The Long and Winding Road

The last few days have been full of fun and surprises. On September 9th Michael and I boarded our last long train ride, a 7 hour adventure from Berlin to Amsterdam, with a 20 minute stop in Amersfoort, which I assume is in The Netherlands. This was my second time in Amsterdam, because as you recall, I spent 6 days there way back when in June. We stayed in an area I had not visited, so that was kind of fun, and we ran into my sister and her boyfriend! They hadn't intended to still be there, but Monica was suffering from a swollen face infection and remained in the city because of her connections to a doctor she found while there. Though the disease distorted her appearance (only slightly), her personality was unchanged so we enjoyed a dinner at the Burger Bar while avoiding faux-hippies, "too cool for school" jocks, and stoned guitarists who fell a bit too in love with Amsterdam's unique culture.

We stayed 2 nights in Amsterdam, making sure Michael got the full tour of the Red Light District. On September 11th we headed to Bruges, Belgium, a location both of us have been looking forward to ever since we planned to go to Europe. Bruges was the location for a movie Michael and I liked, called "In Bruges." My dad took me to see it last year and then I showed it to everyone, and I consider it one of my favorites. Because of this we were extremely excited to go there and take pictures of all the places that were featured in the movie. And guess who we saw there? Monica and Christian! They decided to stay there an extra night and surprised us in the lobby of our hostel, since they knew where we were staying and Bruges is a small town. We went to one of the bars that was in the movie, and today we climbed the big belfry tower that is in the movie so many times. Right when we got to the top of all 366 stairs the bells began ringing. It was glorious. We had an almost perfect 360 degree view of the city untouched by world wars, and it was a perfect way to end the "backpacking through Europe" portion of my summer.

Now I am lying in my bed in Brussels, waiting for my 8 am train ride to London where I will meet my grandma. In 5 days I will fly back to the United States of America, and in 8 days I will move into my new apartment in Davis. In 11 days I begin my Junior year of college (although professors have scheduled a walkout to protest school funding or something, so we will see). Oh and in 2 days I turn 20 and I am no longer a teenager. How weird is that? I would like to stay a teenager. 19 has been good to me. But I guess it cannot be avoided.

Tomorrow is my last non-metro train ride for a long time. This year you may find me on the Amtrak to Berkeley or Santa Cruz just to reminisce about traveling through Europe. I will surely miss my trains and the time I got to spend staring out the windows into foreign countrysides, pondering whatever popped into my head at the moment.

Until It Sleeps

Munich and Berlin were stark opposites in terms of facades, and the way they presented themselves directly relate with each city's reaction to the end of World War 2 and the Holocaust. Munich is what you would think of when someone says "Germany." It is a very traditional Bavarian place, full of men wearing lederhosen and little hats out on the street. After WW2, every effort was made to make the city look as it did prior to the wars. Churches and other buildings were rebuilt with as much original material as possible, and like I said before, when referencing the war imprecise and subtle language is used. Kristallnacht, the night when Hitler's men went around bashing in the windows of Jewish businesses, occurred in Munich, and there are memorials to it that don't specifically state what "it" is.

Berlin didn't have the benefit of complete American occupation following the war, and so the East part only really began to rebuild after the Berlin wall fell. Because of this much of the city is extremely modern. It has a thriving art scene, and reminds me quite a bit of San Francisco. I found Berlin's way of dealing with the atrocities of the Holocaust to be much more up front, with the huge, controversial Memorial of the Murdered Jews of Europe snagging the very center of the city. But even that memorial only recently got a plaque actually explaining what it is, so maybe Berlin isn't as open about the Holocaust as they claim to be.

Even with constant reminders of the Holocaust, I still really, really enjoyed my time in Germany and I am sad to leave. It is a prosperous, efficient, and intelligent country that seems to be truly sorry for their dark past. It is illegal to draw a swastika or give a Nazi salute, and being a Neo Nazi is not allowed. I still haven't decided if I like the "don't draw attention to it" attitude of Munich or the "holy crap we made a very big mistake" attitude of Berlin. I think the main thing I have come to accept is that prejudice against Germans today is unfounded, especially since I feel like so many Nazis were only participating because the alternative was watching their families killed in front of them. Obviously there were those involved who became Nazis out of a belief in the cause, but I think most people were motivated by fear and the desire to survive. My impression is that Germans acknowledge their dark past, feel terribly about it, and are still confused about exactly how to embrace such an awful and sensitive subject. And I don't blame them. That is some hefty baggage.

I was not raised Jewish, but by Hitler's standards I am worthy of extermination, and being in the places where it all went down has been interesting, to say the least. I stood at the exact location where Hitler first tried to assume power, where he forced people to salute the Nazi party, where he burned tens of thousands of books, where he committed suicide with his new bride, and his final resting place, where he had himself burned to avoid a public humiliation like Mussolini's. When I sat staring at Hitler's grave, I felt a fury unlike any I have experienced before. I wanted to punch the picture of Hitler's face that the tour guide was holding up. I don't know why, maybe it was being in a spot where Hitler stood, but the Holocaust became so real for me in that instance.

So that was Germany for me. Beer, bratwurst, and bad guys. I think the country has done remarkably well given the kind of damage they needed to repair, and while not the same, Munich and Berlin both have effective ways of dealing with their "apologies." The silent salutes to victims of unspeakable war crimes begin the healing process, and this sounds corny, but only continued tolerance towards all groups (this includes straight, white males) can really put the sutures in the wounds. Forgiveness can be achieved, but what has happened should never be forgotten.

Munchin in Munchen

Guten tag from Munich!

Michael and I arrived here yesterday, and were instantly satisfied by what has been the cheapest city for us both (so far). Especially after Switzerland, where there was literally no meal below the equivalent of $15.

We both had some things planned for this city, so today we set out to accomplish them. Our day began with a 5 hour trip to the BMW Museum and BMW Welt Factory. They were located right next to where the 1972 summer Olympics were held. The Welt Factory is the most beautiful piece of architectural work I have ever had the pleasure to experience.

The museum held some absolutely exquisite cars, and this comes from a person who is only truly interested in the color of a car. I learned a lot about the cars BMW makes, as well as the history of the company. For one thing, I learned that BMW supplied arms to the Nazis during the war, and had their cars built by slave labor, including concentration camp inmates, who were treated far worse than the other slaves. This was not nice to know, but I did find out that BMW was one of the first German companies to acknowledge the atrocities they committed, and even set up a fund for as a kind of reparations. This would have been more redeeming if the BMW museum had not referred to 1939 as "when war broke out," instead of "when we started the war." But I shouldn't be too picky. It is kind of hard knowing that whatever German museums I go to, there will inevitably be some mention of the Holocaust. Obviously it is not something that should be forgotten, but I sure get sad when I see all those pictures.

In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed the museum and the factory, and I even bought myself a really cool BMW Yachtsports sweater. Hopefully no one will actually ask me about BMWs because I really still just don't understand cars that well. WAIT ALSO we saw this car, one whose outside is entirely made of a really cool fabric:

The headlights look like eyes because the fabric moves back like eyelids when you use them!! SO COOL!!

Tonight we headed over the Hofbrauhaus, a famous Beer garden here in Munich. Man, was it crazy! It was a huuuuge restaurant, and right in the center there was a traditional German band playing loud music. The place was filled with a great mix of tourists and locals, and everyone seemed happy. The whole area had a great feeling of joviality. Michael and I each ordered a beer (a little one for me) and different wursts with sauerkraut. We also got big ol' salty pretzels before the main course! We sat right by the Stammtisch (regulars) section, and those tables were full of old German men wearing traditional little German hats wearing German liederhosen, drinking from their own personal beer steins.

All in all it was a great day. Munich is a fabulous city, one which I could even imagine people living. Some places I've been to this summer (mostly Spain) I just can't imagine people ever living there. They don't seem like legitimate places, more like summer or weekend places. Maybe because they were so hot.

PS We never went paragliding. The two days we had set aside for it greeted us with cloudy, rainy, thundery weather, so it wasn't safe. It's too bad, because I was all revved up to go. I GUESS I will just have to go back ;)

To Glide or Not To Glide

I am terrified of falling. I don't like airplanes or standing over cliff edges. Yet tomorrow, I have promised Michael that I will go paragliding with him here in Interlaken, Switzerland. What am I doing?? I keep seesawing between whether or not I should go. Half of me feels that holy crap I'm in this beautiful landscape where I may never return and it happens to be famous for adventure sports, and the other half of me sees these figures swinging around so high up in the air and it makes me want to pee myself.

