Last Blog Post From Denmark

I am freaking out. I also refuse to write my big "this is what I learned" concluding post until after I am able to write a post about Skagen.

I already miss Squeegee Broom.



TMI UPDATE: I threw up because I am so freaked out to go home. I feel like this may be a bad sign.

23 Hours and 45 Minutes

Left in København. I am pretty sure that today was an epic enough day to end on though, and it is only 4pm.

I got up and went to my old house and dropped off letters for my SRA's, walked through the Botanical Gardens, went to Kongens Have (King's Garden), walked with the Queens Guards to Amalienborg (Official Royal Residence), Watched the Changing of the Guards, saw the Little Mermaid, walked through Kastellet, took the S-tog from Østerport to Hovedbanegården (Central), went to Tivoli, ate lunch at Chilimili, stopped in Rådhusplasen (city hall), walked along Strøget (Shopping street) and bought some souvenirs, got ice cream at paradis, walked along the lakes, and walked all the way back to Grace's apartment in Nørrebro.

It was a very successful day. Now I am off to my visiting families for my last night. I really want to take a nap but I also want to be able to get a good nights sleep. But maybe I really want to get a bad nights sleep so I can sleep on the plane?

Oh look, 23 hours and 35 minutes. My how time flys.

All Packed Up and Just a Little Homeless

Skagen was the most incredible and beautiful city and going was the wisest choice I could have made for this week. It took me out of the sadness of leaving and being homeless and let me appreciate everything I love about Denmark in a spot I did not have memories to dwell on in.

I really should go into the whole description of what Skagen is, but here is the wikipedia link instead.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skagen

I love all the pictures I took so hopefully when I am home (in America, so scary!) I will have a chance to write a better blog post and show off all my fancy shmancy pics of me standing in two different oceans at the same time.

They kicked me out of my housing last Thursday, so right now I am crashing at Grace's apartment for a couple of nights until she leaves and then I am spending my last night at my visiting families house. This morning we got weinerbrød for breakfast (this is a lie, I actually got a chocolade croissant) and then I walked through the most beautiful graveyard ever and saw H.C. Andersen's grave which was something I had wanted to do for a while. Then I went into town and took some pictures and pretended to say bye to some of my favorite places. Then we went to a lunch BBQ with some of her friends and we ate pølser with crunchy onions in the park. It was cute. She and I proceeded to come home and pass out in nap form for a while. Now it is 17:30 and I am watching her pack and playing on my computer and being lazy. It is perfect.

Tomorrow is my real last day. I am hoping to get out to the harbor area and the little mermaid one last time, but besides that I just want to be in my København and enjoy every last second of being here.

I was worried about my flight to Chicago because of the Icelandic volcano, but the only real plane delays I have seen so far from the Copenhagen airport have been flights directly to Iceland. I should be okay, although I may get delayed because we may have to fly around the ash which means I may miss my connecting flight. I am sure it will work out. Everything will work out.

Packing

I packed to move houses to a better school district when I was 13. I packed to leave for college when I was 17. I pack up every summer to move home to relax from the stresses of university. I packed to come to Denmark.

As I must choose to throw out clothes, and prioritize my life I am faced with all sorts of petty but real problems. If I toss out half my socks, do I throw out the old ones from America that are white and end before the ankle? Or do I throw away my black Danish socks that end a noticeably 4 inches higher but look better over black tights. What about my wool winter socks? They are cozy and warm and I got them in Holland, but they are heavy and bulky and will it ever really be cold enough to wear them in California? What am I going to wear next year? My boots and mini skirt combos might make me look trashy in American eyes, but don't they understand that it's okay to wear mini skirts in the snow as long as your tights are thick enough? I will have no snow! What do I do with my hats and gloves? What do I do with a dress that I have worn once or twice this year, but know I usually wear every week in California?

