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.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
(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.
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.
Friday, January 22, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
wandering vagabond
It has been a long time since I have graced this blog with a post. Lots has happened since then. I traveled to Africa. I worked with refugees. I saw the ugly face of corruption and injustice in everyday life. I adventured. I freed my mind.
I began this blog with a vague intention of making it into something with a focus. For a while it seemed to be an entertainment blog of sorts, collecting relevant posts or published interviews and reviews from my time as an entertainment writer for The Daily Texan. This however limited my expression to one realm, which, for someone who is overwhelmingly fascinated with such a broad range of subjects as well as finding beauty in the everyday world around me, was a paralysis, a locked-in syndrome of sorts.
After spreading myself across a slew of new social sites, all designed for strangely specific purposes, and even contemplating starting multiple blogs to serve all my interests and pursuits, I found myself lost in an increasingly fragmented internet world, extending and categorizing my existence but losing a sense of identity along the way. Innovation has created a postmodern nightmare; progress has led to a regression in human wisdom.
Thus I return home to my kind old blog, abandoning the overambitious intent of creating an interest-specific blog in favor of the original purpose: expressing the beautiful profundity I happen to find in life and all its pursuits.
This post catches me at a conflicting crossroads in my life. Strong passions for various subjects will lead me on varying pathways in life, but they leave me currently agonizing over which to choose and wondering if I even have to choose. But that makes the journey all the more interesting.
I began this blog with a vague intention of making it into something with a focus. For a while it seemed to be an entertainment blog of sorts, collecting relevant posts or published interviews and reviews from my time as an entertainment writer for The Daily Texan. This however limited my expression to one realm, which, for someone who is overwhelmingly fascinated with such a broad range of subjects as well as finding beauty in the everyday world around me, was a paralysis, a locked-in syndrome of sorts.
After spreading myself across a slew of new social sites, all designed for strangely specific purposes, and even contemplating starting multiple blogs to serve all my interests and pursuits, I found myself lost in an increasingly fragmented internet world, extending and categorizing my existence but losing a sense of identity along the way. Innovation has created a postmodern nightmare; progress has led to a regression in human wisdom.
Thus I return home to my kind old blog, abandoning the overambitious intent of creating an interest-specific blog in favor of the original purpose: expressing the beautiful profundity I happen to find in life and all its pursuits.
This post catches me at a conflicting crossroads in my life. Strong passions for various subjects will lead me on varying pathways in life, but they leave me currently agonizing over which to choose and wondering if I even have to choose. But that makes the journey all the more interesting.
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