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!

Hard-Knock Life

Remember that story about how I got lost this afternoon? Well...

I went into Copenhagen to meet up with Ryan and Liza from Wes, as well as a few other DIS kids and Ryan's Danish roomate, Toke (whose name suits his lifestyle, if you know what I mean). We went to the L.A. Bar, which was a great scene. They were playing oldies by the Beach Boys and Little Richard, everyone was dancing and draft beer was 20DKK (4USD) a pint. We headed onto a street corner to finish our Tuborgs, and the girls promptly got accosted by a group of Danish soldiers who left Afghanistan 3 days ago.

Background: The Danes have been a part of "Operation Enduring Freedom" since 2002, mostly supporting the American and British troops in main battle tanks. 15 Danes have died in combat. (source: wikipedia, and Emil. more on him soon...)

"My" soldier was named Emil, and he had fought in the tanks on the frontline in a mostly British battalion. When I asked him why, at age 22, he risked everything in his life - well-knowing the consequences - to fight in a war that didn't directly concern him, he answered quickly, directly and honestly. "I wanted to do something bigger than myself that I can tell my grandchildren about."

That blew my mind. I thought of my grandfather, the college-educated farm boy who enlisted in the airforce during World War II because he believed in American and helping his people in Europe. That heroism has always amazed me, and I was impressed with Emil's foresight into his legacy. And he seemed sincere! I don't think he just wanted to impress the tipsy American girl who was just really excited to be talking to a handsome, older, foreign soldier with an adorable accent (part Danish, part Brit).

He asked me why I came to Copenhagen. I talked about my desire for independance, my concern about the sheltered life I have led for the past 20 years with few risks, yet many calculations and concrete plans. He seemed unenthused. Of course he would. He literally risked life and limb. I am risking missing a semester of partying and Scott Higgins sightings. Whoop-de-friggin'-do.

I thought about our conversation/kicked myself for not getting Emil's number on the train ride back to Dragør. When I arrived at the last metro stop, I waited alone and in the dark for 15 minutes. I didn't feel too concerned (I am in one of the safest cities in the world, after all), but when my bus sped past the stop without hesitation, I got concerned. It was the last one of the night.

I called Jacob, my host dad. It was about 12:15AM. I asked him what to do. He said they were sleeping and I should just hail a cab at terminal 3. Before I could ask how that would be done, he hung up. I followed the signs to terminal 3, but they just took me back to where I was before. I started to freak out. It is pitch black, the airport is deserted, I am not entirely sober, I have no idea what the signs mean and... and... I was just about to start crying when a cab came.

The driver spoke English, thank the little lord baby Jesus, and I tried to tell him where to drop me. I don't know my host family's address, so I tried to name the bus stop. He had a hard time understanding me until I wrote it down. As soon as he got what I was trying to say, we were off. I was so relieved and tired and tipsy that I starting crying.

"Why are you crying?" he asked me, "what is there to cry about?"
I explained.
"That is nothing!" he said, though not in a mean way. "You are fine! Everything will be fine! I come here from Albania not knowing anything and I am fine. My mother, she has no home and she is fine. No cry, now, no cry."
I giggle-sobbed at his kindness and apologized for being a big baby. I wasn't in my right mind, I said, trying to find an excuse.
"when you have no money, then you can cry," he said.

Well didn't I feel like an asshole. I am no hero for coming to Denmark. My adventure here is only daring when compared to my reality at home. In the harsh, cold, real world (not the MTV version of hot tubs and bisexuality), I am a coddled Westerner, privileged in every way. I am no Gramps or Emil or Albanian cabdriver, doing something greater than myself. I am spending my youth selfishly, despite my attempts at helping the greater good (which as all still so calculated and safe).

With that perspective, I am going to pass out. Tomorrow is a new day.

Simple as Do, Re, Mi

What I learned today:

- Jeg hedder Franni. Jeg kommer fra USA. Jeg læser psykologi. Jeg bor på Amager, i Dragør.

(My name is Franni. I come from the USA. I am studying psychology. I live on Amager, in Dragør.)

Keep in mind, this is all pronounced: Yai HILleh Franni. Yai KOMmeh fra oo-ess-ay. Yai LAYser sookohloGEE (hard g). Yai bohr poh AHmah, ee Draeur. I kind of speak Danish with a French accent, especially the Rs, but it seems to be going well.

- the Danes don't call danish pastries "danishes", like we do in the States. Instead, they call them wienerbrød, which means "bread from Vienna." I <3 irony.

- The prime minister's wife is a contestant on the Danish version of Dancing with the Stars. Wow.

Twinkle-toes Rasmussen is on the left. Will Laura B follow her fancy footwork?

- Alfred Hitchcock was on the cover of today's newspaper. The headline described him as "uhygglit" or "not cozy." The Danes are nothing if not apt.

- The 76E, 75E and 35 buses all run from my Metro stop (Lufthavnen - the airport and end of the M2 line). Funny story: they all take you to different places, even though they should all stop at A.P. Møllers Alle. I got a little lost yesterday, and so painfully lost today that I wound up back at the airport! In addition to my aching feet from all the walking today, I had to carry not only my general crapola, but also all of my schoolbooks. So there I was, in the wilds of Amager (I had no idea what town I was in), walking down streets with no sidewalks and no signs, carrying all of my earthly academic possessions on my back. I was starving, but then remembered that I had a few carrot sticks still in my lunchbox (I had Baranger-ed... j'ai barange´, if you will). So I am walking along the highway with 2 huge sacks, eating a carrot. I probably looked like a hobo. Cars slowed to stare at me. I felt ridiculous. Fortunately, I found my way home 20 minutes later. Lesson learned: bus numbers are different for a reason. Genius, I know.

Now that I have shared all I have learned, I'm heading out to a bar with Ryan and his roommate to kill a few brain cells.

Hej hej!