Gotta love those cultural differences

When going to a new country, some obvious differences will jump out at you right off the bat. Others, however, take a while for you to realize, and that's what this entry is all about. After almost a month of being here, I've had time to experience some of the differences in everyday life that you wouldn't realize just coming here as a tourist. There's probably also going to be some more obvious differences in here too, just because I haven't mentioned them yet.

Doing laundry is an interesting experience. I used the machine for the first time on Sunday, and while you would think that it's the same as at home, it's definitely not. For starters, the machine is much smaller than what I'm used to, which means that I can't do 3 weeks worth of laundry in one load. They don't use liquid detergent, they use powdered, and in addition to that, they also use chalk powder to remove metals. You then have to set the temperature (in Celsius, of course), and the time is automatic. An hour and a half later you take out your clothes and find space on the line, because no one in Denmark uses driers. I wasn't too happy when I found this out - I'm used to my jeans shrinking a little in the wash. Ask any girl how long they wait before washing a pair of jeans, and I'm sure they'll tell you the same thing - as long as it takes before the jeans get a little bit too baggy. Twenty four hours after that you've got a bunch of clean clothes to fold and put away - but here's the catch - they don't feel clean. As it turns out, that chalk powder sticks in a lot of fabrics after the clothes are rinsed off. The unfortunate thing about this, is that it seems cotton is the most affected by this chalk powder, meaning previously soft garments are no longer soft. I'll let you figure it out for yourselves what article of clothing would be made the most uncomfortable by this.

Danish people don't talk while using public transportation. Unless they're 13 year old girls riding the bus and giggling at every cute boy that they pass on the sidewalk, or balding business men on their cellphones, the commuters are fairly quiet people. Which means I stand out all the more when I'm having a conversation with my friends on the train - in English. A lot of times, people notice we're speaking English and start laughing. I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

I'm guessing if you could pick out the top 5 most important words to Danes, the word "hygge" would be on the list. The word is really hard to find an English translation for, and it's every study abroad student's secret goal to experience something that they can officially say defines the word. Loosely, the word mean comfort or coziness, but is always defined more in a situation than in synonyms. Imagine gathering your whole family together (Oh, but remember that's we're talking about Denmark, so you actually get along with your family. Just pretend if it isn't true.), inviting over a few close friends, and sitting all together in a room of comfy chairs and sofas, with doused lights and a fire lit. You spend the time eating, drinking, talking and enjoying each other's company. That's pretty much hygge. Since this is such an important part of the Danish culture, a lot of restaurants and cafes will advertise themselves as having hygge, and many stores will light candles and place them outside their doors. Which means that as you're walking around Strøget you're likely to be surrounded by candles and heat rushing out from open doors. My favorite part of this hygge competition between businesses is what happens in more high-class cafes. You know how sitting outside and eating is one of the best feelings in the world? Well, the Danes agree, and are not going to be stopped from eating outside just because the weather is, well to be quite honest, awful. So they'll sit outside, under an umbrella (with a conveniently hidden heater), wrapped up in the cafe-provided fleece blanket, and enjoy a cup of coffee. Even if it is only 30 degrees outside.

Speaking of coffee, it turns out that enjoying a cup with some friends has recently become very popular here, and every other store seems to be a coffee shop. This sounds like it should be a fantastic situation for a caffeine craving student, but believe me, it's not, considering the fact that a (small)medium cup will easily cost you upwards of $10. Keep in mind that that price is for the traditional grab-and-go type of coffee - if you want the real Danish experience, you'll order a full pot (in a press pot, of course!) and spend hours chatting with your friends. It's basically what highschoolers in the US do because no where else is open past 9 (minus the frappachino part). Except in Denmark, they do it by choice! Oh, and did I mention - there's no Starbucks here! (Although I'd be willing to stake my life on the fact that there's one in Copenhagen airport - it makes the jittery business people feel at home.) The majority of coffee shops - and most shops for that matter - are privately owned. Unless you count the coffee shops that open and close down a few months later, I don't think I've ever experienced anything like this back at home. Really, the closest thing to a coffee chain they have here is a place called Baresso. I haven't tried it myself, but I've actually heard good things about the coffee and pastries they sell there, unlike the reviews Starbucks gets at home (To the reader: Please read the following in the most yuppie voice you can imagine. "I know Starbucks' coffee is awful, but God help me, I love it!" Cue rolling of the eyes.)