As I sit here in literally a mound of clothes and a pool of tears I realize why this time packing is so much worse. I do not see going home as an adventure. Going home is something I am being forced to do. There is no nervous excitement wondering what awaits me. As hard as I try to focus on my family, my friends, my car, all the great things waiting for me at home, all I can think about is the pain that I have experienced at home. I can only remember who I was. I think I am great now, but what if I disappoint the people at home? I have not written letters, I don't have gifts for everyone, I barely can bring myself to get on the plane and all I can think about is how happy I am here and how the people waiting for me know the flaws of my past. I get anxiety thinking about seeing people that I should be thrilled about. What if people notice I have gained weight? What if I didn't get a present for someone who was expecting one? What if I got someone the wrong present? What if the children I worked with forgot me? What if my little cousins forgot me? What is my friends forgot me? What if I didn't change as much as I thought I did? What if I fail at being American? And the anxiety over seeing people that I should be less than thrilled in seeing is even worse...

I just spent the most fabulous day in Sweden with a girl who I think really understands me and has become one of my best friends. I should feel surrounded by love and hope for the future, but really all I can think is this: I do not want to go home.

The things I want to pack are entirely impractical. I want to bring home a suitcase filled entirely with bread and desserts. I want to fill a suitcase with things like my candles that I had not finished burning, and my "I can draw magical princesses" children's activity book. I want one full of Danish men. I want to squeeze some forest into my carry on and check squeegee broom as oversized luggage. I want a suitcase full of the language, and another one full of hygge. I can't possibly pack a suitcase with what I want to take home with me in it.

FREEDOM

Just finished my paper. Have been doing laundry since 7am. Skipping the end of the year ceremony so I can shower and eat a meal. Going to the end of the year reception. Going to my visiting families house to say goodbye. Stopping by the end of the year party. And I got an extension on when I have my room check so I can pack and clean tomorrow night after Sweden.

Being perfect? eh, not entirely, but close enough. :)

All perfect except for this thought being screamed over and over in my head: SAYING GOODBYE, PACKING, END OF THE YEAR STUFF? NOTHING CAN EVER BE PERFECT ABOUT THAT! PERFECT IS STAYING HERE AND NEVER EVER EVER LEAVING... I'm glad that my mind is being perfectly rational about the farewell process.

Under Pressure

All I need to do today is finish my paper, pack, and breathe.

I leave in 9 days. I have never been so afraid of getting on an airplane in my entire life.

EDIT: Things I accomplished today: breathing, and just barely. Tasks to complete tomorrow: Be Perfect.

Mark of the Devil

Disclaimer: I know that the majority of my blog audience is my mother (Hi mom!) and I would just like to point out that this entry is written in a light-hearted joking manner and that when the injury happened I was not being as reckless and potentially as intoxicated as your wild imagination may lead you to believe.

So last night I was marked by the Devil. That is literally the only explanation that can possibly exist for what I have discovered on my body.


Yes. That is a line of two consecutive second degree burns on my midriff. If you are confused, join the club. No one I was with last night nor I remember me coming in contact with anything that would have caused this. Let us go over my night, shall we?

9 pm: Put a skirt on <-- last time I was naked that I remember looking at my stomach and thinking "oh look, no burn marks"
9:30 pm - 1 am: have hygge time at Graces and watch the finals of Eurovision. In this time we had some drinks and talked and joked and overall just had a very pleasant time. I did not cook anything or go in the kitchen, however, THERE WERE CANDLES! (hint? clue? We don't know)
1am: walk to get Shwarma. I ate french fries, I remember that the french fries were hot but I do not know if they could have caused burns. Upon investigation my clothes show no signs of grease spots. There are also no singe marks, which possibly rules out candles from earlier.
1:30am: everyone else decides to get on a bus to go out to bars, in my wisdom I decide to walk home because I temporarily could not find my bus pass and since I did not know where I was I thought that walking would be a better idea. This logic was obviously flawed, but I am very lucky that I do idiotic things like this in Copenhagen where it is one of the safest big cities in the world instead of in other places where I could get into trouble. Then again, in any other city in the world I would have been able to afford a cab...
1:30am - 2:30am: Thankfully I soon realized that I knew exactly where I was as I walked past my favorite cemetery. I was stopped by some Danish men and I refused to talk to them in English, which is one of my favorite slightly tipsy games to play with Danes. I think one of them was smoking, but I do not remember him pinning me down to lift up my shirt to draw a line across my torso with his cigarette, so I am pretty sure we can rule that out. I stopped into Temple Bar to use the bathroom, there was no open flame there but there were some boys discussing indie bands sipping tea on a second hand couch. I love Temple Bar.
2:30 am: I arrive home and broke my key ring. Changed into pajamas. I did not cook. I did not have a lighter. I did not straighten my hair. Heck, I didn't even leave my laptop on long enough for it to get hot.
7:30am: I woke up and looked down at my stomach and freaked out.

