Wednesdays at DIS are days for "field studies". Instead of sitting in the classroom, we get the opportunity to engage ourselves in hands on activities at local institutions in order to contextualize the 8:30 AM lectures that may or may not be fully absorbed during normal class days.
Today was a field study for my Cross Cultural Encounters class, the core course in the Migration & Identity program. As a project for the semester, we are collaborating with local asylum seekers in order to publish the next edition of the only publication run by asylum seekers in Denmark, New Times. There is currently much debate on the asylum system in Denmark, as the rules are much stricter than those of other EU countries. It is considered extremely hard to be granted asylum in Denmark, and it is necessary to produce quite a bit of documentation, including documentation of persecution. In other words, you must be able to prove, on a piece of paper, that returning to your home country poses a legitimate threat to your life or your health.
The Dublin Convention makes matters even more complicated. Passed in Denmark in 1997, the convention is a piece of EU legislation that seeks to streamline the application process by requiring the first EU country in which the asylum seeker is apprehended to take responsibility for this person and process their application domestically. Once you have been fingerprinted in Denmark, you may not leave Denmark to apply for asylum in another EU country. This poses a serious obstacle to many seeking asylum, because the laws on granting residence permits are so stringent, and the citizenship test and expectations of self-support are so high. As a result, there are a very high number of people waiting in the limbo of "asylum centers" who have been rejected by Denmark but who are unable to return to their home country for fear of persecution. There are people who have been sitting in these centers for 10 years without any hope of being granted a normal life in Denmark.
This morning, we were seperated into groups and introduced to the asylum seeker and the article topics that we will be working with for the next months. Farnam, our asylum seeker, is in the unique position of being an "unaccompanied minor". His parents were mathematics teachers in Iran and were too public about the fact that they were practicing Christians, not Muslims. In Iran, this is grounds for execution. He left Iran for Belgium, with the end goal of settling in England. However, Farnam was seperated from his parents, who moved on to England and were fingerprinted there. A family friend bought Farnam a ticket to Denmark and told him that he would have to purchase a ticket to England in the airport, but he was detained in Copenhagen where he was fingerprinted.
He is 16 years old and he has been living in a foreign country for 7 months by himself, unable to directly contact his family in England. He told us that when he was apprehended, he was promised by the authorities to be reunited with his family, but that promise has yet to be upheld. And because of the Dublin Convention, he cannot legally join them, nor has he the means. His English is extremely advanced for only 7 months in classes, and he received his diploma in Iran when he was 14. He hopes to attend university to become an architect. He hopes to return to Iran one day.
The most striking comment he made today was about the manner in which the Danish authorities speak of Denmark. "You are in MY country now..." He says the Danes speak of Denmark as if it is the best country in the world, all other places inferior. He says that they expect him to be more than happy to be here, living in an asylum center, without his family.
In two weeks, my group has arranged to visit Farnam at his asylum center in order to see what a day in the life of an under-aged asylum seeker in Denmark is like.
This boy is remarkably composed and well spoken, given his situation. And by the end of the meeting, I was feeling quite petty for complaining about the rainy weather and the crowed train on my way into the city.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Feverish Musings & A Picture Story
The Danish influenza was inevitable. My roommate was down and out with it last week and as soon as I started hearing scattered whispers of it throughout the DIS buildings, I knew that it would very shortly be upon me. I was holding my breath in vain. If there is a germ to catch, I will catch it, without question. Such a weakling. It truly never fails. So while my social life has hit the pause button and the Danish nightlife is dangling tantalizingly out of my reach for the time being, these past couple days in bed have given me some much needed time to catch up on my journaling and organize my academic life (& my life altogether). Ibuprofen/yo-j cocktails are the only cocktails I see in my immediate future.
