Viking Ships and Hooligan Pubs

I've been less hungover. Sometimes I think a hangover is a great equalizer. If you had a really good time last night, and John Doe sat at home watching Star Trek reruns, you're going to wake up suffering from a hangover with teeth, and John will greet the morning sun with a clear head and he'll know exactly where both his shoes are. But John will never have any stories to tell. Last night was one of those that I went into with few expectations. The local football club - FC København - donated 300 tickets for their match against Esbjerg, another Danish league team. We had free reign over a big section on the south end of the stadium, and the gameplay was fairly exciting, albeit a bit chippy. After the game, most of us were planning on heading back to our respective residences, but Astrid, our Danish social coordinator, suggested we head to a good Danish football pub to celebrate the victory. The place was great. Affordable beer, foosball, and real live Danish soccer hooligans. The latter ended up getting us into a bit of trouble. Earlier in the day, we found a club apparel store and picked up some FC København gear. I was wearing a jersey I had bought, and these crazy fans were excited that their club has fans in the States. I didn't mention we bought the shirts six hours previous. They bought round after round, writing it off to team relations. Each round consisted of a Carlsberg and a shot of Fisk, or Fisherman, as it's most commonly called. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and after a number of those rounds one hooligan became bored and punched an Aussie friend in the face, prompting a tense few minutes and our eventual departure. I'm still feeling the Fisk a bit this morning.

This past weekend was the first I've spent entirely in Copenhagen. Friday night Pete and I got a late start, and hit a bump on the road when Pete realized he bought 'light' beer, which in Denmark translates to 2.6% alcohol. That doesn't make any GD sense, but some things aren't worth pondering. Thankfully I had a cache of red wine, and we went out into the city to meet up with Thomas at his brother's friend's place. They had a big head start on us, so we were forced to take "penalty shots" as punishment for sobriety. An American med student visiting, Nick, tried hiding one of his shots, and was given a penalty shot when his transgression was uncovered. Drunk medical students are hilarious. We headed to the center and slipped into a cool club called The Happy Pig. The place was fairly big, but was made up of a series of smallish rooms, with live music on the ground floor and a DJ on the first. If you haven't gathered, going out in Copenhagen requires frequent small loans, so when a "drink special" presents itself, we get it. If the drink special was one really big long island iced tea that everyone has to lap out of at the same time, we'd get it. If the price was right. This particular night it was ten shots of Fisk for 100 kroner. That's a good deal. We danced for a while, then headed out to LA Bar to enjoy the ambiance of tiki bar and ten kroner tequila shots. On the walk back there was an incident involving a shortcut and a tall barbwire fence. You'll have to ask me about that one in person.

Saturday, after Friday was sufficiently slept off, Pete and I headed out into the gloomy day and bussed to Assistens Kierkegaard (sp?), the massive cemetery in Norrebro. Many famous Danes are buried there, including Søren Kierkegaard and HC Andersen. There's an index of sorts near the entrance that indicates which graves are worth visiting. I wonder what the criteria for that list is. The place is more like a well-groomed park than a cemetery, and people are strolling through or even biking down the path that splits the place in half. It started to rain, and we made it back to Kathrine a little damp. Saturday evening we had a bbq and took advantage of the smaller-than-usual group by hanging around the common room, sharing drinking games and getting to know people better. I ended up in this crazy conversation (hard to believe, right?) with a Russian-born New Yorker, who was at a crossroads in life, and thought coming to Copenhagen would reveal the right path to her. I probably made things a bit fuzzier. Two Italian guys talked Pete and I into making a late run to McDonald's. When we arrived, I couldn't believe the menu. Four meals. Meal #1: Two Big Macs, fries and a drink for 72 kroner. Meal #4: Four cheeseburgers and a drink for 59 kroner. There are two problems with this menu. First, who eats that much McDonald's late night. Second, I'm not paying $15 for two Big Macs!