FOR EXAMPLE! Here is a picture I took a few days ago of a paraglider coming to Earth in front of the Jungfrau mountain:

That's high up!! Many many many meters!

I imagine that once takeoff occurs and I am airborne, I will forget how far I am above the ground and enjoy the fact that I am as closing to flying as a human can be. The flight lasts from 10-30 minutes depending on the amount of thermals you hit, and it is pretty darn expensive. These factors combined with my fears are making this a difficult decision to make. Do I want to play it safe and not take the risk of being REALLY scared for 10-30 minutes, or can I trust that the joys of flying will override my nerves? I want to make the right decision.

Chances are tomorrow you will see a new blog post saying "I know I was scared before but paragliding is amazing and I had no reason to be scared at all!" This is what I hope for.

UPDATE: 5 minutes after writing this entry, I decided to man up and paraglide! Michael and I ran out to the meeting point to get into the next paragliding group, only to be turned away due to dangerous winds. We said oh well, we will go tomorrow, then found out it will be raining all day. All that mental preparation for nothing! I am hoping for a miracle weather change so I can actually do what I have been preparing for!

Sweetzerland

Michael and I are finally in Switzerland, after an unnerving couple of unplanned days. You all know what happened, and I don't feel like talking about it. But I must acknthing to acknowledge my continued happiness with the devotion and support of my family, my boyfriend, and my boyfriend's family. If I am not blessed, I don't know who is.


The important thing is, we are in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to, especially this summer (and especially compared to Spain's big cities!). I have been to Switzerland once before, but it was down on the French border nestled in the Alps, in the town of Champex. Now we are in Interlaken, a town that sits (get this) in between two lakes, and looks up at so many breathtaking mountains. It is fairly touristy, but the clientele is much more...comfortable. For me. They are all very rich. This means that food, activities etc are WAY more expensive than they need to be (Happy Meal at McDonald's is 6.50 Swiss Francs, so about 6.50 USD), but I also feel extremely safe and well, at home.

In any case, Michael and I have been having a great time here. Today we went shopping, which for us means looking at watches, jewelry, and sunglasses and saying "When I'm rich, I'm gonna buy that." We had a tasty cheese fondue for lunch, then went to the grocery store to buy dinner for the next two nights (pasta and tomato sauce). After the market we sat along the edge of a big field by our hostel where all the paragliders land. Their grace and lack of fear upon landing has prompted us to consider the idea of going paragliding as our adventure sport while in this adventure sport-savvy town. It is either that or canyoning. They are both very expensive, so we would do it as a birthday present to me, but even that doesn't quite justify it.

The hostel we are in is superb. It is more expensive than past hostels, but cheap for Switzerland. They have free breakfast every morning, free wifi and computers, a tv room where you can watch DVDs: we watched Ben-Hur last night with a girl from Sydney and a graduate of UC Berkeley who studies the same exact material as Michael. They also have a shelf of books right next to where I'm sitting that I will pick through soon, as the book that I was halfway through got stolen with my other stuff. It was really good, too.

Tomorrow we will hike around the lake and continue to marvel at the natural beauty that surrounds us. We are spending a total of 5 nights here to recover from recent events, as well as to wait for the new Eurail passes that Michael's parents have so graciously sent to us. On Thursday we will head to Munich, then Berlin, Amsterdam, Bruges, and we will terminate with 5 days in London, where we will meet up with my Grandma. Michael and I are especially looking forward to this part of the trip, for a number of reasons. 1) We get to see my grandma, who is amazing and awesome and who I miss very much. 2) Michael is in love with London. It may have been a mistake for him to go to school there, because I imagine that if he ever gets an excuse to live there, no one will ever see him again. Finally 3) These 5 days encompass both my birthday and my grandma's, so it will no doubt be a very celebratory time!

So all is well, Michael and I are extremely happy and enjoying Switzerland's Interlaken to its fullest, and we are looking forward to every other part of our journey! This computer is unbearably slow and won't let me post pictures on here or Facebook, so we will just have to have a slideshow of everything when I get back! Suffice it to say that since they are of Switzerland, they are beautiful.

La Tomatina

It began as a street fight during a town parade in 1945, where people picked tomatoes off of street stands to aid their battle. It happened again the next year, in a less violent way, and ignoring brief interludes, has continued to this day, representing one of the only Spanish traditions that does not have a religious connotation.

We began at 5:30 am, eager but stressed to get to the first metro train at 6:20 so we could take the first regional train from Valencia to Buñol at 7 am. Needless to say, with an expected attendance of 20,000 people, most of whom were staying in Valencia, the trains were pretty crowded. Luckily, Michael and I were able to find seats for the 45 minute train trip, so we got to prepare mentally and physically for the event ahead.

We arrived in Buñol at around 8 am and proceeded through the ancient-looking Spanish village down to the site of the event around which I have planned my summer: La Tomatina. Most people were already drunk by this time, which I will remind you, was 8 in the morning. Michael and I proceeded to the Designated Drivers Rockin' Fun Zone, which was an area the size of the sidewalk where Michael and I stood. Basically, we were some of the only sober people there. But when you're in Europe surrounded by Australians and under-21 Americans, you can only expect a certain degree of drunkenness.

With anticipation and a lingering scent of beer and sangria hanging in the air, the first event began: The Greased Up Ham Pole. Spaniards and tourists (mostly tourists) literally fight each other up a wooden pole covered in lard to release a ham that has been tied to the top. Obviously the attempts during the first hour and a half are unsuccessful, because everyone is pulling and kicking each other down, trying to earn the drunken respect of the audience. When I say kicking, I mean literally, men would kick girls in the face, even using said faces as stepladders. Also the pole is absolutely slathered in lard, and it has to be removed before further attempts can be made. When guys (inevitably guys) reach the lard, they toss it into the crowd. I got some on my shoulder! Awesome!

Not my Tomatina (I didn't have a camera), but you get the idea.

As the sun rose over Buñol, Michael and I decided to seek out some of the water vendors we saw on the way there. Leaving the crowd was harder than it should have been, as Australians wouldn't let non-Aussies through, so we had to forge terrible accents in order to get out. With the water purchased and the tomato time drawing near, we headed back to the street, although not for the same position as before. We had been standing in perhaps the best spot, which meant it was crowded, hot, smelly, and possibly dangerous for a person of my stature. With that in mind, we chose a location just off the street with excellent tomato access, but also with more room.

And then the cannon burst, signaling the initiation of La Tomatina. The crowd descended into a kind of controlled soccer riot, and my vision was gradually obscured by a fine, red mist and small, ovular missiles. Everything was an amazing chaos. Dump trucks came down the street and forced people to the sidewalks. The trucks were full of 20 young Spaniards hurling about 130 tons of red tomatoes at bystanders. And the "bystanders" would pick them up and hurl them right back. Everyone gradually turned into what looked like pizza sauce, but drunker. The trucks drove through again and again, and that meant more and more fun. I hit a guy in the mouth. Michael hit a girl square in the eye. I got hit in the face 4 times, and I loved it.

And I think the locals enjoyed it, too. When the second cannon was fired, signalling the end of the tomato fight, people came out of their houses with hoses, spraying down the tourists. Throughout the entire event locals dumped buckets of water on the crowds, attempting to keep them cool. At one point I was targeted by a bunch of Australian boys with access to buckets and fountains, and I ended up getting soaked through, but it was perfect.

La Tomatina was the most crazy, amazing, exciting thing I have ever done. If every day of my trip was awful, it would have been worth it to come to Europe because of La Tomatina. I am so pleased that I was able to fit it back into my schedule, because I have never experienced anything quite like it. Seeing so many happy young people completely covered in tomato pulp, from hair to shoes, was elating. And seriously, it's a giant, free food fight in the streets of a beautiful Spanish city, attended by creative twenty-somethings in fun costumes. How could I not have loved it?



PS. Did I mention that I too, became covered in tomato pulp? Even though I took about 5 hose showers, I was not Tomato-Free enough to board the train back to Valencia. I had to take another shower outside the train station. And I took another shower when I got back to the hotel. And I still smell like a caprese salad, minus all the non-tomato ingredients. When I touch my skin and hair, it feels like a tomato. In fact, with all the Spanish sun I've been getting, I may even LOOK like a tomato. Please don't eat me :(

Not Plain Spain

I had an entire blog written out about my experience in Granada, and right when I hit "publish post" the internet died. So it goes. I will still give you the abbreviated version, but with more cats included.

