I’ve noticed I have a habit of telling people I am going to do/have/see/visit/experience a lot of things in the future. I say “I’m adding that to the list.” Some of them are reasonable (get a Master’s in Planning), some not so much (Rule the World and establish a presidency). I think I am going to start adding the ones I remember to a list on the blog just for shits and giggles. Keep an eye out 🙂
Had my first meeting with my Buddy Network this Friday 🙂 We ate at a traditional Danish restaurant in Frederiksberg where we had Danish meatballs, sweet potatoes, a traditional pork rib dish, and some kind of beef in gravy covered with fried eggs. YUMMMM!
Afterwards we headed to a pub nearby where we sat and chatted for a while. It was SO crowded…the place was not meant to sit 18 people in a circle around a table. Plus there were already a lot of people there. One of the girls, Victoria, brought her friend who was visiting while on a break from her Studies in Grenada, Spain. We hit it off quickly, talking about Spain and the food and siestas. Sadly she was leaving that Sunday, so there wasn’t much of an opportunity to hang out. They also left fairly early to do their own thing, as did many others. Once at the pub I spent most of my time talking to Christian, one of the Danes who helped organize my buddy network. He’s a really cool guy and I look forward to hanging out with his this coming weekend at a party we are all invited to attend.
The train culture here in Denmark is composed mostly of keeping to yourself if you are riding solo, or to your group if there are several of you. Seldom do people talk to strangers. It’s all about being n your own little world. Actually, it is like that in a lot of public places but that doesn’t mean Danes are standoff-ish. In fact, they’re super sweet if you ever get the chance to see it. Take today for example. I fell asleep on the S-tog on the way home and, being the last stop, I was probably just sitting there with my head all crooked when everyone left. I had no idea. But thankfully a nice Danish lady gave me a shook and told me we were in Koge. She did it all with a nice big smile too!
So I’m sitting on the train home from Copenhagen today and this big guy comes in to the cycle car. It’s pretty full at this point, but he pushes a bunch of people out of the way to park his bike. All the while music is blasting from his phone without any headphones. He goes into the silent car, music still blasting. People leave. He gets up and opens other people’s windows in the car, leaning right over them to do so. More people leave. He coughs and talks loudly in a rough, non-Danish tongue. Almost everyone is out by now. They’ve migrated through our cycle car despite it being extremely crowded, just to get away from this fool.
Okay, almost home. He’s been kind of loud in the silent car, but the door was shut so it didn’t bother me much. Now he comes out, music still blasting. He shuffles around by the door, cursing some more in his gruff voice. Then he hacks a lugi on the floor, throws down his empty cigarette box, and lights up his last. He pushes through people again, this time to retrieve his bike. The train must slow down for how long it took to get to the next stop.
I swear, if thoughts could kill… this guy would be completely incinerated. If I would have been able to I would have thrown the asshole off myself. I was considering throwing his bike off when I got off, but alas I am the last stop so he got off before me. Lame.
It also says a lot about the Danish culture that everyone else left and didn’t say a word to him. They are verrrry non-confrontational, especially with strangers!
From my discussions with other DIS students it is clear there is a wide variety of experiences among those staying with host families. Some families, the ones I have nicknamed the Careers (after The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins – Excellent Trilogy FYI), have been hosting students for many years and have a robust set of rules and expectations. Others, like mine, are Freshies hoping to find something new and exciting in hosting a student. Some families treat their students as any family might in the states: they are expected to participate in family affairs, contribute to the household, and do their part to be a helpful member of the house. Others live like royalty, having anything they want provided without exertion or forced participation in family affairs. I cannot lie: my family definitely falls closer to the lavish side than not.
Case in Point: Tonight Andreas went to fetch some ice cream from 7/11 because Trine and he have quite the sweet tooth. While he was gone I migrated from the table to the couch where I took up a comfortable position to do some economics reading. Shortly after he came home, she walked over and handed me a bowl of ice cream. I didn’t even have to move. Then she brought me a Chocolate Turtle, a very popular Danish candy. Not long after she reclaimed my bowl, again filling it with the other two ice cream flavors (did I mention they have a sweet-tooth?). When I finished this bowl I placed it on the floor to finish reading, and Trine came and scooped it up to put in the dishwasher. The entire time I did not move from my comfortable position stretched out on the couch!
Anyway, just thought it was interesting. Don’t think I’m abusing it though, anyone who claims to know a thing about me knows I feel lame every time something like that happens. So I volunteer to help out whenever I can 🙂
Our apartment flooded. And I mean really flooded. It has been deemed unlivable. Mom’s staying at JJ and Bena’s. Most of our shit is wrecked. Tons of old pictures lost. Landlord’s being a bitch. Money is tight. Winter is coming. It is not good.
My mom needs help right now. She needs someone who will stay calm, someone who will think rationally and keep her from over-stressing. She needs someone to help her go through stuff, someone to help fix the crap. She needs someone to be strong when she can’t. She needs someone to ride through all this crap with, like before. She needs me.
I’m 4,000 miles away.
They do not have all the Answers.
They do not know all the Moves.
They are not Famous.
They are not Glamorous.
They have no Pride.
They have no Regret.
They do not Die.
They we will never Forget.
Because in that Moment
They do not think.
Ten years ago today thousands of heroes acted. They did not waver as they looked into the face of death. His gruesome stare, his blind power, his deafness. No, these they did not feel. Heroes live among us; they may be with you this very moment. They do not have an appearance. They do not stand out. They exist deep within the heart of men and women, far beyond the reach of earthly senses. They simply are.
Words cannot begin to explain my respect for our heroes. It is the call to homage I feel watching this anniversary. It is the feel of something beyond myself, stretching tendrils encompassing us all through a list of names. It is the weight upon my shoulders as I stand under the Dome of St. Paul, the book of the fallen only steps away. It is beyond this world.
As the years pass by, the names will fade. We will forget the details. The timeline will twist. But that feeling, that acknowledgement of something beyond ourselves, that will live forever. They will be part of us, forever and always. They will live on.
For our Heroes.
For our Memories.
For our Love.