Tirsdag, jeg er dansker.

I've been feeling very Danish for the last twenty-four hours, minus, you know, not being super-tall, blonde, and highly tolerant of alcohol.

It started yesterday afternoon, when Dara and I headed over to Rådhuspladsen (the big square by City Hall) for a sort of after-the-fact pep rally in celebration of the Danish men's handball (a super-intense quasi-hybrid of basketball and soccer) victory over Croatia to win the European championship and a big gold plate.  The crowd was huge but not very mob-like; if we'd been in the U.S., something like this would have been an utter madhouse.  It was pretty exciting, but not wild-- just a lot of really happy Danes waving flags and cheering like crazy every time a different team member came out onto the steps or the balcony of City Hall to hold the trophy-plate aloft.  Then there was a great fireworks show, followed by more cheering and flags and handball player worship and flag-waving.  Neither of us knew anything about handball, or what people were yelling, but it was very fun!  It almost felt like we were a part of things...though that spell lifted briefly when a guy next to me asked me something in very, very fast Danish about his text message, and I blanked on the Danish I'd been practicing just that morning to tell him I'd be of no use (retroactively, it's "jeg taler ikke dansk").

Last night, Jackie (roommate from Cornell) and a few guys from our building went out for a bit.  We ended up meeting a bunch of other DIS kids who were celebrating one girl's birthday; the group included two girls from Bowdoin who were both really enthusiastic about knowing Ben Freedman (my cousin there).  It was almost like sleep-away camp all over again.  While we were there, a quartet of really not-sober Danes were (still) celebrating the handball victory, complete with jumping and dancing and singing, alternately, Danish nationalist songs and American pop hits from the 90's.  And once they found out that it was the one girl's birthday, they got even happier and jumpier.  

Meanwhile, Jackie and I struck up a conversation, about sports of all things, with a random Danish guy who was quite enthusiastic about San Francisco and American football.  This was great, particularly because numerous people have made the point that we'll have to go out of our way to interact with Danes, as we live in a building where all the residents are on DIS.

Today, I tucked my jeans into my boots.  This sounds very minor, but it was actually quite the conversation-starter among Americans today for the following reason: it's possible that every single Danish woman in the København area owns a pair of skinny jeans and really gorgeous zip-up boots.  And every girl I've met has wanted to be that fashionable, particularly because all the stores are in January sale mode ("udsalg"), so the high-fashion shoes are marked way down for another few days.  So the fact that my jeans fit into the lovely brown boots I got prior to my departure was fairly exciting, and I felt oh-so-hip all day today.

Also, I realized that I really, really like being in this city.  I had a very long-running debate for the better part of a year and a half of college regarding whether or not I wanted to go abroad at all.  By the end of the summer, I was thinking I wanted to travel abroad more than I wanted to live abroad.  Coming here was incredibly last minute-- I met with the Brown Office of International Programs about two weeks before everything was due to DIS, and I didn't get my plane ticket until winter break.  But, language barriers and eerily high prices on everything aside, København became very a comfortable fit very quickly.  I was talking about this with my friend Jen, who agreed-- we sort of forget we're in this whole 'foreign' place a lot of the time, because we're just settled and happy about it.  I'm still super-psyched to travel-- I'll definitely be in Russia, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Sweden, France, and at least a couple of others before I hit the States again-- but I'm really happy that I'm living in a place, instead of just swinging through.  And there's a whole four months to get to know the place!

Ja, det kan jeg godt.

What a weekend!

Friday night, DIS hosted a semester kickoff party at a bar called LUUX, which, aside from some very strange videos on display, was quite classy and very fun.  The best part was dancing to techno-ish remixes of American pop songs, like "We Will Rock You."  I didn't even know you could do that to a Queen song.

Saturday brought a lot of wind and rain and busted umbrella that my sisters had so kindly decorated for me.  Seriously, if I wanted this weather, I could've just stayed in Providence.  But that didn't stop the walking tours to "the Other Copenhagen," i.e. the downtown area on the other side of the central square from where I'm living (which is still only about a ten- or fifteen-minute walk from home or the DIS complex).  The tour included several cafes and shops and stores worth going to, as well as a general sense of what comprises 'downtown Copenhagen' and the nearby neighborhoods.  I also discovered, at a mosaic-and-mirrors-encrusted cafe on Vesterbrogade, that a chai without the latte is actually very good.  