I must say that so far, I am extremely impressed by the DIS program. I'm not sure exactly what I expected from my first couple of introductory weeks in Copenhagen. I suppose I envisioned more time spent wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out the streets, the stores, the language, on my own. But DIS put together a very impressive orientation schedule filled with endless activities; survival danish classes, a scavenger hunt to help orient us in the city, field trips to castles, dinners with our Danish teachers. Every second has been filled with new experiences and danishes. One of the very first (and truly most vital) things we were taught in Danish is how to say:
I would like a danish.
Jeg vil gerne have et stykke weinerbrød.
(Yai vi ger-na hay et stooka veener-brohhhth)
This silly little "ø" is just impossible. It comes from the back of the throat, in a really awkward, gurgly sort of way. I sound like I'm gagging. My danish teacher assures me that by looking in the mirror when you practice it, you will improve. But I'm very certain that if I looked in the mirror, it would then sound AND look like I was gagging.
Here are few of the best photos from orientation week and the following first week of classes:
Danish design at its best in the "Black Diamond" Royal Library. This is where I plan to spend time cramming (when necessary).
Our scavenger hunt group hit the postcard worthy area of Nyhavn at just the right moment for sunset shots.
Kongens Have (The King's Gardens) ... venturing away from the scavenger map, I found my favorite place in Copenhagen.
The director of DIS, Anders Urskov, waits in the cold with everyone else to introduce us to Rosenborg Palace ... and to point us in the direction of free soup!
An evening of ice skating at Kongens Nytorv with my roommate, Cecilie. It's alright, you can say it. It's pretty damn cute.
I must say that so far, I am extremely impressed by the DIS program. I'm not sure exactly what I expected from my first couple of introductory weeks in Copenhagen. I suppose I envisioned more time spent wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out the streets, the stores, the language, on my own. But DIS put together a very impressive orientation schedule filled with endless activities; survival danish classes, a scavenger hunt to help orient us in the city, field trips to castles, dinners with our Danish teachers. Every second has been filled with new experiences and danishes. One of the very first (and truly most vital) things we were taught in Danish is how to say:
I would like a danish.
Jeg vil gerne have et stykke weinerbrød.
(Yai vi ger-na hay et stooka veener-brohhhth)
This silly little "ø" is just impossible. It comes from the back of the throat, in a really awkward, gurgly sort of way. I sound like I'm gagging. My danish teacher assures me that by looking in the mirror when you practice it, you will improve. But I'm very certain that if I looked in the mirror, it would then sound AND look like I was gagging.
Here are few of the best photos from orientation week and the following first week of classes:
Danish design at its best in the "Black Diamond" Royal Library. This is where I plan to spend time cramming (when necessary).
Our scavenger hunt group hit the postcard worthy area of Nyhavn at just the right moment for sunset shots.
Kongens Have (The King's Gardens) ... venturing away from the scavenger map, I found my favorite place in Copenhagen.
The director of DIS, Anders Urskov, waits in the cold with everyone else to introduce us to Rosenborg Palace ... and to point us in the direction of free soup!
An evening of ice skating at Kongens Nytorv with my roommate, Cecilie. It's alright, you can say it. It's pretty damn cute.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Tall Poppy Syndrome
Last spring, I took a class in Western European politics and was assigned a group presentation on the ideas, interests, and institutions associated with the Swedish welfare state. Now normally these types of situations put me in a cold, dead panic. Not only do I hate depending on other people when it comes to the quality of an assignment associated with myself, but the fear of speaking in front of a room full of people rattles me so thoroughly that I never actually remember what I say. I come to later, having experienced 30 minutes of tunnel-vision and white noise. A blackout more effective than any night of drinking could ever deliver. This particular assignment, however, resulted in some pretty interesting nuggets of insight that I now carry around in my head. And quite a sensational romance, I might add. Once I came to, I realized that it had been worth the temporary disorientation.
