Good news, people. I have returned from the land of fine chocolates, delectable cheeses and Roger Federer and my tales are rather plentiful. 

As I mentioned in my last post, Liza and I spent our weekend in Geneva, Switzerland staying with some family friends of mine who moved their about seven years ago. Liza and I (quite miraculously) departed in a timely manner for the train station on Friday morning and seamlessly arrived at Kastrup International Airport, eager to begin our first of many study abroad travel adventures. Everything was going quite well upon our arrival (i.e., we found our gate and refrained from purchasing any luxury items in the duty free shop) – that is until there was a stampede in the terminal. By “stampede” I mean that Easy Jet fliers, much like Southwest Airlines fliers, do not have assigned seats and become rather aggressive during the boarding process. Said aggression was quite frightening for woman of small stature such as myself, but Liza and I managed to boldly pave our way and find seats together (NOTE: Actually, a lovely gal from Long Island who we met at the gate decided she wished to sit between us and kindly saved us us seats on either side of her, a meaningful gesture indeed). Before we knew it, we were airborne. And also before we knew it, the man sitting in the row in front of us began to utilize his barf bag, so to speak, a shocking and rather upsetting turn of events. Nonetheless, we landed safely and were welcomed into Switzerland by blue skies,  heat (NOTE: “Heat” has become a relative term since I have become a Dane – The temperature was in the 70s upon our arrival, which I suppose does not necessarily constitute such a description), and our host, 18-year Hannah and her friend Sofia. In Swiss style, the girls immediately took us to have a glass of wine at a café on the harbor.

Later that evening, Hannah’s mom Adrienne and 

younger brother Max met us at the harbor so as to escort us onto the boat where Hannah’s dad Frederic owns a restaurant. It was remarkable to say the least. We were served a variety of food items of whose names I am still unaware and dined as the boat sailed through the harbor and into the sunset. Now, despite the fact that this dining experience was most certainly flirting with perfection, I would be a dishonest blogger were I to skimp on some of more rocky details of the evening. About a quarter of the way through the meal, all the lights on the boat went out and we very briefly stopped moving. Then, about halfway through the meal, all the lights on the boat went out and we very briefly stopped moving. About three-quarters of the way through the meal, … I think you get the idea. I hate to be a pessimist but I would be lying were I to say that I could absolutely not suppress the urge to start bellowing “My Heart Will Go On” at the top of my lungs. Fortunately, technical issues were resolved and we arrived safely back at the dock, bellies full of fine French cuisine.

The next day, Hannah took us on a walk through the vineyards in their town of Satigny (they live slightly outside Geneva), which was very exciting for the walk-lover in me. Typically, my walking routes consist of a few laps around my neighborhood or the trek from Branscomb to the Commons so you can imagine my delight over the fact that the three of us went on a walk to France. In Texas, walking to the nearest Walgreens is a feat in and of itself, so describing my simultaneous shock and elation over crossing a bridge into another country by foot is not easy. It was absolutely beautiful and I was able to experience yet another Hollywood moment as I straddled aforementioned bridge and for a fleeting moment, resided in two places at once (See image below for clarification on my film allusion).

Later that afternoon, we stopped at a flea market en route to the Old Town where Liza and Hannah miraculously prevented me from purchasing a heinous fuchsia blazer that inexplicably stole my heart (NOTE: I did purchase a fine pair of 10 kroner earrings that will be featured again at the end of this “post” – get it? Post? Unbearably clever, I know). In the Old Town, we braved the cobblestone streets, sat on the longest bench in the world (NOTE: This claim may be inaccurate, as everyone referred to it merely as ‘the longest bench,’ but were unable to tell us the scope of this comparison. Therefore, it is very possible that it is actually just the longest bench east of the Mississippi), kicked a little girl off of a swing, and later in the evening, went to a swanky little bar called Lounge 22 where we had the privilege of listening to acoustic versions of Kanye West, Lady Gaga, etc.

Unfortunately, we had an early flight the next morning and were not able to take in another day of Swiss beauty. Or ‘real food’ (NOTE: This is not to say a negative word against the fine grocery establishment that is Netto … I mean honestly, I am sure that unrefrigerated lettuce and black/brown bananas are appealing in many cultures). However, in all seriousness, Geneva was one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been and I would love the opportunity to go back.

When we arrived back in Copenhagen, Liza and I were greeted by Norrebro’s own version of a flea market with great finds including a large stuffed Harry Potter doll, dirty flatware, and used bibs as well as an unidentifiable man dressed in a cow suit sitting in our courtyard. Welcome back, y’all.

On Monday, I had my first test of the semester in my Current Trends in Mass Media class. And that is the end of that story.

Today, Josie and I went to a rather intense class at the gym taught by a woman who I assume had a lovely physique although her plentiful body art made it difficult to say for certain. We then came home and made a lovely breakfast together before we both headed towards DIS to start our day. After a long and intellectually taxing afternoon of class (NOTE: by “class,” I literally mean one class), I attended a JDRF Denmark meeting at the University of Copenhagen (UK). I have very much been looking forward to attending this meeting so you can imagine my disappointment when it occurred to me that the meeting was going to be held in Danish. Shocking. Perhaps I would not have been as frazzled by this fact had I not arrived late after having to cut through a more-than-questionable apartment complex on my bike, as, surprise, surprise, I got a bit lost. However, I braved the meeting for the first hour or so (i.e., I caught up on some reading on my iPad) then introduced myself to Finn, the executive director of the chapter. Finn was quite apologetic over the minor language barrier and also asked if I would be interested in speaking at their gala in November, an offer I could not refuse. I will definitely keep you in the loop as this exciting opportunity unfolds. 

This evening was somewhat uneventful but as promised, we will now re-visit the tale of my flea market earrings. I went to remove them from my lobes a little while ago, only to find that said removal was not an option. The posts were a bit thicker than I had realized and over the course of the day, had become stuck inside my reddening and swelling ears. It is at times like these that I realize how truly fortunate I am to live in a supportive environment, full of loving comrades, as when I ran into Devon and Liza’s room, they immediately went for the demonic little creatures (the earrings) while Dan offered to hold my hand. Now, if that doesn’t scream “community” then I don’t know what does. 

That is all for now. I must go remedy the apocalyptic space that is my room. Thanks for putting up with this (and my many other) rather verbose post.

Farvel!

Ord af dagen: “smerte” = “pain” (As in, "My friend held my hand during a painful jewelry removal procedure, as I was in horrible smerte.”)