Who is Craig?

And why am I always using his lists?

Trying to find people to collaborate with on music on craigslist. I've found a few possibilities, but more and more I'm becoming convinced that I have about as much luck finding something of quality on craigslist as I do at a 99 cent store.

Cabin Fever and an Endless Stream of NY1

The inane selfishness of man.
Best seen in those who decided to stay behind after being urged, for about a day and a half, to evacuate their homes, and decided to stay, despite warnings that help would not be able to reach.
They stayed.
Then they begged for help.
At great cost to government, risking the lives of innocent emergency workers. 

Correction. The inane stupidity of man.

The news is now full of complaints about what's not being done, what's going wrong with a wide range of emergency services. Complaints about still-crippled transportation services. Christ, people. I'm over listening to whiners and sensationalist news teams harping on the negative. The effort made to bring life back to the city has been amazing. If you think of the scope, the gallons of water to be pumped out of subway systems, the difficulty of getting resources to the millions of people without with no ease of transportation, the innumerable variables that were tweaked and shifted out of  control by this hurricane? I'm damn impressed that for most New Yorkers, things are at least functioning on a basic level. All of the minor, or major inconveniences that remain are, at least to the thinking person, to be expected.

Bummer, for sure, but this is what we get for the years of mindless environmental irresponsibility that likely resulted in the freak storm Sandy. I'm pretty convinced that we played a major role. So we suffer the consequences. Quit yer crying and stand in line for the bus for 3 hours. Everyone else is. Or walk. You've got feet.

Silent Night

Hype.
 (hp) Slang n.

Excessive publicity and the ensuing commotion

...at least on the Upper West Side.

Yesterday, I waited in line at the West Side Market for damn near half an hour. I entertained myself by checking out the apocalypse snack picks of those in line with me. Microwaveable vegetables (you know, because you can always thaw them out to eat them if you lose power.), $7 chocolate bars, water bottled in glass, and lots of cheese and crackers. My Nana Nina's fabulous Upper West Side apartment had already been stocked fully earlier in the morning, but I went to put a couple of finishing touches on the Sandy stash. Everyone was stocking their places like they'd be forced to hibernate until Thanksgiving. One woman in line even recommended to me that I fill my bathtub in case something happens to the water, "you know. In case you need to flush your toilet."

I cooked enough eggplant parmesan for a small army, in case we lost power and couldn't cook for a few days. Today, we put towels in the windows and closed all the blinds. We even hit the store again, bringing back an ultra-excessive spare bag of groceries apiece. The weather report has been going in the background all day. It looks awful. Truly! I can't imagine what it's like for those losing their homes and businesses right now. For those waiting in the dark to find out the damage.

Really. I can't imagine.

Because all I can say about my condition right now? I'm watching the TV while using my laptop, drinking a glass of wine, and harboring a tummy ache from eating so much all day. If I turn off the TV, it's dead quiet. I can't even hear the wind. This is the most silent I've ever heard this neighborhood. Despite the lack of weather in Morningside Heights, everyone is inside, scared, glued to their TVs, afraid of the phantom 77 mph winds (that are clearly nonexistent here). If the line at the grocery store indicated anything, Morningside Heights is, I would say, the most well-prepared, least-Sandy-affected area in Manhattan. 

We all stocked up, bought out the local hardware stores' flashlight, battery, and candle supplies, and we got nothin'. I bet if this had been an evacuation area, you wouldn't find a soul staying back -with the way we all prepared here? No way. We all can't believe these poor schmucks who refused to heed flood warnings and evacuate. Up here? We expected the worst! All we got was a government-mandated movie-night.
 

Don't stone me for saying so, but I feel a little left out! This was supposed to be my night to accrue a great story! My own primary-source history account!

I'm going to go out for a walk to assess damage. A good 100 block walk. Because, you know... subways are down. 

Oh, Sandy! How could you?

If this Sandy is anything like they say she is (a real control freak! And damn burly!) I could have moved to New York just in time to experience a history-book-making storm. They say this is the biggest storm in this area that anyone has ever seen in their lifetime.

It's like I just moved to New Orleans just prior to Katrina (sidenote- why are hurricanes all chicks? I'm sensing some misogyny.)

