hello breakfast.

Nothing like cinnamon toast, fresh coffee, and honey crisps to start off a new autumn day.

The Suburbs (2010)

This past weekend I packed up my summer apartment and headed home to the suburbs of Houston. Following a busy summer spent in Austin and an entire semester before that spent in Copenhagen, I found myself immediately resenting the suffocating uniformity and ennui of life in the suburbs while also enjoying the comforting sense of familiarity found in my childhood bed and memories of idle summers as a kid growing up in a suburban landscape.

While summer in Austin was acquainted with an adult version of me - waking up at 7 every morning, dressing up for work, drinking cup after cup of coffee to stay alert in the midst of monotony - being back in the suburbs has found me reliving the joys of childhood summers: evening bike rides around the neighborhood, reading novels for pleasure, sleeping until noon every day. However, this enjoyment of doing nothing has come with a newfound guilt characteristic of adulthood - a harsh, unsettling sense that I have outgrown this place. I will no longer be welcome here as a child anymore - after this year, I am to be a fully grown adult with my own sense of purpose and my own career, my own living, my own future. This suburban life will remain here, but I will never return the same.

And with that, coming home to the suburbs has ignited a sort of nostalgia, not only for childhood in suburbia, but a nostalgia for being in the right place, being right where you are supposed to be. As a kid, the suburb was the place for me. I brought home good grades, I shot hoops in the driveway after dinner, I caught frogs with neighbors after dusk. I was right where I was supposed to be. As we get older, we come into a stark adult world marked by terrifying uncertainty. Even the traditional structures - an assured job, a steady marriage, a cohesive family - no longer hold the coveted sense of certainty that we want and need as we get older. In the midst of this precarious grown-up world where neither happiness nor success is secure, we find comfort in a past world where everything seemed to be in its right place.

Arcade Fire: The Suburbs (2010)

Somewhere out there, the same dreamy nostalgia for the lost days of suburban life hit Win Butler, who also happened to grow up in the suburbs of Houston. The result is a collection of memories cemented in Arcade Fire's third album, The Suburbs.

While Funeral captured the imaginative hope of a precocious child and Neon Bible showcased the rebellious spirit of young adulthood, The Suburbs reveals the resignation and longing found in maturity, painting subdued memories of a lost past from the perspective of one who's lived it all once before.

Throughout the album, there is a sense of longing for the purity and certainty once found in suburban life, a nostalgic remembrance fueled by a bleak adult world marked by disillusionment and desperation. However, at the same time, they know fully well that this elusive dream of idyllic suburbia is marred by reality - the stifling conformity, the repressive boredom, the mask of certainty worn by uniformly pleasant houses, each hiding a family on the verge of collapse - in effect, the very neighborhoods that the kids escaped from in Funeral. Thus, in the midst of an imperfect world, Arcade Fire retreat to the comfort of shared human experience, evoking the same nostalgia within us for a world that never existed, strengthening the universal thread that connects us all and carries us through this life.

The sense of nostalgia spreads throughout the musical sound of the album as well, drawing on influences from the past moreso than in their previous albums. The songs manage to pay homage to earlier artists in a way that goes beyond mimicry to truly create a new musical experience built on sounds of the past. Instead of merely evoking the vocals and synthpop of Blondie, 'Sprawl II' transports you through a hazy dream to a 1979 bedroom where a newly released 'Heart of Glass' plays on a record player, flooding you with wistful reminiscence for a lost time.

And in this way, Arcade Fire manages to continue doing what they do so well: encapsulating poignant truths of the human condition in powerful songs unrivaled by other bands today.

The Suburbs is out in stores this week; Malory Lee is in the suburbs of Houston until August 22.

One Day (2009)

I picked up the novel One Day on a whim while waiting for a train in Germany last month. Having finished it now, I am so glad I decided to buy it. It's been a long time since I've connected to a fictional story in such a way (also a while since I've finished a book for leisure, I suppose). I read a large part of the book immediately after purchasing it, devoting every train ride while traveling to the story of Em and Dex. I was nearly finished by the end of my travels in Russia, but I stored it away as school got busy again, having almost lost interest as it seemed to have reached a pleasantly stagnant conclusion. It rested on my bookshelf until today, when perhaps out of a desperate attempt to avoid my daunting assignments, I decided to see how the story officially ended. After finishing, I'm convinced the critics who acclaimed it simply as a great romantic comedy must have also thought they had reached the end when I did and failed to finish the novel. The last few chapters of the book, in fact, offer the most poignant, affecting, human portrayals of life and love only alluded to in earlier parts of the story. Three hours after finishing, I still feel the weight of the story on me, a sense of loss coming over me upon the characters' departure from my life.

