The Actual School Part

I guess its time I actually got around to going to school. I mean I guess the theoretical key word in study abroad is study.

My main program is sociology and it looks at immigration into Denmark. It’s a big issue, according to my teacher it’s a “hot political potato”. Because of this program I get to go to Turkey and Sweden. While we’re in Sweden I get to go kayaking, which I am pretty pumped about. I really like kayaking.

I also have a practicum for this class where I get to teach English in a private Muslim school, Danish language and culture and my sociology of the family class. Then I have Danish politics and society which is taught by an actual previous senator.

Finally, I have my Russian class. We had to do a tour during orientation where you visit various sites and a teacher would be there to tell you something about the site. When I got to the palace, my soon-to-be Russian teacher was there. Basically, he made me super excited about Russia, which is not something I would normally be excited about.  Not only is he the tallest dwarf in the world (I know right?!!!) but he is also the person who translates for the queen when Russians come to Denmark. Now I could not be more excited to go to Russia in October.  

However, it’s a very scary process. In order to get a visa, I had to spend almost an hour filling out paperwork. My favorite was my employment history where I got to fill out my “chief’s surname” and my “date of joining” at Dahlia. I almost felt like it was necessary to call Brad and warn him of what scary Russian phone calls might be coming. Then I had to take a new passport photo where I am not smiling. It looks like a mug shot. Then I have to send in my passport to the Russian embassy and they will put a whole page in my passport with my visa. 

If I don’t make it home, its probably because I tried to play hide and seek in the Kremlin and they found me.  

It is NOT “just like riding a bike”

On Saturday I went to visit my family that I stayed with last time I was here. I actually remember what bus to take and where to get off, so I was pretty proud of myself. Most of their family was home so I got to sit around and talk with everyone about how my trip was going so far and one of the things I mentioned was that I wanted to rent a bike so that I could bike around.

We had about 30 minutes before dinner so the girls offered to let me borrow a bike and ride around with them for a little but so that I could learn the biking rules for Denmark. Turning left is really complicated and I just didn’t want to learn my lessons in the middle of traffic.

For starters, Danish people are tall; therefore, their bikes are tall. But even beyond this, their bikes are a very vintage style so in comparison to their tall bodies the bikes are also tall. I am not tall. In addition to these challenges, I haven’t ridden a bike in at least a decade. It was probably the most embarrassing thing of my life. I didn’t know that I don’t exactly know how to ride a bike apparently. Because the bikes are tall, you have to stand on the pedal to get up onto the seat. I have to stand on the pedal on my toes to get up on the seat. They also have a special way of stopping at a stoplight where they keep one foot on and casually stand on the curb. Danes look very tall and graceful when they do this. I do not.

Usually I do a pretty good job of looking Danish, or at least blending in as long as I am not with a ton of Americans. Even though I have dark hair and am short, I dress well enough and probably look less like a tourist than some. When I ride a bike, I could do nothing to make it more obvious that I AM NOT DANISH. I didn’t exactly fall onto the ground, but I definitely fell off my bike and had to awkwardly hop to catch myself. There is no shame greater than falling of your bike only to have an adorable blonde toddler swoop past you on a bike that is taller than yours.

Obviously beyond learning to actually follow the rules I have to challenges to overcome when it comes to biking in Denmark, but I want to get a bike that is the right size for me and get better at it so that I can actually bike for transportation. Especially in the city, the bike lanes can get very crowded and these people are not going to put up with someone who needs 10 extra seconds to make it back onto their bike at every light. All I picture is the tour de France, where the guy in the middle of the peloton falls down and then the whole group goes down on top of him. I would be that person.  

Dear Mom, You Can Probably Skip This One...

So I think I have learned my lesson. When you get carded in a country where the drinking age is 16, just turn around and head straight home. Or at least to a different bar. This was my Thursday night, and I now understand what happened when you start you night at KulørBar. Anywhere that gives you unlimited beer for 60kr and hands you a plastic mug when you pay your cover is not a classy place.

Now I can say I’ve been there, and I’m pretty sure they will never see me again. The night started with some delicious gin and tonics (the difference between a fifth of Gordon’s and Bombay here is 12kr!!! That’s like a $2 increase) and then we all went out. Even though KulørBar is not my style, I did at least get my moneys worth. In true European style, the club didn’t really start to fill up until around midnight, and by then I had fully utilized my plastic beer mug.

I decided to make friends and complimented this guy on his suspenders which I thought were hilarious. So we danced for awhile and then went outside and talked about Europe. He is a German finance major who was named something maybe with an M? I'm sure he had a name. But anyways. Next some girls start talking to me about America and petting my hair and telling me how pretty I am. If getting hit on by Swedish lesbians was on my life list, I could definitely check that off now.

I go back inside and don’t immediately see any of the girls I came with, but I found my German friend again and we danced until I ran into some of the girls from my house. We’re all getting ready to leave and I decide to go hang out with this German guy in Frederiksborg. We have to take the metro to get there, which is super cool. I love public transit.

So were hanging out in his kitchen and he starts kissing me, and is literally the worst kisser I have ever experienced. I mean it’s kissing, how hard can it be? It was like being eaten by a fish, but not like a cute goldfish, like an enormous German fish. There is this weird pedicure spa across from my school called fish kiss, and you put your feet in these fish tanks and the fish eat off all of your dead skin. It sounds gross, and the real life metaphorical equivalent of sticking your face in those tanks is also gross. Therefore, I promptly decide it is time for me to return home.

He offers to walk me back home which is nice because I'm not very familiar with this “bro”. I thought he was just going to walk me to the metro but he actually took the train with me as well. We had trouble getting the ticket machine to work, so we just got on anyways. And of course the ticket checker comes by (which is really rare) so we just handed him our tickets from the trip over. I don’t really understand Danish on the level to communicate with an officer of the law, but I can only assume that was enough because I did not get arrested.