Now, on to some more social issues. You may know that Denmark pays absurdly high taxes. Basically, it's a progressive tax (Yes, I did have to look up what that meant, in addition to what the US tax system was so I'd know whether I should go into further detail. I would say that's kind of pathetic on my part, but really, I'm going to be a rich and famous doctor, and will easily be able to pay someone else to do my taxes for me. Ignorance problem not quite averted, but solved.) and the least amount of money (for all practical purposes) you can pay to the government in 47% of your income. If you earn more than around $47,000 a year, you have to add an extra 6% to the additional income, and if it's over around $57,000 you pay an extra 15% to the additional income (plus the 6% from the middle bracket). In short, you pay a lot of money to the government. However, everything health care related is free, including most prescriptions (dental isn't free however - and many Danes are quite angry about this.). In addition to that, education is free. All education - middle school, high school, and universities. Stop rubbing your eyes, cleaning your glasses and checking to see if the date is April 1st. Because really, the education is free. I know, the taxes are pretty high, so you may be wondering if you're essentially paying the same thing. I honestly don't know. What I do know, however, is that students receive a stipend from the state, and as a student, I find this quite exciting (despite the fact that I don't actually get it). The stipend is somewhere around $775 a month - so it really adds up. Although believe it or not, many Danish students think this is far too low, and are trying to get more. Clearly, they don't know how good they have it!

Right about now, I'm thinking about going over to the package my parents sent me and eating a few vanilla pretzels - which I wouldn't get the privilege of doing were it not for the thoughtfulness of my parents (Why yes, I am sucking up. Dear mom and dad - send more American food!). In all seriousness, unless you want to chow down on some black licorice, your choices of candy in Denmark are pretty slim. That's not to say there's not a good selection of chocolate and other candies, because there definitely is, but not in the same magnitude that you would find at home. Picture walking in to a typical candy store, with walls lines with buckets of candies and scoopers, all waiting for you to fill up that magical plastic bag which ends up costing you way more than you expected. Now, imagine all the candies replaced with licorice. Instead of a wall of different colored M&Ms, there's a wall of different colors of licorice. Instead of buckets of fruit, coffee beans and snack products covered in chocolate, there are buckets of black licorice covered in different flavors of colored sugar. The gummies are still there, except they've multiplied, quite literally, like rabbits (really, there are gummies shaped like everything - animals included.). And somewhere, maybe in a dusty corner, there's a small selection of chocolate products - luckily, Toblerone is always included in the mix. For those born and raised on licorice, there's plenty to choose from, including a Danish favorite, salty black licorice. This licorice comes in all kinds of strengths - and I'm not just talking about strength of the licorice, but strength of the salt as well. I'm told that the Harbio brand salty licorice, in combination with a bottle (notice that I said bottle, not can) of Coke, is the best hangover cure. Personally, I find the salty licorice so disgusting that I'd rather be hung over. 

I'm really running out of steam on this entry, and I've already saved and continued about 3 times since I've started writing. So I'll leave you here, waiting eagerly I'm sure, to hear about my host sister's birthday on Monday. She's turning 13 (and quite excited about finally being a teenager). From what I hear, Danish birthdays are celebrated a little differently from those in the US, so I'm hoping I'll get a fun entry out of that. Maybe at some point I'll write about my short study tour to western Denmark last week (specifically, Odense, Aarhus, Skanderborg and Kuling), although it seems this blog has become more about commenting on Danish culture than on my personal exploits. 

Hej hej! (Goodbye - not so fitting for a blog, but if I hadn't told you what it meant, you would have thought it fit in perfectly, wouldn't you?)

