Vi ses, København

Well, the 121 days are over. This time tomorrow I'll probably be pulling up the driveway, Ruckus in the window spazzing, and a warm house with its distinctive and familiar smells and sights waiting for me. As long as my flight isn't delayed or canceled by the mini-blizzard happening in Denmark right now...

I know that the novelty of this experience will last a long time (I'm sorry in advance if I talk about it in excess when I return). Even now I am aware that I will remember Copenhagen in pieces. I won't be able to see the light-rail without thinking of my morning commute on the S-tog. When I eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I'll think of standing at the kitchen counter at 8 o'clock at night making my lunch for school and chatting with Irene. I know I'll miss Denmark, but forever I'll be reminded of my time here. It's one of those experiences that either never leaves you or takes a very long time to linger away.

Regardless, this is the end, there's no denying that. This is the final chapter for now. But it's certainly not the end of my travels; I refuse to think so. That's why I am saying "vi ses" which is like "see you later" rather than saying "farvel" which is more of a formal goodbye with an unknown return.

It's hard to believe it's really over. When I imagine departing I see this very distinctive picture: I am at the gate, the huge 747 plane visible through the glass windows ahead of me, and on my shoulders I am holding my heavy carry-on bag filled with Christmas gifts. I hand over my boarding pass, somewhat hesitantly, to the ticket attendant who procedurally and routinely rips it. After receiving the remains of my boarding pass (another ticket I'll add to my growing collection), I look back one last time, longingly, but happily at Denmark. There's a silent exchange that happens between me and this country, if that's possible. I let it know that however small Denmark may be, it will always be big in my heart. I let it know I'll be back someday, hopefully in warmer weather. I'll turn towards the gate, take the few steps into the hall that will lead me to the plane. When I am out of sight, the music will start and the screen turns black. That's when the credits start to roll.

I see it this way because I imagine it like a movie. It couldn't have been real. It was all a movie. Now, let the credits roll.

Getting closer

As the days of my departure encroached a week ago, I was excited by the thought of going home. Now as the days linger closer and closer, I am still excited about going home, but it's getting tougher to face the fact that I'm leaving. There are certainly facts I miss about America-- free refills at restaurants, exchanging "hellos" and smiles with people on the street, familiarity in general, and of course my family, friends and Nick. But there is something about Denmark that I know has changed me a little. It probably won't be noticeable to others, but I can feel it and I know it's there. Not to sound cliche, but Denmark has become a part of me. This is an experience I will never forget because it is absolutely unique and irreplaceable.

The past few days I've been filling to the brim with as much activity as possible. In a few sentence blurbs, I'll explain my last week's activities. On Thursday night I went to the ballet with a few friends. We saw "Sleeping Beauty." The music was of course wonderful and the performance. On Friday I went out again with a few friends. We cruised around Copenhagen, stopped in a few bars, and in general wandered around soaking up some of the last night life experiences. Saturday night again I went out, but for a more relaxed evening. The same group of us and some additions had a hygge night at a friend's apartment with wine, cheese, and good conversation. Sunday I spent the day with my host family at Irene's grandmother's house. There we ate traditional Christmas desserts and were given advent gifts. Monday and Tuesday I finished up my last academic papers and turned them in. Monday evening was the celebration of Saint Lucia (a catholic Saint who would feed the poor Catholics in the catacombs of Rome on the night of the 12th). In honor of the Saint, there are parades in the city where Danes dress up with candles on their heads (as Lucia did in order to free her hands to feed the poor) and march around singing Christmas hymns. The celebration is more a fun festive event rather than religious. It isn't an elaborate event either. The parade that I viewed with friends was near Nyhavn and involved a herd of kayakers paddling down the canals with decorative lights adorning their kayaks.

Today, Wednesday, was probably one of my best days in Denmark. In the morning a group of us gathered a friends apartment for a farewell brunch celebration. We successfully made a very American selection of food-- pancakes, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, yogurt, apples, and chocolate cake. The meal was delicious-- it was nice to eat American food again (although it's unfortunate we didn't do it in the middle of the semester when we were all pining it). We sat around the table after and talked for awhile. As I said before, it's getting harder and harder to imagine leaving, especially the good friends I have made here. Later in the night, after I had come back from visiting Markus's boyscout troop with Carsten, I joined my friends again in Copenhagen. We lingered in a few cafes together and drank hot chocolate. It wasn't a fancy outing; more just an excuse to squeeze more time in together.

On the train ride home and then the walk to the house, I thought about how significant this experience has been in my life. It's hard to imagine going back to Philadelphia and I think it will take some adjustment. I've said it before but it really is true that this is an experience completely my own. I can blog about it and tell everyone what I did, but it's not the same as being there. It's something special to me and a time I will always hold close to my heart. It happened so quickly as well. And when I think about it, four months is an extremely small fraction of my life, but these months have been some of the most impacting on my life. I can already tell that I have changed my perspective on many subjects and life in general. It's nothing specific that Denmark has or DIS that has done this, it is more the independence and the growth I have gone through while being here. I don't feel as though I am a completely changed person, maybe modified slightly in a positive way.