Sunday we hopped on the regional train out to Roskilde. When we went to the city for the festival, we really didn't look around much. Roskilde is actually the medieval capital of Denmark, and is a very beautiful town. Unusually hilly for Denmark, and sloping down to the big fjord that connects the city to the sea. The Roskilde domkirke was fairly impressive, and of course, under construction. We walked around the old cobblestone streets of the residential area, eventually making it down to the fjord, where the Viking Ship Museum lay in waiting. Some years back they unearthed five Viking-era ships from the fjord, and reconstructed them for public viewing. Then they built a museum for them, because it's hard to charge admission without at least four walls. The ships were scuttled in an effort to protect the capital city from the ruthless invading Norwegians, and they were mostly in splinters when they were surfaced. The reconstructions were pretty sweet, and next door the harbour was filled with recreations of Viking ships, one of which had recently been sailed from Roskilde to Dublin and back, tracing an old Viking pillaging route.

Today I'm supposed to start my term papers, but the sun is out in full force for the first time in a week, and I'm not wasting it. Maybe Tivoli tonight..

Ask, and you shall receive..A Viking Invasion!

When last I left you I was planning my first excursion to Sweden. For the Onion readers out there, the Onion commends the country of Sweden for advances in perfect bone structure, slender thighs and IKEA. I purchased my ticket across the Øresund in the central station and caught a 17:03 train to Malmö (recently described to me by a Texan as the 'Mexico of Denmark'), where I switched trains and continued to the beautiful medieval city of Lund. Josefin and Johanna, two Swedish girls I studied and became good friends with in Utrecht, live and study there. Felix, an Austrian I also know well from Utrecht, somehow managed to woo Johanna and is now moving to Lund to take a Master's. The three picked me up a the train station and we walked through the city to Josefin's apartment, buying supplies for dinner on the way. If I've learned one thing (though I probably haven't) it's never turn down a home-cooked meal from a European woman. Or two, in this case. Dinner was great, and it really was a treat to just sit and chat and laugh with these people I saw everyday just a year ago. I spent the night and caught an early train back to Copenhagen.

Sometime early in the week Pete and I were discussing how there was a lack in Danish Viking activity, at least relative to what we were told to expect. So we made some phone calls, sent some emails, and waited two days. Suddenly, it was if Vikings emerged from various caves and fjords and hillside hideaways. It started Wednesday evening, when Mikkel, a Danish Viking who works at Nokia, picked us up and drove us north of Copenhagen to Louisiana, a museum of modern art in Humlebæk. The museum is situated on the Danish coast, looking out on to Sweden from a gradual bluff. The building itself is considered art, and has a Frank Lloyd Wright feel. There was even an exhibit dedicated to global museum design. That's right, a museum museum. We had dinner at the cafe and Mikkel talked about his work, his Viking experience, and his outlook on the future of BVO. We had driven up on the highway, but we took the coastal road back to Copenhagen, which follows the "Danish Riviera", an area littered with $3 million plus homes on the water.

I woke up early Thursday morning for my Entrepreneurship class, in which I presented a case analysis with a small group - an American, Aussie, Bulgarian, and myself - which went surprisingly well. My professor, as I may have mentioned, is a fast and mean Boston native with oodles of experience in what seems to be most fields. The man is not afraid to tell you when you're wrong. He actually seems to quite enjoy it. Thankfully, we covered our asses and he could only pick us apart for ten minutes or so. I walked away unscathed, and met Pete at CBS to head out to the Nokia complex south of the center, where we'd meet Mikkel for lunch.

The Nokia complex is quite impressive, with buildings lining the Synhavn, connected by skyways. Nokia provides a "free" lunch buffet for all employees, and apparently guests of employees (that's us). We ate our fill and had a chat about working at Nokia, the Danish holiday mindset, and how to mix business with travel intelligently. Mikkel is a great guy, and we hope to seem him again before we leave Denmark.

Last night we were invited for dinner at Ilya's home in Copenhagen. Ilya is a Russian-born American, whose family emigrated when he was young. He attended UW-Madison, received the Viking scholarship to Oslo, eventually married a Dane, and now resides in Copenhagen with his beautiful wife Natasha and their children. We arrived at 18:00 on the dot with our dates for the evening, and Ilya welcomed us into his massive second floor flat. The apartment dated back to the late 1800's, and remained true to its original design. I won't go into too much detail, but Natasha prepared a jaw-dropping three course meal, Ilya was generous with the wine and cognac, and we left at 1:00 feeling great. Ilya is easily one of the most inspiring people I've ever had a conversation with, and I'm not sure if I've learned more in six hours. I'm looking forward to a possible visit to his summer home in the coming weeks.