So far it looks pretty normal outside here on the Upper West Side, just a little windy, gray, gloomy, moist. Still, every time I leave the apartment, I pick up another bag of groceries, just in case (you can never have enough arugula!).

I can't believe there are people out there not leaving their homes in areas that are already flooding. Way to spit in the face of a major natural disaster!

If you ask me, we've been asking for this. Scientists have been saying for waaay too long now that we've been neglecting our natural environment. It's pissed, and I think it has all right to be! We keep getting all up-in-arms about these major natural disasters, but they're going to just keep worsening and becoming more frequent.
It's going to cause destruction. People will lose their lives. I hate to be such a cynic, but I take this as a positive. I think if we, as humans, won't take the initiative to become more symbiotic than parasitic, our planet (being much more resilient) will find ways to shake us off, make this planet untenable for our kind. The planet will be ok. But we're goners...

So we've gotta change. As I sit here watching the winds pick up, letting the news run incessantly in the background (I really don't need to see any more footage of that crane dangling mid-air. I get it. It's precarious. Fix it and let's move on.) my mind is racing with all sorts of thoughts about this storm's political, social, and especially architectural implications (hey... where there's destruction, rebuilding must be done!). I hope I start to form them well enough to write about them. Share them.

Instead, I'll probably get too lazy and just curl up with some hot coffee and watch the rain. I'll try and say something smart before the power goes out...

Meanwhile, I've never seen so many hoods worn on the TV in one day. Everyone looks so cozy!

The Rambling Years

The Coroner's report is in...
"The Copenhagen Chronicles" is dead. For good. Died from lack of relevance.

Let's face it, I'm no longer in Copenhagen, I rarely post anymore, because I feel it has to be about Copenhagen. It was time for that blog theme to die.

But reincarnation is real, and all content and web address and cover photo even (for now, due to laziness) are being reborn as....

dun dun dunnnn
THE RAMBLING YEARS!

It makes sense. I ramble. I move. It's still a travel blog about whatever I damn well feel like writing about. I'm not sure anyone reads this anymore anyway? Three cheers and two hip-hips for self indulgence!

I'm bad at keeping a following, due to lack of commitment to posting. But, won't you follow me?

It's a new time. A new day. I move to New York on Friday to start a new chapter. I wasn't about to start a blog called "Natalie in New York". "The Rambling Years" wins.

Let the Rambling begin.

Snooze Fest

When you wake up late, the day begins without you, tasks and people and calls pile up, and the rest of the day feels like one impossible game of catch-up.

I wish that when I set my alarm for 6:30 in the morning, I didn't automatically disable my alarm, allowing me to sleep until noon... 5 days in a row.

At least the dark circles under my eyes are gone.

I love Couchsurfing.org

It's the best addition to the interwebz since... facebook? Google even?
An entire online community of really kind, chill people interested in seeing the world and meeting other world travelers.
I spent a couple of hours perusing profiles, searching for couches that accomodate my July itinerary, and now my inbox is flooded with offers for free places to stay, cool people to share meals with, locals to act as tour guides or take me to cool bars, even introduce me to their friends.

My experiences so far have been nothing short of incredible. I have a whole family of friends back in Berlin, I've met rad people from Finland, Australia, Italy who came to Copenhagen, and I'm sure after the month of July, I'll be able to boast friends all throughout France, Spain, and Portugal. If you're a solo traveler or even a group of travelers who'd prefer local flavor to following the rambunctious hostel crowd, couchsurfing.org is the way to go.

I don't mean to be such a promoter, and surely no one is paying me to say these things. I just... I'm looking forward to my trip that much more, now that I know of a few rad looking people I'll be meeting along the way.

I guess it's scary, being a young solo female, entering into strange apartments... ok. It is scary. Hopefully I survive the month of July without any horror stories. Perhaps I hope I survive in general...
But so long as wonderful people keep using the site, and creepers stay the hell away, I should be fine. I'll be fine!

Look! Another offer for a couch in Lisbon just popped up. Woo! Options!

The Stoke: The Best Month Ever

I can't stop smiling.
It feels too good to be true.
I just spent the afternoon meticulously planning my July travels. Finally. It's taken form.
And the itinerary is fucking dreamy.
Fucking. Dreamy.
Excuse my language, but I'm that excited.

