Farvel, København

Our last full day in Copenhagen has arrived, and it is sad to say the least. We've been in Europe for over four months now, and while I am ecstatic to go home, in some ways it feels like we've just gotten started here. I've found that spending three months in a place is usually how long it takes to settle in-- to know your physical surroundings really well, to form a social network, to appreciate cultural quirks, and to feel like you're home. We've just barely crossed the three-month mark, and now it's time to say goodbye.

But, despite how quickly time flies, the sweetness of our bittersweet departure far outweighs these feelings of woe. We have had an incredible time here, and the lessons we've learned, friendships we've made, and memories we've created will stick with us, however dreamlike they may feel, for a long time to come.

We've tasted the best food Scandinavia has to offer in Denmark's most cherished holiday feast, "julefrokost," or Christmas lunch. With heaping piles of sugary potatoes, meatballs, herring smørrebrød, duck breast, and rice pudding, we stayed up eating and laughing after rounds and rounds of beer and snaps with our new Danish friends. The feast goes on from early afternoon until the wee hours of the next morning, and Danes usually attend many of them throughout the Christmas season. The meal is about food, celebration, and getting extremely, ridiculously drunk. Some "julefrokosts" are with friends, some with classmates, or family, and many are with coworkers, which would seemingly make work really awkward the next day, but apparently is totally normal.

We've experienced a true winter here, biking in snowstorms, bundling up in five or six layers of clothing every day, ice skating at the outdoor rink, and finally getting to the point where I feel lucky it doesn't actually snow back home. Living in a winter wonderland is incredible, and a month of it is about the perfect amount of time.

We've found "favorites" and "usuals," things we don't have back at home that have become routine here, things I will miss dearly:

-Drinking elderflower cider in September, the summer drink of Copenhagen, and then switching to elderflower soda or hot elderflower tea when fall and winter rolled around.

-Walking and biking the cobblestone streets, and stopping to get a hot dog at the pølser wagon.

-Watching snow flurry out my window when I wake up in the morning, then braving the cold to get to our favorite cafes, to Paludan, the bookstore cafe near my school, or to Mokkariet, our local neighborhood joint, where we sit and drink tea and eat cake for hours.

-Meeting our new friends for a drink at Mikkeller, or for that delicious lasagna at Vero Italiano near the law library.

-Living each day with the confidence and comfort that everyone you come across will be friendly, open and kind, a truly miraculous and appreciated quality for a major European city.

And finally, the thing that living abroad has made me appreciate most: knowing that after all the adventuring is done and all these new windows and doors have been opened and explored, I can go back home, to my friends who are such bright lights in my life, to my work, which is only just beginning, and to my family, who are the best, most inspiring people I know.

Thanks for all the love and support, both from new friends and old-- it's been a wonderful journey. See you at home!

Bike-Skating and Other Last Minute Adventures

Well folks, things are getting down to the wire around here. Eight more days of smørrebrød and gløgg, and then Ez and I will be back in the states. With only a week or so left, we've both come down with a severe case of "have to pack it all in" syndrome, which has resulted in an incredibly busy last few days. Not to mention, I am taking finals, which makes me feel even more overwhelmed. But it's all good stuff.

The last few weeks have given us the chance to finally "live in the snow" as opposed to just being "snow tourists" for skiing, snowboarding, and the like. Pros: It's beautiful, romantic, and doesn't get me soaked when I'm outdoors. Cons: It's cold, and eventually it turns to ice and slush.

Even the ice and slush have made things more interesting here though. For one thing, I've discovered a new sport: Bike-skating. When biking on half-packed snow, your tires grip enough so that you don't skid out, but one quick turn and you're pretty glad you're wearing a helmet. There's also bike-skiing, which is just kind of hard, as the 2-3 inches of powder on the ground make it feel like you're powering through sand. And then there's bike-slushing, which is just messy. Suffice it to say, biking here is much easier when they plow the bike paths.

