grocery stand and company

There are several alternatives to the local grocery stores here. Like everything in Europe compared to the United States, the stores are smaller to begin with, but smallest of all are little grocery stands. 

These stands are usually run by a foreigner, sometimes have better prices and always have shorter lines-especially handy around 6pm when I'm needing to make a grocery pit-stop, along with every other person in the country.

There's a grocery stand across the bike lane from my bus stop, and like most establishments here, it opens late and closes early. 

(A brief aside to explain bike lanes here. A typical street section includes a sidewalk which steps down to a bike path, protected from cars by a cement/cobblestone divider where bus stops are usually placed, and then sometimes another bike lane and always another sidewalk on the other side of the road. The bike lanes are well used. Copenhageners bike everywhere, even when its 30-something degrees and windy. My best explanation is that cars are outrageously expensive and highly taxed, these people have a conscience regarding the environment, and the city infrastructure actually caters to bikers.)

Anyway, when I'm waiting for the #10 bus around 9:30am, rolling shelves holding boxes of produce are usually clanking down a makeshift ramp from the store's interior to the sidewalk to be displayed until about 5:30 when they trace the same path back inside. 

On my 20 minute bus ride home tonight, I was scheming a pasta sauce and remembered seeing celery when I popped in to this same grocery stand about a week ago, so I went to check. 

While I scan the produce for potential ingredients, a little brown man smiling goofily walks over next to me, giving off the air that he's there to provide assistance. I pick up a little tied bunch of miniature carrots (like nothing I've ever seen before, but very cute) and ask him how much it is. He takes them from me, grinning widely still, and says he'll go inside and ask. I walk in behind him to look for celery there. He returns, tells me the price, and I see a more familiar carrot version that I elect to take instead. He tries to explain the carrot I've decided on is not the same, but I assure him I'm happy with it, sidestepping a conversation I can already tell will be lost in translation. He moves off a few steps while I continue to scan the vegetables, and eventually asks, "Where are your friends?" 

"What do you mean?"

"I saw two little Swedish girls here 

other day who are here studying. They not your friends?"

"I am studying here but I'm not Swedish, I'm from the United States."

(I've had the following conversation about a million times since coming to Copenhagen)

"Aaaaaah the United States! What part?"

"I'm from North Carolina (puzzled look), but I go to school in Pennsylvania...about an hour from Philadelphia and New York City." (His face lights up-that last part always strikes a bell-so I ask him, 

"Have you ever been there?"

"Ah yes! Philadelphia. My uncle lives there and I plan to go visit him soon."

I find out he is from Sri Lanka. "You know where it is?" I assuringly tell him I do, partially unsure whether the question is because he, too has encountered blank looks when he tells people where he's from or if it's because he's assuming I'm an ignorant American. Both are plausible. 

Then the 21 questions. I'm quizzed on how long I've been here for and if I've been in the store before. He says he's surprised he hasn't seen me if I've been here since January and I explain the late opening/getting to class time conflict. He asks what I'm studying and replies, "that's more unusual for woman in architecture" in a gently opinionated manner. 

I smile and say, "Well this is true, but I think it's becoming less so." (I think.)

He offers his help if I ever need anything, he has been living here for three years after all.

I thank him and take the opportunity to ask if he has celery, and he and his colleague go to "check the back" and return a few minutes later to point at a wooden box already in front of me containing something white cabbage-like. I laugh and tell him it's fine and proceed to the cash register. 

Said colleague assumes his post behind the cash register, with a ceramic bowl of some curried Middle-Eastern dish sitting to his left. I point at it and give him the thumbs up. He says something in Danglish (I recognize the word "spille," which means "to eat"). Having also heard my entire previous conversation he says, "So you're American?" and then points at himself and says, "Me too!"

"You're American?"

"Yes! I from Afghanistan! We there call us 'Little America!'"