Saturday afternoon included a trip to the Danish Design Museum, which was small but very funky, and I had the fortune to wander into it with a few architecture/interior design students (one of whom was really into chairs), who provided some additional insight.  The day ended with a trip a bit outside of town to one of the kollegiums (big dorms for students at various local universities including DIS), where Dara (one of my roommates who also goes to Brown), Hannah (a neighbor from William & Mary), and I joined some random people for ice cream and a screening of "10 Things I Hate About You."  It's one of my favorite movies, but it proved a bit bittersweet given this week's events.  It's a shame we aren't living among Danes or in singles here at Skindergade like the kollegium residents do, but this building is so much nicer and about a half-hour closer to everything than that kollegium is, so it made the three of us really glad to be where we are, all things considered.  I think they were banking on that when they assigned us all to such tight quarters.

Today, I rolled out of bed with just enough time to run over to the gym (how is everything so close to home?) before nearly missing the bus to Roskilde.  Roskilde is home to Roskilde Catherdral, sort of Denmark's version of Westminster Abbey.  It's really, really lovely.  Rather than lots of gold filigree crosses and imposing figures, the main chamber is whitewashed with some small flowered frescoes on the ceiling.  The front area is elaborate, of course, but most of it is exquisitely hewed wooden reliefs.  The windows were apparently stained glass at one point, but now they're simply lined in brick Gothic arches.  The side rooms were a little fancier (and colder!), but even then, all of Denmark's deceased royalty rested peacefully without too much garish decoration.  I'm not a big church person, but I did like this one.  There was also a big column in one room on which numerous luminaries' (including the current Danish monarchs, Peter the Great, and Constantine) measured heights were marked.  I'm a huge fan of whoever came up with that idea!

Roskilde is also home to the Vikingeskibsmuseet (Viking Ship Museum), which houses five reconstructed vessels unearthed from the depths of the sea, where they had been sunk to block unwelcome ships from entering an important Danish port something like a millennium ago.  The museum is situated on the water, so you can look at these ancient partially-skeletal ships through the windows and really let the imagination go.  If that's not enough, there's a side room with partial replicas (including shields, chickens, and costumes) to play on.  

I'll put up pictures of all of this soon, I promise.

However now, unbelievably enough, I have schoolwork to do.  But apparently my Danish pronunciation's not half bad, according to several sources-- thanks for the head start, Mum!  As at least one native speaker has described the tongue to me as a throat disease (someone definitely said the same thing about Hungarian when I went there in 2004), so this is rather exciting.

Jeg er tyve år.

I wasn't going to update today, but given this evening's observations I thought I should.

I've spent a lot of the last day or so hearing about last year's youth riots, which have carried over somewhat until today.  I've put together the story from parts relayed by Nitte, my Survival Danish teacher from earlier in the week; Nina, my Danish teacher for the rest of the semester; and a random guy with a bike and a red scarf in the street this afternoon.  It's kind of an interesting and still-ongoing saga, and given our proximity to several of the pertinent locations and events, I was interested in what the deal was.

It transpires that a year or so ago, the Danish government decided to sell a youth house that it owned in the Nørrebro neighborhood of København.  The place was full of "subculture" types who had habits like serving alcohol to teenagers and not allowing firefighters to enter the premises, even though it was government-owned.  The government worried more than a bit about the place burning to the ground with 200 kids inside of it (and receiving the blame), so they put it up for sale, which the lefty students weren't happy about.  The property was bought and later torn down by a Christian group headed up by a woman called Ruth who was quite unpopular, which the lefties were even less happy about it.  Crazy riots ensued; the protesters threw bricks at policemen and covered their faces, which is apparently illegal here.  Of course, in true Danish fashion, they still stopped at red lights when crossing streets (true story).  

In any case, the rioters settled down somewhat, but they still protest weekly in the square at Gammel Torv, which is conveniently on my block.  I'd spent a chunk of the afternoon reading about the EU and man's historical views on dominance over the environment for tomorrow's classes, and I heard serious shouting as I walked out of the Baresso to head home around 5.

According to the aforementioned man in the red scarf, they're demanding a new youth house, which the government is likely to provide, if only to get them to stop protesting.  There are two locations pending approval, but the subculture folks don't like either, and it's not clear what the next step is.  In the meantime, the weekly protest seems (based on this week's) to consist of shouting chants in Danish, blaring loud music, and then proceeding in a semi-orderly fashion to what I think the man in the red scarf said was a City Hall meeting.  The police presence at these things is major, given their history, and I was told to get away if/when the police said to start moving (not that I was planning on doing otherwise).  The scarf guy said that, essentially, they want society's rights without being part of society.  