The plan:
5/7----Fly from CPH to Amsterdam with Thomas and Clara for Pitch Music Festival.
Spend 2 days listening to great music, partying, being with people I adore.
8/7----Take the train from Amsterdam to Vichte, Belgium to visit Brouwerij Verhaeghe (I hope they give tours!) to taste my favorite beer, The Duchesse de Bourgogne, straight from the source.

Then, that evening, take the train to Paris.
8/7-12/7---- Paris with another Amazing best friend, Daniel! If he can get it off of work, that is... I hope so!
12/7----Take the train from Paris to Bordeaux to hang out with a wine connoisseur Katie met while travelling Europe last year (Wine!!! Bordeaux!!! Holy moly!!!)
14/7----Stop for a beach day in Biarritz, maybe rent a surf board or just read on the sand and try and regain some color, then head to San Sebastian in Basque Country for the night and the following day. Nothing but beach and delishhhh food! (I found a blog that rated San Sebastian as the number 2 foodie destination in the world!!)

15/7----Take an overnight train from San Sebastian to Granada. I'll basically traverse the whole country by train, bypassing tons of amazing destinations, but I've got to get to Granada! It should be a nice train ride... I hope. I can't wait to see the Alhambra! 

18/7----Take a train to Madrid in the afternoon. Maybe I'll do something unethical like going to see a bull fight.  

...Ouch
21/7---- Take an overnight train from Madrid to Lisbon, where I'll kick it in Portugal (Yes!) until...
25/7---- Fly from Lisbon to Copenhagen
26/7---- Take one last look at Copenhagen. Probably cry
27/7----Try not to go crazy during my 18 hours of travel from Copenhagen to San Diego.


Bring it, July.

Professional Paradox

I've been toying with the idea of going back to school to get my Masters next year, applying this upcoming December.
Besides the stress of prepping -Portfolio, letters of recommendation, and the oh-so-daunting GRE -I have discovered how absolutely asinine it is to get a Masters in Architecture in such a bad economy.

I know, if you can't find a job, it seems productive to go back to school. Sure it is, if you are from a country where your education is free and living expenses taken care of by the government. But in the US? If you're going to shell out $150,000 for a Masters degree, you hope that when you get done with your 3 years of strenuous suffering, you have a job waiting for you to help you pay off that mountain of loans.

I sit right next to the woman in charge of hiring interns and employees here. About 300 hopefuls have applied  for an internship here, and I'd say about half of them were cut from the pile right away -no matter how talented, how impressive their tome of work, how long their CV or list of recommendations. If they have a Masters degree completed? They're out. Buh-bye.

Why?
They're too damn expensive. In Denmark, at least, there is a minimum wage set by the Dansk Ark- Architecture association. If you're an architecture student, pre-completion-of-Masters, the wage is about 1/4 of that of a degree holder. If you're a company suffering from recession, who are you going to choose? A youngin' with a modest amount of experience, sufficient technical know-how, an open creative mind, and a reasonable price tag, or someone with marginally more experience, slightly more refined technical-know-how (but really, very little difference), and a pretty costly price tag -not to mention a diva attitude and a list of demands, simply because, well, they hold a Masters.

The choice is clear.

And for me, as well. It makes no sense at all -the only reason I would go back to school within the next year-ish is if I'm really itching to do my own work again. But then I should just time-manage and enter into a few solo competitions in whatever free time I can manage to scrape up.

For now, I don't mind being paid in beans, living on Struggle Street, gaining experience anywhere I can find it. For now, I'm finding work opportunities, against all odds, and the work opportunities will keep coming so long as I am fairly cheap to hire, and willing to work (and stupidly? I am!). And when I'm done with my Masters? With such huge debt looming over my head, I won't be willing to take a crap-paying job. I simply won't be able to afford it.

And when I do finally go get my Masters, I'll have a pretty strong sense of what kind of designer I am, and a diversified CV to boot, so when I do have to trump other Masters-holding hopefuls and make my way to the top of the job-application pile, it'll be no sweat.

Who would you choose? An expensive Masters-holding Architect with little to no work experience, or one with a wide range of experience, plus the work done in school?
No offense to those who've decided to go the Masters route directly out of school. Perhaps I'm just justifying my own route to myself. But really, good luck out there. It's a grim market, and those loans won't pay off themselves...