Between his characters Dexter and Emma, David Nicholls paints a universal story of human longing, nostalgia for a lost past, and, above all, the constant uncertainty of life, love, and happiness. At times unbearably sad, at times remarkably hopeful, Nicholls brilliantly captures the experience of loss as well as the power of human resilience and finding beauty within tragedy.

Some readers claimed that the novel failed because the characters were unlikeable, which I found astounding. Em and Dex emerge vividly from Nicholls' striking talent for crafting genuine characters, so real and flawed and human in every way that you're drawn in almost immediately. We may like people because of their good qualities, but we love our closest friends and family in spite of their deepest faults. Are fictional characters any different? We come to know Em and Dex in an intimate way, sensing their vulnerabilities, disappointed at their failures but ultimately rooting for their success. They irritate from time to time when we first meet them, but after 20 years (or 435 pages) spent together, it is impossible not to love and feel for them as if they were our own friends.

Apart from the brilliant characterization and subtle depiction of human emotion, the story portrays the profound trajectory life can take over 20 years. I currently stand just at the outset of the story, connecting with the post-graduation anxiety of facing the real world, with both Dexter's hedonistic desire to explore the world and Emma's insecurities that prevent her from success and happiness. The beauty of Nicholls' narrative lies in this fact that people in all different stages of their lives will connect to the story in different ways. It's a story I'll be able to return to throughout my life, a companion to the triumphs and losses along the way.

baby went to amsterdam, she put a little money into travelin'.

The remnants of Queensday the morning after

Wednesday 28 April 2010

My friend Claire and I left in the evening for Amsterdam on our respective forms of transportation - a mere one hour flight for her, 15 hour overnight train (without bed) for me. Despite the horribly uncomfortable seats clearly not built for sleeping or sitting for long periods of time, I would still choose to travel by train. There's something about seeing the land change as you pass - about enjoying the green expanses of the German countryside and the endless fields of bright yellow, almost fluorescent flowers, about opening the windows to fresh air - that is irreplacable, no matter how much faster a plane will get you to your destination.


Preferred form of transportation

Thursday 29 April 2010

9:23 AM

Woke up groggily to find that the train has been stalled....for the last 6 hours. Engine broken. Apparently someone commit suicide on the tracks in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep. Definitely did a number on the locomotives. Now everyone is out of their compartments, having conversations with fellow travelers from other countries, the windows are open for some fresh morning air, and someone is strumming languidly on a ukelele. If it weren't for the grim circumstances and the fact that I'm losing a whole precious day of travel and leaving Claire alone in Amsterdam, I'd almost enjoy this.


14:00

After a couple hours back on track, just when we thought we could finally make it to Amsterdam, the train has stalled once again. This time we've all gotten off the train, resting on the platform in the warm afternoon sun and balmy breeze. The weather truly feels like summer right now, wherever we are.

Later that day...

Six hours after I was supposed to arrive in Amsterdam, I finally made it to Centraal Station around 4 in the afternoon, exhausted from a rather sleepless train ride, and starved, having not eaten anything since 6 o'clock the previous evening. I met up with Claire and we rode to Haarlem, where we are staying for the next two nights, to drop off our bags at our hostel. In the evening we explored a bit of Amsterdam, mainly the many eateries so considerately open for late night munchies. Total food consumed tonight: huge plate of Chinese noodles, Belgian waffle, various cakes, and a "Lion" McFlurry (in response to my original order for a KitKat McFlurry, the clerk said 'why have a kat when you can have a lion?' Wise words, for the Lion McFlurry exceeded anything a KitKat McFlurry could have dreamed of being). Note to self for rest of the trip: eat less, spend less money.

Friday 30 April 2010: Queensday


Queensday in....Haarlem!

We woke up today with the intention of eating an early breakfast at the hostel, exploring Haarlem all morning, and being on a train to Amsterdam by noon. Instead, we skipped breakfast, went back to bed and slept til noon.