Tall poppy syndrome is a phenomenon occurring most commonly in welfare societies, in which the higher class, or the most visibly “taller” poppies are purposefully “cut down” by the other poppies, producing a leveling effect on society. The earliest recording of this phenomenon in Scandinavia came in Aksel Sandemose’s 1933 novel, “A Fugitive Crosses His Tracks”, in which he describes his Danish hometown of Nykøbing Mors. The citizens live by the following rules, called Jantelov (Jante Law):
1. Don't think you are anything. (Du skal ikke tro du er noget.)
2. Don't think you are as good as us. (Du skal ikke tro du er lige så meget som os.)
3. Don't think you are smarter than us. (Du skal ikke tro du er klogere end os.)
4. Don't fancy yourself better than us. (Du skal ikke bilde dig ind du er bedre end os.)
5. Don't think you know more than us. (Du skal ikke tro du ved mere end os.)
6. Don't think you are greater than us. (Du skal ikke tro du er mere end os.)
7. Don't think you are good for anything. (Du skal ikke tro du dur til noget.)
8. Don't laugh at us. (Du skal ikke le ad os.)
9. Don't think that anyone cares about you. (Du skal ikke tro nogen bryder sig om dig.)
10. Don't think you can teach us anything. (Du skal ikke tro at du kan lære os noget.)
This concept was very novel to me when I first began my research, but it seemed to fit in well with the ideas I was trying to assign to the structure of a welfare society. Following a week in the land of 50-70% income taxes, however, I find myself with a more informed perspective on Jantelov. Perhaps the best way to sum up the ways of Danish society would be to quote an article from my Danish Language and Culture class, meant to enlighten us competitive Americans about the Danes’ self perspective:
“It is not considered appropriate to brag of your money, your excellent grades from university, your important job, your family . . . in general you should not in any way hint that you are more or better than others.”
Not so very different from America, though certainly more modest. I’m guessing those braggy Christmas cards detailing the achievements of every member of your extended family would be met with perhaps a heightened sense of contempt in Denmark.
But the plot thickens:
“In the Danish folkeskole kids follow the same class from first to ninth grade. It is considered more important that talented and less talented children get to know each other and learn how to cooperate than to create an environment in which talented and intelligent children get the opportunity to learn as much as possible.”
HOLD UP. I had to read that twice to be sure I was reading it correctly. I think that any American would stop dead at this sentence. Since birth, it has been ingrained in our core values that hard work leads to prosperity, and competition is healthy and necessary in a dog eat dog world. What is this emphasis on cooperation you speak of? Work hard and you will be rewarded. Look out for yourself and you will succeed.
I’ve learned a lot about Danish culture in the past week, and I must admit, it’s hard not to admire this hyggelig little world that the Danes have created for themselves. When choosing Scandinavia as a destination for study abroad, I knew that many parts of my life would remain the same. The sea of Arian faces I see when walking down Nørregade every morning is the same sea of faces I see walking down Pearl St. in Boulder, though perhaps slightly more stylish. I can purchase and eat everything in Denmark that I eat in Boulder, though a spoonful of peanut butter would certainly be welcome. And it only took two Cross-Cultural Encounters lectures to realize that Danes are just as xenophobic towards Muslims as Americans are towards Mexicans. The Danish Tribe is quite protective of their “Danishness”.
But it seems that the most fundamental mentality on life and how it should be lived are what differ the most. I have to plan my time accordingly if I want to grocery shop in my neighborhood after classes, because shops close at 5 or 6. I ate sandwiches for 3 days straight and recounted my frustrations to my roommate, who explained that there are laws about how many hours store clerks can work. And god forbid anyone be subjected to an evening shift (that would be encroaching on vital family time). Apparently, Danes are very concerned about overworking their grocery store employees, and all of their employees, in any field, for that matter. The average Dane works 9-4.
A much, much smaller percentage of Danes actually go for their PhD. But why would they? When everyone is taxed the same exorbitant amount, it makes no sense to be competitive. Sure, with a higher education you will be paid more, but in relative terms, once taxes are paid, you’re not making ENOUGH more than that grocery store clerk to justify working so much harder in a higher position.