In addition to our snowy adventures, we've also been out on the town quite a bit, trying to see and do everything we haven't seen or done yet before we go. Here are some highlights for you:

The Little Mermaid

Many people might not realize it, but the Little Mermaid actually lives in Copenhagen. Sadly, for most of our time here, she was vacationing in Shanghai. She came home a few weeks ago, so we went down to the harbor to visit. I felt kinda bad for her down there, she was pretty cold.

Christmas Tree Lighting at Rådhuspladsen

We took a quick study break the other day to officially welcome the Christmas season into Copenhagen, with the Christmas tree lighting ceremony at the city square. It was beautiful, and surprising, as the tree literally exploded into fireworks before lighting up the square. Is that usually how these things go?

A Makeshift Chanukah

I'm sure they sell menorahs here somewhere, but I'm also sure they would bankrupt us, so Ez and I celebrated the Festival of Lights hyggelig style, by buying a bag of cheap tealights and then arranging them in different menorah-like formations for each night.

Outdoor Air Museum

On the snowiest day we've had so far, we took the S-train to Sorgenfri, a small town just north of Copenhagen, to visit the Outdoor Air Museum. It's a little village set up like old-timey Denmark, complete with authentic houses, barns, stables, and windmills. We tromped around in the snow, then ordered a fancy brunch at the museum cafe, sharing pancakes, syrup-soaked sausages, chorizo, bacon, salty scrambled eggs, rolls of sliced prosciutto, bread and brie, hot croissants, jam, butter, fruit, tea and orange juice. It was the lightest brunch they offered. We split it and were full until dinnertime.

Pierogi Night at Maria's

One of the best parts of this whole experience has been the people we've met here from Denmark, and the rest of the world. There have been a lot of cultural exchanges, including our Thanksgiving and the delicious Vietnamese dinner Uyenii cooked for us awhile back. Recently, we got our Polish fix when our dear friend Maria made us pierogis for dinner. Her mom brought them up for her from Poland, and they were the best I'd ever had. They were also the most I'd ever had. She began the evening by saying "How many you start with, 10?" We couldn't really say no. We ate them in a variety of ways-- steamed, boiled, and fried, all with a gooey potato-and-cheese filling and a few sauteed red onions over top. We washed down the delicious meal with the leftover boxed wine from Thanksgiving (Vintage November 2010).

Maria, Pierogi Queen, and Sous-chef Uyenii

Raz-- Our First Farewell

A true sign of things winding down is when you find yourself saying, "well, I might not see you again, so, take care..." They are harsh yet comforting words, as you realize you've made friends here, and the sadness means you felt strongly for them. Yesterday we said goodbye to Rasmus ("Raz"), the owner of one of our favorite cafes, Kaffe Syndicat. He opened the cafe at the same time as we arrived in the city, so we felt like we were kind of growing here together. It feels kind of like a modern Scandinavian living room inside, complete with cozy couches and candles. Raz was a huge help to Ez with his writing, as the cafe is next door to Christiania, so he knew a bit about the place. So, we had our last lattés and chats about life with Raz, which this time included how annoying it is that men grow hair on their backs as they get older. I stayed out of that part of the conversation. We said our goodbyes, and were on our way.

Ez & Raz

The Jewish Museum

In almost every city we visit, Ez and I try to check out the local Jewish Museum, as there is always a different, fascinating history of the Jewish diaspora wherever you go, especially in Europe. Copenhagen is no exception-- the Jewish Museum here is also known as "Mitzvah" or "good deed," as Denmark prides itself on the mitzvah of having saved over 7,000 Danish Jews during the Holocaust (95% of the Danish-Jewish population at the time) by sending them to safety in Sweden just as the Nazis began the last 2 years of their occupation of Denmark. It was a small museum, like they are in most cities, but they are always enough to feel like a little piece of your family and history is with you wherever you go.

Copenhagen's Trampolinhuset

About a week ago, Ez noticed a poster for the Trampolinhuset or "Trampoline House," got excited, and took a closer look. To his slight disappointment and my extreme excitement, the Trampolinhuset was not a house of trampolines, but rather a community center for refugees and asylum-seekers. It was about a 10-minute ride from our apartment, and offered legal counseling, childcare, language classes, a health clinic, a café, and even free haircuts by refugees training to become hairdressers.