And Nina suggested the social violence was a newer thing in Danish society, just like the immigrant population.  My class on Migrants, Minorities, and Multiculturalism starts tomorrow, and I'm thinking it's going to be interesting for more reasons than just the Mohammed cartoon incident that happened here a few years ago, particularly if the professor considers subculturists a minority.

I'm not really sure what to make of all this.  I know American students spend plenty of time getting angry (come on, I go to Brown!), but it's hard to envision a context in which people would take to brick-throwing to demand government issued housing back home (particularly when you think of the government housing Katrina victims ended up with).  The scarf guy said the people who had been evicted from the original house had all settled elsewhere, so it's not an issue of homelessness, but the whole incident has opened up several more questions I'd like to ask whatever Danish government workers we'll get to meet with through the EPS program.  Like, to what extent does a socialist government create the legal expectation for the provision of something like this?  Or are the protesters simply demanding it because they had it previously?  And does the government have reasons for attempting to recreate the housing beyond wanting to shut up a bunch of subculturists with speakers?  Things to probe in the near future.

En "Hej!" fra mig

The Danish-language text pauses here (for now, at least).  I've only had two days of "Survival Danish," plus the bits I've picked up from Mom over the years since her DIS experience, which (no offense to Mom or Nitte) doesn't add up to much yet.  But classes start tomorrow, and Danish Language 101 is my first, so who knows?  Maybe I'll be writing bilingual blog entries soon.

I've now been here since early Sunday morning, and we're all so settled in that it feels like longer.  I'm living on Skindergade (pronounced "skin-eh-gell"), which is two blocks from the DIS complex and within five blocks, it seems, of most other places worth getting to on a daily basis.  Given that the 370 or so DIS students who aren't in this particular housing option have to commute at least 20 minutes to get where we already are, it's hard to complain!  The building itself is lovely-- DIS only bought it a few months ago, but it has some character and seriously quirkly layouts to it-- and, again, the location can't be beat.  I'm living in a quad, admittedly, but I think it'll work out.  After some stressing about space-sharing and bonding with the very nice and helpful boys on our floor, we worked out our current set-up, which involves two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette and dining area in a downstairs space.  We have to go through each others' bedrooms to get to the latter two places, but everyone seems easygoing and we at least have a couple walls.

Orientation has kept all of us pretty busy, though it's been fun and left me with plenty of time to settle in and socialize.  We gotten tips on interacting with Danes (who don't say "please" or "excuse me" often, apparently), introductions to various DIS resources and policies, multiple walking tours (cobblestones and heeled boots, no matter how new and cute, are a terrible combination), and previews of the program study tours.  My program, European Politics & Society, goes to Jutland (mainland Denmark-- Copenhagen is on an island) and northern Germany in February and spends a week visiting Brussels, the Hague, and Amsterdam in early March.  We had been told previously we'd visit Luxembourg, not the Netherlands, so this was a particularly exciting development!  Also, the program assistant, Tyler, is a former DIS student-- who happens to have studied alongside my friend Desha a few semesters back.  Small world, isn't it?

I did manage to do some grocery shopping yesterday, though.  For the record: anything with the suffix "kød" is not friendly if you're a vegetarian.  On the upside, I did find 0.5% mælk and multi-grain Cheerios, so I can hold fast to my morning cereal ritual.  I am trying new food groups here, of course, though every smørbrød shop I seem to pass disappears when I want to experiment with it.  There was a session this afternoon on vegetarian eating in Denmark, which was both incredibly helpful and filled with girls (and one boy) who were super-friendly and psyched about the possibility of having a potluck of sorts.  Also, I've become an immediate fan of Baresso, the Danish equivalent of Starbucks, which puts cinnamon on its Chai-Cino Classics.  Take that, one-pump-sugar-free-vanilla-Chai-latte!

Today, I had a couple of hours to kill and had left my keys in our locked room, so I spent two hours basically getting lost in the neighborhood on my own.  Navigating the area will take a lot more practice, but I'm starting to get the hang of it.  This city is so charming!  It's small and definitively not touristy or gimmicky, and it looks so different from the other big European cities I've been to.  It's a bit confusing that a single long street can change its name several times, with each kink in the line, but it's fun attempting to pronounce (and remember!) names like Købmagergade (my best estimate at the moment is "kueb-mah-ge-gell").  Danish is my only class tomorrow, and it's done by 11:30, so my friend Jen and I have a plan to register ourselves with the local kommune (which gives us a Danish SSN equivalent and thus access to the state health care system) and then wander around for a good while until we really start to connect all these "gader" (streets) together.  

Until that point, god aften!