Not wanting to open that can of worms, I smile, nod, and offer him the 64 kronor. That one will have to wait until next time.

dear STA travel

(For part of my STA World Traveler Application)
and now just as anecdotal writing about my travels:

My number one way to solve problems is by asking other people. I ask strangers when when I'm lost, waiters when I can't decide what to order on the menu, and locals when I'm trying to figure out a good place to (fill in the blank). Primary sources are often far better than maps and guidebooks.

When words are lost in translation, I revert to Pictionary or charades.

I'm a decently well-seasoned traveler, which also means I've made a lot of amateur mistakes.

Several years ago I missed my flight out of Brazil, and since then because I'm so overly cautious about checking dates and departure times I haven't missed another flight (I really hope I didn't just jinx myself), and-bonus! I got to stay in Brazil for another week.

As for Europe:

I've ordered water and learned I have to pay for it. I've learned that "water with gas" is carbonated. I know that "ding ding" means "get out of the way before I run you over on my bike." In every European language.

After sitting in a restaurant for hours, I've realized that patrons must ask for the check in Europe. Restaurants don't slip you a check as soon as you've taken your first bite. They think it's rude, and after realizing this, I think they're right.

I've used my Spanish to speak with Italians, and my two years of Latin to attempt to decipher the words written on churches and monuments across Europe.

Factoid I learned about horseback statues: If the horse statue has one leg raised, the said man was injured in battle. If the horse is on its hind legs, the man died a war hero. Thank you tour guide in Munich for that handy little way to crack the code of statues worldwide.

I'm a collector. Ticket stubs, coasters, receipts, napkins, matchbooks, labels, candy wrappers, free postcards, and anything else of noteworthy memory or interest. (Denmark manages to make both health care and postcards free. Amazing.)

I will walk up a mountain to see the Neuchwanstein castle before I pay for the bus ride. It really does make one appreciate every gold candlestick and granite slab that laborers dragged the whole way.

I've learned to go to dinner early on football (soccer) game nights-both to get the best seats and to beat the crowds to ordering food.

I've made all the mistakes possible when it comes to trains, and learned from each and every one of them.

I know to ALWAYS CARRY YOUR PASSPORT. In Europe, a U.S. Driver's License is about as valid as a peel-n-stick nametag.

I have learned that you can't always count on hostels to provide towels even when they claim on the website that it's included. There are handy little towels from REI (yes, that's a product placement) that can be rung out and dried after each use...after repeated use, smell is an issue though.

I refuse to pay to pee in those bizarre facilities found all over Europe that charge you to relieve yourself.

I have been humbled by a European vegetable scale in a grocery store and many-a-European-keyboard. Both can be more challenging than they appear.

I know how to use a Eurail Pass!

I have learned (from the best, thank you mom) how to pack my life into one backpack or suitcase or whatever a trip may require.

In the end, I've learned all of this knowing that I'll make more mistakes and face more unfamiliar and bizarre situations and emerge unscathed. Part of what I love so much about traveling is that no matter the context there are people to help you find fun, the place you're looking for or, it's so incredibly cheesy but true, yourself.

coffee on credit

On Mondays I have a large break between the end of my Danish class and the beginning of my Danish 20th and 21st Century Architecture class. I had a test in the 20th century class that afternoon and had stayed up until 5am the night before watching the Oscars with my roommate. Being the movie buff she is, it's something she does every year, makes all kinds of food and has people over to watch with her. 

I had dozed off a few times during the awards but netted only about 2.5 hours of sleep. I needed coffee.

I saw a tiny yellow truck with a little caboose of a coffee kiosk at the end of this square next to the University of Copenhagen Library. Walking up to him, I realize I only have a 1000 kronor bill to break and ask if he'll accept it. He tells me that someone just broke a 1000 kronor bill but... "Are you a student around here?" I'm not sure where this is going because he can't accept my money, but he tells me I can come back later in the afternoon or the next day to pay him. And, because I'm a student, I get a large for the price of a small. Delighted at how awesome this guy is, I make sure he'll be there later. He points to the dresser-sized driver cabin of the truck and jokes, "Yep every day, I even sleep in there."