Granada was the best place to go to after my negative experience in Madrid. It was clean, organized, smallish, with many touristy things to do. The hostel was also great; it was run and populated by young, active people, and set in a central location to the all the attractions and nearby local supermarkets. The hostel offered everything we could have wanted: tasty, traditional Spanish dinners for 4 euro, an exclusive hot springs tour, a communal kitchen, free internet, and they do your laundry for you for a low price. We met a ton of people there, all Canadian and Australian, and I may see one of the Australian girls when she comes to San Francisco next year. Meeting people is certainly one of my favorite parts of traveling.

As for Granada itself, it is a truly Spanish city. People take their siestas and Sundays very seriously - the only things open during these times were the touristy souvenir shops, and even some of them were closed. It also has a history of Moorish influence, making it the first place I've been to with an Arabic style. We never made it to the Alhambra (no lectures please), but we did do the local hot springs tour, and it was worth every cent! Someone from the hostel drove us out about 12 km to a little pool in a dark field. At first we assumed we were going to be murdered a la Hostel, but we just ended up relaxing in a perfectly temperatured little pool. A lot of locals with their with their children and dogs, and for the first time in weeks, I saw the sky full of stars. It was awesome. On the ride over I was asking our driver (in Spanish!) if certain animals lived in the area, but he said it was only rabbits. And scorpions. But I think he was kidding about the scorpions.

We had a feline-filled experience in Granada, which of coursed served to enhance it. When Michael and I took our own little walking tour (we didn't wake up in time for the organized one) we saw the most adorable pile of kittens sitting between a small creek and an ancient wall. It was quite picturesque. At night there was a very stereotypical prowl of cats meowing at every door on the street, possibly begging for food or just being ridiculous cats. They seemed fat enough, so maybe I should assume they were just out causing trouble because they can.

After 12 hours of train travel, Michael and I have arrived in Valencia, Spain, the epicenter of our summer. In 2 days we will go to Bunyol for the famous Tomatina Festival. It is amazing how many people I've met this summer who are in this city right now. It's like some sort of pilgrimage for college-student-aged individuals. We are staying in a 3 star hotel, the nicest thing I have encountered all summer. The upside is the severe spike in quality, however at hostels you get to meet people and do stuff with them. Luckily, since Valencia is full of people just like us, we have already met a nice New Zealander named Patrick who is traveling alone and will come with us to the Tomatina to hurl tomatoes with us.

We will take the next day to rest. Our hotel has English channels. Right now we are watching Tom and Jerry, which is awesome because there are no words so it works everywhere. After Valencia we will head to Barcelona for 5 hours, then take a night train to Geneva, from which we will immediately leave to Interlaken for 3 days of extreme sportage. We are considering the option of canyoneering, or climbing and rappelling down waterfalls! It is either this or hangliding/parajumping/skydiving/bungee jumping. We will also hike a lot. Huzzah for traveling!

In apology for being scant with my pictures, here is a photo I took in the main Cathedral in Granada (the only other thing open) yesterday.

MADrid y GRANDada

I did not like Madrid. At first I was excited about how unreserved everyone seemed to be, but that gradually turned into me being disgusted by the not-so-subtle looks I was getting from dirty men. The city itself looks like it peaked in the late sixties or early seventies, and seems to have a problem cleaning up everything, from graffiti to trash. If you could find a bench not occupied by a sleeping homeless person, you would be forced to leave by the overwhelming scent of urine. The whole time I was there I fretted over washing my hands, and even stepped in dog poop. I have not been in a dirtier city in my entire life.

I am happy that I went there, to say I´ve been, but I can´t say I would ever return. Ignoring that I constantly felt like a bucket of grease, there wasn´t a whole lot to do. We did some of the suggested activities, like walking the not so Gran Via, eating tapas, and visiting the Don Quixote statue in Plaza de España. I was told Madrid was a big party place, but we decided not to go to clubs because even during the day we were constantly worried over our (well my) purses and back pockets.

We were going to go to Barcelona, but I decided that, because we are in Spain, we should visit the namesake of the street I lived on for 13 years, so now we are in the clean, beautiful, and friendly Granada, about 5 hours south of Madrid in the Andalucia region of Spain. There are tons of outdoor cafes, and the pleasant atmosphere makes the 100 degree heat much more tolerable, unlike Madrid´s dirty edifices. There is also plenty to do here. Today we walked down the shopping streets, visited a big Cathedral, and ate bocadillas at a cafe. Tomorrow we will go on a free walking tour in the Albaycin area of the city, a Moorish neighborhood that promises to be unique and intriguing. Tomorrow night we will go to a midnight hot spring soak under the stars. Our third and final day in Granada will be an early morning trip to the Alhambra, a huge fortress surrounded by abundant gardens. They only have 1000 tickets per day (smart people book online ahead of time) so we will rush up there so we can experience the jewel of Granada.

At first I disliked Spain, having only been in the dirty, hot, and sprawling Madrid, but now that I am in the moderately sized and well organized Granada, my mind is changing. Who knows how Valencia will make me feel!

Observations of Denmark

Even though I am frequently busy doing traveling stuff, I am going to make more of an effort to blog. I originally blamed my sudden lack of writing on the fact that I am out doing the aforementioned traveling stuff, but you, my audience, are largely made up of my friends and family who have been extremely generous in your emotional, mental, and financial support. Every so often I see a little more money in my bank account and I know a gracious family member is thinking of me. When Michael arrived in Europe he gave my sister and I wonderful letters from home that were also bearing gifts. I am extremely lucky to be part of such a generous and thoughtful family.

Now onto Denmark matters. As we all know, I set some very high expectation for this country, doing tremendous amounts of research on Danish people, businesses, and food. After spending roughly 5 weeks there (having taken that two week "vacation" around Europe), I feel like it would be interesting to list some of the things I learned from actually being there, rather than what I read off the internet.

Danish people are some of the nicest I've ever met, and the stereotype about them being difficult to crack open is only partially true. About half of the Danes I met initiated conversation, and the other half wouldn't even look at me if I spoke to them.

Danish food is very good, but it must be authentic. The homemade Danish dishes (as well as the non-Danish dishes) made by my host family were some of the best meals I have ever consumed. But finding restaurant food in the city is not as easy as say, in Paris, largely because Danish families almost always eat in, so there is not a huge market for take away food. Also I am used to giant American servings, but Danes eat a very healthy amount, so I was frequently surprised.

Copenhagen felt extremely safe to me, something I cannot say about Madrid. It was as dirty as any other city, something which I did not expect, however they have a wonderful train accessory: All of the seat groupings (usually 2-4 seats) have small bags hanging from the side where you can deposit your trash, so the trains stay very clean. I have not seen this in any other city or local train.

I am happy that my abroad experience was in Denmark, but unless the weather is always like it was this summer, I can´t say that I would move there. Plus they don´t have New York OR Chicago style pizza there, and I don´t think I could live without that. And my family. Them too.

Churros y chocolate

I feel like so many of my blogs begin with my apologizing for not blogging, so let's just assume from this point on that if I don't make posts for an inappropriately large amount of time, I am so sorry.

Now that that is taken care of, I will let you know what has occurred over the past few blogless days:

1) Michael finished LSE, and came to visit me in Denmark
2) Had a tearful goodbye with my host family this morning (8/17)
3) Flew to Madrid with Michael, settled into the Panizo Hostel right in the center of the city

It is very hot here in Madrid, but Michael and I have a lovely hostel room on the third floor (technically fourth, but the first floor is called the ground floor and the second is called the first, and so on) and it has a fan, a TV, a balcony, and no roommates! This is my first hostel experience where I don't spend the night with strangers. Michael is very impressed by the quality of this establishment, and I am excited to see how he considers multiple-bed dorm setups that we will inevitably inhabit in the near future.

Being in Madrid is also great because it has given me the opportunity to try out my 6 years of now rusty Spanish, and I have noticed that the more I speak, the more I remember. The last Spanish class I took was in the fall of my freshman year, so two years ago, and the loss of Spanish words from my vocabulary has been a genuine concern for me since the class ended. I sort of purposely chose a hostel where I knew the proprietor spoke no English, and because of this, I get to speak my second language. And I am much better at it than I remember. Woohoo!

Soon I will regale you all with my experience in Denmark, since it has concluded, but right now Michael is making his "yo quiero paella" face and I must agree. Dinnertime!