We went to observe the legal clinic they hold on Wednesday nights, and found out that the center had literally just opened 4 days before we saw the poster. We chatted with the project leader and the volunteer attorney, and shadowed a legal session with a Cameroonian refugee whose asylum application had been rejected multiple times. The attorney was helping her in the last-resort stage of her application-- a letter to the ombudsman (similar to a private bill in the U.S.) asking him to recommend withholding her deportation due to the fact that she is sick with HIV, and cannot be treated in Cameroon. The atmosphere was hopeful but realistic as the client, nervously touching her collar, listened to the attorney speak frankly about her case.

Before coming to the Trampolinhuset, I was sort of under the impression that places like this didn't exist here. I had specifically asked a representative of the Danish Refugee Council (a semi-government agency) if there were non-government legal aid or social services for refugees, and she had said "not really." She still may be right, as the Trampolinhuset didn't exist when she told me that, but at least things seem to be moving in a positive direction. I'm glad I got to witness that glimmer of hope.

***

Well, back to studying and slipping around in the snow. After Friday I will officially be on winter break, and officially almost home. Let's see just how much more we can fit in before we leave...

An International Thanksgiving Extravaganza

About a month ago, right around the time that all of our friends stateside were getting excited for the Halloween festivities that we were going to miss, Ez and I decided that we weren't going to let Thanksgiving pass by unnoticed.

A proper Thanksgiving presented a challenge, as of course Denmark does not celebrate the holiday, and neither do any of our Italian, Polish, Australian, etc friends. So, grabbing the turkey by the horns (feet? neck?), we decided to make our very own and very first Thanksgiving by ourselves, in order to share the best of American culture with Denmark and our new friends.

Although most of our Danish and international friends had seen TV shows or movies depicting Thanksgiving, none had ever partaken in the dinner and were pretty eager to see what it was all about. As exciting as it was to be Thanksgiving's ambassadors to Denmark, the job came with a lot of pressure. Up until now, our experience with Thanksgiving dinner was mostly eating it, and maybe baking the occasional pie or serving as the sous chefs to the parents slaving away in the kitchen.

So, we enlisted the help of fellow American, Uyenii, who knew all the traditional dishes but had also never made them, due to the fact that her Vietnamese family always eats lobster on Thanksgiving.

Another issue was that with our guest list at 25+, we needed a big enough venue. Our one-room studio apartment was out, as was Uyenii's chic pad, which came with a landlady who didn't appreciate dinner guests. Luckily, our good friend Maria had just the right digs for the occasion, a large 3-bedroom flat in the center of Copenhagen, and two flat-mates who weren't adverse to having three Americans take over their kitchen for two days to make them tons of food.

And that's just what we did: Starting at 2:00pm on November 24th, Uyenii, Ez and I trekked through the freshly-fallen snow carrying about 35 kilos of food, three of which were onions alone, and moved into Maria's house. That night we baked two large pumpkin pies and an apple pie. It took us about 5 hours since canned pumpkin isn't really a Danish thing, and we had to chop and microwave fresh pumpkin for an hour or two. Progress was further slowed by having to share one chef's knife among three chefs. However, Maria kept us nourished and in good spirits with a spaghetti dinner as we hacked away at the squash.

Prepping the pies

As the pies cooled and the snow fell harder, we took celebratory shots of Amarula and devoured the pumpkin custard that we put together with the extra filling. The snow finally let up a little bit and we trudged home, tired but happy. We were ready to call it a night despite it only being 8:00pm, but the night had just begun! I then baked and mashed 10 lbs of yams, and we cooked enough stuffing for about 25 people. Four hours after that, we collapsed, as smells of butter and onions clung to our hair.

Tired but happy bakers

The next morning, with about another foot of snow on the ground, we bussed back to Maria's carrying the yams, stuffing, and two thawed-out 10-lb turkeys. We cooked all day long, listening to Christmas music (there really aren't any good Thanksgiving songs) and watching the snow fall outside the kitchen window. We made ourselves right at home, drinking endless cups of tea and somehow having time to make and eat crepes along the way. After caramelizing onions for literally hours and watching Ez obsess over perfecting the gravy, all the dishes were complete. Everything smelled amazingly good, and we each took turns sticking our noses into the turkey cavity until we realized what we were actually doing.