I haven’t come to terms with Danish society yet. It lacks a competition and a drive that I am accustomed to, but there are many parts of it that I admire. They are extremely family oriented, and cherish all the extra time that they have to spend with their children. And besides Muslims, I have yet to encounter even one, tiny thing that Danes have to worry about. Everything that gives an American a headache (student loans, picking a career path, long hours in the office, no time for the family) are non-existent in Denmark. The state is the provider. And here I am, the silly little American girl who has always been taught that providing for myself is life’s most important endeavor.
It’s a sweet life, this Danish one.
Tall poppy syndrome is a phenomenon occurring most commonly in welfare societies, in which the higher class, or the most visibly “taller” poppies are purposefully “cut down” by the other poppies, producing a leveling effect on society. The earliest recording of this phenomenon in Scandinavia came in Aksel Sandemose’s 1933 novel, “A Fugitive Crosses His Tracks”, in which he describes his Danish hometown of Nykøbing Mors. The citizens live by the following rules, called Jantelov (Jante Law):
1. Don't think you are anything. (Du skal ikke tro du er noget.)
2. Don't think you are as good as us. (Du skal ikke tro du er lige så meget som os.)
3. Don't think you are smarter than us. (Du skal ikke tro du er klogere end os.)
4. Don't fancy yourself better than us. (Du skal ikke bilde dig ind du er bedre end os.)
5. Don't think you know more than us. (Du skal ikke tro du ved mere end os.)
6. Don't think you are greater than us. (Du skal ikke tro du er mere end os.)
7. Don't think you are good for anything. (Du skal ikke tro du dur til noget.)
8. Don't laugh at us. (Du skal ikke le ad os.)
9. Don't think that anyone cares about you. (Du skal ikke tro nogen bryder sig om dig.)
10. Don't think you can teach us anything. (Du skal ikke tro at du kan lære os noget.)
This concept was very novel to me when I first began my research, but it seemed to fit in well with the ideas I was trying to assign to the structure of a welfare society. Following a week in the land of 50-70% income taxes, however, I find myself with a more informed perspective on Jantelov. Perhaps the best way to sum up the ways of Danish society would be to quote an article from my Danish Language and Culture class, meant to enlighten us competitive Americans about the Danes’ self perspective:
“It is not considered appropriate to brag of your money, your excellent grades from university, your important job, your family . . . in general you should not in any way hint that you are more or better than others.”
Not so very different from America, though certainly more modest. I’m guessing those braggy Christmas cards detailing the achievements of every member of your extended family would be met with perhaps a heightened sense of contempt in Denmark.
But the plot thickens:
“In the Danish folkeskole kids follow the same class from first to ninth grade. It is considered more important that talented and less talented children get to know each other and learn how to cooperate than to create an environment in which talented and intelligent children get the opportunity to learn as much as possible.”
HOLD UP. I had to read that twice to be sure I was reading it correctly. I think that any American would stop dead at this sentence. Since birth, it has been ingrained in our core values that hard work leads to prosperity, and competition is healthy and necessary in a dog eat dog world. What is this emphasis on cooperation you speak of? Work hard and you will be rewarded. Look out for yourself and you will succeed.
I’ve learned a lot about Danish culture in the past week, and I must admit, it’s hard not to admire this hyggelig little world that the Danes have created for themselves. When choosing Scandinavia as a destination for study abroad, I knew that many parts of my life would remain the same. The sea of Arian faces I see when walking down Nørregade every morning is the same sea of faces I see walking down Pearl St. in Boulder, though perhaps slightly more stylish. I can purchase and eat everything in Denmark that I eat in Boulder, though a spoonful of peanut butter would certainly be welcome. And it only took two Cross-Cultural Encounters lectures to realize that Danes are just as xenophobic towards Muslims as Americans are towards Mexicans. The Danish Tribe is quite protective of their “Danishness”.