I was listening to a Modest Mouse song as I sat on the nearly empty train and the lyrics fit very well:

It's hard to remember,
We're alive for the first time
It's hard to remember were alive for the last time
It's hard to remember,
To live before you die
It's hard to remember,
That our lives are such a short time
It's hard to remember,
When it takes such a long time

Although I am young and have many years to experience new and exciting things in the vast world, living in Denmark, traveling Europe, and meeting an eclectic group of people has made me feel as though I am truly living. I am taking advantage of every moment-- even in solitude. I may not always be doing something life changing; I may just be watching "Bones" on my laptop, but I am here. I did this, on my own. That in itself is exciting to me. It's getting more difficult to come to the realization that it's almost over and with every hour it's getting closer and closer. The next few days are going to a be whirlwind of sadness and happiness, of jamming in as much Danish culture, time with my host family, and saying goodbye to my friends (as well as last minute Christmas shopping).

Every day I fluctuate between being ecstatic to fly home and depressed to leave. I haven't cracked open my suitcase to start packing. I don't really want to because then I'll know that it's real-- that I'm leaving and I won't grapple with the back and forth anymore. In my eyes, it's better to have the conflicting feelings than not to because I won't be here to. If that makes sense. It does to me.

Winding Down

The inevitable countdown has begun. Nine days. It’s hard to believe that it was three months ago that I came to Denmark, now it’s closing in—and quickly. Classes are finishing and final papers are being turned in. Luckily I don’t have any final exams, just long papers. But there is so much more to the close of the semester than the actual academic portion. I’ll be leaving my “home away from home” as well as the life I’ve created here. Being in Denmark has been something that is unexplainable to anyone else. In a way, it’s been like living a double life. What I’ve experienced here is truly my own. I appreciate that and feel lucky to have had the opportunity to be truly independent.

The winter in Denmark came abruptly and I’ve been spending my last few days trudging through the snow. Almost every day there has been some sprinkles of snow falling from the sky. Copenhagen has transformed into a winter wonderland. I can’t remember the last time I stepped outside and didn’t see my warm breath in front of me. Yet, I’ve become accustomed to the cold. I never thought I’d be able to brave it. Of course, every morning I do bundle into many layers. Sometimes I have so many on that I feel like Randy from “A Christmas Story” when he can’t put his arms down because of his snow suit. But even if I look ridiculous, I’m warm. Only my face peaks through all the clothing. Hats and gloves are always a must, as well as leggings and scarves.

The days go by quickly—literally. The sun rises late in the morning and is only bright for about an hour at midday. It never seems to actually reach the top of the sky. It makes mornings difficult and getting out of bed can sometimes be a victory in itself. The sun starts sinking in the sky around two o’clock and is completely dark around four. I’m not really fond of the creeping darkness. I miss the sun and the warmth.

It seems that everything is coming to a close here—final curtain call. DIS is preparing for the departure of the students with announcements about practical issues such as returning textbooks, departures, and everything else in between. Classes are finishing and teachers are bidding goodbye to the students. I can’t say that I’m against this—I think I’m ready to come home. But it feels like this semester went by in a blink—a short flash and it was all over. It feels like yesterday yet at the same time it feels so long ago that I came to Denmark. At times it seems as though I was only here for a day, yet others I feel like it’s been years since I slept in my own bed. It’s a quite confusing feeling—being pulled in different directions. I’m sad to leave, but I’m glad to be going to my real home. I know I’ll miss Denmark and it feels almost premature to be talking about this because I have ten days left. Nine days. I’m going through a roller-coaster of emotions constantly it feels like. Sitting with my host family at dinner, it pulls at my heart strings thinking that it’s uncertain when I’ll see them again. They say they’ll visit America, but it will never be the same as these four months. Nothing ever will. It’s been difficult facing the fact that most the people I have met this semester I will probably never see. It maybe be a negative way of looking at things, but really I’m only thinking about it because it makes me upset. It’s silly but I’m even sad thinking about just not seeing the same faces in classes, even if I never spoke to someone or held a long conversations. The reason for this I believe is because in my mind I know we all shared something similar. We uprooted ourselves from our lives in our comfortable, safe, America. We all transitioned into living in another country completely different from our on. Because of this we share an unbreakable bond—a common experience that not many others can relate to. We are united in this way. It’s going to be even more difficult to say goodbye to the friends I’ve made here. I suppose I could always remember how it has affected me rather than how I’ll miss it.

Time here is fading and my departure lingers around the corner. I am determined to make the best of the last few days.

The City of Lights and the Big 2-1

Like a romance novel, Nick and I boarded a plane to Paris Friday night for the weekend to celebrate my 21st birthday. It was casual, no big deal. It felt like fiction.

We arrived later than we anticipated due to another delayed flight. Apparently Copenhagen airport does not know how to handle snow. But the time didn't matter, we were going to Paris! We rode the train into the city and outside the window we could see the snowy city at night. When I first saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance, I let a small squeal of delight.

Nick and I were determined to fit in as much sight seeing as possible in the short weekend we were in Paris. On the first morning we visited Versailles. Snow was falling fast at the palace and it made it even more beautiful. Nick commented that we were lucky because we got to see Paris in a way most people don't-- covered in white, fresh snow. The palace was of course magnificent and gigantic. The rooms were lavish. Anyone who says nothing compares to Versailles is correct-- it is the epitome of luxury and embellishment.