By 6:30pm when the guests started to arrive, the table was groaning with the weight of candles, two turkeys, green beans, sweet and citrus yams, mashed potatoes, herb and apple stuffing, two types of cranberry sauce, three types of gravy, and giant carafes of (formerly boxed) red and white wine. We didn't come away unscathed however... Neither Ez or I have ever had so many burns on our hands. I also somehow got a blood blister, and have no idea when or how. And I won't even count how many times the turkey got cut!

Our first turkey!

Despite our injuries, the night was a huge success. Our friends loved the food, though they admittedly said they would tell me that even if it was terrible. But I believe them-- I think things turned out pretty well. The only hiccup, if you can even call it that, was when I lit my head on fire.

As guests started to arrive, I went to take a picture of some friends gathered around the food, unknowingly leaning over one of several dozen hyggelig candles. As the camera clicked, I started to hear a strange crackling noise, wisely ignored it, but then noticed some flames from the corner of my eye. Quickly realizing my hair was on fire, I started smacking my own head with a motion that was later described as "a lazy cat swatting a fly." Thankfully I quelled the inferno while losing only a small, unnoticeable chunk of hair to the flames. The real casualties were the delicious Thanksgiving smells, which were replaced by the slightly less appetizing aroma of burnt hair.

After a long, delicious, and super fun evening, we cleaned up Maria's kitchen and packed up most of the leftovers for her, (she and Ezra got into a "who's nicer" argument as they tried to give bigger chunks of the turkey to each other) then headed home, even managing to catch the last bus to leave the city center with one minute to spare.

It's good to know that although we are thousands of miles away we can still create our own Thanksgiving, and spread the joy to others. I've made new friends, learned some more cooking skills, and even managed to keep most of my hair.

There's definitely a lot to be thankful for.

Treks, Thugs, and Rock and Roll

November is in full swing, and with it comes dark, cozy, candlelit afternoons, mugs of gløgg, plates of æbleskiver, downtown ice skating rinks, and Christmas in Tivoli. Ez and I are embracing the hygge, and bundling up with care as the days and our time here get shorter and shorter. While the pressure to stay at home as the harsh winter approaches is greater than ever, Ez and I have done anything but since coming back from our trip through Western Europe.

Upon arriving at our comfortable studio apartment after weeks of being on-the-go, we faced a challenge that would forever change our stay here in Copenhagen-- a change that we knew was coming-- no internet. The day we left for our trip, the internet in our apartment went down, but since we were leaving for two weeks, we decided to ignore the problem and deal with it when we got back. Long story short, it took an entire week to "deal with it" upon our return, which meant an entire week of having to figure out what to do with ourselves without being able to check Facebook every 10 minutes, or watch episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer online. You don't realize how much a waste of time the internet is until you lose it and then find yourselves with hours and hours of nothing to do. We spent the first internetless day lost and listless. It was pitiful.

Then it hit us. Okay, time to restructure the daily routine. Instead of spending the first 3 hours of the day at home doing mostly nothing, we woke up, ate breakfast, and left. The days suddenly got a lot longer without being slaves to the internet, and we found ourselves spending hours exploring cute cafes, biking further out than we've been before, and trekking all over the city looking for fun, new things to do. I won't lie, many of our outings were directed towards finding Wifi, but even so, we got out, and it was good. And we became even more social. Almost every night that week was a different story-- a concert in Christiania, a drink with friends at Mikkelers, jazz night at Blågårds, singer/songwriter night at Blågards, a wine and cheese party (featuring our recent houseguest, Jeremy Jo!). It was great, and exhausting.

Ez getting his wine and cheese on

At one point we even made it up to Klampenborg, where we hiked about 2 km into a deer sanctuary to watch riders on horseback compete in a fake fox hunt. About 40,000 people and thus 40,000 pairs of ridiculously muddy boots later, we hiked all the way back.