I really do not understand what possibly could have happened. All day my friends and I have been playing "What if..." game which has been so amusing it seems almost worth it. I think that I will not make a habit of coming home with mysterious injuries, but it has been quite a day of intrige.

An Extension on an Extension Means Time to Blog, Right?

All of my work was done May 6th. I have been having a bit of a rough semester, so two of my professors gave me extensions until the 13th. I got an extension on one of the extensions. I am just so over the work never ending. I am tired of my professors being so nice and treating me like a child. I think that I do much better under American structure and slightly more impersonal classes than I do in a culture where my professors take us out for beers and are our bffls. The paper I have left is actually an analysis on the personality types that are typically cult leaders and the psychology behind cult mentality. Super interesting.

The weather has been very encouraging of me staying indoors and working. Yesterday we had thunder and lightning and today we had a hail storm. Not the weather I typically expect from mid-May...

I have to be packed by Wednesday, when Grace and I are going to spend the day saying goodbye to Sweden. Tuesday I say goodbye to my visiting family. So really, I have to pack tomorrow. This is freaking me out in ways that I did not know I was able to be freaked out by. There is so much that I haven't done here, and that I know I will not have time to do before I leave.

In general I am disgusting right now. I am also a little bit cranky. There have been so many wonderful things that I have not written about, but I just am not in the mood to share my joy right now. It's like I think that by keeping it a secret and trying to make the world as sad for me that I am leaving as possible I protect my happiness from being vulnerable to be taken away from me.

I'm Playing That Dangerous Game

You know, the one where you get lost in some of your absolute favorite memories and giggle uncontrollably at how funny something was? The one where you get filled with butterflies and excitement remembering the feeling that no one had ever made you feel before? The game where you remember the night that you first felt like everything was perfect and what you had could be real? The game that you always lose because the person you shared the memories with broke your heart. Yeah, I'm playing that game.

Denmark's Ties

So don't get me wrong, it's chill if you study abroad in France. Italy is nice too. Spain is supposed to be gorgeous. In England you get to say "Well my time in London..." in an overly dramatized British accent that you have "picked up." But if we are going to be honest, there is nothing like study abroad in Denmark.

For the rest of my life I am linked to other people who have any connection at all to Denmark. There are reasons that people study abroad in the big 4 mentioned above. They have art, food, languages that you can actually have some chance of being fluent in, basically they have culture that the entire world knows about. The trick with Denmark is that it has secret culture. No one suspects this teenie tiny little country of 5 million to be holding the secret to happiness and life satisfaction. Because there is not a large network of people that know the secret that Denmark has secrets we cling to everyone else who knows.

Another thing about people who know something about Denmark, lets be real, the country is 16,621 square miles. California is 155,959 square miles. There are only 2 places someone will have been in Denmark. You were either in Copenhagen or in Aarhus. Maybe if you were adventurous or visiting someone you may have gone to one of the other smaller cities like Odense, or Aalborg, but beyond that can you even name another Danish city? Then the tricky part, if you can name another one can you spell it?

Basically knowing about Denmark feels like a little club. No one who doesn't have a connection to it cares about it. Can't you just feel the magic of knowing that there is a place in the world that the only people who pay attention to it actually care?

One of my friend put it well when he said he kept forgetting he had not been to France because he spent so many years in high school asking classmates how to get to the Eiffel Tower.