I woke up feeling surprisingly good this morning, and Pete and I made our way to Nørreport to catch a train north to Helsingor. We picked up some flowers to accompany a nice card Pete drew for Lars' wife, who's currently recovering. Lars again met us at the train station, and we went to his apartment to catch up over some bitters. Then we headed down the street to lunch at what turned out to be a great place for the classiest brunch I've ever seen. Of course Lars knew the chef and most of the waitresses.

Now I'm back in Copenhagen, and most Kathrine is on a boat trip to Oslo this weekend, so it'll be pretty quiet around here. Tonight we're headed out on the town with a few Vikings, and this weekend brings a canal tour and a possible visit elsewhere in Denmark.

Before I forget, remember how I dropped some photos to be developed? As I mentioned, they were due to be picked up on Tuesday of this week. I was busy Tuesday, and swung by the place Wednesday, on my way to a group meeting at CBS. I handed the clerk my slip, and he dug through the pile of completed orders, coming up empty. He turned to me and said "Come back in two hours." I said, "Are you kidding?", to which he replied, "No." I stopped back and picked them up after the meeting, and I could only laugh as I flipped through the photos. I ordered two sets of prints, which I received, for 19 of the 20 photos (from 27 total) they chose to develop. Maybe I'll write a letter to the Danish BBB..

Pub coffee, Kulørbar and Hand-holding in Berlin

Last week I realized just how quickly a week can go by when I'm recovering from one weekend, looking forward to the next, and filling the minutes in between with you name it. I've no complaints of course, but the opportunity to recharge my batteries begins to look more and more appealing, and I took it last night, skipping a night out. I know, sue me. I feel refreshed and awake this morning; ready for the week.

Wednesday I met a Norwegian girl, Maria, for a coffee near the CBS campus. Neither of us knew of any particular place, but eventually found a place that was both open and served coffee. The coffee was terrible, right out of the pot that had probably been warming since the morning. All was not lost. This place may not boast great cup of joe, but the ambiance, and more importantly, the draft beer selection, is outstanding. The dark wood walls are lined with Zappa posters and old tourism posters. I made a mental note to return..for a beer.

Wednesday night CBS hosted a film viewing for the international students. I'm personally a huge fan of Danish film, and they were showing After the Wedding, an award winner I hadn't yet seen. It's a very heavy story about a family split for years, the brevity of life and the importance of family. It also made about half the audience cry, and was a terrible precursor to a night on the town. A large group of us headed out to find a jazz bar, somewhere we could sit and chat and listen to the tail-end of the Jazz festival performances. We followed Troy, who claimed to know the perfect place. I was surprised to find myself sitting at the same bar I had choked down a coffee earlier in the day. At 45 kroner a pop, I sipped my beer and most everyone called it an early night.

Thursday, after a full day of class, I searched out a place to have some film developed. We found a disposable camera at Roskilde, unused, and I filled it up over the weekend. I eventually found a place, and was surprised, even proud, to find something that the States outperforms Denmark in. Nay, destroys. Embarrasses. Annihilates. I handed in my camera, asked for two sets of prints, and was told they would be ready Tirsdag (Tuesday), and it would run me 80 kroner. For those of you paying attention, I was paying at least three times as much to wait 168 times as long for my photos. Score one for America!

Thursday night is a big night out for the internationals, and we gathered in the common room to pre-party a bit. Pete and I found these obnoxiously long straws (70cm) at Netto the previous week, and were testing them out on a few Guld øl. About half the crowd was headed to a place called K3, where one pays 200 kroner cover for unlimited drinks and dancing for the evening, and the place closes at 5am. The rest of us were headed to Kulørbar, where we paid 60 kroner for unlimited beer and champagne from 23:00 to 1:00. Speed v. Endurance. We met up with one of the Danes we camped near at Roskilde (Denmark is a small country) and Thomas made an appearance as well. Everyone drank too much, and almost everyone was due at the bus stop at 7:30 the following morning.

