Copenhagen+21
I am aware that I’m around 2 weeks late on my posts. In my defense, I've been busy grappling with a weekend-long addiction to Danish hot-dogs and funnelling Florentine wine into my mouth, so I couldn’t find the time to formally sit down and write. I also celebrated my 21st birthday, so...you can take from that whatever you’d like. Traveling while growing older and attempting to develop into a fully formed adult is amazing, but it is tiring as hell.
Two weekends ago I woke up around the witching hour to board a flight to Copenhagen. It was a bit of a last moment decision to tag along on the trip. I’d found myself without weekend plans and booked a plane ticket to tag along with my roommates. On my way to the airport, I realized that I had absolutely no clue what or where Copenhagen was, or what was going on there. When I landed, I was confronted with the horrifying reality that the more northern a city is, the colder the weather is. I stepped off of my plane into the cold Danish air, nipples as hard as ice and curiosity in tow.
What I found was a delightfully charming city. If you’re like me and don’t know what Copenhagen is, it’s a city that’s as funky as Berlin with the coziness of Amsterdam. Our first order of business was to find something to eat. A famous Danish dish is something called smorrebrod, which are tiny open-faced sandwiches, usually topped with some type of pickled fish and vegetables. Since pickled fish is not something I would ever seek out, I stuck with an amazing lobster roll and a beer.
After lunch, we walked to a part of the city called Freetown Christiania. Christiania is an “autonomous” self-governed neighborhood of Copenhagen. Imagine the Portland depicted in Portlandia, but packed into a much smaller space, containing much stranger (perhaps nefarious) individuals. This self-proclaimed “Green Light District” has only three rules:
“1: Have fun. 2: Don’t run--it causes panic. 3: No photos.”
I, of course, without thinking, immediately took a picture of the sign where these three rules are stated. I’m still learning how to not be a tourist, okay? The sale of marijuana and hash is “legal” in Christiania....kind of. It’s illegal in Copenhagen, but there’s a certain respect between the Danish authorities and the residents of the odd little commune. Walking through, we were bombarded with offers to buy joints and blunts and bricks of hash, but didn't partake. (I swear Mom)
Copenhagen is different from Rome in the fact that its topography is as flat as Taylor Swift’s ass. This was a much welcome feature of the city, since it feels like I have to climb 14 miles of Roman hills just to get to a grocery store at home. Another facet of Copenhagen I found particularly fascinating and incredible was the abundance of hot-dog stands lining every street corner. Even after eating at least 32 throughout the trip, I could definitely put one down as I type this. There are also tons of 7-Elevens in the city offering similar hot-dogs, upon which I found myself engorging on at many points.
Saying goodbye to endearing little Copenhagen wasn’t hard. This isn’t because I didn’t enjoy it, but rather because I was feeling homesick for Rome, and looked forward to its warm, welcoming embrace.
Speaking of warm, spring has finally sprung in Rome. From a poetic standpoint, the seasonal transition between winter to spring depicts growth and rebirth. As I was walking home from school last week, I noticed that the cherry blossom trees had suddenly bloomed. The barren skeletons of the trees on my street--almost as if overnight--had proudly re-birthed into their new form, alive and crawling with radiant pink flowers.
The next day was my 21st birthday. I’m a big fan of horoscopes and astrology ( only if I agree with them) and the first line of my birthday horoscope for 2017 was this: “Your birthday this year occurs not long after a New Moon/Solar Eclipse, suggesting a time of new beginnings and fresh energy. You are instinctively starting a new phase in your life.” Now, I’m really trying to avoid being kitschy, but just as the cherry blossoms bloomed into the most vibrant version of themselves, I’m hoping this year will help me bloom into the most vibrant version of myself. I can already feel it happening.
My birthday celebration was better than I could have asked for, surrounded by wonderful friends and shitty vodka. I also think I may have cracked a rib, but that’s a story for a different day.
This past weekend, I travelled to Florence with my study abroad program. There’s not really much to write about Florence. It was fascinating to see the Duomo di Firenze, and the works of art by Michelangelo. The nightlife felt like an episode of Jersey Shore, and my hotel was on top of a Subway restaurant, of which I was a customer three times in two days. But, Florence isn’t Rome. Rome is home. Roma is..homa?
As for this weekend, I’ll be staying home. I have another assignment to complete in my Food Writing class, only this one is to write a recipe. I’m taking this one seriously in hopes to become the next Giada de Laurentis, since she’s the skinniest chef on Food Network.
Ciao!