Heaven helps those who help themselves

I find myself so irritated by those who make plans, make promises and then drag their feet and don't follow through, all the while blaming others for their misfortune, their crummy lives, their lack of accomplishments.
Just, like, take some responsibility, man!

The worst part is, I am sometimes one of those. A professional pussy-footer.
But Nat, give yourself credit where credit is due! If I say I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it. No questions asked. In what time frame? That's a whole different story.

I've been feeling so stressed out about my summer plans. Today is my last Monday at Henning Larsen Architects. This is my last week. Oy gevalt!

I finally committed to going home, and booked a flight last week. July 27th. That's my final European deadline.

When I booked that, and started looking into my July travel plans, I felt such a huge weight lifted. All of the guilt of putting it off for so long, gone. The crazy thing is, I always build these tasks (cleaning my room, booking a flight home, packing, blogging, even) into huge mountains in my head that become daunting and cripplingly incapacitating until I finally take care of them. And when I do? I find they take no time at all, and I feel immediately like a champion. 10 points, Nat. Scratch that off the endless to-do list.

I am always making resolutions. One more: I resolve to be more proactive about my own life. That empty package of gum floating around the bottom of my purse? Throw it out before 15 more accumulate, and I begrudgingly take an entire afternoon (5/6 of which is spent procrastinating the simple task at hand) to finally clean out my purse. Ugh.
Get it done. Move on.
Feel enlightenment.

Mr Dobalina

"The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself."
Me me me me me. 
I must get my ducks in a row, and stop placing my energy elsewhere as a diversion. 
Clean up and sort through room, preparing for departure.

Finish that damn pesky portfolio of mine, to have something to (hopefully) be proud of. 

Book a flight home, plan my summer travels. 

Focus. Follow through. 

These are not my strengths, but damnit, I will make them my strengths. 

As a side note: I can't wait to leave this place, where fidelity is unheard of. The shit I see go down here is unbelievable. Married men blatantly lying to get a shot at some variety. Guys with girlfriends on the prowl. I just don't understand. It grosses me out. If you want to be single, be single.  But I guess the problem is just as prevalent back home, perhaps just slightly less visible or socially acceptable to talk about. Trust no one. 

Honesty is so hard to come by these days. I have recently been told a few things by a few different people that would certainly warrant lies -should end up as skeletons in their closets. But I respected them, all the more, for just dealing in honesty. My rate of forgiveness and acceptance is exponentially higher when the truth comes out first. If you want my respect, just be honest. If I want to respect myself? Kick the liars to the curb. And finish my portfolio. I should finish my portfolio first. Curb-kicking later. 

Espere

Waiting for miracles also includes exercising willpower to suspend your belief that miracles come about by will alone.
I can do this. I can do nothing. I can wait.
Learn patience, learn grace, learn to keep those last shreds of dignity you've been concealing in your coat pocket.

A Yawn at Dawn

It's 2:16 AM and the sun is already coming up.
I should get my butt to sleep before my room is completely bathed in sunlight.

Nordic Summer.
The lighting here is bipolar. But the weather is still consistently cold and wet.

Mentonymy

I've already commented on how the Danish language is a massacre of letters. An exercise in the one Danish class I attended was to go through with a pen and slash out the useless letters -brutally taking out about one-third of the characters. What's the point of having them there in the first place?

Well my favorite German, Sybille, and I had a brief discussion about this, and I wanted to jot it down before it's forgotten.
The language seems odd, yet oddly appropriate for a society of people who, stereotypically (yes, there are always exceptions -I'm friends with at least a few) don't just say it all, but perhaps withhold, and similarly stifle and massacre about half of the things they otherwise would say, you wish they would say, would open up about. She had a particularly personal experience with this that I will not divulge, but can safely say that she is a scholar on the matter.

The language as substituted metaphorically for the people. Describes, gives greater insight into the people. To be a Dane, choke half of your words.
Perhaps they're onto something.

Bedroom Eyes for Barcelona

I hope that all of the money that my parents just spent for us to vacation around Barcelona (man, it's so true, I got so spoiled. After living and traveling on the cheap all year, I can finally really appreciate how incredible a nice meal out is, let alone 15 in a row!!!), acts as a kick in the ass to their economy, reignites some productivity and creates some new jobs, including a design-based job, so that I may return, find said employment, and live there. Yes. Please.