Thank god I left my door ajar. I was woken by some guardian angels at 7:14, not yet having packed. I did so with great speed and little concern for what I was stuffing in my bag. Once satisfied that my bag was full enough that I must have everything I need, I hopped up the stairs to see if Pete was ready to go. His door was open, and he was dead asleep, equally unprepared. I told him what he needed to know: We were leaving immediately, and we were going to be late..for Berlin! He moved five times as quickly as he ever will again.

The bus ride to Berlin was long, but was broken up by an almost two hour ferry from the southeast Danish coast to Germany. We finally arrived in Berlin around 16:00, and checked into the massive Generator Hostel, located east of the center. The hostel was more like a hotel, and its highlight was the Generator Bar, which boasted an impressive happy hour. I think all of us who have been living in Copenhagen these past weeks were blown away by how cheap it was to eat and drink in Berlin. Two half liters of Berliner and two glasses of scotch = 5 euro 90.

Some of you know that Berlin is home to the greatest döner kebab in the entire world - excluding Turkey. Last year, when I was in Berlin with Utrecht pals Barry and Mike, we found this little gem off the metro station at Rosenthaler Platz. I had no trouble finding it again, and brought along a few people to enjoy the delicacy. Maybe it was a mistake to eat one of these monsters before starting a pub crawl, but I didn't care, nor do I regret it. The pub crawl started off with a bang, and the massive (close to 200 people) group moved like some giant flock of tipsy sheep from one bar to another, in and out of clubs. We broke off from the crawl at some point and headed back via the S and U trains, eventually making our way back to the Generator and crawling into the waiting bunk beds.

There was a generous free breakfast, which was available until 11, but our whip-cracking facilitators had us meeting for a tour at 8:15, so after a quick shower I shoveled down as much meat, cheese, and mystery cereal as I could handle in ten minutes. The tour was great. I visited a lot of the same sights I had seen previously, but a tour is really made by the quality of the tour guide, and ours was top-notch. Berlin is a city overflowing with controversial history, and the US is so intertwined with much of it. We checked out the remains of the Berlin Wall, Checkpoint Charlie, and passed other relevant DDR and Nazi sites. The Brandenburg Gate and the Reichstag wrapped up the tour. Crew in tow, we made a second pilgrimage to the döner stand and stopped for gelato on the way back to the center. A sort of visual history of the Berlin Wall was set-up near Checkpoint Charlie, and we spent time browsing through the public exhibit. Pete purchased a gas mask, and by using his newly-acquired cross-cultural negotiation skills, managed to get the price down to 10 euros from the unreasonable 25. What a steal. We stopped back at the Memorial to Jewish victims of the Holocaust, the eerie field of blocks east of the center.

Making it back to the Generator in time for happy hour was a struggle, but we made efficient use of our hour before dinner, and I'm confident everyone was doing well when we filed into the restaurant at Alexanderplatz. The dinner was first-rate, and afterwards we found a cool Irish pub to enjoy a Guinness. By chance, we found the Ampelman bar, which our tour guide had suggested. The Ampelman is a sort of mascot for East German nostalgia, and is the figure on traffic signals for pedestrians. The bar had a big lawn with great lawn chairs, and reasonable beer. We made it back to the Generator in time for a round, and before I knew it the clock had struck 4:00 and it was time for sleep. Like 3 hours of it. Because once again, we were checking out by 8:15.

We boarded the bus and headed outside the city to the concentration camp Sachsenhausen. I had been once before, and so I spent my time seeking out those corners I hadn't the time or energy to see the time before. It's such a powerful place, and undeniably puts the sanctity of life into perspective. The bus ride home was long. And when I walked into the parking lot at CBS and headed in the direction of Kathrine, I felt pretty drained. Still, a great weekend in a very cool city, a place I'd like to stay for an extended time someday.

What's going on this week? Tonight we're having a BBQ at Kathrine, and tomorrow I'm heading to Lund, Sweden to have dinner with friends I studied with in Utrecht. Still not sure what's up for the upcoming open weekend, but I'm sure that'll shake itself out in the next few days..