My Constant

I'm no poet so I won't subject you to a true ode, however I feel my backpack deserves a certain amount of praise, so it will be done in a medium in which I am more comfortable, namely, writing.

I (my family) bought this Lowe Alpine backpack in 2003, when I was a mere 13 years old. I was signed up for a backcountry backpacking trip through Canada with a teen outdoors group called Adventures Cross Country. My only mountainous experience was that of hiking the glorified hill that lived behind my house, so needless to say, I was scared of this trip. But I had my backpack, all 60 pounds of it when it was filled. When the trip came to its conclusion, I went back home with my only friend stuffed down in the cargo hold of that 747. Even though I was a pain and kind of mean to everybody and therefore unable to make friends, my backpack always looked the other way and forgave me, despite my bad attitude.

When I was able to reflect on my trip to Canada I was also able to get over myself, and go on a trip to Southern Europe the following summer, carrying with me the same red and black acquaintaince that had kept me company in Canada. Sometimes I had a love/hate relationship with the thing; when the straps became frayed or it pulled me back towards the shark's teeth rocks at the bottom of a gulley while I clutched the side of a slick cliff I wanted to toss the sack of cloth, but when I realized it could help me carry around a month's worth of supplies with minimal effort, I truly loved it.

My backpack still smells of the trail mix and pine needles of that first summer in Canada, even as I use it for the fourth time while going through Europe, and I find it comforting. Even though some straps are broken and there is a lock on the shoulder whose combination I can't seem to recall and crown-like day bag has mysteriously disappeared, I still consider it like a friend to me. Now that I am using the backpack while I travel alone, our relationship has really been taken to the next level. On my previous trips I was able to rely on other teenagers for companionship, but now I find myself snuggling into my backpack as it's many straps give me a hug, desperate for some kind of physical contact. When I pull it down from the overhead storage of a train car and clasp the arms underneath my throat and around my hips, I feel at home in a constantly shifting environment.

I know this dynamic could easily change once I am joined by my boyfriend this Saturday, and I no longer need to look to an inanimate object for friendship, however I can still see myself silently rejoicing in the hug of my Lowe Alpine, the backpack that has accompanied me across the world without complaint, and has always been my constant.

Spotted Dick

Hello from London! Again.

I have nothing much to report about my travels, so I will delve into the linguistic world, which will be an interesting journey considering I am toying with the idea of making this subject into my new major.

Anywho, comparing British (proper?) English to American English has been one of the highlights of my trip. It amazes me how the two are truly individual dialects, rather than differently accented versions of the same language. Both groups use unique phrases and words, grammatical structures and inflections, even picking dissimilar ways to express an idea based on contextual social situations. I stupidly have not written down all the instances of these theories being proven which I have come across in the past 7 weeks of my travels, so I will try to do better from now on.

My favorite: Refering to an attractive female as "a nice bit of crumpet." The Brits can make even the most derrogatory of phrases into a sophisticated statement.

When I was in Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Italy, and France, I craved the English language. Even though most Europeans speak it, I constantly found myself simplifying or minimalizing my speech in order to accomodate my listener. After I made the impulsive decision to come to London, I was excited to be able to speak fluently and openly without having to strain my attention in an attempt to understand people. Unfortunately, dumbing down my communication has made England an exceptional challenge for me: I can't understand what people say , and I am slow to respond, which is exaggerated by the famous British Quick Wit.

Maybe I just need more time for my first language to feel like my own. My reflex responses have been a mixture of Danish, Spanish, and Italian, so I ask for my french fries to be "stor" in Italy, and beg "permiso" when walking through the Louvre. I have also developed the habit of copying peoples' accents in an effort to increase understanding, but it always comes out as a muddled mess of my native word swirled in with the English or Australian equivalent, turning Melbourne into Mehlbehrn.

For now all I can do is look forward to the remaining 6 weeks of my trip and try to speak as slowly and clearly as possible, and hopefully I will get my pommes frites grandes.

Berets and Baguettes

Hello from Paris! I need to apologize (again) for my lack of updates, however this is the first time since I left Florence that I have had a computer, and I am not writing blogs on my iPhone. Sorry.

Anyway, I met some amazing people in Florence, and they invited me to come to Rome with them. They were surprisingly, not Australian. Everyone in Europe is Australian. In Italy I met zero Italians, but about half the population of that island nation. They were from Melbourne, Sydney, Canberra, Brisbane, Perth, etc etc etc etc. I swear, if I went to Australia in July, it would be empty save for a horde of kangaroos taking advantage of the empty beds. Actually, my experience with Australians this summer has prompted me to consider studying abroad there this year, because they are a pretty cool people. And they insist my perception of their spider problem is greatly exaggerated. I hope this is true.

So I checked out of my Florence hostel 2 nights early, hopped on a train to Rome, and stayed in a camping ground hostel with my two new Canadian friends. I did not realize it until I got to Rome, but when I checked out of my Florence hostel, they failed to give me back the driver's license I had given them as collateral, and so now I cannot drive. I just got my license in May, so this is pretty sad. I emailed them, they blamed the mistake on me and asked for 20 euro to send it to me, but I will not do that. That's just ridiculous, the card weighs exactly the same as a piece of paper with writing on it.

Moving on. Rome was alright. I had a great time with my friends, but the hostel was a total bust. It was on the outskirts of Rome so it took a lot of sweaty public transportation to see anything awesome. Also, the hostel website boasted a party every night, which is a great way to meet people, but our first night was a Peanut Party, which is exactly what it sounds like. We went into the "club," and sitting on the bar was a big sack of peanuts. Not exactly the wild, crazy night in Rome I imagined.

After 2 nights in Rome and a tearful goodbye, I took the night train to Paris to meet my friend from school. He is significantly less lazy than I am, so on the day of our arrival we walked about 12 miles and saw the Arc d'Triumph, walked and shopped the Champs Elysees, had baguette hotdogs while dangling our legs over the river Seine, shuffled through the Notre Dame cathedral, and had baguette sandwiches and croissants in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. We got a lot done. Today we got crepes, and then spent an unusually large amount of time searching for baguette. We were surprised at the difficulty of it, given the fact that we were searching for it in the Baguette Capitol. Once we found a boulangerie, we bought some brie cheese, salame, and clementine juice and once again, ate lunch while sitting along the Seine. The rest of the day we sat in parks and relaxed in general, then spent four hours at night wandering through the Louvre looking at objects d'art. That was fun.

Tomorrow I leave for London to see my man, which I am greatly looking forward to. He has enticed me with a promise of burritos. I hope I can manage this purchase, because at the moment I have a whopping $1.97 in my bank account. Thank God for credit cards.

Firenze!

I like Italy. I can see why so many people come here to study abroad. A lot of people have classified Italy study-abroaders as young people only looking for easy booze and easy boys. While both of these things are in fact easy to find, I can't imagine they are the sole motivators for choosing this country. As I wandered around Florence today, I kept having to remind myself to breathe because I was so frequently awestruck by the sights around me. Classical buildings, hidden alleyways, marble statues on arching bridges across a green canal: what more could any traveler ask for?

Even though I love South America, I think I would still go to Italy if I were to ever legitimately study abroad. There is just so much history here, and in Florence alone! Italy can boast a huge array of scientific minds, artistic talent, and original food, even in comparison with the rest of Europe. Think of all the foods you love, and I bet some of it traces back here.

Speaking of food, the food and wine tour I took this morning was fabulous. Our guide, Paul, took us to the local San Lorenzo food market and gave us the history and production information for some of Italy's most important food, like prosciutto and olive oil. He made a wonderful connection with olive oil and the people who produce it: Northern Italians, like their environment, are more temperate and mild mannered, even delicate. Southern Italians, on the other hand, are spicy and full of energy, and sometimes abrasive, like their rocky environment. Middle Italians are, you guessed it, a balance between the two, and if you do a taste test of olive oils from these specific regions, you will find the comparisons to be accurate. According to Paul. But I trust him.

That is all for now - I am going to lounge around my (possibly) new favorite city for the next 4 days until I head to Paris to meet with my friend. For now I have to deal with the one hard part about hostels, and that is that fact that you make friends, and then they leave before you do. It is hard to do things alone. Sometimes meeting people can be made so much easier by just being with someone else, I think because you don't start off so insecure. I will work on it.

Oh yeah, here is my recently acquired ear piercing (sorry, Mom), for those of you who are curious.