But it seems that the most fundamental mentality on life and how it should be lived are what differ the most. I have to plan my time accordingly if I want to grocery shop in my neighborhood after classes, because shops close at 5 or 6. I ate sandwiches for 3 days straight and recounted my frustrations to my roommate, who explained that there are laws about how many hours store clerks can work. And god forbid anyone be subjected to an evening shift (that would be encroaching on vital family time). Apparently, Danes are very concerned about overworking their grocery store employees, and all of their employees, in any field, for that matter. The average Dane works 9-4.
A much, much smaller percentage of Danes actually go for their PhD. But why would they? When everyone is taxed the same exorbitant amount, it makes no sense to be competitive. Sure, with a higher education you will be paid more, but in relative terms, once taxes are paid, you’re not making ENOUGH more than that grocery store clerk to justify working so much harder in a higher position.
I haven’t come to terms with Danish society yet. It lacks a competition and a drive that I am accustomed to, but there are many parts of it that I admire. They are extremely family oriented, and cherish all the extra time that they have to spend with their children. And besides Muslims, I have yet to encounter even one, tiny thing that Danes have to worry about. Everything that gives an American a headache (student loans, picking a career path, long hours in the office, no time for the family) are non-existent in Denmark. The state is the provider. And here I am, the silly little American girl who has always been taught that providing for myself is life’s most important endeavor.
It’s a sweet life, this Danish one.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Dutch Umbrellas
Silly moose,
When you passed your little umbrella into my possession some months ago, you forgot to mention that it is, essentially, worthless. I brought it along on my adventure, thinking that it may keep me dry on these rainy Copenhagen nights, but was disappointed to find that it wasn't sturdy enough to withstand the gusty Danish winds. Last night, halfway between the train station and my apartment, it had digressed into a tangled mass of wire and nylon. Though a frustrating struggle it was, I was able to provide a good 10 minutes of quality entertainment to the two, old Danish men laughing loudly behind me. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it may have been something along the lines of "Look at that drunk American wrestling with an umbrella! I wonder who will win?..."
So while the traveling umbrella added Copenhagen to its list of cities traveled, it has unfortunately been retired to the bottom of a Danish dumpster.
.
AL
Please enjoy some Danish pop, compliments of my Danish teacher, Nina.
Some people make videos for dancin', but the Dane's say, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny to sing while walking and hopping as awkwardly as possible...and then play it backwards!?"
When you passed your little umbrella into my possession some months ago, you forgot to mention that it is, essentially, worthless. I brought it along on my adventure, thinking that it may keep me dry on these rainy Copenhagen nights, but was disappointed to find that it wasn't sturdy enough to withstand the gusty Danish winds. Last night, halfway between the train station and my apartment, it had digressed into a tangled mass of wire and nylon. Though a frustrating struggle it was, I was able to provide a good 10 minutes of quality entertainment to the two, old Danish men laughing loudly behind me. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it may have been something along the lines of "Look at that drunk American wrestling with an umbrella! I wonder who will win?..."
So while the traveling umbrella added Copenhagen to its list of cities traveled, it has unfortunately been retired to the bottom of a Danish dumpster.
.
AL
Please enjoy some Danish pop, compliments of my Danish teacher, Nina.
Some people make videos for dancin', but the Dane's say, "Hey, wouldn't it be funny to sing while walking and hopping as awkwardly as possible...and then play it backwards!?"
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Honey, Honeyyyyy, I'm in Copenhagen!
I woke up a bit disoriented, looking at my phone (a used nokia of some sort, provided for free by the university) and realized that while I set my alarm for 8 am, I never actually set the clock to the correct hour. I turned on my computer and had to google the time in Denmark because I thought I was mistaken. It's midnight. In Copenhagen. And I think I may have surrendered to my battle with jetlag a little too early in the evening.