Author's license

Copenhagen is the largest city in Scandinavia at just over one million residents. But it doesn't have that big city feel at all. The neighborhoods of Copenhagen have distinct personalities, and people seem to shuffle into Vesterbro, Norrebro, Christianhavn or Fredriksberg according to their status as student, immigrant, yuppie or hippy. People move around at this calculated pace, all the time aware and seemingly appreciative of the many rules that govern every moment of their life. Thousands of bicycles pedal their way around the centre, looking straight ahead, with the canals and palaces and parks in the periphery. The metro runs unmanned and on time; the buses and taxis make up the majority of city traffic. No one seems to take mind when the weather turns from wispy white clouds to cold hard rain and back again in minutes. I understand well when this place is described as utopia. The Scandinavian model of government, this cradle-to-grave, everything fresh and clean, and on time, works..here. I've now talked politics with enough Danes - and Norwegians and Finns, for that matter - to see where their vantage point lies. It's impossible for me to lookout from it, because you have to be born into it. It's surprising, and it gives some insight into the idealogical rift between European thinking and U.S.-centric thinking. Sorry to impose my thoughts, but it makes more sense in type than swimming around my head.

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The Copenhagen Jazz Festival has been running for at least a week, and I had the chance to catch some of it last night. There are many shows each day, spread all over the city, from the Copenhagen Jazzhouse to a dive in Christiania. I went down to the center to Mojo, a place I'd been once before a Thursday long ago with Tim Revelle. Mojo is a blues-only bar, and when you step from the cool street into the bar, the smell of smoke and the heat produced by sardine-packed patrons hits you at once. I don't smoke, and I hate when my clothes smell of it the morning after, but there's something about a smoky blues bar. And with a SRV-esque guitarist joined on the stage by a bass, sax and drum, a few Elephant beers taste all the better.

On tap for tonight: a Danish film, After the Wedding, and maybe another Jazz Festival show. Tomorrow brings a day of class, a Kathrine "house party", and my first trip out to the Kulor Bar. Then departing for Berlin..

Carlsberg, Folk Dancing..and oh yeah - Roskilde!

It's a cool rainy day in Copenhagen, and the perfect excuse to relax and reflect a bit. The past week was full of..well..a whole lot of everything. When last I left you, I was in my first week of classes, and had some social plans for the week, before heading west to Roskilde for the biggest music festival in northern Europe. Wednesday morning I woke up earlier than I care to admit and hopped on the metro, headed to the Islands Brygge. The Copenhagen harbour was deemed clean enough to swim in a few years back, and they constructed these artificial swimming baths, separated from the harbour by fine nets and walking platforms. There's a 10 meter high diving platform and a fifty meter lap pool. It was a great way to start the day, though it was odd to taste saltwater when it feels like you're swimming in a pool.

I borrowed Thomas' bike and rode around the city for an hour or so, an experience in itself. The Danes have a lot of rules about biking, but no country-loving Dane follows one of them. So in one morning, I unlearned all those rules I was told were so important. It was a beautiful day, and after Pete and I did some thrifting for crazy Roskilde clothes, we joined some Kathrine girls for a walk through the park and zoo to the Carlsberg Brewery. The Brewery's highlight is the sprawling bar, where a beer-lover can enjoy Carlsberg's finer beers. Or a Tuborg, if you just don't care. Later it was time for the beloved "Danish Folk Dancing Night", put on by the CBS social program. They piled 100+ internationals into a gymnasium to learn ancient folk songs on the spot. They provided beer and wine for those who need to loosen up a bit for this kind of setting (read: everybody).

Thursday was a big day, as we were still ill-prepared for Roskilde, and I had two classes. Eventually we had everything packed and ready to go. Pete and I looked like pack mules, and the overwhelming amount of weight was due to beer. 75 beers, two boxes of wine and a bottle of akvavit came with us. Three American girls - Abby, Kara and Megan - made a last minute decision to buy tickets, and we made room at our campsite for them. By campsite I of course mean the 8 x 8 square we tried to save last Sunday.

I think I could write a novella on the Roskilde weekend. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is marry Humperdinck in little less than half an hour...