Well-rested and finally ready for Queensday, we headed into the center of Haarlem, where we were met with huge crowds of youths and families alike all decked out in orange and already drunk (probably from last night's Queensnight celebrations). The train station was mad chaos. Turns out no trains were going to Amsterdam today and crowds of young people were already mobbing the buses to the city. We decided to let the locals celebrate their holiday in Amsterdam and ended up spending Queensday in Haarlem, which I actually appreciated because it was the perfect balance of party celebrations and small town charm. And while Amsterdam was ridden with tourists, Haarlem retained a local atmosphere.

We stopped first for a delightful brunch at a quaint little French cafe on the corner. I had an omelette the size of my face that probably contained a month's supply of cholesterol. It was wholly satisfying, and the coffee was wonderful too. After our cosy rendezvous with France, we returned to the streets of Haarlem to join the Queensday celebration, pausing at a grocery store to arm ourselves with Heinekens. The streets were packed with people (I can only imagine what Amsterdam was like). In addition to being a huge outdoor party, the streets also functioned as a big flea market (I managed to find a lovely ring for just 50 cents) as well as a public children's talent show (still confused about that one). All in all, Queensday was plenty of fun, though the celebrations ended early (after all, they'd been partying since the previous night).


Balancing act

Saturday 1 May 2010

I have so many fingers! (still only 10)
These hands aren't mine. (they were)
A steak would be great in two years. (probably)
They're speaking English! (they were)
They're speaking Danish! (they weren't)
Everyone's speaking Danish! (no one was speaking Danish)
Seth Rogen! (wasn't there)
Did I say that out loud? (yes, I did)
Am I speaking? (yes, I was)
Where's Keanu Reeves? (in The Matrix)
Was that real? (no one knows)

Sunday 2 May 2010

8:17 AM



Beautiful morning. Claire left for the airport already and I have about 2 hours before my long train journey back to Copenhagen. I'm currently sitting by the canal, taking in the beautiful scenery (which somehow has not been the focus on this trip) and enjoying the brisk morning breeze. It's refreshing to explore the city while the streets are mostly empty and everyone is still sleeping off the effects of Queensday weekend. It's a much needed detox: peace, quiet, fresh air, lack of excessive stimuli, getting away from people and being alone in a lovely city - one of my favorite parts of traveling. Once in a while a Heineken can drifts by in the canal or a whiff of urine passes through the air, but for the most part it seems like the party's officially over. Amsterdam, you mad, mad city. You have certainly taken your toll on me.

sxswahhh.

SXSW kicked off today, and its first surprise show came from Nas and Damian Marley at Levi's/Fader Fort (which hosted Kanye's surprise appearance last year). This is one of the acts that excited me most this year, even from 5000 miles away.

NAS & DAMIAN "JR GONG" MARLEY DISTANT RELATIVES preview from nabil elderkin on Vimeo.

While I'm loving Europe and all, I'd give anything to be in Austin this week for some free shows, warm weather, and goddamn breakfast tacos.

the little successes carry you through life.

Today I found my new favorite belt at a thrift shop for 10 kroner (less than $2), got an A on my law paper, uploaded pictures, skipped class, explored Vesterbro, and enjoyed the sunshine. I have yet to study for the test I have tomorrow, but you can't say I didn't have a productive day.

Lesson in blogging efficiency.

Here are some things I've been obsessed with in the past month spent here:

1. Dark chocolate, marzipan, Nutella...

I've tried to curb my consumption, but something tells me I will be dying a slow, delicious death from sugar. It's bad when you've abandoned any concept of Nutella as a spread and simply eat it by the spoonful.

2. Jens Lekman.

Oh Swedish man, why are you not touring in your homeland of Scandinavia? The world makes no sense.

3. Danish hot dogs.

Never before have I had so many condiments in one bite, but it is so worth the multiple heart attacks to come. These put New York hot dog stands to shame.

4. Danish pastries.

If you think they look good, wait til you smell them everywhere on the streets of Copenhagen, especially at 3:00 in the morning - it is incredible.

5. Finding little unique spots in the city.

Ok, I might have tacked this on to make myself feel better for the fact that 3 out of my 5 "obsessions" were food. At the same time though, #5 represents perhaps the truest of my obsessions. In a city as homogeneous as Copenhagen, it is extremely exciting to find local dives or areas with real character and individuality. Which is why Nørrebro and Christiania stand out in my memory as unique places to hang out. The debate on the increasing "problem" of migration in Denmark has centered mostly around how foreigners are perceived as a threat to Danish culture, and while I understood this viewpoint upon first arriving and experiencing the novelty of Danish society, the multi-ethnic neighborhoods and areas not strictly 'Danish' or European have offered the most refreshing view into the city.