As the snow began to turn into slush, we made our way to the Louvre. Again, I was ecstatic just to be in front of such a famous building. It felt surreal. Inside the giant glass pyramid was a mass of people. Nick and I zig zagged our way through. Our first destination was of course the famous and undeniable Mona Lisa. It was much smaller than I had imagined. While looking at it, Nick and I both questioned why it is famous. Neither of us are art historians obviously or even art buffs, so we couldn't come up with a logical reason. After the Mona Lisa we strolled through the Louvre. The art museum has got to be one of the largest galleries. There is a huge range of different pieces and every wall is covered with art work. It would take days to see every piece that the Louvre houses. Nick and I focused on hitting the highlights: the sphynx, the statue of Aphrodite, and a few other key portraits.

Because we only had one real night in Paris, we jammed it with as much sight seeing as possible. Next on our Paris Bucket List was the Arch de Triumph. Check. Then on our way to the Eiffel Tower we stopped at the Christmas markets. There we feasted on Churros covered in sugar.

Paris is especially beautiful when it is adorned with Christmas decorations and crisp snow. But the heart of the beauty is undeniably the Eiffel Tower. There aren't many words I can use to describe it but it was breathtaking. Nick and I then dined at a small cafe type restaurant for dinner. The staff was very Parisian and didn't hide rolling their eyes at all. But that is the stereotypical French that I had heard so much about.

On Sunday morning, my birthday morning, we checked out of the hotel and did some final sight seeing. We stopped at the Eiffel Tower to see it up close in the daylight and then continued on to Notre Dame. Mass was being held but there were still a lot of tourists taking obnoxious and cheesy photos of themselves with the statues and what not. Nick and I laughed and were somewhat disturbed by the annoying pictures being taken. But we didn't let it bother us too much, we mostly mimicked it.

We headed back to Copenhagen where we would spend Nick's last two nights. On Monday we toured the rest of Copenhagen and spent time with my host family before Nick had to depart. Together we saw the Little Mermaid statue that I've been anticipating seeing for months. She was away in China for the World Expo exhibit but returned in the beginning of December. That night we dined with my host family and enjoyed Domino's pizza. My host family bought me a small fødselsdag cake and sang Happy Birthday. It was sweet of them but I was feeling very sad not to be celebrating in my real home. In all honesty, it my birthday didn't really feel like a birthday because I wasn't surrounded by my family. Yet I am very satisfied with how it turned out-- I was able to be with Nick and my host family really tried help me celebrate.

On Tuesday morning I begrudgingly went to the airport with Nick. The time he was here went by too quickly. And when I returned back to my Danish home, I felt a little empty without him. It was such an amazing trip with him and felt like a mini vacation inside my giant study abroad vacation. Both of us are truly fortunate to be able to travel together.

Nick's Visit

After our mini Thanksgiving vacation in Amsterdam, Nick and I headed towards Copenhagen. Of course our flight was delayed and we were left sitting the airport, once again. This time I was just happy we were together and wouldn't have to scramble to find each other.

The next day I unfortunately had to attend my classes and survive my final Danish exam while Nick hibernated in my warm host families house. The day seemed to inch by and I was relieved to finally walk through the door around five o'clock. Nick had somewhat made himself comfortable and was talking with Irene when I arrived home. I was glad to see that everyone was getting along well. I knew that Nick would like my host family and they would enjoy his company as well. We all sat down to eat together and have a hygge night.

It had been perpetually snowing since the day I left in Denmark. And the snow was now piled high in the back garden. Unfortunately because of the snow it severely slowed the trains down to a frustrating pace. On Tuesday Nick and I stayed in Greve. We walked to the beach with Nana in tow and took some pictures of the snow that blanketed the sand. Nana had a fun time jumping up and down along the banks of snow. Nick took his cameras and we walked along the scenic view. Later in the day Nick and I shopped at Bilka to buy supplies for dinner. We were concoting one of our favorite meals-- shrimp/chicken Caesar salad wraps with old bay for my host family. We didn't struggle too much in the kitchen and everyone seemed to enjoy the meal (all the wraps were devoured). I was especially happy to have this meal because it reminded me of home and something Nick and I do together.

On Wednesday Nick and I braved the cold and headed into the city on the very slow and unpredictable trains. We walked to Nyhavn and along Strøget. We briefly took refuge at DIS in the warm lounge. After stopping by Baresso (the Danish version of Starbucks) and sipping some hot chocolate to warm our numb toes, we visited Tivoli. After September, Tivoli closed for the winter and then briefly reopened for Halloween weekend. Tivoli recently reopened as it always does during the Christmas season. Tivoli in all seasons is magnificent, but it is Christmas time that Tivoli is truly known for. All along the park were strings of bright twinkling lights, miniature Christmas trees adorned with shiny ornaments, and numerous Christmas market stands selling warm and delicious goodies. Tivoli was even more beautiful this Wednesday evening because of the dusty snow that covered the park. It reminded me of the "Symphony of Lights" in Columbia that I would visit every year with my family when I was younger. Not to be cliche or cheesy, but Tivoli around Christmas time is magical. It represents good tidings and innocent fun along with the Christmas spirit.