So this music festival, Roskilde, is huge. And they let all these crazy Scandos camp for a week BEFORE the music even starts. And apparently last year it was so rainy and muddy that if you didn't have rain boots, you're probably still stuck in the ground. This particular year was gorgeous. A hot sun and the occasional cool breeze, with just a bit of rain late in the weekend. We camped kitty-corner from a group that has been here for the last ten years. At least half of them were a little insane, which made for great entertainment. We were also a bit of a novelty, as it's rare that Americans attend this festival. Please see the left bar to view some photos from Roskilde..

Let me give you a rundown of the music I attended:
Thurs - Lupe Fiasco & Radiohead
Fri - Kate Nash, Band of Horses, Gnarls Barkley, Kings of Leon, Sunburned Hand of the Man & The Streets
Sat - The Fashion, Swollen Members, Neil Fuckin' Young & The Chemical Brothers
Sun - Babylove and the Van Dangos, Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, Static and Noize & Jay-Z

I had a great time at every show, but my personal favorites from the weekend were Band of Horses, Kings of Leon and Neil Young. Neil Young rocked my socks for three hours, and ended the show on this killer Beatles cover, A Day in the Life. Then he broke all of his strings and just shook his guitar until enough peoples' heads had exploded. This show also marked by single greatest athletic achievement of the summer. They have these people handing out cups of water during each show, and half the time these just get tossed in the air. I was minding my own business, looking around the crowd as Neil destroyed zombies, and suddenly I see this flying white cup coming straight at me, from about forty meters. I didn't even have to move, I just stuck out my left hand and caught it out of the air. Considering this was at 21:00 and I was at a music festival, you should be impressed. All the people that clapped were.

Besides all the great music, this festival boasted some wicked good food. My favorite food stand served something called the "China Box". The China Box was every kind of Chinese food I've ever eaten dumped into one box and mixed around. Beer was also very reasonable, which took me by surprise. One could also walk-in with anything, as long as it was in a plastic or cardboard container with no top.

It was a dirty, sweaty festival. We were up socializing until at least 5 every morning, and by 7 the sun would heat the tent to a temperature appropriate for Jack's pizza. There were showers somewhere, but no one in our camp ever went to look for them. There was a large swimming lake, complete with sand beach, and this was my bath for the weekend. Regrettably, it was no doubt a toilet for many others.

The girls left Sunday afternoon, but Pete and I hung around to see Jay-Z and watch the rioters and raiders start taking the place to pieces. We took down our tent and packed in the dark, and with our remaining luck made it back to Kathrine around 3 or 4 Monday morning. As you can imagine, yesterday was a day of recovery. And showering. I wore my beloved deck shoes all festival, and I'm happy to say they survived. In an effort to get the blood flowing, Pete and I took the metro over to Christianshavn, a neighborhood east of the city centre, and home to Copenhagen's controversial Freetown of Christiania. The political status of this place is always in limbo, but it can best be described as an extremely liberal autonomous neighborhood in the middle of a place ran by rules. We had dinner at this tiny cafe and had a Christiania-brewed beer at Cafe Woodstock. It was very relaxing, and an inexpensive place to have a meal. The place has this weird vibe - it was abuzz, but time moved a bit slower, and there was something surprising around every corner.

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It's continuing to rain on and off, but I'm hoping it lets up this evening, as I have plans to head downtown and check out some free shows at the Copenhagen Jazz Festival. Until then..

Well hello København

I'm sitting in my modest efficiency, and outside the skies are blue, with small white clouds moving quickly out to sea. The present weather is fantastic, but as I've learned these past days, a blue sky morning is no guarantee of a pleasant afternoon, and it's best to take advantage before it turns grey. Due to Copenhagen's proximity to the sea, and the fact that it's really a series of small islands, the weather can turn with little warning very quickly. That being said, it's been a nice temperature with a cool breeze and a warm sun most of the time thus far.

This past weekend, being my first in the city, was inevitably rife with socializing. And sleep was completely lacking. It doesn't really get dark here until close to midnight, and by 3:30 the sun is already beginning to peak above the low horizon. This, coupled with the absence of public transport between 2:00 and 5:00, makes for two varieties of nights out. The first would be an early night, back to Kathrine (my residence) by 2:00. The other is an early morning, which consists of staying out until the metro starts running again after 5:00. The latter seems to be the norm in this city that sleeps very little on the weekends.