Teenage Boys ... Weird everywhere, not just in the US

I wanted to take a minute to discuss the oddity known as teenage boys. Perhaps later I'll write an entry on teenage girls, as they're quite odd too. But in the past few days I've been faced with the realization that teenage boys, whether they be from the US or Denmark, have a culture (and style) all of their own. 

Lets start with their style, because that's the most striking thing about them. For starters, the hair. It is clear that if you are a boy of a certain age in Denmark, it is incredibly uncool to have hair that is brown. Luckily, most boys here look exactly the same, and have the typical bleached blonde hair. Those that were a little more "unlucky" will bleach their hair, but because everyone in Denmark is a blonde-hair afficionado, fellow Danes would be able to spot the bleach job from miles away. Clearly, the reasonable solution is to dye your hair one of three other colors after the bleaching process is complete - hot pink, bright orange, or bright purple. Nothing says, "I never wanted to be blonde anyway" like a head full of hair that, had we still been hunting and foraging for our food, would have been weeded out by natural selection and a lion that happened to be attracted to bright colors. But the hair color is not enough to be a teen of stature in Denmark. Stuck in probably the same mindset women in the US were in in the 80's, boys here clearly think that bigger is better when it comes to hair. It's as if in Denmark, the girls are drawn to whatever male has the longest hair spikes. From a biological perspective, this makes total sense. The more money you have, the more you can afford to spend on the newest, stickiest, and largest quantity of beeswax hair gel. Therefore, bigger hair=more money=better mate. Thank you Darwin.

And now on to the shirts. Sticking with the theme and alliteration "bigger is better" in regard to hair, in the case of shirts, brighter is better. And not just brighter - it seems as if the closer your shirt is to looking like one of those pictures you stare at in an effort to make it 3-D, the cooler you are. (See pictures.)

The wearer of the first hoodie would probably be middle of the road as far as coolness is concerned. He's going bright, which does mean something - however, he's lacking the overwhelming pattern that the wearer of the second hoodie has. As you can see in the third picture, the hoodie in the middle is superior to the hoodies on the side (as indicated by the slightly higher placement in the image) because it is not only overwhelmingly busy, but also induces dizziness and sometimes vomiting upon being seen. Again, this style makes sense when we look at it in a biological perspective. Denmark is extremely (seriously, I mean EXTREMELY) grey. The brighter your shirt is, the more you will stand out against the monotone background. Good thinking, boys.

There's one other style which the boys here have, and I am honestly hard-pressed to explain it away with science. No matter what pants the boys are wearing, they will always tuck them into their socks. Athletic pants, sweat pants, jeans ... all tucked into their white tube socks. It also appears to be a rule that the whiter your socks are, the cooler the style looks. Which means that boys here have impeccibly clean socks, but also look unbelievably ridiculous. It's cold, and Copenhagen is a typical city - therefore no one is going hiking, and as far as I know, Denmark is not home to a mysterious breed of pavement ticks.

That's really all I've got on their clothes, which means it's time to move on to their mannerisms. Smoking is cool. That's all there is to it. You will be mocked if you don't smoke. Clearly, the free education is really doing a lot for the great minds of tomorrow. If you want to add to your cool factor while smoking, you can hold a beer in your other hand, and act boisterous while leaning up against a building. Preferably a brick building. You can't drink in a bar here until you're 18 (I think), but you're free to buy before that, and even before that anyone who is of legal buying age is free to give you whatever they want. And you're also allowed to drink in public. In the case of teenage boys, this means against a building. It is also cool to speak English. Especially if you are using the ever-popular and much overused word "nice." Nice can be used to describe anything. A cold beer, a much-needed cigarette, a joke, a girl, a fine work of art or a refreshing piece of arcetecture. There is but one rule to saying "nice" - you must hold the i. "Niiiiiiice." For anyone out there who has seen Borat, it is also acceptable to say "very nice" much in the same way he does in the movie. It is also considered cool to curse in English. I'm not sure why. In addition, if you want to talk about something that the elders around you may not approve of, you say it in English. Everyone here is fluent, but I guess they figure that the adults won't bother putting in the extra effort to listen in on their crazy teenage anecdotes. 