After a few classes on Thursday Nick and I went to the Positive Psychology final reception dinner (I asked in advance if it was okay for Nick to come with me). In the reception hall all the Positive Psychology students and professors gathered for a buffet style meal and a final goodbye with wine and dessert. Some students got a bit rowdy but it was a fun time. I was able to introduce Nick to all my DIS friends who come from all over the country. The Positive Psychology group is the people I have spent the most time with in Denmark. We traveled to Jutland together as well as Scotland. The final reception felt like a closing ceremony at camp. I was sad to think that I most likely will never see many of the people again. But, like many campers from previous summers, I'll remember them. With each transition of my life I think this, like Jemicy and high school. It's funny how people really do come and go in your life. After the dinner Nick, a few friends and I headed to a popular student cafe for a bit. There we continued our conversations and reminisced about the semester.

Friday morning I took Nick to Christiania. Unfortunately we couldn't stay long because of our flight to Paris (I say unfortunately, but it's not really unfortunate at all). Briefly we toured Christiania and I showed Nick "Pusher Street" where all the drug deals occur out in the open. It wasn't much of a shock because we had just come from Amsterdam. We then ventured the airport where we would depart for Paris, the city of lights, and my twenty-first birthday celebration!

Amsterdam

I didn't think it was possible. I didn't think I could manage to get myself on the metro, to the airport, passed security, to the gate, and on the airplane towards Amsterdam. But, I did it. Of course there were a few hold ups along the way; I took the wrong street towards the metro, took the wrong metro, had to back track to the correct metro, dealt with a two and half hour delayed plane, sat on a plane while the ice was cleaned off, ran around baggage claim... but I made it and there was Nick waiting at the arrivals area for me. We were at last reunited after a very hectic evening. Of course during all of the struggle to get to Amsterdam, Nick was in the dark because we obviously had no way of communicating. But the snow in Copenhagen didn't keep me from making it to him.

Looking back I'm not really certain why I chose to spend my Thanksgiving in Amsterdam; it just seemed like a fun place. There is some tourist atmosphere, but it's nowhere near as much as other cities I'd been to. As for activities, I relied on the opinions of others as well as the guide book my mom left for me.

I bought tickets in advance for the Anne Frank house beforehand for Saturday morning, which was a wise decision since the line stretched around the block. The museum isn’t really a museum—it’s the actual house Anne Frank and her family hid inside for many long days and nights while the Nazi regime took over Holland. The house was actually larger than I pictured it. But even if the size was somewhat seemingly sumptuous, it’s important to keep in mind how many occupants were there. I don’t remember the exact number, but I imagine it was quite cramped. While walking through the house I tried to recollect what I’d read in Anne Frank’s Diary back in the sixth or seventh grade. Even though I couldn’t remember every detail or many of them at all actually, it was still surreal wandering the house that has become so famous and is a symbol of the holocaust.

Next, Nick and I visited a much more light hearted museum—The Erotic Museum. It was… interesting. And that’s all I’ll say about that. It was a very large contrast between the Anne Frank house and the Erotic Museum. But that’s Amsterdam. The rest of the evening we wandered the canals and the chilly streets.

The next morning Nick and I hiked our way to the Van Gogh museum. I was somewhat disappointed with the museum. Although it did house many of Van Gogh’s great pieces, the layout was not very appealing. I’m not an art buff and don’t know many of Van Gogh’s pieces, but I was hoping to see some of the famous masterpieces, like Starry Starry Night. But either I couldn’t find it or it’s not there.

We casually strolled down the Red Light District during the night. From what I’ve heard of Amsterdam, it’s a very liberal city. I found it odd walking along and seeing the girls in the windows with red lights shining. It’s like window shopping—but for women.

The rest of our time in Amsterdam, we mostly wandered around. I wouldn’t say that Amsterdam is the most beautiful city, but it holds some sort of charm. Maybe it’s the free spirit. It wasn't like Thanksgiving at home with turkey, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie. It really didn't feel like Thanksgiving at all-- especially because I wasn't with my family. But of course I feel very fortunate that Nick was able to visit me in Europe. And Amsterdam was only the beginning of our European excursions.

Amsterdam and things.

A blog about Amsterdam is soon to come. I just have to find the time. Until then, I'll just update briefly:

Nick and I eventually (long story) found each other in the Amsterdam airport. Obviously we made it to/from Amsterdam safely. We've been braving the Danish winter (including snow) for the past few days. Tomorrow we're heading to Paris for the weekend!

The Dream is Almost Over

I've been back in Denmark for over a week now and it seems almost surreal. Now that I've been away from home for nearly three months, it's a little difficult to imagine coming home in only twenty five days. When I arrived back in Copenhagen to meet my host family, it felt like coming home, but the tricky thing is, it's not home. My mind has finally caught up with my body here in Denmark. And now that my departure is looming, it's a strange feeling. In twenty five days I'll be boarding the aircraft that will take me away from dreamland back to reality. I can already tell that when I step off the plane it will be like waking up-- the dream will be over.

But I look forward to coming home because there is nothing like being home. I'll be surrounded by my family and my things. I'll have more than just a suitcase's amount of clothes to chose from and I'll be able to watch T.V without subtitles hanging at the bottom.