La Dolce Vita

This will have to be a short post, due to a faulty and frustrating space bar. After 24 hours (exactly) of train rides, including an overnighter from Copenhagen to Munich, and a late train from Munich to Bologna, I have safely arrived in Firenze, Italy. Besides a missed train to Florence, the whole trip was pretty uneventful. Actually, I got my own compartment for most of the sleeper-train ride, which is cool.

Now I am in Italy, and I have had a pizza. You can see the Duomo from the roof bar at my hostel, Plus Florence. The hostel is awesome because it has a pool. Tomorrow morning I am going on an Italian food and wine tour. Cheese and meat! Awesome.

My mom will hate me for this, but I am not going to Eastern Europe. Just Florence and Paris. I am visiting a friend in Paris. I just do not have it in me or my wallet to do Budapest and Prague. Not this trip anyway.

I am making friends, but I miss my boyfriend and my family worse than ever. I hope it goes away soon. Maybe Florence will knock the feeling out of me. Now off to bed!

Murphy's Law

I need to formally apologize for my lack of updates. The good news is I have been neglecting the blog out of sheer busy-ness and having most of my time occupied with things to do, but now that I am alone again, I can return to my old friend, the Internet. This blog entry is only one story out of an eventful week, but once I have finished getting all my pictures from the camera, I will do a more general post. For now, you get this.

My sister arrived on Saturday, my boyfriend on Monday. Monica decided to leave on Thursday to go to Amsterdam by night-train. When it came time to take her to the train station, we were impeded by a Classic Traveling Situation. We left about an hour and a half early, estimating 45 minutes of train riding from the house to the train station. Murphy's law states "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," and this day proved that. The second we stepped onto the train I realized I needed to go to the bathroom. Badly. I won't go into further detail than that, but suffice it to say, I was experiencing a high degree of discomfort. But I knew Monica was stressing about her connection, so I refrained from saying anything on the matter, and of course the farther along the train got, the more intense my situation became. In the past 5 weeks that I've lived in Denmark, the train has always been smooth and efficient. Well not this day. When we came within 2 stops of Monica's destination, the train shuddered and stopped. Something was announced in Danish over the loudspeaker, but I couldn't understand it because it wasn't "pølser med ketchup." When I asked the 8 other people in our car what the announcement said, they all shrugged their shoulders and looked confused. Jackasses. In a few minutes the train picked up again, however my situation was only getting worse. And then the train stopped again, in a tunnel. I began pacing up and down the train cars, feigning claustrophobia with heavy breathing. After what seemed like a least 30 hours, the train began crawling again, and eventually pulled into the station before Monica's. I told her I would meet her at the next station, and flew out of there looking for a toilet.

As you can imagine, in such an urgent situation, there was no immediate relief. With no restroom at the station, I left, looking for a restaurant, bar, hotel, anything. I found a hotel and raced downstairs to the bathroom. Women's door was locked. Ran to the men's. Locked. Raced back up the stairs and down the street, not even realizing it had begun to rain. I checked my phone: 25 minutes until Monica's train departs. I found a restaurant. The host approached me and I asked if he had a bathroom, obviously under some stress. He slowly said no, the restaurant did not have a bathroom. I almost yelled in disbelief. He then stated that the hotel next door had a bathroom, and pointed in the correct direction. At last.

After that debacle, I raced down the street to København H, the main train station and as such, the location of Monica's Amsterdam train. Luckily the station I got off at was only about 200 meters from København H, so it was very little leg work to get there. As it happened, after I got off the train it ceased to run entirely, and Michael had to usher Monica to København H on foot. They luckily arrived with 20 minutes to spare for her, but I wanted to say goodbye, and arrived with only 10 minutes before the train's departure. Of course her car was the very last one on the train, so I was running through the rain to meet her. But I was able to make a proper farewell, and she arrived safely in Amsterdam 15 hours later.

I think everyone has a story like this while traveling, where everything just seems to get worse and worse. After Monica got on her train, the whole situation became humorous, although I would rather not experience it again. All's well that end's well, eh?

Off We Go

I have pretty much made up my mind about the whole stay in Denmark vs. travel some more debate: I will travel.

My next question was should I go to Greece and Italy or Prague and Austria? Well I have made a compromise, and I think I will stick with it: I will go to Florence and Venice, then to Budapest, then Vienna and Salzburg, then Prague, and finally head back to Copenhagen to meet with my boyfriend so we can fly together to Madrid. This way I get to see Italy and some bits of Eastern Europe. I like it this way, because it almost forces me to have a trip to Greece all on its own, that way I can truly experience the country in all its grandeur. This is my justification for not going, anyway. But I am excited for Austria, Czech Republic, Hungary, and Italy, because I originally had no intention of visiting any of them. Being spontaneous is so fun!

Speaking of which, tonight I will be going to my second Metallica concert in as many days. Also, I got an ear piercing while strolling through downtown Copenhagen with my sis and boyfriend. Whee!

Better late than never

I apologize for my lack of updates in the past few days. A lot has been going on here, most importantly being joined by my sister (on Saturday) and my boyfriend (yesterday) in Copenhagen. After my sister arrived, we spent our time watching TV and searching the city for McDonalds. While this sounds like a pretty crappy way to spend a possibly once-in-a-lifetime vacation, it really suited us at the time, and isn't independence all about making choices for oneself? Actually we did go out yesterday but it rained so hard all we could do was stand under an awning and reminisce about California.

Michael (my bf) arrived late last night, so we pretty much just went straight home. Today we went down a few train stations with the intention of going to the Experimentarium, but instead wandered around Tuborg Havn (harbor) looking at the boats, Ferraris and the reason for the name of the harbor:

Giant beer bottles standing out on the shore. Pretty awesome. When I yelled "Look, giant beer bottles!" my boyfriend claimed I was smoking drugs.

We also ate delicious pad thai at a thai/sushi restaurant, and then groaned at the lightness of our wallets. But it was certainly fun, and nice to eat food that wasn't unfrozen first.

Another important occurence is my decision to leave Denmark 3 weeks early to travel to Italy and Greece. I still haven't figured out how to tell my hosts/work but I also really, really want to make this trip. I feel bad because even though the au pair is at this house, I am sort of in charge of the dog while my hosts are in Sicily, and I would be leaving 6 days before they return. But to not go to the Mediterranean because of a dog that someone else can technically watch? Seems silly. But still, my qualms remain. It is so hard to make choices!!

The Trouble with Trips

The past few days I have been struggling with the same issue I encountered the moment I set foot on European soil, namely my growing resistance to structure and planning. As you may recall, I had plane tickets directly to Greece on the day of my arrival, however I was so enamored with the idea of spontaneity that I turned my nose at the airport and proceeded to the London Underground, where I promptly fell asleep on my luggage. I planned to head straight to Belgium, but instead I stayed there for 2 days. Afterwards I planned on going straight to Copenhagen, but I ended up in Amsterdam for the night. Then 5 more nights.

The point is, being spontaneous is, evidently, like doing drugs for me. I was able to spend 2 weeks in Copenhagen before I needed my fix and I rushed up to Stockholm, where as it turns out, I should have stayed an extra night because they gave away free tickets to the Britney Spears concert! But I digress. I need my fix again. Today it hit me that I am in Europe, for easily the last time in a long while, doing exactly what I do at home. I wake up, go to work at a clinic, go home, too tired and dirty to do anything but spend a few hours on the internet or read a book.

This has stirred the restlessness within me, a feeling I have had difficulty quieting. It has manifested itself in strange ways, including a desire to change my major and my entire career path. While I know that is a subject that obtains better results through planning, I still can't shake the sheer joy I feel at having a life made up entirely of mysteries. But in this area I will let my head command my heart, because the Spock in me is reminding me to think logically.

The Question of what to do about my European travels remains. Do I stay in Denmark, biding my time until my boyfriend finishes his studies in London, and pursue our planned trip together for the remaining month of summer? Or do I spend one more week in Denmark entertaining my boyfriend and my sister, who are coming to visit, and then when they are gone take the next train to wherever I feel at the moment? Truthfully, I can only afford select places that I have researched. Or perhaps there are other opportunities I haven't yet discovered, which excites me further.

Until this point in my life I have always let my head be my guide, and it has always kept me satiated. But now I am by myself in Europe with an unlimited train pass and I am feeling trapped in a country that remains as unfriendly as the day I arrived, and my heart is screaming to be set free. Do I let Spock keep control, or is it time for Kirk to take over? Or should they share the wheel? I suppose these are the questions that make up life, and now is the time that I begin to answer them. Wish me luck!



I am aware of the Star Trek references. You should know by now that I am quite geeky for my gender. Deal.