Here's the best part: After making small talk he hands me my drink and says, "A discounted cafe latte on credit, now that's American business."

I laugh and tell him, I'm pretty sure no one in America would ever give me a coffee on credit. He replies, "It's better to make customers than no business at all."

to catch you up

This is a picture of one of my favorite little courtyards between two of the major pedestrian-only shopping streets. There are stores below and it's surrounded by residential apartments above. Courtyards are abundant here to allow more light to reach buildings and to create more healthy environments. It is a city after all.

Here's a version of the summary I've been emailing some people. A good overview and will fill in some of the missing gaps so that you can understand what I'm talking about in subsequent posts...

Copenhagen is great. It's so cold sometimes but it's such a cool city with all these fantastic cafes and shops and clubs and bars. An ideal place for young students. It makes me realize how little money I spend at Lehigh because now I'm financing groceries and going out for myself.

There's a tourist must-see here in Copenhagen called Christania that we visited the other day. It's this little enclave in Copenhagen that is not technically part of the EU and is kind of overlooked by the authorities. It's a place where literally no rules exist. It all started in the 60's (obviously) when the abandoned WWII military barracks began to be settled by hippies. The result is exactly what you'd expect to happen with such a crowd living in a very small area (maybe a square mile) for long enough: amazing food, graffiti, and even some permanent residents. There are drugs sold there, which is why it's a controversial area. The government wants to shut it down but there are riots every time they try. It's apparently one of the few things Danish people get hostile about. I've also heard people make the point that the drugs would infiltrate the rest of the city if they were to shut down Christania. It's an interesting political conundrum.

The shopping here is fantastic. It seems like everyone here is beautiful and stylish, which makes sense because it's apparently one of the fashion capitals of the world. It was Copenhagen Fashion Week at the end of last week but we unfortunately missed it while on our three-day western Denmark study tours. Bummmmer.

Architecturally speaking-you'll probably hear about more of this when I revisit the study tour-the Danish have amazing ways of bringing light into buildings because they get so little of it in the winters. A lot to be inspired by and learn from as an architecture student/enthusiast. It was sunny yesterday and the city's buildings and public spaces were even more fantastic because they were designed to take full advantage of it. My dad has reminded me several times that the last time we were in Copenhagen it was 70 degrees and the Danish were acting like it was a 90 degree day at the beach. I'm looking forward to being one of those people.

My living situation is what my program calls a Danish roommate. I am essentially renting a room in her apartment. We share a bathroom, a little kitchen, and the closet sized entry hall between all of the rooms. My room is very sizable (enough for a bed, desk, shelving, a dresser, and a couch) and has a window facing east (I think?). My roommate decorated it for me exactly as I would have for myself: everything is pretty, antique, and Ikea. I am in the land of Ikea, which is apparently like their Target/WalMart. She painted the window casing purple and the radiator gold. There are a few antique items from her grandfather who was a jeweler: a set of drawers that he used for paperwork for his business, an old chair and dresser set, a towel rack, and probably one of the mirrors. There are some cute teal and white striped pillows for my black couch and a beautifully elegant stick-on design on the back of the door that makes me love my room even more every time I close my door. She painted the outside of my door and hers with chalkboard paint. I arrived to a message and some beginner Danish phrases from her best friend. Mine now has something I doodled and hers a Mean Girls movie quote. A whole wall of her room is floor-to-ceiling with shelves of movies, and I'm trying to take advantage of that while I'm here.

Every surface of the walls in the hall and kitchen are decorated with posters and pictures and postcards from her childhood, travels, and great Danish design stores. She has Christmas lights in the kitchen and colorful kitchen accessories. I love it. A lot of chatchkas from Berlin-both of her sisters have lived there for different periods of time but now live in the apartment above us. Someone should be paying her for advertising so well for the Berlin- she's convinced me that I must return to Germany to go there, and it's not too far away so I probably will.