Thanksgiving is approaching in America but not here in Denmark. DIS and the students have organized some festivities, but it is no where near what it's like back home. My host family and a few others gathered together on Saturday to celebrate with a traditional Thanksgiving feast made by the students (and sponsored by DIS). We shared the tradition with the Danes and they seemed to enjoy it. The food was good, yet not like my mom's cooking (especially the pumpkin pie). I liked attempting to explain to my family what Thanksgiving is about in America and what it means. I told them it's about being thankful for the past year, for friends, for family, for health. We each wrote down something we were thankful for on cut out paper in the shape of leaves-- something all the American students at one point in time did in preschool. The Danes caught onto the idea quickly and shared what they were thankful for; their families, health, happiness, their American student. Markus, my eight year old host brother, wrote on his paper that he was thankful for his Playstation 3. I smiled and thought of my nephews back home. It may not have been exactly like Thanksgiving in America, but it was close. We certainly ate a feast complete with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, cranberries, and all the other Thanksgiving staples and of course, pumpkin pie. My host family tried everything willingly-- some of it was too sweet but for the most part the indulged in the rest. I wish that I could have had my mom's pumpkin pie for them to try though because nothing comes close to it.

Other than Thanksgiving, life back in Denmark has been normal. I'm readjusting to waking up in the dark and coming home in the dark. The winter is here and it's bitter cold with harsh winds and rain. The other day as I stepped out of the house around 7:45 it was snowing; the first of the season. Christmas is in Denmark too. Since there's no Thanksgiving, Christmas season begins November 1st. Lights are strewn all around Copenhagen and Tivoli has reopened for the Christmas season. Now with snow on the ground, it really does appear to be the season to be jolly.

On Thursday I depart for my own Thanksgiving celebration. I'll be flying to Amsterdam where Nick will meet me at the airport. I'm excited to see Nick but nervous for the traveling because I am completely on my own. I am responsible for getting myself to the airport, getting on the plane, and everything else in between. Plus, I'll be alone on the plane ride. But it will be well worth it, I'm sure.

17 days, 5 countries, 5 capitals, Countless Experiences; part 5

Berlin, Germany: November 10-13

The final stop: Berlin. Before arriving in Berlin, I had a gut feeling that there was something about it I would love. And I was correct. When I stepped off the plane it felt almost instant that I fell head over heels in love with Berlin. It's hard to capture, but it was apparent that both my mom and I felt this way about Berlin. Maybe it was the hospitality of our pension or the patrons in the street, maybe it was the history that busted up from even the sidewalks, or maybe it was the amazing food (not German food though). Whatever it was, Berlin captured me only after a few short days.

We purchased transportation cards because unlike many of the other cities, things in Berlin seemed to be a little more spread out across the grid. We didn't do this begrudgingly-- our feet needed the rest. On the first night we ate at a restaurant called "Santa Maria" which was suggested to us by our friendly pension manager. Santa Maria proved to be not only the best food we had on the entire trip (who knew Berlin would be the place for that?) but also the most fairly priced. For under 12 euro each we received bread, soup, a main course, dessert or tea, and kind service (who translated the menu for us since we unfortunately don't read German).

After we were rejuvenated by the excellent meal and cozy atmosphere of the restaurant, we took the double decker bus (which we would end up relying heavily on while traveling in Berlin) to Alexanderplatz, a busy shopping center. Alexanderplatz is a cosmopolitan and bustling area with modern stores, including a giant department store that my mom and I found warmth inside (and also a giant candy wall). After wandering around Alexanderplatz we then took the heated bus to the Reichstag. The Reichstag is the current parliament building and was so before Hitler's Nazi occupation in Germany. Although Hitler didn't actually use the building, the Nazis took it over when the Third Reich controlled Germany. From the pictures inside the building its possible to see the terrible condition the building was in after World War II-- the walls were crumbling from nearby explosions and remains of the once grand building were scattered throughout the street. Some time after the end of the Cold War the Reichstag was redone and now represents the perseverance of the German people as it stands strongly in Berlin. From the Reichstag building atop the dome there is also a view of Berlin that is indescribable when seen at night.

After taking American history an uncountable amount of times in school (it sometimes seems that is the only history we learn about) I was a little aware about the Cold War but no where near an expert. I badgered my mom for answers because she had lived through it and I obviously had not since I was born just shy of a month before the Berlin wall came down. But it seems that the Cold War and what happened in Berlin is both largely unknown and very complicated. At the Check Point Charlie museum (a museum located where the American occupation boarder met the Communist occupation boarder-- a place where many tried to escape from the communist side to the other) I read over accounts from the oppression that the German people were forced into and their many attempts of escapes from the East to the West. But still there is so much information I don't know and don't understand. Not only do I not comprehend, but I can't even imagine. The idea of putting up a wall to divide a city, each claimed by different countries, seems almost childish and primal (almost like siblings dividing up a room and saying this is mine and that is your's). I don't really get it. But my eyes were opened to say the least while I was at the museum. I had no idea that Germans had to go to such extreme lengths to reach freedom in the West. I can only account a few of the stories-- the ones that really stuck out to me-- but there were so many written on the walls that it practically covered floor to ceiling. Creative ideas were formulated in those desperate times, such as building compartments inside small vehicles so that a person could barely squeeze into to cross the boarder, or hollowing out surfboards, or building a hot air balloon. The clever maneuvers were somewhat successful but there were still those who suffered on the other side. And it's hard to believe that it was a mere twenty-one years ago that this was happening. It hasn't even been a lifetime yet but it seems so distant.

We strolled casually to the Berlin wall (it's odd to put casually and Berlin wall in one sentence because there is absolutely nothing "casual" about the wall). The remains loom over the sidewalk and it's only a small section. It's unbelievable that so much occurred at this wall-- so much that I don't even know about. People died trying to get across. A wall is a perfect representation for the divide of the country. It was a barrier of freedom to many and now it stands as a reminder that easily it could all change again. Now more than ever I realize how fortunate I am to have never experienced oppression.