Boom boom pow

Here it is everyone, the blog you've all been waiting for. Well at least my mom and my boyfriend's mom have. But that's good enough for me! Stockholm, in picture and caption form.

I will start by being perfectly honest. I went to Stockholm to go to the clubs. Before this little getaway I had never been to a club before, because in the USA you have to be over 21, and I am a mere 19 years of age. Also I have heard that Europe tends to have some of the best clubs in the world, Stockholm in particular, so I focused my money and energy on that. Just to see! Anyway I don't have many pictures from the clubs anyway, but whatevs. First the sights!

I found this statue in Old Town Stokcholm. It is a fox wearing a cloak. I like it.

These lions were all over the city, or at least where I went. Someone painted blood on this one.

This was a touristy part of old town. I have never seen so much viking stuff before!!

This guy is a badass viking. That's what it said on his little plate thing.

A beautiful church in old town. There was a big choir event going on to the side of it, as you can see. They sound as beautiful as the church.

This is a view of the water, and some dramatic clouds above. At that little shelf thing at the bottom of the picture,you can go dip your legs into the water. Very cool.

This is me in front of statue in front of some kind of music or opera house. I went and saw Bruno instead of opera. I'm so bad! Haha.

Pretty steeple.

Swedish countryside from the train window.

Some people from the hostel and I went to Chaplin's Bar, a lounge/nightclub/karaoke bar. I had a very good time (so did the people behind me, evidently), and I met some uh...interesting people. Okay so I have never gotten a lot of attention from men (who weren't my boyfriend, anyway), particularly in the last few years. Evidently going to a club means you are inviting dudes to come talk to you. Among my suitors for the evening was a Swedish guy with a shaved head and a tight white long sleeve thermal. He had someone come get me to talk to him (because we are in 4th grade, evidently), and proceeded to hit on me with full force. By repeatedly insulting America and yelling the N-word out loud. And then offering me drugs. I got out of there like a bat out of hell. And those are just the bare details.
Fortunately I got to sing Mamma Mia on the karaoke machine, so the night wasn't an entire loss. There is a picture but it isn't very good, so you don't get to see it. Unless you reeeeally want to.


The next night I went to Cafe Opera, a much more popular (and expensive) nightclub frequented by all the best, including celebrities. Here I was hit on by a much classier set of clientele, or at least by people who didn't immediately shout racial epitaphs and insult my home. At one point a French guy tried to kiss me, so I ran away, ignoring all my insticts to punch him in the face. I have never had the opportunity to hit someone, and I feel badly that I let this one pass me by.At the end of the night I was hit on ( I assume) by a very cute, nice Swedish guy. I wanted to bring him home for my friend Shawna, because she likes blonde, blue-eyed beauties. Even though I didn't partake in the "social events" of the evening, I still had fun enjoying the music. Club music rocks, and is so fun to dance to.


Unforunately I didn't get any pictures of myself at this particular club, but I had a good time and I would go back there again. But this is part of the lounge section, and the other picture is of the beautiful ceiling. My club experience was unique and verged into the scientific realm, and I just have to say I don't understand human mating rituals at all. After dancing with some girlfriends from the hostel for a while, I got tired and sat back and conducted some animal behavior field observations. It was interesting watching men and women play The Game, attempting to pick one another up for one night stands and such. It is a very good thing I am not single, because I am completely oblivious to the comings on of men. Perhaps because since I was 15, I have had no need or inclination to learn such rituals, but really it just all seems so...frustrating. I can't think of the best word for what I feel. Well I won't worry about it anymore, because it doesn't concern me. But for an outsider, it was very fun to watch.

Stockholm is a beautiful, lively city full of interesting people, good and bad. Even though I was kind of an awful tourist, I did manage to get a Swedish Meatball sandwich, and I saw an IKEA from the train window. I may go back there again, since it is so accessible from here, to do some of the touristy stuff, and maybe eat a little reindeer, a national specialty. I learned that I may not be as suited for the clubs as I previously thought, considering how little I drink and my significant interest in fidelity, but I did also have a great deal of fun. I met a great, international group of people at the hostel, and got to dance to Lady Gaga. I am satisfied.

Stockholm Syndrome

I am in the land of IKEA! This morning I hopped on a train destined for Stockholm, and I got absolutely the worst seat they could have given me. Actually it was not next to the bathroom, so maybe second worst. But still bad. I was in the aisle, facing backwards, and instead of a window there was a padded cushion for the window seater to rest their head upon. All it did for me was inhibit me from viewing the Swedish countryside. Whenever I could though, I would sneak into the seat in the front of me, so I could look out the window. That is about as risky as I get, unfortunately.

But anyway, I am in Sweden! How cool is that. Okay just so you know, this keyboard does not do question marks or apostrophes, so I cannot properly punctuate. And it is causing me great agony.

So my first order of business was to compare Denmark to Sweden, since they are so competitive with one another. Obviously I have not spent enough time here yet to fully grasp the country, but I can definitely tell it is more diverse. In Copenhagen the stereotypical blue eyed and blonde person is seen everywhere you go, en masse. In Stockholm, where that stereotype is also supposed to exist, you see far more brunettes and brown eyes.

Tomorrow I will try to visit the Nobel Museum, and walk around Old Town Sweden. Old Town meaning like 1350, so that is pretty cool. I will try to go to the evidently amazing night clubs in the city, but I also do not want to go alone, and have yet to make any friends. Boo hoo, poor me.

Sorry for the lack of pictures! I promise to update with Copenhagen AND Stockholm pictures when I return after this weekend. I promise. Seriously!

CAT-astrophe

Newfoundland dog, from www.puppypoopy.com. Hehehe.

When I decided to work abroad in Denmark, I was excited to witness a new style of veterinary medicine, and as it turns out, a lot has been different than my experiences in California. For one thing, neutering dogs DOES NOT happen (which may be a European thing, I dunno). Also the law requires you to put an ID tattoo on your dogs ear so when it runs away, it can be easily identified as not a stray, and the tattoo code is in an online database that anyone can access, so people can contact owners themselves. Other differences are minor, like the style of IV catheters used, the method of catheter insertion, and the fact that every dog I have worked with is pure-bred, not a mutt among 'em.

But one thing in particular is the same in Denmark as it is in the US, and that is the clients. Clients can really suck. I have noticed that the biggest barrier to helping a sick animal get better is its owner. To me, there is no animal that does not deserve to become healthy, yet there are so many people who stand in the way of that. Today a woman came in with a vial of her Newfoundland's urine, and asked the clinic to process it. She didn't have the dog with her, and she was already known for being picky and stingy when it came to her dog's health. The vet on staff processed the urine and found a huge amount of blood in it, as well as an excessive amount of the sort of elements that cause crystals to form in the bladder, and eventually turn into a stone that can cause death. People used to frequently die of "The Stone" centuries ago, but since then, treatments have been developed to dissolve the minerals and save the lives of man and canine alike.

One of the treatments is a special diet. A fairly expensive special diet. Needless to say, the owner of this dog won't be purchasing it. And the dog will die a very painful death.

And what can you do? You have the ability to save this animal, yet there is nothing you can do, except sit and wait for her to bring him in to be euthanized.

Some of you might be thinking, "Well you can't always expect people to throw out a lot of money for their pets, there are financial limitations!" I would agree, except the lab work that she ordered costs more than the diet, so why process the urine at all if you're not going to do anything about it?

Sorry for the long rant, but in the 2 years I have worked in vet clinics, I have seen way too many of these clients hurting the well-being of my patients, and it makes me very sad. It is probably the only thing that could stop me from being a veterinarian, because having the power to save a life but not being able to use it is a very frustrating thing. BUT I know that for every animal whose owner won't let me help it, there are many more whose will. And that is a comforting thought.

Huzzah

Sorry for the lack of updates these last few days. Life has been not as eventful as my blog would hope. Well actually I made an interesting discovery...

On Friday night Nicolaj took me and his two eldest children to Bakken, an amusement park North of Copenhagen. It happens to be the oldest STILL-RUNNING amusement park, which I think is pretty cool. It is set in the middle of a beautiful forest. On our way to the park, we saw an albino baby deer, which is pretty rare, but not my interesting discovery. My discovery was that amusement parks attract White Trash. And that White Trash exists in Denmark. I never expected to see it! The first person I saw at Bakken was a man with his hat on backwards, no shirt, and his chest hair shaved into the shape of a cross. People were wearing giant inflatable condom hats (yes I wanted one), and they had stands selling giant ties that displayed such words as "FUCK" and "SHIT," in English. The whole place had the general feel of less-than-sophisticated.