There wasn't a fully planned train of thought for this post, just to say that I am waiting for the day when I am interviewing for my highly competitive dream job and I step into the interviewers office and see a picture on their desk of them in front of Nyhavn and know that I am in.

Dwindling Days and Ridiculousness

I hope in 2 years I will look back at this week and laugh, because really only I would have this life.

It is time for a new change. I was trying to go back to what my summer has always been. I need to reprioritize my life at home because in my absence home has reprioritized its life, and unfortunately since I was not there for that I am no longer important.

I thought I would be spending this week rushing around seeing all the museums I have yet to go to and eating wienerbrød and frikadeller for every meal. Instead, I find myself more concerned about the readjustment back to home life than missing my life here. I do not know if this is really not goodbye like my mind is telling me, or if I am in levels of denial I can't even wrap my head around yet.

I am going to force this to be the best summer of my life. I want to have a summer that I enjoy, before the American stress culture drags me back under the pressure of academics and being the person I am going to end up being. This summer I want to live with the person I am now. The awkward, quirky, slightly selfish girl who at this point in her life would do anything to be happy. If it makes me happy to wear canvas floral shoes and ride my bike everywhere, I am going to do that. If I feel like going on a hike and standing at the tallest point blowing bubbles and singing Spice Girls songs, I am going to do that. If it makes me happy to go to the beach to do nothing but listen to the waves crash and watch the sunset, I will do that too. The way I see it, this is the last summer I can get away without having a job or an internship. I may take a class, but that will only be a few times a week. This is the only summer where I haven't had a really strong network of friends waiting for me at home (not that there aren't still some of you, if you happen to be reading this <3). The pain of feeling obsolete is opening a door to having freedom and absolutely no responsibilities! If nothing cares about me, that means I don't have to care about anything in return.

This is going to be the summer of Julia. I want to fall in love with California again, the way I fell in love with Copenhagen.

You know, I don't even need to wait 2 years. Thanks old life for making me feel like crap all this week. I'll think of you and laugh when I am out living my life.

Little Liza's Little Lesson

A Hans Christian Andersen Inspired Fairy Tale, By Me for my Hans Christian Andersen class. Not my best work, but it was a nice distraction from some current personal trauma.