After the wall we visited the Jewish Museum. The museum is different than most and one would expect it to largely be about the Holocaust. Yet the museum is mostly comprised of Jewish history dating back to the 1300s. There is a portion of the museum that reflects upon the Holocaust and includes items and trinkets that were stolen from the Jewish people. The construction and execution of the Holocaust section is intriguing. It's similar to the Holocaust museum in Washington D.C. Along the walls are big bold names of cities in Europe and there are a few dark windows that you have to get very close to the glass to see the contents. Inside there is a small description of the items; pieces recovered from Jewish families of the Holocaust, letters, pictures, and other what would be meaningless articles. The rest of the museum, as I said, is dedicated to the history of the Jewish people. I enjoyed walking through it because it discussed other attributes of Jeudiasm than the persecution of the Holocaust.

It's difficult to pinpoint and I could go on for hours discussing the atmosphere of Berlin in reference to not only World War II but also the Cold War and the Soviet occupation. One observation was that Germans are somewhat hesitant to talk about the Nazi occupation-- which is understandable, after the war many were ashamed of Germany and it took years to recuperate. But the Germans seem to be open about the Soviet occupation of Germany because then it was Germans who were oppressed. It's a complex history that Germany has and I can understand why it raises many questions. But to describe it best I would say there is an electricity, an energy in Berlin and Germany that can't be matched. It's obvious that there is something unique about Germany-- they survived a lot of turmoil either by some of their citizens doing or by the control of others, but they made it through and have proven that they are a strong nation full of life, vibrancy, and brilliant minds.

That night we again visited Alexanderplatz as it started to drizzle. We carried our umbrellas with us although mine was broken and somewhat of a hazard (I borrowed it from the pension) and we stopped in a few shops. One book shop we visited was "Berlin Story," one which Rick Steve's recommended. We ate dinner at a somewhat modest chain restaurant and again had excellent food.

On the second and final full day in Berlin we visited the Brandenburg gate with the Goddess of Victory standing strongly at the top. Near the gate there is a Room of Silence where visitors can sit quietly to meditate on the themes of peace, equality, and other heavy material. It is a fitting room for this purpose because it is in the shadow of the Brandenburg gate.

The very new Holocaust memorial (built in 2005) is near the gate. The memorial is, like much of Berlin's displays from World War II, different than the usual Holocaust memorial that captures the atrocity through millions of names etched, quotes about oppression, or emaciated figures of stone. Instead the memorial in Berlin is comprised of about two thousand tall standing planks in varying sizes in rows. The stone walk way dips up and down to create the illusion of great hills and the vertical planks add to this. This memorial almost says more than the others I've seen. It doesn't have any names or pictures or quotes. It is more symbolic. What I see is the dark and uncertain future that effected everyone in the world-- not only those who perished. It was a worldwide, human race, war that involved everyone, even future generations. At the end of the each row though, through the falls and rises, there is an end that can be seen. A small light peering through the maze like structure. I found the memorial to be very profound and is probably one of my favorite parts of Berlin.

We went to the world-class aquarium for a more light-hearted afternoon. There was the typical jelly fish, exotic fish, reptiles, insects, and other sea creatures. I was a bit disappointed that there were no sharks as they are the kings and queens of the sea. But still, the aquarium was a nice side trip for me and my mom. It was almost like being a child again and I appreciate that because those days are quickly fading.

That night we dined at Santa Maria again. And again it was delicious. With full and satisfied bellies we went into the heart of Berlin one more time to ride to the top of the T.V tower. From the hundreds of meters above the city we could marvel at the city. As I stood up top I thought about all those who had walked the streets and all those who had wished to be anywhere else-- the Jews who were murdered and persecuted, the Germans on the East side who unfairly were thrown into an oppression a lot of the world isn't fully aware of. I thought about the evil men, Hitler and his accomplices, the power thirsty Nazis, who roamed those streets. But now those are mere memories for a select few and with time, they will somehow cease to exist and it will only be what is written down in a history books or diaries. And of course the wounds will never be completely healed, but with time there will hopefully be an ease of the painful recollections.

The next morning, Saturday, I sadly said goodbye to Berlin but I hope to someday return. We landed in Copenhagen and although I was upset our trip was over, it was nice to be back with my host family. My mom and I went to Stroget and I showed her Nyhavn, the harbor. In the time that we were away, Denmark prepared Christmas. Nyhavn was decorated with lights and small, warm shopping huts along the canal. It felt hygge being back, bundled up in our coats and enjoying the city of Copenhagen. I do wish I had more time with my mom in Copenhagen because although it may not be a large tourist city, it still has a lot to offer.

On Sunday my mom departed for America. It was difficult watching her get in line at the check out counter knowing I would not be following her. Of course soon enough I will be. The next morning it was odd being without my mom, it was almost an empty feeling. Luckily it won't be too long until I'm back home in Baltimore. But I had a wonderful time exploring Europe with her. We saw more than I can account for and of course I am more thankful than I could possibly show. In total we saw five countries: Denmark, Czech Republic, Austria, Italy, and Germany in only a matter of seventeen days!