Now don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with these people, I was just surprised to see the (now outdated) stereotype of "American" wandering through Scandinavia. These were the same kinds of people I have seen at every county fair I have ever been to. It was fun.

Anywho, the next day we went to the beach where I was reminded that Europeans enjoy swimming in the nude. But not the hot, young, sexy Europeans. The old guys. Ew. Trying to ignore a certain man's "Golden Years," I focused my attention on the landmass across the water, which turned out to be Sweden. So now I have decided to go to Sweden this weekend. Yay! I am going to Stockholm, where I will surely do stuff.

I will update more later. Now it's dinner time!

Happy Birthday, USA!

Today is the 4th of July, and so, the USA's birthday. It is kinda sad that I won't be home for it, largely because I love barbeques and gratuitous illegal fireworks. It's always a bummer to miss out on that sort of stuff, and I'm not really sure what to do over here to celebrate on my end. I need to make some friends right quick. Oh well.

In honor of my country's birthday, I have decided to share with you an international perspective on America and its people. Now, the last time I traveled through Europe, 2004, I was met with a lot of hostility and stereotyping, largely because of our president at the time (which frankly doesn't say a lot about the Europeans if they judge only me based on THAT). But anyway, the US was not well-looked upon because of its choice.

But I also didn't meet a whole lot of Europeans last time. This time, I have been able to talk to people from various countries and ask what they think about Americans, and the results have been surprisingly and heartwarmingly positive. Two French guys I met in Amsterdam would not stop talking about how much they love American movies. All the Danish people I have talked to who have been to the US say they love how friendly everyone is, that you can go there and within 20 minutes someone will have invited you home for dinner. They say Americans have a very outgoing attitude and genuinely like helping and talking with people.

I thought this was really sweet! I was expecting "fat, loud, stupid, materialistic" but no one ever mentioned that, even when I prompted them. It is nice knowing that the American image is improving across the globe, or at least in Europe. Actually, there has been a ton of Obama paraphernalia in many of the stores I've been to, which confuses me a little bit, but I will accept it.

So there you go America, a nice compliment for your birthday!

Danish Factoids

I was going to do a long post about how EVERYTHING went wrong today, but I decided not to burden ya'll with my problems, because they won't feel so heavy tomorrow, so what's the point?

Instead you get to see a list of cool Danish stuff! I love lists.

Famous Danish Companies
- Lego: little toy blocks that people love well into adulthood
- MAERSK: a cargo shipping company, for those of you who don't live on the ocean or have never seen one of their containers.
- Haribo: they make super delicious candies. Not totally sure they're Danish, but whatever.
- Skype: cheap/free online communication program. The guy who started this also did Kazaa, a program to illegally download music.

Famous Danes
- Hamlet: fictional Prince of Denmark, main character of the most performed Shakespeare play
- The Little Mermaid, Thumbelina, and Beowulf: three more fictional Danes
- Viggo Mortensen: Technically half-Danish, but who cares? Most famous as Aragorn of the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, also my future husband. Not that he knows this.
- Saxo Grammaticus: a historian I've never heard of, but I saw him on the wikipedia list of famous Danes, and he has the coolest, most badass name ever. I am going to change my name to Saxo Grammaticus.
- Niels Bohr: physicist. Worked on the Manhattan project, did some other stuff.

Other
- First country in the world to refer to the union of two people of the same gender as "marriage." This was in 1989, only 20 years ago! Still got a lot of work to do, world!

Okay I can't think of anything else. EXCEPT! this doesn't have to do with Denmark as a whole, but whatever. Last night I spent about 2 hours chatting with Nicolaj over the Danish beer, Tuborg, and after all the stories of my mother during college, he proceeded to tell me that someone died in the bathroom that I use. In addition to the colony of spiders living outside my window and threatening to eat my soul, I am now supposed to fear the ghost haunting my toilet. Naturally, I slept with the light on last night.

You may be thinking, 'don't be such a baby, people die in places all the time.' No. The man was burned alive in the bathroom, unable to escape a house fire. When Nicolaj visited the house for the first time, they had not yet cleaned up all the soot, and the outline of the man's body remained on the floor. Now YOU sleep with the lights off.

Random bits and pieces

I should let you all know: State of Emergency over - for now. One of the lovely ladies I work with went to the big library during her lunch break and brought me two English novels, one of which is written by one of my favorite authors, Neal Stephenson. Hurrah for good friends! She has also helped me translate Danish transportation sites, even calling the main offices for clarification. I really enjoy working with her, and everyone else at the clinic. Even though Danes are stereotypically reserved, once you get to know them, they are just about the kindest people ever.

Speaking of transportation, yesterday I spent my time after work buying a 45 day train pass. At the rate I was going to work or to the city, I was spending about 20 American dollars a day, or around 100 Kroner (Danish money). If I were to travel 45 more days, I would have spent around 900 dollars, or 4500 Kroner. So I bought a pass instead, which cost me about 200 American dollars, or 1000 Kroner. So in the end I will have saved about 700 American dollars! I think it's worth it, don't you?

Today after work I went to the little market up the street and bought some baguette and Brie, nectarines, and these little candies I found in Holland. At least I thought they were! The holland candies were these marshmallow bars about as long as a finger and as wide as two, with a thin layer of raspberry jam running through the middle, all wrapped in milk and white chocolate. I saw similar candies in the market, but as it turns out, they're filled with marzipan instead of marshmallow. BOO! I hate marzipan. Oh well. It was fun to pretend to be a local by shopping at the local grocer. Even though my brown eyes gave me away. At least when I wear my sunglasses, my blonde hair fits in with the crowd, and no one knows I'm not Danish!

So basically, I am having a really great time. This weekend I am going to spend time with Nicolaj and his family, and he has promised to take me to a local outdoor museum, and perhaps Tivoli, a park that inspired Walt Disney to create Disneyland.

I have so many things I want to share with you all, but as you can tell from this entry, I am so excited about everything that I am failing to organize my mind. We all have days like that, I'm sure. Perhaps I will just make more entries. Maybe even another one tonight! But first, a shower.

A State of Emergency

Okay not a REAL emergency. But still...

I am out of reading material! I brought 4 novels and 2 Copenhagen tour books, and I have finished them all. I have looked into getting books from the local library, but all their English books are at a hard-to-reach and odd-houred branch. Plus the books I want are all out.

What do I do? Last night I fell asleep at 9pm because of nothing better to do. I haven't slept so early since I was a baby. Seriously.

I need books. Help!

My First Day

Last night I could hardly sleep with anticipation. That, and reading Pride and Prejudice until the wee hours of the morning. But mostly anticipation. I got up extra early this morning, 6:30 as opposed to my usual noon, and took the three trains and two walks required to meet my destination. I have worked at 4 different clinics, and this is the first one I have felt immediately integrated into. There was no awkward phase where everyone is aware I am new, and in this case, foreign. There certainly were moments of me wandering through the clinic, but that was largely due to it being a slow day. The girls at the clinic were so welcoming and friendly that I immediately knew that it was a good place for me. All the puppies didn't hurt either. Even though it is an hour commute and about 20 dollars worth of train tickets every day, and I can't understand a word anyone says, I feel it is worth it.

Every Monday the clinic buys lunch for all staff present, and I was treated to a Chicken Sticks sandwich from the Crazy Chicken (unaffiliated with the Pollo Loco in the US), which bore little resemblance to sticks. It was 2 slabs of chicken on a king-sized bed of lettuce, slathered in some kind of curry mayonnaise, all between two slices of a brown bread. But hey, what is traveling if not taking adventures?

Later in the day the nurse in charge of the attached shop decided the products would be more enticing if the walls were painted Caffe Latte instead of the barren, clinical white that it currently boasted. Since we were not needed otherwise, we taped up the floors and windows and began to paint. Now, the last time I painted a building in a foreign country (Ecuador) it stood only a week until it was buried and then forgotten under an exhalation of ashes. This memory returned to me as I first dipped my brush, but my fears were quelled once I recalled that Denmark's highest point is 561 feet, basically a tenth of a mile. With no volcanoes to ruin my work, I painted.

It was a good day :)

København

Tomorrow is the day of days. I start my internship at the veterinary clinic here in Copenhagen (well, technically in suburb called Vanløse). I am pretty nervous, largely because of my inability to speak Danish, but also because I haven't worked in a hospital since last summer. From what I have seen of Copenhagen, neuterings are also not common, so maybe the clinic won't be so busy and I will have a lot of time for each exam. But that is usually not the way things work.

