(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.