I'm sure there's more I'm leaving out, but I hope this has given you a taste of what teenage boys are like here in Denmark. The take home point of this entry, however, is that no matter what country you're in, teenages will always be weird. End of story.

Oh, and as I write this, I can't help but think of poor Sebastian, the foreign student from Germany, who was mocked all through middle school for his tucked-in pants, octagon glasses and overall goofiness. But I bet he was considered quite the stud back in Germany.

Not all supermarkets are created equal.

On Wednesdays I don't have any classes. Instead, the days are reserved for "field studies," where you basically take field trips with your classes. Every class is scheduled for two Wednesdays over the course of the semester, but unfortunately for me, since two of my classes are taught off "campus" (the DIS classrooms), every day is a field study! This means I get to a) explore b) sit around the house or c) do work. I'm currently downloading some tv shows from home to watch, which rules out option b) until later. Classes just started, so our only work is reading, making option c) not really an option at all. That leaves a), which is probably the most logical anyway, since I just got here about a week and a half ago. I planned on spending the morning updating this blog, but after I realized that I would be going to the grocery store later, I decided I would wait in hopes that I could get some interesting stories out of it. I did.

 If any of you have ever gone to a cultural supermarket, such as the asian one my mom once dragged me to, you'll be able to sympathize with how I felt after walking in to Netto, the chain supermarket that happens to have a branch right down the road from my house. I had already been in various supermarkets twice, once to kill time and another time as a field trip for my 2-day Danish survival class, so I knew the basic layout (none whatsoever) and the "rules" (bring your own bags, unless you want to pay for a way to carry your groceries home; don't get in the other customers' way, because they all know exactly what they want and where it is). Danish supermarkets are simultaneously very diverse and very scarse. They manage to sell all your standards: meat, dairy, grains, produce, sweets and toiletries; and they also throw in clothes, alcohol, home decor, small appliances and office supplies. However, there aren't many different brands, varieties, sizes or even choices between one type of pasta and another. Except for in two categories: alcohol and cheese. In one aisle (and we're not talking USA aisles, we're talking Danish aisles. Imagine about 1/4 what you're used to the length of an aisle being.) they squeezed in chocolate, crackers, cookies, pastries, cake mixes, bread, pasta, jars of sauce and cereal, and probably some other things I'm forgetting. However, if you were looking for some alcohol, you could take your pick from the 2.5 aisles they had devoted to it, plus the checkout refridgerators (normally filled with soda in the US) which were filled with individual beers, wine coolers and various bottled mixed drinks. Now on to the cheese: it probably took up around the same amount of wall space that a cheese section would in the US, or maybe slightly more. Floor to ceiling, about 15 feet long. Now imagine a 3-4 foot space filled with meat, right next to the cheeses. Thinking that there had to be more options, I walked to the other side of the cheeses, thinking maybe they had divided the meat into two parts due to some strange Danish logic I just didn't understand. There was about a 2 foot long section devoted to fish, so I was sort of right in my thinking. What I didn't expect, however, was that the cheese section actually continued after the fish section. Apparently, what I was looking at was only blocks/wheels of cheese, and the really fancy stuff (the kinds of cheese spreads you may serve as an appetizer in the US) was just down the wall a bit. 