I know I said I'd keep my blogs about our trip short, but I couldn't help myself. It was a wonderful adventure and I simply couldn't cut anything out. Now it's back to semi-reality in Copenhagen and then in only a few short weeks its back to actual reality. It's hard to believe the time is almost over. I have to make the last few weeks count.

17 days, 5 countries, 5 capitals, Countless Experiences; part 4

Rome, Italy: November 6-10

Of course one can’t visit Rome without taking a day trip to the Vatican. It would be sinful. After checking the Coliseum off my life list of things to do, we headed out in the rain towards the holiest city on earth. Once we reached the Vatican we qued up in line for St. Peter’s Basilica, the largest Catholic church in the world and the epitome of Catholicism. We waited in line in the drizzle rain to enter the Basilica. We got through security but just kidding. We didn’t make it actually inside the Basilica. Without knowing we took a wrong turn (a simple mistake) and ended up in the catacombs (which were interesting). Among us were many if not all the tombs of the some two hundred Popes and leaders of the Catholic Church. But once we were out of the tombs we weren’t allowed to go back the other way towards the Basilica. I was ready to throw up my hands and start saying obscenities because of the lack of signs directing visitors towards each destination. But I didn’t because I think that would have been wildly inappropriate.

We decided to let the Vatican defeat us during that round, but after visiting the Vatican museum and the Sistine Chapel, we would return for round two. We walked back out the street, by this time it was beginning to rain a little harder (just enough for every street vendor to ask me four times if I wanted to buy one of their crappy umbrellas to which I had shrinking patience for). Of course by this time the line for the museum stretched a few blocks and wound down the street. In the rain we roughly waited about an hour and half to get inside the museum and chapel. Finally after much shivering and complaining (on my end) we were in. But we still had awhile to go until we reached the main destination—Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel with the elaborate ceiling paining of the creation of man. It took awhile because of course with the Catholic Church nothing is easy and simple. We were required to walk what felt like miles towards the Sistine Chapel and after passing multiple look alikes, we were below one of the most famous ceilings in the world. To say the least, the Sistine chapel is magnificent. Michelangelo without at doubt was one of the most creative individuals to have ever walked the earth. The detail and imagery that is involved in the embellished ceiling is almost enough to turn a nonreligious person into a devout Catholic. Afterwards we looked around the Vatican museum and a few of the exhibits.

We were then ready to try the Basilica again. This time, after waiting about twenty minutes, we turned left. It was worth going back for. The Basilica is enormous and extravagant. I can’t even fathom the amount of money put into the heart that holds Catholicism. It makes one wonder how everything works but that is an entirely different subject. For once I was going to let myself be ignorant and just marvel at the beauty of the structure, architecture, and artwork. Inside we saw the Pietà statue of Mary holding Jesus (again done by Michaelangelo). The Basicilca also holds the statue of St. Peter in which it is traditional to rub his feet. The feet of the statue are so worn down that they are smooth and the toes make a now club foot. It was humorous to watch people pretend to be thoughtful and run their hands along the foot and then have their picture taken by another person. My mom and I laughed at the hierocracy of the situation as the guard ushered people away from the holy symbol.

Now that we had seen everything at the Vatican except for the Pope, we went back to the real world. That night we decided to take our religious leader (our patron saint of travel) Rick Steves advice on dinner. He led us to a “classy villa” called La Gallina Bianca. The food was above par and certainly better than what we previously had.

On our last full day the rain was on and off like a faucet. One moment it would appear to have stopped and then it would turn into a strong down pour. For some reason, I believe that Rome was almost more beautiful in the rain. It was as if it almost washed away the filth and cleansed the city. But I was determined to not buy a cheap umbrella from the hassling street walkers. After ducking into a few corridors to shield us from the rain and then going practically in circles on the public transit system, we arrived at our destination—the Pantheon. One nice thing I have to say about all the religious Catholic churches in Rome is that they are free. The Pantheon is the oldest Catholic Church in Rome and also houses the graves of two Roman kings and the famous artist Raphael. Although elaborate in its own way, the Pantheon is nowhere near the size or exuberance of St. Peter’s. But the ceiling with a giant hole in the center is awe worthy. Again, I am astonished by the minds behind the building of such places. Never do I think I could be as wonderfully unique as those who thought to create such masterpiece structures.

Again we followed the advice of our guidebook and ate at a restaurant behind the Pantheon called “Miscellanea.” Finally we had excellent Italian food (of course it was on our last day). Not only was the food good but the atmosphere was welcoming and fun. I had an actually tasty pizza while my mom had some type of pasta concoction. Both were excellent. The service was great too as well as the prices. Our waiter, who Rick Steves mentions in his book, was a sweet young guy who on seeing the Best of Europe book on the table gave us a sample of the homemade and delicious “sexy wine” (concocted from berries; very sweet and very tasty).

Although our bellies were full, we had to stop at the supposedly world famous (and obviously mentioned in The Book; not the bible, the guidebook), Gelateria Caffe Pasticceria Giolitti. The Giolitti was appealing and had an assortment of mouthwatering pastries, but we had come for the gelato. I ordered my favorite pistachio of course and my mom got chocolate. They were both good, but again, it actually wasn’t the best. The creamy gelato was satisfying though and I am glad to say I tried it.

As a parting with Rome we went back to finish up the rest of the National Museum, where we had originally started our trip with the friendly museum guide. We were glad to see him again and to explain all the wonderful sites we’d seen. On our last night we also revisited the Trevi fountain. At night the fountain is magnificent. The lights around the edge highlight the large statues and details that surround the water. Of course we followed the tradition of tossing in a few coins into the fountain. I watched them sink to the bottom and that was the last of Rome for me.