Things I've missed in the past month:

1. Television. I'm not a huge TV watcher, but the fact that the Olympics are halfway over and I have yet to watch a single event is literally killing me. The TV in our bloc is broken and/or missing; in addition, Danes simply don't seem to care about the Olympics. Out at a pub, they were playing everything but the Olympics: football, hockey, even an old movie at one point (who goes to a pub to watch a movie?). Also, I simply miss being able to have the TV on in the background every so often. BBC World to keep me just a little more informed when I don't have time to read the news. The Food Network too, although I think the adventures that go down in our kitchen are more than enough for a program of its own. Speaking of which, I made pasta carbonara yesterday! Without pancetta, but Danish bacon as a substitute ain't too shabby.

2. Speaking the native language. Sure, Danes all speak impeccable English, some better than Americans I know, but Danish is very much the national language. Even with the knowledge that you could just initiate a conversation in English, it is very alienating to be unable to understand the conversations around you, the announcements on the train, the nutrition facts on the cereal you buy. However, it's also reinspired my desire to learn languages and stressed the importance of language as a bridge into a culture. I speak Chinese to my parents now whenever they call. I talk to Chinese students I meet doing laundry in my kollegium. I try out the little Danish I've learned on the Danes I live with. I have conversations with students from Spain (though they usually want to improve their English, so it generally becomes Spanglish).

It seems I like a lot more things than I've missed in the past month. I'll take that as a good sign for the coming months.

god mondag på nørrebro.

Mondays are long - class runs from 8:30 in the morning to 6 in the evening, with a scant few hours tossed in as a break. While it sounds torturous, Mondays usually also tend to be the most productive and pass most quickly, usually with the aid of coffee and plenty of work with which to occupy the time.

Today was an especially busy Monday as I had done absolutely no work over the weekend (yet a day trip to Sweden and consumption of far too much beer were clearly a priority). It has been enormously difficult to get anything productive done here, let alone anything for the real world, such as job applications and making plans for the future. Which is why I was so proud when I successfully finished and faxed out my application for an internship at NPR today, just before going to class at the University of Copenhagen. Despite the near impossibility of actually getting it, it was such a sense of achievement to actually finish something tangible and put myself out there. If anything, the fact that it was such a reach freed me more to be myself, since the main concern for me was not actually getting the post but finishing something that was true to myself.

Though I scrambled with my limited time frame between classes, the finished product I faxed out at least felt complete, something I could be satisfied with. Walking to class afterwards was refreshing, revitalizing, even though I was already 15 minutes late (but as it's a 3-hour lecture course, 15 minutes is negligible). It was nice to be back in the city, out in the fresh air and snow, being frustrated at the general absence of pedestrian right-of-way but at the same time not all too worried about the delay.

After class (which was actually quite interesting in covering torture and transitional justice, concepts I had been introduced to in South Africa), an evening of celebratory unwinding was in order. I met up with friends close by in the city where we enjoyed a highly affordable Mediterranean buffet. The American love for all things cheap and all things all-you-can-eat combined with the fact that we hadn't eaten since 11 o'clock led us to shovel our food with no mercy, much to the horror of our cruelly outnumbered European friend.

Following an overindulgent feast (complete with wine and dessert), we trekked to Nørrebro, a district known for its multi-ethnic community in a city of daunting homogeneity. A sketchier part of town, where some of our first welcoming sights included "Satan" graffitied on the walls, but one with definite character and much to offer to locals and visitors alike.

We went to a bar called Cafe Blågårds Apotek, where there's live jazz music and free entry on Mondays. Inside, it was crowded and warm, a haven from the frigid evening; the music was vibrant, atmosphere was cozy, and a good time seemed to be had by all. Hip, friendly bartenders greeted us with refreshing beers and engaging banter; the intimate environment made it feel more like sharing a living room with old and new friends alike than being out on the town.

In total, I spent around 15 hours in the city today, and while I was exhausted upon finally returning home for the first time since 7:30 AM, it was a god mondag.

(This Bird Has Flown)

These days I feel like I'm not even in school. Granted half of my classes have not begun yet, but for now I often find myself with hours to spend exploring the world around me.