Once we get out of the metro I realize that I am going to be lucky if I make it home. The streets of Copenhagen are the foundation of a 1000 year old merchant town, and needless to say that even if you can remember that you live on St. Kennekestræde and pronounce it so that someone can understand you, it’s a windy circular pattern of cobblestone walking streets. However, I made it home without having to turn around once. I just started walking in the right direction until I recognized the right streets. I was very proud of myself.

My navigational success was pretty short-lived. Our buildings are built all together with large doors that were once use to get carts into the courtyard and you have to get through them to get to the main doors of each of the houses. Well my ID card which is supposed to scan on the keypad and open the door did not give a shit that it was 3:30 in the morning and that I wanted to go to bed. So I go down one door which is also student housing to try that one, still no. I'm about to go around to the back entrance to the courtyard when I remember that I have one and only one phone number here. It’s my friend Evan who goes to UW, so we pretty much got super excited about meeting each other. To be fair, I was excessively excited because everyone I have met here is from an east coast private school I have never heard of. Evan was probably a 6 out of 10 amount of excited.  Anyways, I give him a call and he’s just returning home from a show. He lets me in and we eat some toast and hang out until we realize its almost light out. I am immediately wide awake and decide I want to walk to Nyhavn to watch the sun rise.

We walk down to the harbor and its super amazing. The streets are relatively quiet. I decide that it would be a good idea to get onto one of the boats. Just casually commandeering a large sailboat like a pirate. This is me on the boat, I'm pretty excited about how sneaky I'm being.

Then we make it to the harbor just in perfect time and watch a pretty sweet sunrise. Obviously in Seattle you get sunset over the water but here it was sunrise so that was pretty cool. I mostly sat on the dock and drooled over Noma and the amazing pink sky.

On our way back, we walk through the palace, which isn’t actually a palace but it’s where the royalty lives. It’s a square with four identical mansions and at this time in the morning its absolutely beautiful. We are the only people there with the exception of the guard, so we were literally just standing there watching them walk and change posts and all you can hear is the water and the clicking of their fancy guard shoes. It was a super intimate moment for me and I'm sure the guards also felt the same.  Then I decide that I want to see if I can distract them, but I think they saw the sneaky look on my face because they wouldn’t go back to their post and stand still. They all kept walking back and forth in front of it.

So now it’s around 6:30am and the city is starting to wake up. It’s funny to walk past people on their way to work as well as Danes who are still dressed from the night before and who are drinking coronas while they run down the street. I stop at the 7-11 for some of the best and cheapest croissants in the city and walk back out to the lovely view of some guy getting a blowie in the middle of the street. He’s slumped up against a front door and what I'm now pretty sure is a prostitute is just going after it. It was like a very aggressive and sloppy car accident where you just can’t look away. I mean I'm pretty liberal, but the idea that this is happening in front of my eyes in broad daylight was pretty weird.

So I finally make it home, suddenly my ID card magically works again, just in time for a power nap before class. I did in fact make it to all 3 of my classes the next day. Like a boss. 

On My Quest For Bloody Mary Mix

Yesterday I finally got around to buying some actual food. My first stop was the local farmers market which is called Torvehallerne. Pretty much the hippie in me lost her panties and I ran around taking pictures of everything and buying vegetables. 

The Danes use kroner and its super hard to deal with money when the ratio is 6:1. You have to do some much preliminary math to even figure out if something if $1 or $95. It's exhausting. Not to mention they have coins for anything less than 100kr. So basically you're sitting there thinking oh I'll just hand over a few coins and it seems like you're spending between $0-$1 but really it could be like $20. Then you add in the weight, as if it means anything to tell me I'm getting 1/4kg of mushrooms. As far as I know, that could be anything. I accidentally brought my TI-83 calculator in my backpack because I'd had it in there for stats and now I want to start carrying it around with me just to figure out the weight and price of things in numbers that I can actually understand. 

Anyways, this is me first getting to the market, excitedly whipping out my camera and proceeding to be the loud over-excited American that I was told not be. In my opinion, if they didn't want me to be loud then they shouldn’t have such awesome pate. Just saying. 

I bought some of these amazing tomatoes. Also look at this pate. Just look at it.  

I also found a little section that was all Asian products. It's a little bit smaller than Uwajimaya but I was still pretty excited. I bought ramen noodles and miso that I can make the ramen I miss from home. 

Next came the fancy sandwiches. The Danish word is Smørrebrød. It seems like this should be pronounced "smorgasbord" but it is actually a lot more like sm-mumble, mumble.

After the trip to the market I went to the co-op where I am going to volunteer and people can get local vegetables. I couldn’t get a bag because I didn’t have time to preorder it, but I was able to buy some pole beans and a cauliflower. This is what their bag looked like for the week.

Then I did some supplementary grocery shopping at a place called Netto. This place scares me, and is literally like buying you groceries at Walgreens if Walgreens offered groceries. They have a really inconsistent selection of things and you really just never know what you’re going to find. However, the school puts $600 on a card for you for food and this is one the places you’re card can work. Therefore I’d like to thank my parents for buying me what I can only assume is going to be $600 worth of box wine, gin and socks. I also discovered that I can easily write my name in Danish groceries. I don’t know about you, but I'm pretty impressed with myself.

Though I’m not complaining, you should still probably sympathize in my struggles to figure out what the hell I am eating. Seriously. Look at this sign and please explain to me what exactly you think would show up on your plate if you ordered this. As if you could even say something to a waiter that would make sense to them hahah.