After the initial panic of my first flight from Denver to Chicago being cancelled, my journey across the ocean went very smoothly. My dad worked some magic that only he seems capable of working, and I was on a new airline to Chicago with plenty of time to make my connection to CPH. I met Greg, another DIS-er at the gate, and he worked yet some more magic on his seat mate so that he and I could spend the next 8 hours sitting together. Instead of sleeping, we shared the frustration of insomnia on a pitch-black plane to the sounds of a wailing 2-year old and the gentle snore of the kid down the row, who I envied for being able to sleep with his mouth wide open the ENTIRE time.
Cecilie, my roommate, was waiting for me with a hand-written "Emily" sign outside of baggage claim, and she knowledgably directed Greg to the correct train and platform. And then we took our taxi "home". And it turns out that home is nearly the perfect word for this little apartment. I will have to post some pictures soon!
My roommate could not have been more helpful and welcoming, it was such a comforting feeling. Once I had unpacked a bit, we walked around the corner to the grocery store so that I could get a few breakfast/sandwhich type items. She reminded me always to bring bags when I go shopping, because in Denmark, plastic bags at the grocery store aren't free! You actually have to pay for them! What an easy way to reduce the amount of plastic we're putting into this earth. It just makes so much sense. Why aren't we doing this in the US?
Her bike was parked outside the grocery store, and she flipped the lock on her tire and started rolling it along the sidewalk. I was taken aback, and she explained that the only lock on her bike is a little lock that stalls the wheels so they can't roll. I explained that if you used that type of lock in Boulder, it wouldn't stop anyone. Someone would just pick it up and walk away with it. Apparently, thieves in Denmark have similar thought-processes, because her bike has been stolen twice before.
She made me dinner in the adorable little kitchen and we got to sit down and talk about our siblings, our universities, and those crazy old people who talk angrily to no-one in particular about their grievances with the governement. Apparently, this type of crazy is universal, and I should keep my ears peeled for the anarchist who lives a few floors down.
Another odd thing: in the basement, there are communal storage rooms for bikes, large items, hanging laundry, and clothes dryers. Everyone in the apartment has a key to these basement rooms and is free to use them whenever they want. And no one worries about their stuff being stolen! I can't even leave my LOCKED bike in an apartment bike-rack back in Boulder. But everyone trusts each other with stored suitcases, furniture, or a bike in one of these storage rooms. You even mark your desired time to use the dryer a few days ahead of a time with a little lock that has your apartment number on it. If I walk away from my laundry in Boulder, more often than not, I will return to find my clothes in a wrinkly pile on the floor in front of the dryer that someone couldn't wait one more second to use.
So does Copenhagen live up to its reputation of being the happiest place on earth? My experiences thus far have lead to me believe that this rumor may be true. More to come...
After the initial panic of my first flight from Denver to Chicago being cancelled, my journey across the ocean went very smoothly. My dad worked some magic that only he seems capable of working, and I was on a new airline to Chicago with plenty of time to make my connection to CPH. I met Greg, another DIS-er at the gate, and he worked yet some more magic on his seat mate so that he and I could spend the next 8 hours sitting together. Instead of sleeping, we shared the frustration of insomnia on a pitch-black plane to the sounds of a wailing 2-year old and the gentle snore of the kid down the row, who I envied for being able to sleep with his mouth wide open the ENTIRE time.
Cecilie, my roommate, was waiting for me with a hand-written "Emily" sign outside of baggage claim, and she knowledgably directed Greg to the correct train and platform. And then we took our taxi "home". And it turns out that home is nearly the perfect word for this little apartment. I will have to post some pictures soon!
My roommate could not have been more helpful and welcoming, it was such a comforting feeling. Once I had unpacked a bit, we walked around the corner to the grocery store so that I could get a few breakfast/sandwhich type items. She reminded me always to bring bags when I go shopping, because in Denmark, plastic bags at the grocery store aren't free! You actually have to pay for them! What an easy way to reduce the amount of plastic we're putting into this earth. It just makes so much sense. Why aren't we doing this in the US?