We departed Rome the next morning and although it was a historical and sometimes humorous adventure, I was glad we were heading to our last destination, Berlin. I had had it with the umbrella pushers.

17 days, 5 countries, 5 capitals, Countless Experiences; part 3

Rome, Italy: November 6-10

The longest leg of our trip was spent in one of the most jam packed historical cities in the world, Rome. My expectations were high for Rome. I figured it’d be like stepping into a time capsul and then transported to a beautiful city full of life and culture. Unfortunately I was mistaken. Rome is a wonderful city to visit as it is filled to the brim with history and ancient ruins but it is far from beautiful. The streets are littered with garabage and sometimes questionable sticky residue. Everywhere is adorned with tourist-trap gift shops with unoriginal trinkets and hoeky knick-knacks that are actually made in China. The food isn’t as sensational as I had built it up to be (more about that later). But although it isn’t a charming place to visit, it is busting at the seams with history. And I suppose at one point it time, it was not such a tourist trap. Nonetheless I am glad I went there. I figure the Colesium among other attractions are worth braving the mediocre food, bothersome street vendors, and tricky public transportation.

Because we had woken up early that morning to board the plane headed toward Rome, we were exhausted by the time we reached our pension. Yet, we couldn't check in to rest yet, therefore we decided to try and get acclimated with Rome.Under the suggestion of our pension and the guidance of Rick Steves, my mom and I, weary from our early morning, stumbled our way to the Tevi Fountain. In the day light we saw the bustling atmosphere of the Roman streets. Near the Trevi fountain were street entertainers (as well as annoying and sometimes rude beggers). There were of course tourist shops and pricy restaurants. After searching for some time and maybe wandering in a few circles, we decided to dine at a small and empty Italian restaurant. I was excited for my first taste of “real” Italian food. I thought it would be like fireworks in my mouth. I ordered some kind of pasta with mushrooms and cream sauce while my mom ordered lasagna. There weren’t fireworks, there weren’t even really sparks or fire crackers. Although the food was edible and certainly better than other’s I’ve tried, it was by far not the best Italian food I’d had in my life. But it felt good to eat. Afterwards I tried my first gelato. Again, I expected it to be amazing. It wasn’t. It wasn’t bad either—it just wasn’t any different from what I’d had previously in Copenhagen. The weather was warm and we walked back to the pension to rest for awhile before heading out again.

After relaxing for a bit we wandered our way back out to the streets. We browsed a few shops for a little near where our pension was located. It had been a few hours since we’d last sat down for lunch so we decided to give it another try with the Italian food (not like there was much choice). We were ushered in to a restaurant called “Bar Washington” that was on the same street as our pension. The waiters stood outside the restaurant and if a passerby so much as hesitated in the slightest way they would exclaim “table for 2?” “table for 3?” (of course depending on how many you were with) or they would say “to eat or drink?” My mom and I were suckered in. We looked at the pictures posted on the outside of the restaurant and figured the food looked tasty and what not. I can easily say that the food I had at “Bar Washington” was the worst Italian food I have ever tried. My mom got spaghetti with meat sauce while I decided to try the margarita pizza (I based this off of the picture that was posted nearby). Both meals were terrible (along with the service and bread that not only was crusty from sitting out but took forever to get). The food was overpriced and absolutely awful. The pizza was worse than frozen and the spaghetti was on par with Chef Boyardi (which might have been better actually). There was absolutely no hint of fireworks in that meal. But it was lesson learned. For the rest of the trip we didn’t give any restaurants with waiters outside trying to usher in customers a second chance.

The next day we purchased the Archeological Card at the National Museum with some very friendly and helpful guidance from a museum worker. Again we were fortunate that we were in walking distance to nearly everywhere in Rome and thus started towards the ancient area that holds the Coliseum, Forum, and Palestine Hill. We first visited the Coliseum with the aid of a very dry but informative audio-guide (but we knew that was coming because Rick Steves already explained that in his book). Walking around the Coliseum was almost surreal to me and although it was crowded, I still enjoyed it. I had heard so much about gladiators and ancient Rome that it was unreal to be there, to have seen it in movies, read about it in books, heard stories of the battles that occurred on those very grounds. Epic battles between man and man as well as man and animals were fought here. It truly was a different time. Things were carried out with swords and death was not an issue. While being there I started to think about how truly amazing the human race is; to have built such a powerful structure with limited resources (no heavy machinery) and I thought about the brain power and imagination that it took to formulate such building plans. But then I thought about how easily Mother Nature could take it all away with a swift and easy earthquake.

Palatine hill was the next stop. Palatine hill is the remnants of a palace and the ruins of many other buildings such as Romulus and Remus’s homes. From the top of the hill there is a view of the Forum that is astonishing. While looking out onto the grassy plain and hills covered with stones that once held up lavish marble structures, I tried to picture what it looked like when the Forum was the bustling market where Romans used to congregate. Now it is ruins, destroyed by war, the fall of the Roman Empire, and the test of time. While we walked around the Forum all I could think was “I’m walking where Caesar walked!”

Our tired feet made one last trip. We went back to the National Museum to see some of the tapestry, paintings, and sculpture displays.