“Clang,” the clock at the corner church chimed, informing little Liza that it was a quarter to nine and almost time for breakfast. As she threw on her finest spring dress and ran downstairs her mood was elevated by the smell of new roses blooming outside making her giddy, until she arrived at the morning meal table and saw that for breakfast she was given a bowl of plain oats while her brothers received chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon. It had been this way since poor little Liza’s father had remarried. She had come to accept this treatment at mealtime, because you see, Liza could not taste. Everything put it her mouth was like chewing cotton in taste and texture. Liza’s new stepmother did not think that it was worth the money to buy the same fine things for Liza to eat as the rest of the family. She thought it was bad enough to have to feed a flawed child, and had convinced Liza’s father long ago that the child could survive just fine on oats and oats alone.
Liza lived day after day tormented by the smells of her family meals, longing to experience what it would be like to have the ability to savor a morsel food.
After breakfast, Liza returned to her room to have a tea party with her toys. The only play sets that little Liza’s stepmother would buy her were tea sets, play kitchens, and other toys aimed to mock the child. The newest addition to Liza’s toy collection was a magnificently hand painted chef doll. She smiled with perfect pink lips and wore an apron and tall white hat; she was the most beautiful thing Liza had ever seen. Liza set her new Chef Doll at the head of her table, and the party started.
“May I offer you some more tea Miss. Chef Doll?” Liza asked as she poured plain water into a dainty teacup placed in front of her newest party member.
“Oh yuck! Why do I only get water? At my old home we always had Earl Grey at our parties! And what is that? Oats! Where are the finger sandwiches?” Complained the Chef Doll. Liza’s eyes started to fill with tears, but an old tired stuffed rabbit that had been with Liza since birth as a present from her real mother explained the situation to the Chef.
“I am so very sorry Liza, I did not mean to offend. What a terrible life to go without taste! There must be some way to fix you. Have you tried going to the berry bush? At my old home all the Chef dolls dreamt of one day being able to cook with a berry from the Berry Bush. It is said that they are so sweet, a single berry will satisfy you for a year!”
Liza had never heard of such a thing. With support from the Chef Doll she decided that if anything could make her taste again, it would be a berry from the Berry Bush. The Chef Doll did not know where the Berry Bush was located, but assumed it would be outside since that is typically where bushes grow. Leaving the Chef Doll at home, as not to get dirt on her perfect face, Liza set off away from her home of oats and started her search for a new life of tasting.
She did not make it very far away from home before she was distracted by the scent of the rosebush from the morning. She approached the roses and inhaled deeply. Her nose brushed up against a rose petal and the rosebush burst out in giggles, “that tickles!”
“Oh goodness!” shrieked Liza, surprised by the bush’s outburst. She was used to rosebushes being much more demure, but since the ice was already broken she continued, “Rosebush, do you happen to know where I may find the Berry Bush?”
The rosebush replied, “The Berry Bush is a very dear friend of mine, but why would you need to find her? Are you going to try to gain the sense of taste? I have been meaning to suggest that to you for years, but you have never talked to me before. Oh I am so glad that you are going to be able to taste! She lives right down the path a little ways through the forest into the meadow.”
Liza thanked the Rosebush and followed the path as per directions, but suddenly there was a large commotion a few feet ahead of her. A large tree had fallen completely blocking her view of the path. She heard a sweet song soaring above her and saw a blue bird flying high above. She called out to the bird “Excuse me! Excuse me! Can you help me? I could not help but notice your song and cannot believe that a song so lovely could come from an unhelpful creature. I cannot see the path, but you are so high above you can see for miles in all directions!”
The bird was ever so helpful in leading Liza the right way, and she soon made it to the Berry Bush. The Berry Bush had heard through the grape vine that she was coming and greeted her as an old friend, ready to offer her assistance.
It was the moment of truth, and Liza reached out to pick a bright red berry and placed it on her tongue. The smooth texture was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and as she bit down juice filled her mouth. For the first time she tasted. Her mouth awakened as a sense and she felt complete and perfectly satisfied. The Berry Bush told her that now that she was satisfied she could walk away and live a new life of experiencing food. She knew that she should walk away, but the berry was so good she reached for another. The Berry Bush begged her to stop, but Liza was out of control. Liza ate all the berries.
When all the berries were gone Liza frantically put everything in her mouth she could find, eating everything, all while running back home to show her step-mother her new ability to taste and boast about finding a solution. Just before arriving home, she stopped at her last bush and popped a mysterious grey berry into her mouth. The berry tasted like copper and soot, and filled her mouth and nose with a putrid smell. Liza ran for water and tried to flush the taste away, and she did just that, but it did not stop at her taste. Liza had stripped both her taste and her sense of smell away!
Her stepmother appeared just in time to see Liza weeping by the Rosebush, desperately holding rosebuds against her nose inhaling, then wailing loudly. She walked away ignoring the little girl’s foolishness.
Liza collapsed by the Rosebush, who turned to her and said, “You poor dear, but that is what happens when we can never feel content. You were so happy after just one berry, why continue on to more? After tasting the sweetest berry what made you so anxious to taste everything? You already knew that nothing could be sweeter; you should have trusted the ones who loved you. Was it not enough to look at your new Chef Doll’s sweet face, or smell my sweet fragrance? What about the helpful bird’s sweet song? These sweets you already had, yet we wanted you to be able to see that you are not flawed so we helped lead you to the gift of taste.”
Liza realized what the Rosebush said was true. Her only flaw the entire time had been her yearning to be something she was not. The joy she had felt every morning smelling the roses meant more to her than the hour of gluttonous tasting. Liza determined herself to spend every day enjoying those things that she could with her site, touch, and hearing. The next time her stepmother complained about the stench coming from her brothers after their refusal to shower, Liza just sat back and smiled looking at the beauty of the rosebush through the window and eating her oats.