There was a mandatory introduction to Copenhagen Business School on Friday afternoon, immediately followed by a Welcome BBQ, which was by no definition a BBQ. The fine catered meal took place in Solbjerg Plads, one of the main CBS campus buildings, and included the largest cake I've ever seen in person. The food was fantastic, and the 1/2 litre Carlsberg was among the most affordable I've run into. And by that I mean it was a little less than 5 USD. After this, groups of students began making their way to Club Mambo, a bar/club in the city centre, for some drinks and salsa. Pete and I had an open invitation to attend a big bash in the north of Copenhagen, at the residence of a fellow Viking, Thomas. We recruited a wonderful group of young ladies (and two tag-a-longs) and tackled the bus system. We arrived shortly before 1:00 and met up with our friends. Nicolai, a Danish Viking, and Ian, an American, were both there, in party mode. The residence is a converted hotel, and the ground floor was now being used to its full potential. There were three separate rooms, two of which had their own DJs, and a small bar where the reception (or maybe coat room) once stood. There were nearly 500 Danes there, so it was a great chance to mingle with the locals.

We made it back to Kathrine around 6:30, and I checked my e-mail, only to find a note from Lars (our go-to-guy here in Denmark) requesting our presence in Helsingor that afternoon. So I sent him a message back, and we got about three winks before boarding the regional train north to Helsingor. We were promptly booted off said train for lacking the appropriate tickets, but eventually made it to the beautiful coastal city and met with Lars. Lars is an original Viking, from way back in '54, and this guy just exudes cool. We talked over a nice lunch, and planned to meet again for a long day in Helsingor. After only a short while there, both Pete and I agreed the place was simply calming, and the feeling could be described as floating. I have a sneaking suspicion that sleep deprivation has similar effects.

Back in Copenhagen, we planned for the night ahead. We headed over to Nicolai's apartment, picking up a crate of beer on the way. We ordered out for pizza, and on the way to pick it up, were pulled into a large group of older Danes dancing a Jewish folk dance in the street. Thomas told us they were sad to see us leave, as we were "so cute". Back at the place we enjoyed a few with the same Vikings from the previous night, before heading out to Club Vega in Vesterbro, a brief walk from Nicolai's place. The line was a bit long, and we met up with some great girls from Kathrine and opted for the downstairs bar, simply called The Ideal Place. It turned out to be a cool bar, playing mostly soul and Motown, with a little funk thrown in. An after-party at Nicolai's followed, and before I knew it, the sun was shining, I was throwing a frisbee back at Katharine, and it was almost 7:00.

Pete and I caught four winks and then caught a train west to Roskilde. We're attending the rock festival of the same name this upcoming weekend (check the link on the left bar for more info) and Sunday was the first day to set-up your tent. We had a little trouble finding the actual festival grounds, and at one point stopped for a hamburger to gather our thoughts. This hamburger, which appeared to be of a normal size in the plastered posters, turned out to be the biggest hamburger I've ever seen. I felt like I may have entered some contest unknowingly.

Eventually we found the pack of hippies and punks heading to the festival grounds, and after a long walk caught sight of Roskilde. It looked like the festival had already occurred. Garbage, and I use that work liberally, was strewn all over the path to the entrance. For this festival, people start camping outside the grounds up to a week before they allow anyone in. And even then, the music doesn't begin until Thursday. From what I've seen so far, this is going to be an insane festival. I attended Bonnaroo a few years back, and I thought that was a bit of a dirty hippy fest. This place makes Bonnaroo look like a young professionals conference at the Hilton. I'm headed back Thursday afternoon, in time to catch the Radiohead performance on the main stage.

In the meantime, I attended my first day of classes today, and though it was nearly five consecutive hours of class time, I'm pleased with my class choices and the direction they seem to be headed. My first course is Entrepreneurship and Small Business Formation, taught by an American from Wharton, who made it clear he doesn't think business and ethics ever sat at the same lunch table. My second class is Advertising and Promotion, taught by a very easy-on-the-eyes Aussie. Both kept my attention, which I was worried had been reduced to a six minute span.