 I told my host family that since I don't have anything to do on Wednesdays, I'd be more than happy to make dinner. My plan for tonight was baked mac and cheese (I thought this would be suitable given how much they clearly like cheese) with peas and ham. So I look for the sharp cheddar cheese. I didn't think that this would be that hard to find - it's not like I was looking for American cheese or something like that. But there was no yellow cheese to be seen. Finally, after about 10 minutes of searching, I found some white cheddar and decided that would have to be good enough. Next on my list was some parmesan. I had to pick up every individual cheese block and think to myself "does this look like the cheese I'm looking for?" because, believe it or not, after a whole week and a half of being here I still don't speak Danish. I settled on some pre-grated stuff that I'm 90% sure is parmesan. Next, I walk to the meat section in search of ham. There isn't any. There's pork, hamburger meat, other mystery ground meat (you'd be surprised how similar all meat looks when you can't read the packages), chicken, tons of varieties of sausages, some liver, some bacon ... but no ham to be seen. After a few minutes of thought, I decide to grab a package of diced bacon and just throw that on top of the mac and cheese. While I'm browsing, a woman had apparently been a little over-enthusiastic while grabbing a package of fresh liver (yum) and knocked some other packages on the floor. I help her pick them up, and all the while she's talking at me in Danish. She ends by saying "____ tak" (tak means thank you, so I assumed the word before it was one of the variations of the word "many" that they use here.) and I smile and walk away. I'm more than happy to admit I don't speak Danish when I have to, but I decided I'd try to get by without standing out as the stupid American, at least for this one shopping trip. 

 Next I started looking for breadcrumbs, and quickly gave up, realizing that I could just make my own with bread they had back home. I knew asking for condensed milk would just be too much, so I opted to buy some heavy cream instead. But Danish milk is not the same as American milk. There were cartons of 0,5% and 1,0%. Cartons of 35,0% and cartons that had no percent at all, but rather words and pictures. I gathered that the one with a cup of coffee on it was probably our equivalent of half-and-half, and the one with a whisk was probably whipping cream. I grabbed the 35,0% milk, figuring that was probably heavy cream or something along those lines.

 I go to check out, and because the Danes hate small talk, and there was a screen showing how much my purchase cost, I bagged my groceries, paid the cashier and walked out without anyone being the wiser that I didn't speak more than 5 words of Danish. As I'm trying to figure out how many dollars 118 kroner is, I hear that there's a commotion going on behind me, with a bunch of old ladies all yelling the same thing. As my curiosity got the best of me, I turned around and saw one lady holding up a block of cheese and looking at me. Apparently, I had forgotten to put it in my bag. I took it from her, moderately embarassed that a group of 5 ladies had been yelling at me in Danish for about 10 seconds and I had no idea, said "tak, tak" and left. So basically, I'm not the stupid American, I'm the stupid mute. 

Timely public transportation, two-pronged outlets, and Danish danishes

I'm currently writing from the DIS computer lab, and trying to avoid hitting the Ø key when I intended to hit the ' key instead (what's with all these weird characters, anyway?). This entry is really just going to be a quick(ish) update of what's been going on. For those of you who look forward to my (maybe) humorous commentary, I apologize in advance because there may not be much of it in this entry.

I've been in Copenhagen since Sunday, and I may have finally gotten used to the time change, although I, like many other students here, seem to be waking up consistently at 3-5AM every morning. Convenient for talking to friends and family at home, inconvenient for walking around the city all day.

Busses and trains here are magically on time, and leave about every 10 minutes. The school paid for me to get a transportation pass, so my travels are hassel-free unless I decide to travel out of the 4 transportation zones that my pass covers. Almost no one here has a car, so if they don't take public transportation they use bikes. EVERYONE has a bike. There are special bike lanes next to the sidewalks, and the bikes even have their own set of traffic lights at intersections. It's completely normal to see women in dresses and stilletos hop on a bike and pedal off, and everyone who's anyone will own and travel by bike at some point (including all government officials). The city is very confusing, since the streets are not only curved (unlike the grid-style streets of NYC) but in a language I don't even speak. I've had to ask for directions on many occasions, but luckily the Danes are very friendly, more than willing to help, and all speak English. They're curious why an American student is in Denmark, and after I ask for help I often end up in a conversation about what I'm doing looking for the bus 69 Bagsværd stop anyway.