My only class today finished at 10, and I was left with an entire day ahead of me without assignments or engagements. On top of this sense of complete freedom, it was a beautiful day - the sun was out in its full glory (only its third appearance since I've arrived). Savoring the extra vitamin D, I wandered away from the busy city centre toward the quiet streets of north Copenhagen. Through the snow-covered Royal Gardens and beyond to the small streets lined with colorfully painted apartments and finally reaching the distinctive yellow buildings of Nyboder - I walked and walked, taking photographs of charming scenes, storing still-lifes in my memory along the way.

A couple of hours later, I could no longer feel my ears. Longing for a haven where I could rest and read, I stumbled upon Hovedbiblioteket, Copenhagen's Central Library. Inside I found a modern building bustling with people of all ages and backgrounds, less like a library and more a center of activity. Even better, I found a respectable collection of literature in English. Imagine my joy when I discovered they had included in their collection a number of books by Murakami, whom I had just gotten into before leaving home. I had plowed through half of Kafka on the Shore before I had to give it up since it was a library copy.

The Hovedbiblioteket did not have Kafka, so I picked up a copy of Norwegian Wood instead, settled myself in an empty chair, and read for hours, just as Murakami's Kafka did. In many ways, I found myself in his characters. There was a certain shared sense of isolation from being in a new place without the comforts of old friends and family, without the connections that come so easily in familiar places. And in a sense, this is Murakami's greatest achievement - the idea that we are all connected in our solitude, that despite our great loneliness at times, we are all living in the same world, subject to the same humanity.

I read and read until hunger beckoned me home to cook dinner. Without an official Danish ID yet and thus unable to check out books, I simply took note of my page number and returned the book to the shelf, looking forward to the next time I would be reacquainted with it.

Days here like this one have been simple, healthier, stripped of the excesses and easy distractions of life at home. Having been without power in my room for the past several days save for one desk lamp and two outlets, I've gotten used to using less electricity. I take showers in the dark. I don't cook with salt simply because there isn't any in the kitchen and I can do without it. I read during the day, go to class for a few hours, walk, explore the city, travel on the weekends, socialize in the evenings, and all in all lead a pretty simple life here. It might change in the coming weeks, but for now, life's never been so peaceful.

winter in the city

Jeg studerer i Strøget.

Despite having to wake up at 7:00 every morning to brave the frigid cold and darkness, there is one advantage to having classes at 8:30 every day: my Fridays are done by 10:00 AM. Thus began today's adventure strolling down the cobblestone streets of Copenhagen, where 17th-century architecture and modern design sit side by side like old friends, creating a disparate harmony only achievable in a city like Copenhagen.

I spent the day on Strøget, the longest pedestrian shopping street in Europe conveniently located just a street over from where I go to class. While Copenhagen is one of the most expensive cities in the world, clothing is surprisingly affordable right now, perhaps due to the giant sales that go on in the month of January.

Strøget, the pedestrian shopping street, not my photo. Imagine more snow and heavier coats and that is what it looks like right now.

Aside from the great deals and quality shops, it's the small pleasures that make leisurely walks in the city so delightful. Charming outdoor flower shops sit on the street, boasting a remarkable array of fresh flowers. Bakeries and sandwich shops adorn the city, flooding the air with the warm aromas of freshly baked bread and unparalleled pastries. Perhaps the greatest delight was the fact that it was only 3 o'clock in the afternoon and the streets were packed with locals already celebrating the end of the work week, a testament to a collective culture that values leisure over working extra hours. And so it should.

I came to a stop at a red light as I approached Magasin du Nord, where I encountered a most peculiar sight. There was not a single car, not even a bike on the street or anywhere within sight, yet a whole row of people on each side of the street stood patiently waiting for their turn to cross, as if the street were congested with speeding traffic. For an outsider to the culture, it was a marvelous revelation. Even on such a non-issue, their collective way of thinking remains present. They respect the rules and one another, they abide by global-minded structures, and their society benefits remarkably in efficiency.

Copenhagen is filled with such foreign yet comforting encounters. Perhaps most striking is the sight of unattended babies in strollers left on the street as their mothers shop inside. A shocking sign of negligence in America and most other parts of the world, an everyday practice in the safe and civilized society of Denmark. It almost feels like a Utopian bubble at times, and it's sad to think of such a culture colliding with the corruption everywhere in the world today. But for now, it's these little oddities reminiscent of such an admirable society that make me feel so refreshingly at home in this city.