Paella chock-full of sea creatures and delicious, spicy meats for almost every meal? Check!
Sangria for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Check!
Sangria on the beach? Check!
A slightly-less transparent skin tone? Check!
More art and architecture than I could possibly fit into 4 days? Check!
A rediscovery of my love of the Spanish language? Check!
Strolls in gorgeous gardens? Check!
Photo op after photo op? Check!
Awesome new people? Check!
Spanish bohemian party on a farm/squatter palace with live music and space to salsa my butt off to? Check!
Produce markets made of the stuff of dreams? Check!

Seriously. Spain? I would. I would, again and again. I would make you mine, if I could. Maybe I will.

Potential Relocation

Heading to Barcelona! Mamma and Pappa Hein are on the continent, and after visiting me in Copenhagen (where they brought the BEST weather), they flew to Spain, where I am now flying to meet them. Dreamy. I've always wanted to go to Spain, and feel I may love it so much, I may never return.

I guess that wouldn't be so bad. I've gotta move soon anyway.

Restless Milk-Bottle Gams in an Office Chair

Work is impossible to get done when the weather is shitty. 

When things are gray out, so is your mind. 

When you feel inexplicable sadness, and a dark gaping whole in your life that you feel you will never fill, and you can't explain why (oh, is that you, Seasonal Affective Disorder? So aptly abbreviated SAD), writing a cheesy text about how some corporate headquarters project greatly improves the quality of life and productivity of its employees by providing ample daylight and collaborative spaces just seems like bullshit. I'm sitting by a giant window in an open-plan office, and everyone around me looks like they're about to head up to the roof to swan-dive off in an attempt to end the constant gray, landing in a splatter of carnage for the drone-like cyclists to dodge on the street below. 

Ok.That's a mild exaggeration. But, only mild. 

Well, it turns out you can't win. 

Now the weather is incredible. I decided to blind the office and let out my milk-bottle gams today (these bad-boys haven't seen the light of day in about 8 months. Not even once in 8 months. Thomas just demanded that I spray-tan before letting them out again. Super rude! And that would just be cheating!), and spent my lunch break poured over a lawn-chair, soaking up every lick of sun possible. All we could talk about was where the sun would be strongest when we get off of work, so we can plan our "boozing in the park" accordingly. I'm supposed to be reading a brief about some urban-regeneration housing project in London right now, but all I can think about is sun, summer, beers, BBQing, bikinis, swimming, tennis, laughter, going for a run, cycling around, and damnit, that's not productive either! Plus, the sun is so bright, it's blocked off about half of my computer screen

Get me out of this office! I've got 4 hours left to go before it's acceptable to leave. Maybe 3, if I really push it today. 

I'm clearly the worst employee ever. Look, I'm blogging on the job (I hope my boss sees this post. I'm so sorry! I've never done this before! Ever ever! I swear!). I can't help it. I take no responsibility. I blame it on the weather. 

Cranked on that 'D', yo!

Freaking gorgeous day today.
New way to get high:
Step 1. Deprive yourself of sunlight for 9 months
Step 2. Ride your bike around in the sun and drink a beer on a hill overlooking a lake for the first time in 9 months (See Step 1 for reference)
Step 3. Never repeat Step 1.

The Deer Hunt

Many moons ago (SO many!), I took a day trip up to Dyrehaven, a nature reserve just north of Copenhagen -and also the name of one of our most frequented bars (at least Daniel and me, anyway). One of Denmark's kings bought up the land, forrested it, and stocked it with deer for his hunting pleasure. Here are some photos from that magical day all the way back in... November? December? Seriously, my backlog of blog entries is mind-blowing...

I went with three awesome people. Two friends from work Daniel and Tiffany, and my friend Michael - a completely non-Henning Larsen affiliated Danish friend!

After walking around for quite some time, we spotted deer! I tried to sneak up on them...

Then we found the holy-grail of deer. Look at how happy we are!

Spring is Such a Tease

The sun is starting to tease us here. Yesterday, we were able to eat lunch outside on Henning Larsen's balcony in the sun, and I could have even ditched the light sweatshirt I was wearing. Spring? Is that you?

I was beginning to feel like I would never be warm again. And after being in a snowstorm in Helsinki, Finland on Tuesday, I've never been more excited to see -and feel! -the sun.