I've already immersed myself in Danish culture (or so I like to think) by riding busses and trains or walking everywhere, eating danish pastries, and paying 50 kroners for a Carlsberg (that's the famous beer of Denmark, which cost me 10 American dollars.) Everything here is extremely expensive, so I've really been limiting myself on what I buy. Luckily, with a host family they are responsible for providing you with 2 meals a day. My family decided that they can't very well make me choose between skipping a meal or overpaying for it, so they make sure I eat breakfast with them too. I couldn't be happier with my host family - it seems everyone has a complaint of some sort with their family, but I don't have any at all. There's a 12 year old daughter, a 14 year old son, a 22 year old daughter and a 23 year old son, along with the mom and dad. The oldest daughter and her boyfriend were the ones who picked me up on Sunday, and they were very friendly and talkative. They both live in the city, instead of in the suburbs, and the boyfriend has a car (as I said, that's rare in Denmark) so he gave me his cell phone number in case I get lost or need anything while I'm here. The daughter texted me all throughout my first day to make sure I was doing alright, and even called in the middle of dinner to make sure her family remembered to speak English instead of Danish. The younger daughter doesn't talk all that much, but I think she's just shy. She also hasn't been studying English as long as the rest of her family, so I don't think she's as comfortable speaking it. The younger son didn't talk much at first, but now I can't get him to be quiet. The Danes love sarcasm and making fun of one another, so I fit in perfectly. They started making fun of me as soon as I got there (which, believe it or not, is a good thing.) for things like getting lost, not recognizing the vegetables they were eating, and trying to speak Danish after my survival language class. As I was warned about the sarcasm and mockery ahead of time, I was able to take it in stride and throw it right back. Honestly, it reminds me a lot of home =) . The mom is very talkative, and makes funny English mistakes like telling me that her husband "bought beagles for my sandwich tomorrow." The dad is also very friendly, and likes joking around a lot. They tend to have a seemingly racist sence of humor (after all, everyone in Denmark is tall and blonde), but they're actually not really any more racist than other cultures. I think my favorite quote so far happened when my host dad spilled a cup of hot chocolate on a picture of Obama and said, "Oh no! Not Obama! Oh well, you're already brown."

The house I'm staying in has about a 30 minute commute by bus and train, or a 50 minute commute by just bus. It's in a town called Herlev, which in Danish is actually pronounced "Hair-leu" ... or something like that. It's only about a 2 minute walk to the bus station, which is nice. It turns out that I was lied to when I was told that there's only one hour of sunlight a day - there's really about 6 or 7, although it is dark when I leave in the morning and come home at night.

Well, I've got to get going to my last class for the day (Complexity of Cancer). It's not taught in a classroom - I think it's actually in a University/hospital library or something like that. My class tomorrow is held in a hospital, so I'm pretty excited about that.

I'll update more later, and maybe include some pictures from the scavengar hunt we had to do yesterday (and stories from that as well).

After a few days of procrastinating, I finally went shopping today to get the few new things I need for Denmark. My shopping list was pretty short - I just needed some toiletries, a raincoat, new luggage, luggage locks and outlet converters. 

I started the trip at Target, where I found a cute green raincoat and most of the toiletries I needed. Annoyingly enough, they were out of my shampoo, but not conditioner, and the yellow Burt's Bees but not the red. This unfortunately meant that I needed to extend my trip and pay a visit to Walmart as well. Darn you, Target!

I spent about 30 minutes just staring at the luggage, hoping that if I stared long enough something cute and pink would appear in place of the boring grey bags they had. But it's just my luck that I used up my last spontaneous object apparition last night when I wanted a hot fudge sundae but could only find strawberry jelly in the refrigerator. 

So, since I was forced to buy ugly luggage, it was only fair that I should also buy hot pink TSA approved baggage locks to compensate. As I picked up the package to make sure the locks were, indeed, TSA approved, I noticed a rather large warning label on the back. Apparently, these locks included chemicals which were known to cause cancer and birth defects later in life. It was also advised that you wash your hands every time you touch the locks. After weighing the pros and cons of having three-armed babies, I opted to buy the lime green locks instead. No one wants to pay to send their kid to a therapist because he was known as "tentacle head" all through first and second grade. (Kids can be so cruel ... and I'm not sure why the teacher thought it would be appropriate to join in the mocking as well.)