The roommate herself is named Laura, she's also 21 and she's studying at the University of Copenhagen. She's in a program which loosely translated is called entrepreneur-design, which sounds like a mixture of interior architecture and graphic design. Her last project was to redesign and improve a room at her school. Her group (they do mostly group projects in school here in Denmark) chose to turn it into a student lounge and designed the architectural space and the graphics and signage. We both came home and had basically the same thing to say about our days: "I feel like all I did today was build models." She's incredibly easygoing and living with her has gone very smoothly. 

We've started a tradition of Wednesday dinners with her sisters, her sisters' boyfriend, and other friends. The boyfriend is especially good in English and we all sit around and talk about Danish-American comparisons. I answer questions confirming or disproving what they've seen in movies, and they educate me about the Danish culture. And (major bonus) tell me their favorite hot spots in the city. I've learned from conversations with them and class readings that Denmark treats their citizens very well- it's known as the welfare state- and the entire socialist philosophy for their government is very different from our own. More to come about this later, but it's a really interesting juxtaposition.

DIS (Danish Institute for Study Abroad) takes about 500 American students from all over the country and condenses us into six or so programs. Architecture and Design is one of the bigger ones which is fun for me because I'm so used to being a minority at Lehigh. Lots of other people who also get excited about crown moldings, windows, materials, etc.

My classes are really interesting and the faculty are top-notch. All split their time between practice and teaching and have incredible resumes. I'm taking a Danish class and three architecture classes: an urban planning studio, a Danish 20th/21st century Architecture class, and European Urban Design Theories. There are a lot of walking tours and field trips to neat buildings and spaces in the surrounding areas. The number of pictures I've taken is probably nearly 1000. Maybe 30 of them have people in them. It's laughable.

I live about 20 minutes (bus or train) from the center city where school is located. Because I catch the metro from center city to go to the dorm where a lot of my friends are, I'm quickly mastering Copenhagen's public transportation. Not without mistakes-standing in the rain for 20 minutes after having taken the bus the wrong direction-but mistakes I'll hopefully never make again. 

There's the background story for you.

Good night and good luck.

introducing kobenhavn

This is the first picture that I took here. It's a view down one of the streets outside DIS (Danish Institute for Study Abroad where I'm studying here), which occupies a few fantastically old buildings in the Copenhagen's medieval city center. The immediate area is filled with great food places- thus far my favorite and affordable being Shwarma/Falafel and bagel establishments and a really good bakery called St. Peters. Those yummy pastries aren't called "Danishes" for no good reason. Down the street is the Radhuspladsen where my bus drops me off. It is essentially the Times Square of Denmark-giant electric billboards and a grand plaza generally full of people and entertainment. There were two guys playing Native American music there the other day.

The greenish tower in the distance is very characteristic of Copenhagen-there are tons of steeples and towers and minarets on the skyline, which lacks skyscrapers even in the financial and commercial districts. Gotta love Europe.

The trucks and cars are tiny. Sixteen-wheelers don't appear to exist, probably partially because the streets are too narrow to fit them and because everything seems to be done on a smaller scale. The truck in the picture is about as big as they come, even when transporting major hauls of construction materials, food, etc. I saw my first Ford F-150 in over two weeks yesterday and my jaw almost dropped because there are really hardly any big cars here...the few I have seen are sleek Range Rovers that I like to think are driven by European ballers, not oversized pickup trucks driven by a guy with cut-off sleeves.

It's kind of sunny in this picture- but that's rare this time of year. A lot of grey days. Sun rises around 8:15, and sets at around 4:30(?) Sundown is way earlier than I'm used to, that much I know. It's been somewhere between 30 and 40 degrees fahrenheit since I got here and, being a city on the water, it's windy. It's snowed a couple of times--just a light dusting that's generally gone by sundown of the next day. When I got here, I stayed optimistic about the weather by assuming that it would only get better.