You should have seen me. I went to Christiania with a friend the other day, and I damn near lost my mind seeing some little flowers begin to bloom. It was the cutest/happiest thing I'd seen in a long time, and definitely the most excited I have ever been about seeing flowers bloom.

It'll be nice to return home and not take any of the sun and flora for granted.

I used to think seasonal depression was a myth. How could the weather really affect how you feel? That's absurd!

But it's been a rather tough winter for me. Pathetically enough, this has technically been a mild winter, but in conjunction with transitions, coping with loss, not having the usual familiar faces to rely on (but the accumulation of a few really good new ones!), and a whole lotta introspection, winter has felt heavy, endless, so dark, and a bit like a flashback to the teen angst of 9th grade.

Still, just like that, with a little sun poking through my window, warmth hitting me while I sit at my desk at work (sitting next to a huge wall of windows has also verified the effect the sun has on my mood. On gloomy days, I'm much more tired, less productive, and a little sad for no reason. When the sun comes out? I perk right up! Wild!) things feel markedly different.

I'm about to go for a run outside (!) in the park. Something I haven't been able to do for months.

I wanna catch the sun before it goes away and snows again. It's supposed to freeze again this weekend. Why!? Can't spring just stay? Oh Spring, you tease!

Backbends and Backsliding

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

I think that after an entire year (and then some) of hitting my head against the same wall, convincing myself that something will miraculously change if I just word things differently, give it more time, model empathy and compassion, sacrifice just a little more, all I've derived is that my head fucking hurts (excuse my language... eh... no. We're all adults here).

I am the Anne Sullivan to your emotional Hellen Keller.

But I am no miracle worker, and you would be better equipped to sense me if you were deaf and blind rather than as you stand before me (or against me) as Narcissus himself.

I catch myself dancing a furious pas-de-deux, alone, interpreting all emotions, feeling for two, phrasing and rephrasing in terms so simple and over-enunciated that even the comatose would wake up from his vegetative state to tell me "quit beating that dead horse, I got it!" and respond accordingly. But, sadly (understatement), a chair makes an effort to listen, empathize, and react appropriately more than you ever could.

It's heavy shit, but true.

Sometimes people fall in love with illusions, and sometimes, in the worst of scenarios, people are intimidated and manipulated into falling in love with illusions.

And then one day, you hit your head hard enough against that same wall, and just like that, you see straight again. The illusion vanishes. And all you're left with is a killer headache and the realization that some mysteries are better left unsolved. Some injustices better left uncorrected. Time better spent alone than reasoning with the unreasonable.

The Coffee Snob Returns

I've already made a bit of a name for myself as a coffee snob in the office.

Early on, I turned my nose up at the free, office coffee machine (I should have been happy to have found something free in this city! Alas, I have detrimentally discerning taste buds.) and brought in a french press, which my good friend Daniel and I have made a tradition of pressing every morning. Actually, in a hurry on the morning I left to go to Aalborg, I shattered the glass in the french press I brought, so Daniel brought one in and has been diligently in charge of making the coffee every morning, usually before my sleepy butt even arrives to the office. It's probably better this way. When we used to do it together, I used to criticize the way he made it -"No, you have to stir the beans first! Don't heat the water up to boiling or you'll burn the beans! You have to let it sit for 5 minutes before you press!" -Annoying, right? I'm sure he's happier now that he gets to make coffee in peace, without me, the fascist dictator of the morning brew.

Anyway, we try and buy fancier beans so we don't have to resort (as we often do) to just french pressing what the office already has. I've been hearing about Coffe Collective, a direct trade coffee roaster that is proclaimed to be the best coffee in Copenhagen (all of Denmark, maybe?).

I was supposed to go venture there last weekend with my roommate to pick up some beans, but after delaying and delaying, we both finally admitted to each other that the weather was just too grim to bike the 20 minutes to Norrebro just for coffee.

This morning we had our first big snow. Everything is white and gorgeous, but damnit is it cold. This was taken at 7 this morning, when I was awoken by a man shoveling outside my window.

I take back everything I said the last 22 years of my life. I will gladly live in Southern California for the rest of my existence. What a magical place -so sunny, so temperate all the time! I bet there are even leaves on the trees there right now!

But here, even with 2 pairs of gloves on, my hands were so frozen they felt like they were on fire after biking only 3 blocks.