I won't get back to this until sometime after I return from Roskilde, and in the time before that I have the Carlsberg Brewery tour, more class, and some Danish folk dancing to look forward to. Happy 4th of July, I plan to get my hands on some fireworks. Or at least start something on fire. God Bless America.

A Hamburger in Paradise

Though I've been in Denmark now for a short while, I've yet to document the last days of the CBS pre-trip. The Netherlands was no slouch, and Hamburg did not disappoint. We boarded my favorite European bus service, Eurolines, in Amsterdam and prepared ourselves for the seven hour trip northwest to the great port city of Hamburg. I was feeling the after-effects of a week in Holland, and was able to entertain myself for most of the ride by simply staring out the bus window. The bus arrived at Hamburg's massive ZOB at 23:00, and I did my best to rub the Eurolines sleepy dust from my eyes, as there was work to do. The plan was to stay with someone from the couchsurfing network. If you're not familiar with couchsurfing, it's a network of people, from all over the world, who offer their couch to fellow travelers. Don't tell my parents, but I've used this resource before. It's a money-saver, the hosts are usually cool, and you have instant access to a great source of knowledge on the city. We managed to find the right bus to Malte (our host) and arrived with out much trouble. After some good convo, we crashed on the available sleeping surfaces.

Malte had to work in the morning, so Pete and I woke up and readied for the day. We left the comfortable flat in search of breakfast, and found it at a nice cafe called Bagel Park. The Germans do a nice lox, and one gross (Deutsch for big) coffee later we were good to go. Malte was only hosting for a night, so we tracked down a hostel a little north of the center, which turned out to be one of the nicer hostels I've stayed at. The dorm rooms were only four or five beds, and were roomy, clean and bright. And I actually witnessed someone cleaning the bathroom.

We were turned around on the way back, but eventually found our way. Maps are hard. That evening we planned to see a gratis hip hop show on the university campus. Our hostel was in a largely Turkish neighborhood, also known for it's anti-establishment punk roots, which made for a cool ambiance. We dined at this Turkish potato place. The meal basically consisted of a giant baked potato stuffed with pretty much anything you could think of. A Warsteiner later we boarded the metro for the University. Never found the Pony Bar, and cursed whoever printed those terrible flyers for the hip hop show. We headed back to catch a late beer at Fritz Bauch, and called it a night.

Wednesday was a big day. We started it by heading out to a museum dedicated to Ethnology, the largest of its kind in the world. There was a great photo exhibit created from archives of trips to places like Egypt, Iran, Turkey and Tunisia in the mid-1800's. It was a really cool look at these places during the birth of tourism, and before every traveler wielded a digital camera. From there we headed down to the port. Hamburg is Germany's most important port, and it connects to the North Sea via the Elbe, which flows from as far east as the Czech Republic. The "port city" label gave Hamburg a blue-collar feel, and it was interesting to see tourists walking a boardwalk looking over a bustling port.

If you weren't aware, the first Euro Cup semifinal was Wednesday, and the matchup was Germany v Turkey. Germany boasts (or claims) over 2.5 million Turks, and it was just as common to see a Turkish flag flying in the city as it was a German flag. There was a giant public viewing area set-up in a central park, and it quickly filled with fans. They closed the gates before Pete and I could sneak in, and we watched a handful of people attempt scaling the barricades. We settled for a busy street cafe with a big widescreen, and we watched the match with six-packs of Beck's at our feet and German fans all around. It was a fantastic match, and ended 3-2 in Germany's favor, so the place erupted. We followed the growing crowd, eager for some good old-fashioned rioting, and found what we were looking for by tracking a long line of police swat vans. The mob moved down a main boulevard, heading south to the Reeperbahn and singing and shouting. The Reeperbahn is Hamburg's infamous red light district, situated close to the port, for easy sailor access.

The mob grew, and eventually we found ourselves singing and shouting along with thousands of German fans. Pete took some good video, which I'll add to the bottom of the post. All this celebrating made for a late-night, and the 7:30 bus to Copenhagen on Thursday hurt a little bit. Still, we arrived mostly unscathed and running on adrenaline, and moved into Kathrine Kollegiet. I have some initial impressions of Copenhagen city life, which I'll get to soon. For now, enjoy the videos and farvel.