40,000 muddy spectators

Our internet is back now, and I admit we are a bit relieved. But, all that trekking rubbed off on us, and I think we'll be a lot more useful to society in our last 4.5 weeks here. I mean I am writing this from a cafe...

And speaking of writing, a shout out to Ezra who has been doing lots of it. In addition to working on his thesis, a collection of short stories, Ez was commissioned to write a nonfiction piece about Copenhagen. Inspired by the autonomous hippie-commune in the middle of the city, Christiana, Ez has been interviewing Danes left and right about what they know about the place. As a result, we've both been speaking to Danes a lot more and discussing the main debates going on in Danish society, which lucky for me happen to include immigration.

One of these debates is that of the "ghettos" of Copenhagen that so many of our Danish interviewees have been talking about. I'd been hearing about these ghettos for a while, and finally asked what and where they were. I was convinced that if there were any ghettos, that we must be living in one, as our neighborhood is probably the least fancy of any of them. Turns out, we don't live in the ghetto at all.

The "ghettos" are immigrant communities to the south of the city, a place I of course will now try and go to before I leave. The issue is that many of the country's recent refugees, mainly from Somalia it seems, are living in these ghettos completely isolated from the rest of Copenhagen, and as a result are not "integrating" as they say here. Some Danes are upset about this. Some feel it's a threat to Danish identity, or to the welfare state, and some just seem scared of difference or change. Pretty familiar...

As a side note, when I asked a friend if our neighborhood was considered a ghetto, she laughed and said "Oh no, yours just has a lot of thugs." When I inquired further, she told me that a couple of years ago, some gang members shot at each other over something drug-related. That was the last thug-related incident in our neighborhood, so I gave a small sigh of relief. I used to live in Berkeley after all.

Jeremy, Copenhagen's most dangerous thug :)

Besides getting to know the Danes a bit more, another perk of Ez's writing-scapades is that he has granted us VIP status on more than one occasion. One of his writing colleagues from SF State got us on the guest list to not 1, but 2 concerts in downtown Copenhagen. Even more impressive though, was a couple weeks ago when I got home from school on a Tuesday night, and Ez informed me that we were heading out again in a few hours to yet a THIRD concert that he had gotten us on the guest list for. For that amazing story, you'd better read his account. Needless to say, I spent that entire night at a VIP table in Christiania, listening to an all-girls rock/grunge band from LA called Warpaint, chatting with their manager who kept bringing us free drinks and gave us the girls' newest album for free when the concert was over. I only got about 3 hours of sleep that night before I had to wake up and bike to my 8:00am class, but it was worth it.

Just another day in Denmark: braving the cold, soaking up the candlelight, and being adventurous whenever the opportunity presents itself. Who needs the internet?

Biking at Sunrise

Ez and I are back in Copenhagen after our Fall Break trip, where we walked the streets of Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, and London for over two weeks. I was thinking of titling this post "Art Explosion" after the fact that we really delved into Western European history and art at the Louvre, the Prado, the Reina Sofia, the Picasso Museum, the Tate Modern, and a handful of others. After coming back to Denmark earlier this week though, I realized that the true beauty of the trip was that our return felt like coming home. Traveling is amazing, but being able to come home to a warm, cozy (or "hyggelig," as the Danes say) place is the best part.

On Wednesday morning, I woke up at 7:00am for my 8:00am class, still groggy from my early flight and sporadic napping the day before. It was still completely dark out, a reminder of the cold, dark winter that's on its way here. Having a hard time believing I was back in our little studio apartment after spending the last two weeks on the go in four other different, separate worlds, I bundled up in four layers, a hat, gloves and a scarf, and took off on my bike for school.

As I rode, the darkness began to lift and when I turned from Jagtvej onto Nørrebrogade, the sun was just beginning to rise over Peblinge lake in front of me. Crossing over the bridge, my breath heavy and my cheeks stinging from the cold, I was greeted by a stunning pink and orange sunrise.