Her bike was parked outside the grocery store, and she flipped the lock on her tire and started rolling it along the sidewalk. I was taken aback, and she explained that the only lock on her bike is a little lock that stalls the wheels so they can't roll. I explained that if you used that type of lock in Boulder, it wouldn't stop anyone. Someone would just pick it up and walk away with it. Apparently, thieves in Denmark have similar thought-processes, because her bike has been stolen twice before.
She made me dinner in the adorable little kitchen and we got to sit down and talk about our siblings, our universities, and those crazy old people who talk angrily to no-one in particular about their grievances with the governement. Apparently, this type of crazy is universal, and I should keep my ears peeled for the anarchist who lives a few floors down.
Another odd thing: in the basement, there are communal storage rooms for bikes, large items, hanging laundry, and clothes dryers. Everyone in the apartment has a key to these basement rooms and is free to use them whenever they want. And no one worries about their stuff being stolen! I can't even leave my LOCKED bike in an apartment bike-rack back in Boulder. But everyone trusts each other with stored suitcases, furniture, or a bike in one of these storage rooms. You even mark your desired time to use the dryer a few days ahead of a time with a little lock that has your apartment number on it. If I walk away from my laundry in Boulder, more often than not, I will return to find my clothes in a wrinkly pile on the floor in front of the dryer that someone couldn't wait one more second to use.
So does Copenhagen live up to its reputation of being the happiest place on earth? My experiences thus far have lead to me believe that this rumor may be true. More to come...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Come with me to a place that's by the sea...
I'm leaving in 10 DAYS. And my usually smug and self-assured self is in panic mode.
I finally received my housing assignment today...my Danish roommate wrote me an email! Her name is Cecilie and she is a 24 year-old economics student at the University of Copenhagen. Her apartment is about 5 km (2 miles) outside of the city-center where the DIS buildings are located. She sounds like a very driven, intelligent girl, and I absolutely can't wait to meet her. My kinda lady. She even volunteered to pick me up from the airport and let me move in a day early. How nice not to have to spend my first night in a hotel room. My bedroom overlooks a little park. It's such a very romantic notion, my heart can barely take it!
For months, my mom has been telling me that she'll help me get organized, get ready, and pack it up. But I'm beginning to think she's avoiding it altogether in an attempt to block from her mind the fact that I'm leaving the country for 5 months. And I'm beginning to think that I'm exhibiting a little avoiding behavior myself. I've been considering this program for years, but it hit me today that its happening. And its sneaking up on me a little sooner than I had expected. Mom and Chels are considering meeting me in Paris for spring break! That would make it just a little over two months, mom. I'm gonna miss you and your knee-slappers!:)
The next time I update, I'll be in my little Danish apartment overlooking the park. Someone pinch me, please.
Also, this is funny, honey: Ethniklashistan
I finally received my housing assignment today...my Danish roommate wrote me an email! Her name is Cecilie and she is a 24 year-old economics student at the University of Copenhagen. Her apartment is about 5 km (2 miles) outside of the city-center where the DIS buildings are located. She sounds like a very driven, intelligent girl, and I absolutely can't wait to meet her. My kinda lady. She even volunteered to pick me up from the airport and let me move in a day early. How nice not to have to spend my first night in a hotel room. My bedroom overlooks a little park. It's such a very romantic notion, my heart can barely take it!
For months, my mom has been telling me that she'll help me get organized, get ready, and pack it up. But I'm beginning to think she's avoiding it altogether in an attempt to block from her mind the fact that I'm leaving the country for 5 months. And I'm beginning to think that I'm exhibiting a little avoiding behavior myself. I've been considering this program for years, but it hit me today that its happening. And its sneaking up on me a little sooner than I had expected. Mom and Chels are considering meeting me in Paris for spring break! That would make it just a little over two months, mom. I'm gonna miss you and your knee-slappers!:)
The next time I update, I'll be in my little Danish apartment overlooking the park. Someone pinch me, please.
Also, this is funny, honey: Ethniklashistan
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