Dear Julia Having an Emotional Breakdown,

This CAN NOT continue for the next 3 weeks. I understand that you love Denmark. I understand better than you do the fears that lie behind going home. The baggage left from last Summer is going to be there, and having to face it is going to be miserable. No really, it is going to suck. You will cry and scream and no one will understand. I get it. But reality check, this is not real life. The world you are living in is contrived by an international university who most of the time you kinda hate anyways. You will have to get on that plane come the 25th and go back to California. The people at home won't get it why you are upset, and they will not care that "in Denmark they do it this way". They will not understand that a part of you will belong in Copenhagen forever. Hearing about your travels will get tiring and you will wear yourself out trying to be perfect and make a new first impression on people who have known you your entire life. You have changed so much from the last time you were home, and I know you are petrified of regressing back to someone you did not like all that much, but that will not happen unless you let it. There is so much waiting for you at home, but please do not stress out. You are promising yourself to responsibilities when you get home because you are afraid that idle time will leave time to break down, but honestly if you do not do them they will find someone else and life will go on. If anyone gets mad or judges you it is because they are misinformed on the current state of your well-being. Please make wise choices and I will support your actions 100%. You are beautiful, smart, and besides talking to yourself in letters posted on your travel blog, you have rather a lot going for you. Now get off your butt and smile. The next 21 days will fly by, and you will not be able to see the wonders they hold if your eyes are full of tears.
Love, Logical Julia
P.S. Maybe try writing your paper now so you can go to Tivoli tomorrow? Just a thought.

Snow in May

Snow in May. Snow in May. SNOW IN MAY?

Countries of 2010 - 2011

Happy May. I come home this month. I leave Denmark in 23 days. I have not been home for 253 days. Where have I been? Hmm, lets see... in order of appearance:

Denmark


Sweden


England


Switzerland


Germany


Luxembourg


Belgium


The Netherlands


France


Monaco


Italy


The Vatican City


Estonia


Turkey


Czech Republic


It amazes me how I look exactly the same in every picture. But this is proof, documentation of 15 countries (14 if you do not count the Vatican) and 2 continents. I am not leaving Denmark again until I leave for California. It's the home stretch and I'm freaking out. Thank you parents for allowing me funds to travel, thank you DIS for giving me time off from school, and thank you youth for letting me see all the obstacles I came across as adventures.

Tales From Spring Break Part 2: Frolicking in Prague

Prague was completely different from Istanbul, and more of a "Julia" city if I do say so myself. But being the Julia city that it was it means that I spent the majority of my time not in museums and wandering around looking at pretty things and spending time in parks. I met my friend (who I was with in Istanbul)'s girlfriend for the first time! I had basically been waiting to meet her for 2 years and there was a lot of anxiety on my part if we would hit it off, luckily she is amazing and we got along splendidly.

Day #7: I had an 8 hour layover in Budapest, but being the culture seeker that I am I did not leave the airport, but I did watch the sunrise. I got to my hostel in the late afternoon and took an amazing shower. Went to dinner where they played Spice Girls on the radio followed by drinks at a bar that was in a cave and had great decor.



Day #8: I attempted to follow the tram lines to the castle but got distracted by nature and took a 3 hour detour. I had a picnic and tried to get myself unlost before I found Prague Castle and continued down into city center where I watched children dance to horrible techno songs at the Easter Market. Met up with my new friend and I ate my hamburger with a knife and fork and got mocked.



Day #9: She had the morning off so we met up and did a lot of the actual cultural things, including the torture museum and a brief walking tour. The torture museum was not our best idea because it was incredibly scary, but on the walking tour I saw the John Lennon wall and that made me pretty happy. Of course we ended up in an adorable park and had deep meaningful conversation before she had class and I went to explore the shopping street, we met up again for evening festivities that ended at 4am.




Day #10: My last day we met up for coffee and proceeded to go to a park where we again sat and talked and made daisy chains. She went to class and I went to say goodbye to the city before I ended up in another park and we had a dinner picnic. We went out at night and then I had to say goodbye to her and her great friends.



I left the next morning. I think that saying goodbye to her sucked more than I was expecting it to because I do not know when we will see each other again, but we will definitely see each other again sometime...