and still a sizable amount. Then comes the topping: an avalanche of pink marshmallow goo that covers the entire cone, Did I mention that they put a whole flodorbolle on top? 'Cause they do.
Oh yeah, and that was the "mini" size. I maybe ate 15% of it.
Dragør overlooks the Kattegat and on a clear day like today, you can see Sweden. So we climbed up an old army fort to get a better view.
We looked at the horses and elephants from a traveling circus,
ambled among the 600 year-old houses,
witnessed a human foosball game,
and watched Jonathan and Tobias do tricks on their scooters.
The only word to describe the feel of the afternoon is "lovely." The town, the sights, company... lovely, lovely, lovely!
We walked home along the water and Trine and Jacob told me all about the Danish political system and its lack of corruption. They think the political honesty in Denmark is due to the politicians' proximity to the people and the egalitarian nature of Danish society. I think the small size of Denmark also has something to do with it. They said one of the biggest problems for the state is the black market for workers who get paid under the table - and are exempt from the taxes that claim upwards of 60% of your income. I forget details of the conversation, but I was pleased to finally feel comfortable enough with my host family to engage in political debate.
While Jacob grilled dinner (beef, lamb, potatoes, grilled corn-on-the-cob, salad, bread), I tossed around a Nerf football with the boys in the backyard. Dinner was perfect, served by candlelight with terrific Italian red wine. Jacob and Jonathan made pandekagen (Danish crepes) for dessert while Trine and I discussed how learning disabilities are addressed in public schools in the US vs. Denmark. We were done with the meal around 10 PM. It was the definition of hygge.
Decided to skip the club scene for tonight. I need energy to go to Tivoli with my new family tomorrow!
What I found: several outdoor flea markets, cute boutiques on the Strøget, men drinking beer at 10 AM on a public street, and omg Topshop. Had Tracy been with me, I would've needed a defibrillator to be still her little hipster heart. During the tour, we discovered the trendy Copenhagen meat-packing district, cozy cafes and gauche bars, and smoothie places that give Jamby's a run for their money.
Then I headed back to Dragør for some quality time with the host fam. We decided to ride bikes to the town center to get ice cream and enjoy the sunny weather. Anyway, you know that aphorism about "riding a bike - once you've learned, you never forget"? Yeah... it ain't true. I made a complete ass of myself. No, I'm not being oversensitive, they were actually laughing at me. I mean, I did look ridiculous, so it's all good. We walked instead. I'll try again tomorrow.
Now, I am an ice cream aficionado, a connoisseur of the cold and creamy, if you will, but I have never had a frozen dessert like this: First of all, ice cream in Denmark comes in not one, not two, but three - count 'em - three levels, served in a big waffle cone. First, the ice cream itself. Its the regular hard stuff and they give you a decent portion. It would be satisfying enough until you get to the layer of vanilla soft-serve. Its a little overly creamy, more the consistency of a McFlurry, but still delicious and still a sizable amount. Then comes the topping: an avalanche of pink marshmallow goo that covers the entire cone, Did I mention that they put a whole flodorbolle on top? 'Cause they do.
Oh yeah, and that was the "mini" size. I maybe ate 15% of it.
Dragør overlooks the Kattegat and on a clear day like today, you can see Sweden. So we climbed up an old army fort to get a better view.
We looked at the horses and elephants from a traveling circus,
ambled among the 600 year-old houses,
witnessed a human foosball game,
and watched Jonathan and Tobias do tricks on their scooters.
The only word to describe the feel of the afternoon is "lovely." The town, the sights, company... lovely, lovely, lovely!
We walked home along the water and Trine and Jacob told me all about the Danish political system and its lack of corruption. They think the political honesty in Denmark is due to the politicians' proximity to the people and the egalitarian nature of Danish society. I think the small size of Denmark also has something to do with it. They said one of the biggest problems for the state is the black market for workers who get paid under the table - and are exempt from the taxes that claim upwards of 60% of your income. I forget details of the conversation, but I was pleased to finally feel comfortable enough with my host family to engage in political debate.
While Jacob grilled dinner (beef, lamb, potatoes, grilled corn-on-the-cob, salad, bread), I tossed around a Nerf football with the boys in the backyard. Dinner was perfect, served by candlelight with terrific Italian red wine. Jacob and Jonathan made pandekagen (Danish crepes) for dessert while Trine and I discussed how learning disabilities are addressed in public schools in the US vs. Denmark. We were done with the meal around 10 PM. It was the definition of hygge.
Decided to skip the club scene for tonight. I need energy to go to Tivoli with my new family tomorrow!
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