It warmed, calmed, and frightened me-- a reminder that I am comfortable and happy here, but also that our time in Copenhagen is over halfway done, and that soon it will fade just like our months in Central America and Southeast Asia did.

At one point in Barcelona, when we were were walking through the crowded market on Las Ramblas drinking guanabana juice and marveling at the various cuts of ham available in Spain, I thought about how far away in time and space Copenhagen felt. How strange would it be to come back to biking, Carlsberg, and Ø's, weeks after being away?

Now, once again, Copenhagen is all I've ever known, and Las Ramblas feels like it never happened. Strange how real, full and bright your experiences abroad can be, but how quickly they become blurry and dreamlike.

So now, with just under seven weeks left here, I'm determined to keep our days full and bright, and at least when I go home I will remember that I made the best of my time here, even if it will eventually all feel like a dream. I'll start right now, taking in each wonderful moment as Ez and I sip our tea by candlelight in the hyggelig cafe by our apartment on this rainy Copenhagen afternoon.

The Berlin Museum

As Elizabeth Gilbert once said (in a really tiresome book), every city has its own "word." To me, Berlin's word is Memory. Every site, building, and place of interest seems to have a story about something dramatic that happened 300, 70, or 20 years ago. It's a little like walking through a museum, as at every moment you are catapulted into the past with the ruins of a bombed-out building, the grandeur of the gates of Victory, or a memorial to those silenced by genocide.

It's hard not to feel a bit confused in the Berlin "Museum." On the one hand, it is an example of vibrance, diversity and celebration, with its music, pubs, clubs and festivals. On the other hand, every step you take can remind you of oppression and tragedy, as the city has done anything but forget its tumultuous past. Honestly, Ezra says it perfectly.

Let me take you on a tour.

When you first arrive, you're hungry of course, so let's pop into a dark, cozy tavern for lunch. How about a pizza topped with sauerkraut and bacon? Wash it down with a stein of beer and soak in the warm, rustic ambiance. Now, how about a walk through the city?

You won't get too far without coming across this monument: an entire city block covered in different-sized concrete pillars, atop uneven pavement. As you walk through the Holocaust Memorial, officially entitled "Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe," the slabs get higher, and the ground more uneven. You can't help but feel disoriented. It's cold, it's dark, lonely, and grey, and you feel lost. It's raining slightly, and the drops drip down the slabs like tears. As you near the other side, the slabs shrink back down, the light pours in and you see the city emerge once again.

On the other side of the memorial you continue your walk. You end up in a parking lot. It seems like any other, until you see a small, almost unnoticeable sign telling you that only meters below your feet is the bunker where Hitler committed suicide. Just an unremarkable parking lot that people walk over as they go on with their lives.

Ahh, Humboldt University! A center of knowledge and prestige in Europe, and where Einstein himself taught physics before coming to the U.S.

And right in front of the University, there's the plaza where the Nazis burned 20,000 books. You can't cross it without walking over the memorial to all these silenced authors: a cavern in the ground with empty bookshelves, enough for all 20,000 volumes.

As you leave the memorial and approach the gates of the University, you pass a large book sale.

Hop on the metro and get off at Zoologischer Garten. Here you'll find the Gedänkniskirsche, remnants of a church bombed out in WWII. You imagine how the rest of the block must have looked before it was all rebuilt.

Don't worry though, the church isn't all tragedy. They rebuilt a new, modern church right next door.

Back to the streets now. You notice along your walk that every so often you cross over a line of cobblestones that stand out from the rest of the street. This line divides the whole city by East and West. Eventually you come to what the cobblestones mark--the remnants of the Berlin Wall. It's almost entirely gone, except for places where graffitied and carved-out chunks remain intact.

Your day at the Berlin Museum is coming to a close... time to let the memories settle over a cow horn filled to the brim with refreshing honey mead.

Enjoy--you've earned it.

Dijonnaise and Rainy Days

It's definitely changing seasons around here. When we first arrived, we took the sun peeking out from behind the clouds for granted, but now we're lucky if we see it at all. Fall in Copenhagen is cold and rainy so far, and I've definitely learned how to dress in layers as well as bike 3 kilometers in a downpour while still managing to stay dry. It's quite a skill actually, which I look forward to bringing home to Davis in December.