This was taken at a cute coffee shop across the street from my work that has great espresso. The guy working had taken a toaster oven out of the back and set it up in the seating area, cranked it up high, and sat in front of it as if it were a radiator. Genius! But clues you in to just how cold it is here.

So today, I decided to stay in. I ran across the street for milk this morning. Woo! Big moves! But Ryan (the roommate) said he was going to finally go to Coffee Collective, and I propositioned him to pick some up for me. Something mid-range. Latin American.

Well, some freshly ground (we don't have a grinder, and investing in one here would set me back 5 times as much as one in the states, and would only be useful for the next few months. Sadness!) Finca Vista Hermosa Guatemala came back from its trip through the tundra and I just pressed a fresh pot. The verdict? Delicious! Almost worth the 79 DKK (about $14) for 250 grams (about a half lb). Bright and floral with notes of lemon and almond (it smells strongly of marzipan! incredible!). Sorry for how pretentions that was.

I have to say, Intelligentsia in LA still owns my heart, but this place will definitely make it a little easier for this coffee snob to get through the next 5 months.

... but a little harder financially. Goodbye paycheck. I'll just make a few sacrifices. Snowboots / coffee? Snowboots / coffee? Coffee. Definitely coffee. I just won't leave my apartment, curled up with a blanket and a cup of coffee.

Fun Fact!

I keep thinking there's random, patchy snow on the ground, but it's not. It's salt.

All of these cute little trucks drive around, all over the city, sprinkling the bike paths with salt to keep them from getting icy, so that people with bikes without snow tires (don't look at me...everyone keeps saying my bike is so impractical for weather, but I've been fine so far *spits on finger twice*) don't slip and slide and eat shit all over the place.

Fun fact: The bike lanes (more like semi-elevated bike freeways along every street), still used by most throughout the winter, have priority over lanes for cars. When it gets below freezing or snows, the city sends out a fleet of salt trucks to blaze a trail for all of us bikers before they clear a path for cars.

At least this is what I hear. It hasn't snowed that hard yet.

I guess that's less of a fact, and more hearsay.

Digital Sticky Note

Note to self:

People change, situations change... memories don't.

And sometimes, that's the pits.

Cryptic enough?

Perhaps inappropriate for the bloggosphere, but I wanted to remember this and couldn't find a piece of paper to jot this down on fast enough, and I would have misplaced that piece of paper anyway.

Perfectly Logical

Well, this makes sense...

I just got a letter in the mail. It is, of course, in Danish. I type it into google translate, curious as to what it's about (could you imagine getting important mail you can't understand?? Maddening!), only to find that it's a letter telling me that, since I have a Danish Residence Permit, I'm entitled to start taking Danish lessons, free for up to 3 years.

I think I'd need all 3 years of Danish lessons just to understand this letter without fair, trusty Google translate (which has quickly become my most-visited website). Someone maybe needs to go back and rethink this one.

Homebody

It's incredible how much different my life is this month than the last.

November and December were spent socializing, going out, travelling, filling all spare time with fun and late nights. Not a single Friday or Saturday night was spent at home.

Then came January. I crave home. I crave my bed. I crave alone time. I go to bed early (I start thinking about it at around 9 some nights), work on my creative pursuits, read (I can't recall the last period of time I regularly read for pleasure), get up at 6 to exercise before work. I'm trying to treat myself well and make the most of each day, without staying out all night, and sleeping through anything that resembles daylight (unbelievably depressing!).

I have to say, it feels pretty nice. Balanced with a weekly meal at a friends place, or having a dinner party at my place, this isn't a bad way to live. But I do feel like I'll never have the energy or desire to go out and meet new people, go out to a bar, dance my booty off, or stay out far too late ever again.

My friend Daniel said that everyone gets this way in January, as he pushed some Vitamin D on me.

Snow Pancakes

Today it snowed.

And I mean it really snowed. It snowed once before, for about 5 minutes. But it was a pansy snow. Tiny little fluttering flakes.

Today it snowed pancakes. Giant clusters of snow the size of pancakes. Maybe it was sleet? Honestly, I don't trust myself to know the difference.

And as I biked in the snow for the first time, I realized just what I'm in for...

Ice cakes to the face.

Cool.

And I wondered, how am I to improve my visibility mid-bike-ride?