After this prolonged mental debate, I moved on to the next item on my list. Having no idea where to find power strips, I decided to ask a knowledgeable Target employee. "Excuse me," I said, "could you tell me where I could find power strips?" I got a blank stare. "What's that?" 

Now it was my turn to stare. "You know, it's that thing you plug into an outlet and it has a strip of about 5 other outlets so you can plug in more things." Another blank stare. "I work in the food section so I don't know what you're talking about. You'll have to ask someone over in electronics." Really? I don't even think I should have to comment on this story.

Someone up there must know that I'm working on a blog and would need stories, because the powers that be made sure my day was filled with not-so-competent employees. In the electronics section, I asked someone where I could find outlet converters so that I could use American appliances in Europe. He directed me towards the home improvement section. So, I asked the employee there where I could find outlet converters. He walked me over to the area where the power strips were (he should work at Target) and triumphantly said, "here you are!" I tried to explain that I didn't want a power strip or similar item, but I wanted an adaptor that had different shapes so that I could use American appliances in Europe. He pointed to 

a surge protector, and explained to me that not only did they have ones that were square, but they had rectangles and circles, too! Once again I tried to explain what I needed: Not different shaped apparatuses, but different shaped male outlets. Specifically, a male outlet with two circular prongs instead of two flat prongs. After he told me that he already showed me the circle plugs, I thanked him and decided to move on. Luckily, I found a different employee back in the electronics section who knew exactly what I was talking about. 

So, things I learned today:

1) Always read the warning labels. Because as awesome as it would be to be the mother of Jamee, 4-legged Olympic gold medalist, the stress of finding clothes that actually fit him may not be worth it.

2) Three out of every 4 people you talk to will be completely useless.

3) Target has cute raincoats.

My very own FAQ section

Since this is my first post, I figured I'd start with a FAQ section because it's far easier than actually writing normal paragraphs. Some of the questions are more on the dry side but I figured since people like to ask, I might as well add them. 

Q: What language do they speak in Denmark?

A: They speak Danish in Denmark ... No, they do not speak Dutch; or, dare I rid you of this common misconseption, "Denmarkese."

Q: So are you going to be eating Danishes like, every day?

A: I imagine if I did that, I would get very tired of Danishes. Assuming that all Danish people eat is Danishes is like assuming all Americans eat is hamburgers. Although that unfortunately may not be that far from the truth.

Q: It snows all the time there, right?
A: Actually, no. It rarely snows ... But it rains a lot. Oh, and during the month of January there's an average of one hour of sunlight a day.

Q: Isn't that going to be depressing?

A: Probably.

Q: Where are you staying?

A: With a host family. I just found out who they are about a week ago. There's a mom, a dad and four kids. Only two of the kids are young enough to still live in the house. 

Q: When are you leaving/coming back?

A: I leave Saturday January 17, and I'll be getting back Sunday May 15.

Q: Are you going to get a chance to travel?
A: I have three weeks off in the middle of the semester. The first week will be spent traveling with my program to London and Germany. The second week I'll be traveling on my own, and my family is coming to visit on the third week so I'll spend that traveling with them.

Q: So you're taking classes there?
A: Yes. I'm enrolled in the Biotechnology and Drug Development track, which is essentially like a major. My classes are biotechnology and drug development, medical ethics, human health and disease and complexity of cancer. 

Q: Will you bring me back a pair of wooden clogs?

A: No. I'm not going to Holland, I'm going to Denmark.

And now for my favorite, and by far the most frequently asked question. It also happens to be the inspiration for the name of this blog.

Q: Will you bring me back a hash brownie?

A: No. I'm not going to Amsterdam, I'm going to Denmark. Besides, do you really think I like you enough to try to smuggle drugs past customs?

That's all for now. Keep those questions coming, though.