Rainy, overcast Copenhagen is different than rainy, overcast Davis though. Even on the gloomiest days here, the light is gorgeous and somehow manages to make the buildings and canals look even better. At worst, it makes me want to hole up in a cafe with some hot chocolate, so I'm not complaining. I hear it gets colder though...

A Beautifully Gloomy Day

We're fairly settled now, and our apartment in Nørrebro has definitely started to feel like home. I think "euphoria" has turned into "comfort," which is pretty good too. Now that we are no longer making trips to IKEA or trying to hunt down items on our "things we really need" list, we've been able to see a lot of the city.

First and most importantly, the fabulous Michelle Mills was here to visit, and we had the most wonderful time seeing the sights together with her equally fabulous (and Danish!) cousin, Michelle Kai. Michelle Kai took us to our first traditional Danish lunch, where we feasted on meatballs, pickled herring, corned beef with horse radish cream, and fried white fish. The meal came with all sorts of condiments and sauces, including a type of tartar sauce for the fish that closely resembled the American phenomenon of dijonnaise, but with the added pleasure of pickles. All delicious... even the herring, which no one would have ever believed I would have eaten. And what lunchtime meal would be complete without a beer and schnapps? Not a Danish one, that's for sure.

Traditional Danish Lunch

The 4 Musketeers

To show our gratitude to Michelle Kai for this culinary treat, we made her latkes at her flat later that week. It actually coincided with Yom Kippur, so that worked... kind of. Okay, not at all. The only problem with latkes is how for days afterwards the entire house and every inch of your hair and skin smell like potatoes and oil, so I'm not sure it was the best way to say thank you in the end. But at least they tasted pretty good.

Another highlight: After a few days of being mature, fashionably-dressed sightseers enjoying the history and art of Europe, Miche, Ez, and I turned into giggling children at Tivoli Gardens. We had the whole amusement park to ourselves (pretty much), and ran around to all the rides totally blissed out on sugar and adrenalin for about 6 hours. There was also some sake involved, as well as laughing fits over our zealously poor pronunciations of all the Danish words we had learned from Michelle Kai earlier that week.

Tivoli Gardens

On Miche's last day, all four of us took the train to Sweden, which was only about 35 minutes away. The city of Malmö kind of seemed like a mini-Copenhagen, but with cheaper food and, you know, Swedish instead of Danish. We saw some art, did some shopping, ate some kanelboller, said "we're in SWEDEN" over and over in extremely offensive accents, and then were back in Copenhagen again in time for dinner.

Malmö, Sweden

We then said goodbye to Miche, moped around for a few days, and then decided to do a bit more exploring on our own. Yesterday we took the train up the coast to Helsingør to see the famous Kronborg, which in English is known as "Hamlet's Castle." We weren't sure why it was called that at first... I mean I guess Hamlet was Danish, but as far as I know, he was also a fictional character, so I'm pretty sure it was not actually his castle. Turns out, the play took place in "Elsinore" aka Helsingør. Probably could've cleared that up sooner if we had had the guided tour... or read any of the posted signs. On our way back down the coast, we stopped off at Louisiana, a beautiful modern art museum overlooking the sea with a great Andy Warhol collection and a sculpture garden.

At Hamlet's Castle

Oh yeah... and since I am studying abroad here, maybe I should say a little bit more about my academic escapades. I'm taking courses all on international law--one on refugee law, one on human rights law, and one on "the law of armed conflict," which is fancy speak for a class on memorizing the Geneva Conventions. I LOVE all of these classes. It's all substantive, statutory law, I don't have to memorize cases, and Danish professors are excellent with powerpoint presentations, so as long as I have some coffee and I don't get too soaked on the bike ride to school, classes are great.

So, uh, that may be all I have to say about classes from here on out... but don't worry, I promise that I am going to class, doing all the reading and studying very hard. In fact, this week should be a great week of school!

Well, for the people at school... I'll be in Berlin :)