I spent this weekend getting to know the city a little bit - yesterday I ventured out to Østerport train station, right in the middle of historic Copenhagen, where I saw the famous Little Mermaid statue that has been a tourist attraction for many years.

As well as a target that local teens just love to desecrate:

I also spent the equivalent of 9 American dollars on a bottle of water and a medium Soft-Ice, which while very expensive, was pretty much worth the money. Soft-ice is the most incredible thing I have ever eaten. Imagine frozen yogurt, but creamier and thicker and sweeter and oh so amazing. I can guarantee I looked like a small child with the amount of delight that covered my face while eating this treat.

Because most of the attractions in Copenhagen, like everything else, were really expensive, I decided instead to walk around some of the gardens. First was Kongens Have (King's Garden), where I found a multitude of tall, blonde, blue-eyed young people (my age) enjoying the rare sunshine that has graced this country for the past few days (I am giving my arrival the credit). It was nice to see so many people out and about doing stuff, and I always appreciate a beautiful, well-maintained garden.

Plus, it included the Rosenborg Castle, pictured above, which houses the royal jewels, which I was too cheap to go see.

All in all Copenhagen and its surrounding suburbs are beautiful and unique, and I look forward to getting to know them better. It will be nice when Michael gets here, because I intend to do a lot of the touristy stuff with him, since I don't want to pay for stuff twice. Also, he moved his flight 2 days earlier! Yay!

conGRADulations

I forgot to mention a special Danish tradition I witnessed today while wandering the streets of the Copenhagen suburbs. When students graduate from high school/secondary school over here, they have a special little parade that they do to celebrate. First of all, each student receives a special graduate hat, that kind of looks like the French Legionaries or some kind of naval cap. They must wear the hat at all times to signify their accomplishments, and you must compliment them.

To seriously celebrate the graduation, large groups of students rent trucks for the day, kind of like how in the US we hire limousines to go to prom. The students then pile into the backs of the these trucks, and I'm talking military style trucks, not pickups, and they drink and blast music while dancing, yelling, and blowing whistles. The proper response from everyone else is to honk their horns and yell in approval - traffic comes to a standstill while all surrounding Danes recall their own graduation and respond with memories of their own delight. I saw at least 15 of these trucks go by, the most recent one only 15 minutes ago, at 11:30 pm.

When I brought this up to Nicolaj and his family, they slipped into reverie, and his dad, Giacomo, recalled Nicolaj's graduation and the grand celebration they had for it. I asked them if they still have their hats, and they do. It seems like a truly special, Danish tradition they have going on here, and I am happy to have witnessed it. I can't say I'm not jealous, because it looks super fun, but I can gloat in the fact that where I'm from, we have sunlight all year round. Take that, Denmark!

Tip for Danish living - respect the flag. The flag is very important to the Danes. Even tonight at a dinner where the patriarch is Italian, the dinner table was littered with small Danish flags. Their national identity is very important to them, and since the flag represents that, they put it everywhere, as you can see in the picture above.

And then the loneliness sets in...

I am a crier, and I know that. But I have not cried yet on this trip, which surprises me. Perhaps it is because, up until now, I have been sharing rooms with other people, and I have been to proud or too ashamed to cry in front of other people. Now that I have settled into a home with my own bedroom, I have started to feel the itch of missing home.

Being in a hostel means having a constant flow of friends, people who are as alone as me and so always wanting to hang out. Now I have barged into a very busy family whose main concern is not finding friends, and it is a very different experience for me.

However, the party tonight was very fun. I realized at once I would not be experiencing a typical Danish dinner, which is stereotypically very organized, calm, and clean. Nicolaj is half Sicilian, and that heritage was the one present at the dinner table. There were 8 children, 9 or 10 adults, 2 large dogs, and lots of good food. I had a really great time, and it was nice to be welcomed into the family. It was hard though, because their fun made me truly miss my family for the first time since I left. The dinner party tonight reminded me of the dinner part at home, only with far more small children. Chances are I miss my family less than the au pair misses hers, as she has two small children at home. Anyway I am sure I will get over it, but the first few days of moving are always hard, especially when you are providing your own emotional support. Plus there are a lot of big spiders outside my window, and I am arachnophobic. That sucks.

In less depressing news, I figured out the extremely complicated train systems (there are 3) and went to find the place where I will be working. They gave me a tour of the hospital, and it seems really nice. Unfortunately it is kind of far from where I am living, but many people commute, why should I be so different?

Dog days

I have been lucky enough to have Nicolaj and Louise, extremely generous hosts - they are treating me like their own daughter. I could not be more appreciative. They invited me to come to a family celebration dinner tomorrow, and my guidebook has said that Danish family events are normally just that - for family only, so I feel pretty special.

Anyway here is a peek into my life for the next two months in Denmark.

View of the house from the backyard.

Here is my room - it overlooks the lake.

There are some beautiful swans that swim around outside my window.

Here is the bathroom. I share it with boys. It is very beautiful and spacious, as is the rest of the house.

Here is the dog, Lucy. She is a great Dane. She is only a 5 month old puppy, but she is massive, as Great Danes tend to be.

Here is Nicolaj's youngest son, Vito (totally guessing on spelling here). He is absolutely adorable, and looks just like his dad. Kind of makes me reconsider my decision to not breed.

Danmark!

I am in Denmark! After a 15 hour train ride through Northern Europe, I have arrived. And I have to say, it has only JUST hit me that I am even in Europe. It is like I have been preparing for this big trip since November, and Denmark was the focal point of it, and here I am! It is a beautiful country. Reading my Denmark Culture Shock book I was convinced that all Danes are standoffish and reserved, and that they will not talk to you. I started thinking, "what am I doing in this crazy country? I will be so lonely!" But there were 3 Danes in my 6 bed compartment on the train, and all 3 initiated conversations with me, one even asking to be Facebook friends.

However once I got settled at Nicolaj´s house I took a walk around the lake, and people do not like to be looked in the eye or smiled at. Very different than the US.

Now with that bit, I am sure you all want to hear about the house! It exceeds my expectations. It is massive and beautiful, old and classy, and on a ton of amazing property. There are 3 horses (not 20, mom), 2 goats, one Great Dane (still a puppy omg so cute), one cat, and swans gracefully floating on the lake the house sits on. It is a fairytale property. I cannot believe it. I feel like a princess.

More later!

So long, and thanks for all the fish

Tonight I will be leaving on a train to Copenhagen, and I will have to bid "adieu" to the city that has hosted me for the past few days. I have had an amazing time here in Amsterdam, and I have learned a lot of important things about a new culture.

1) Tipping is not really necessary. This has been difficult for me, because in the US you will be chased down the street for not leaving a 15% tip, so I have been inclined to leave a few coins at the table.

2) Cleaning up after your dog is not expected. I have had to maneuver around so many poos while walking through the streets to avoid stepping in them, and some of my friends have not been as lucky as I.

3) Bicycles rule the streets. This isn't like Davis, where the bikes will stop for you. Stopping is not an option for them. Cars, pedestrians, and animals must yield or suffer the consequences. The hierarchy goes Bikes -> Cars -> Dogs -> Pedestrians.

4) Neutering your pet is not popular or necessary. The veterinary credo is "Spay and Neuter or go to Hell" (slightly modified), or at least I thought it was. I have never had a stronger urge to go around snipping at the backsides of all the dogs, but I don't want to be deported. Surprisingly, I have seen no feral or stray animals, so maybe the lack of fixing is okay.

5) Recycling is not so important. I have seen a couple of recycling bins for paper and bottles, but I have never seen anyone use them. I have however, seen many people toss their recyclables in the trash or in the canals, whichever is closer. This city is progressive in many ways, but not in recycling. I guess they bike enough to make up for it.

6) Herring. It is herring season in Holland right now. That means everyone is downing entire herrings in one gulp. Take a look at my Dutch blog friend Dutch Donut Girl's post about the festivities.


It was really fun being in Amsterdam, and I'm excited to come back in September to experience it again. I have seen so many things I would rather never see again, but all the memories are fun and worthwhile. I am looking forward to being in Copenhagen - I emailed the veterinary clinic that responded to my initial email, and they still expect me to come to work next week, so I am very excited about that. It's been too long since I've been in a hospital. And hopefully being there will make up for the lack of neutering going on in this town, and I can rest easy.