Then I found out that February is typically the coldest month of the year here. 

That said, the Danes are happy people: Denmark has been voted the happiest place in the world for two years running now and my friends and I are determined to try to find out why over the next few months. 

The Danes have a word called "hygge" which basically means cozy and warm and is a principle these people live by. There are candles everywhere-it's tough to find a restaurant or store of any kind without them-as well as lanterns and oil lamps that hang or are put on the ground outside stores in the streets. The bins just inside the entrance to the grocery store are filled with bags of tealights. There were three waiting for me on my windowsill when I first arrived here. Light and warmth are achieved in any way possible to make up for the environment that lacks both during the winter. 

Denmark also conserves light and energy. All lights in public places--the stairwell to my apartment, the rooms at my school, bathrooms, etc. are regulated by motion sensors. Denmark is the world's biggest producer and exporter of wind energy-something like 20% of the country's electricity. There are giant wind turbines in the landscape outside the cities-many of which I saw on the architectural tour I just returned from. Sustainable design is a repetitive term here.

You can drop a coin here and it could cost you about $4. Kronor come in 1, 2, 5, 10, and 20 coins. It makes wallets heavier. At first it feels like I'm spending exorbitant amounts of money here just because the numbers are about 5 times what they are in the States. I spent something like 250 kronor on my grocery shopping trip. Cover to a club is 60. The numbers are just bigger. But I've gotten really good at dividing by 5 and 6, depending on my optimism regarding how the dollar is doing against the kronor. Before I left, my grandmother gave me kronor that she had leftover from their trip to Scandinavia. I'm thinking free kronor, awesome.

Turns out it's Swedish kronor, which is only accepted at 7-11 here (that's not so terrible because they're on literally every street corner). I tried to use the Swedish kronor to buy my first bus ride here and the driver looked at me like I was crazy/a dumb American. A look I've gotten somewhat used to.

For one, doors here will make you feel like a foreigner. All the doors to school, stores, my apartment open in instead of opening out. I can't count the number of entrances and exits that have been ruined for myself and everyone else not from around here. A casual "See you tomorrow" followed by the inability to open a door correctly is just plain embarrassing. But we've all been humbled by it. And learned to laugh.

The Danish language is so unbelievably different spoken than written, getting directions verbally is almost worthless. We all joke that you can assume half the letters of every word are silent and just plan on mumbling the rest. They have three letters in their alphabet we've never seen before, pronounce their d's kind of like l's (when they're pronounced), and r's are pronounced with a part of their mouth I'm pretty sure I don't have. Fortunately, everyone speaks English. Even their Swedish neighbors can't understand them, so it's out of necessity to communicate with the rest of the non-Danish speaking world. It doesn't sound like any other language, but at times reminds me of a mixture of French, German, Spanish, and English.

That's all for now. Godnat. (Despite troubles with pronunciation, some of the words are pretty obvious).

welcome/disclaimer

As weird as I felt about starting a blog, I was talking to a girl the other day who has started her own as a way to keep in touch with people while she's abroad...and I think it's a pretty great idea.

Plus, it's far less obtrusive than flooding inboxes of family and friends, ranting about my semester abroad. Instead, I'll let you keep tabs on me as often as you'd like.

I've also decided blogging isn't just for geeky creepers with nothing else to do anymore-I recognize that's a completely unfair stereotype but that has been my image of bloggers. 

Justification number three: I like the idea of writing to real people. Writing to "Dear Diary" always felt a little like having an imaginary friend instead of real ones.

So welcome. Here I am in Copenhagen, Denmark on a Saturday night. Exhausted from a three day architectural study tour of Denmark I just returned from. Since I can't fathom any more walking, talking, listening, or sketching I thought it would be a good time to start.