Do they make eye-shield wipers for the snow biker?

Pass Me the Vitamin D

Humans are adaptable.

Give us any situation, and we will find a way to cope.

The hardest hurdle is finding or developing the tools that aid adaptation. Mental or physical. And certainly, the will power to motivate the process.

In these dark, cold months, where does that motivation come from?

Then again, what option is there but to adapt?

Unintelligible Words of Encouragement

I used to dream of being a polyglot.

I once had a Hebrew school teacher who could speak 14 languages fluently, and I wanted to be just like her. I used to think that if I lived in different locations all over the world, I could pick up as many languages as places I'd lived.

I had a list of languages I wanted to learn fluently.

Spanish, French, Hebrew, Portuguese, Japanese, Russian, Italian, Thai, Yiddish, Arabic.

I think there's a reason Danish never made the list.

I'd never even heard Danish before coming to Denmark (for a reason. No one speaks it, except for Danes), but I figured I would learn it anyway. Shoot, if I'm living somewhere for 6 months to a year, I'll certainly pick up a good amount of the native tongue...

Not.

I went to one Danish class. One, before I quit. The government offers free Danish lessons to anyone with a CPR number (registered taxpayer), which is something I fully intended to take advantage of.

It was an intense time commitment -6 hours a week plus homework -and while I'm working full time, working on my portfolio, playing music, working on my fitness (to be discussed shortly), that kind of time commitment just didn't manage to yield positive results after a close cost-benefit analysis. Cost: so much time and head-scratching devoted to learning a language that sounds a bit like vomiting, that I can't seem to pronounce (I can't even correctly pronounce the name of the street I live on) no matter how hard I try, and that no one speaks outside of this country. Benefit: Maybe maaaaaaybe learning enough to bring a few novelty phrases back home to show off with. And let's get real, I've already picked up enough novelty phrases to cross that off the to-do list. Class dropped.

And still, this morning I found myself somewhat regretting my decision to quit. I've started going to spinning classes 3 times a week, accompanied by the occasional yoga and pilates class, and I'm hopefully starting crossfit training this week. Getting back into shape (or maybe even the best shape of my life) really helps me feel alive, even when everything outside my window is dead, cold and dark. On Mondays and Wednesdays I get up at 6am to spin before work, and my productivity level nearly doubles, at least until I crash at about 2 pm.

But the problem is this...

The great thing about group training fitness classes is that an instructor shouts deeply motivating words at you to keep you going. Push! Harder! You've got this! Only one more minute! etc...

Well, a whole lotta good that does me if I don't understand a damn word of it. All of the classes are taught in Danish. Ugh! So I'm forced to rely on visual cues to know what is going on, and the occasional translation from my good friend and work-out buddy Clara (a native Dane). But she's often too out of breath (like the rest of us) to really fill me in word-for-word.

It's a fun guessing game, unless the instructor is impossible to follow, and the music played is less-than motivating.

After already waking up somewhat groggy and putting on my grumpy pants, today's instructor succeeded in motivating me only insofar as he really freaking irritated me. By the end of the class, I was pushing harder than usual, just to have an outlet to let out my frustration at the guy leading the class. He kept counting down at absurdly short intervals to... what? I kept thinking he was counting down to have us turn up our resistance every 15 seconds, only to realize that I was the only one struggling after about a minute. Oh. Clara later told me that he kept having us turn up and down the resistance.

And he just wouldn't shut up. He kept going on and on (apparently about anatomy?) and the music he chose was just awfully wrong. I've come to rely on the music to motivate me the most. I pedal in time to the music (think cycle-dancing. Oh yeah. Soon I'll start toting a stationary bike out to clubs with me), and most instructors are really good about picking tunes that are the right pace to climb to (slow) and the right pace to sprint to (fast). This guy? Consistently chose music that was good for neither. Right in the middle. Absolutely useless. I was losing it, it being my temper.

By the end of the class I would have given anything to know Danish. I silently hated every single person in that class, just for their ability to comprehend.

But then I just channeled it all and pushed myself to the point of excruciating pain, scrunched my face into what I'm sure was among the most hideous of faces I can make, and sweat out my aggression.

Thank you, Mr. Chatty-impossible-to-follow-bad-DJ-spinning-master. You really motivated me today.