"You know, I've never seen an American before!"

As most of you are fully aware, my Wednesdays in Denmark usually consist of me sleeping in, updating my blog, and making dinner. This past Wednesday was a little different, because I was invited to my host brother's English class to talk about being from America. So yes, before any of you ask, I was essentially just a glorified show-and-tell.

The school itself was actually really nice. It's a private school, and almost set up a little like a college campus in that there are a bunch of different buildings. The inside of the buildings were bright and clean, and everything looked really new. Not like Mountain Lakes. At all. Honestly, I found the lack of mustard yellow and snot green paint a little disturbing - I was under the impression that all high schools looked like that. I got there during their break, so Johannes introduced me to his teacher and then led me to the classroom. Apparently, the other thing similar to this school and a college campus is the fact that during their breaks, the students are allowed to do essentially whatever they want. The few minutes I spent in the classroom were, to be quite honest, a little terrifying, and I completely understand why the teacher was hiding in his office. There were kids running around (I can only assume they were playing tag), kids yelling and screaming, kids throwing chairs and picking each other up, and loud dance music blasting. Obviously, I was more than a little curious to find out what this lesson would be like.A few students came up to me and introduced themselves (one girl in Danish, before she realized I didn't speak a word of it. She then ran to the back of the room with a red face.) and asked me a few questions about being in Denmark and how it was different from the US. The teacher arrived soon enough, and as soon as he set foot in the door all the kids ran to their seats and were quiet immediately. Cue stunned jaw-drop. 

The teacher started by asking what I thought about their school, and how it was different from my school at home. As I talked, the kids would raise their hands whenever they thought of a question. The fact that they actually bothered to raise their hands was impressive in and of itself, but I soon noticed that not only were they raising their hands, but they were all raising their hands in exactly the same, polite manner. They would rest their elbow on the desk, and face the back of their hand forward, while pointing upwards with one finger. There was no "oh, oh! Call on me!" or impatient hand waving. Just a calm finger pointing upwards, and patient waiting. It still amazes me too much to even make any further comments on the matter.

I was asked a lot of different questions - way more than I thought I would be asked. Here are some of the ones I can remember: Why are you in Denmark instead of somewhere else? How long have you been here/will you be here? Where do you live in the US? What are the differences between NYC and here? What do you think of the Danes? Do you think Danish guys are better looking than American boys? Are you allowed to use cellphones in school in the US? What age do you start school? What age do you leave home and live on your own? Can you drive (I then told them how much it costs to get your license in the US - probably 5 times less than it costs in Denmark, not to mention the fact that after I said my family has 4 people but we have 5 cars the entire room broke out into a dull roar - families here only have one car, if they're lucky. Everyone uses bikes or public transportation, and cars are so expensive I'd imagine the only person in Denmark who could afford to have 5 is the queen herself.) Have you tried any Danish food, and what do you think of it? What do you think of the weather? Do you have the same plants and trees at home as we do here? How much does your school cost? (Again, there was a dull roar when the numbers were converted from dollars to kroner. Have I mentioned that in Denmark, you don't pay them to go to school, they pay you?) What are you studying? Where have you been in Denmark so far? The teacher named a few places, and I responded by saying that I hadn't been there but it's on the list of things my friends and I plan on doing. One girl then goes, "YOU HAVE FRIENDS?!" So I explained that there are a lot of kids here from my school at home, and there's a couple hundred Americans at DIS. Her next comment was, "THERE ARE MORE OF YOU?!" Apparently, Americans are kind of a big deal. This fact was reinforced when one boy said to me, "You know, I've never seen an American before!" I replied by saying that I hope I didn't look so strange that seeing me was something special. He laughed, but didn't refute it. Hmm ...

There were a lot more questions, and a lot of them were pretty funny. I was impressed by their English - I was told that it was the advanced class, but that didn't prepare me for the fact that the entire class of 15 year olds was completely fluent in English. They even had most of the grammar down, and only once or twice did they forget a word and have to ask their teacher to translate. To be honest, when I was walking over I had no idea what to expect, and I was dreading it ever so slightly. Imagine being a foreigner and going to a class of 15 year olds in the US to speak to them - I imagine it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. High schoolers are not nice people. They still scare me a bit, to tell the truth. But I had a really good time talking to these kids and was really impressed - they were excited and seemed legitimately interested, and had so many questions to ask me. Maybe they were just excited that they weren't going to have a normal lecture, but I'll never know for sure, so I might as well give them the benefit of the doubt. I think I'm going to go to my host sister's school in a few weeks, and I'm actually looking forward to it.

Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I probably won't be updating for a few weeks. I'm officially on travel break as of 4:30 this afternoon, and over the next 3 weeks I'll be heading off to London, Edinburgh, Paris, Barcelona, Munich, Venice and Florence. Try not to be too jealous. =)

US Profanity < Danish Profanity

Every Friday night, I watch X-Factor with my host family. It's basically the Danish American Idol, except that the judges aren't mean - but yes, the judging panel does still consist of a black guy, a crazy woman, and a snide old man.  And instead of Ryan Seacrest, the host is some woman who wears absolutely ridiculous clothes, which always make for good conversation. My favorite part about this show, however, is that fact that every single song is sung in English. One episode the theme was "Danish composears" and some girl still sung in English, because that's the way the Danish band wrote the song. As it turns out, there's one more thing in the show that is in English - the supportive signs that the fans wave around. One in particular caught my eye, numerous times, as it turns out, since the camera kept going back to it. It said, and I quote, "Mohammed, you're the F*CKING GREATEST!!!" With one exception - the whole word was written there, and it wasn't censored at all. Clearly, the Danes don't quite understand that that's really the worst curse word us English speakers have got.

Here's another one of my favorite examples of the differences

 in the acceptability of "profanity" between the US and Denmark. This ad was posted on the sides of bus stops for around 3 weeks. It's seemingly short stay wasn't due to some angry groups demanding that it be taken down - that's just how long ads stay around before they get rotated to something else. I got a good chuckle every time I passed one for about 3 weeks, and I'm glad I managed to take a picture of it before they all got taken down.

I also frequently hear Danish teenagers cursing at each other in English, but that's to be expected of the little drinking-cases-of beer-on-trains, pants-tucked-into-socks hooligans, really.

To be honest, I expected to have way more to put on here than I actually did. The two things I wanted to say probably weren't worth a whole entry ... 

Of Mice and Men

As it's Wednesday, I once again am finding myself with too much school work to do and not enough motivation on my day off to do it. So, as I wait for the clock to hit 17:30 so I can stick my quiche in the oven [side note: My host family probably thinks I don't eat anything healthy at all at home, considering the fact that so far, I've made quiche, fish with cream sauce, baked macaroni and cheese, Hamburger Helper (thanks to mom) and lasagna for dinner, in addition to about a million and one different baked goods ranging from muffins, brownies and banana bread (all made from scratch - not to brag or anything) and some peanut butter cookies.] I figured I'd throw up another update. I doubt it will have much of a theme, and it will probably just end up being a few random anecdotes. I'm feeling rather inspired, which probably had something to do with the fact that my current background music is Ave Maria - not exactly by choice, however. I don't know if I've ever mentioned the fact that I have the basement essentially to myself, with the exception of my host dad's work room. Because he's an artist/writer/singer/actor, he's frequently either playing piano or singing in there, and it should be said that he's absolutely amazing. As is the rest of the family. The daughter, mom and dad all sing, and the son, dad and mom play piano. Nothing puts you in a good mood quite like walking upstairs and hearing a 3 part harmony going on in addition to piano music, and I'll stop writing about it now, because words really don't do it justice. But I promise you, they're all wonderfully talented and could put every single artist on the radio and TV to shame.

This past Saturday some friends and I found ourselves at Ice Bar, which is somewhere you really just have to go while you're in Copenhagen. It's exactly what it sounds like - a 

bar made entirely out of ice, and kept constantly at -5 degrees. Everything, from the tables to the walls and cups, is made out of ice, and they give you thermal parkas and gloves so that you can stay (moderately) warm. It's absurdly expensive to actually drink there (although included in the cover charge is one free drink), so once we got in, we realized we were probably the youngest people there. I'm sure it didn't help that we were there around 10:30, and most 20-somethings don't head out until around 11-11:30, but it also didn't help that we weren't 30-40 years old with money to throw away. It was definitely a place worth going to, but I'm not going to be frequenting it in the future. My poor college wallet just can't afford it!

Yesterday morning I went into the kitchen and heard some rustling in the cabinets, and realized immediately it was either a mouse or squirrel. Why my immediate thought was squirrel, I can't really explain - but there was a fair amount of rustling, which sounded like it had to come from an animal larger than a mouse. So I open the cabinet a little to scare it away, and as I'm doing so, it occurs to me that the mouse, which was out in the middle of the day, could very well be rabid and decide to jump on my head if I opened the cabinet. I quickly closed it again, and heard the mouse run away. Or so I thought, because when I opened the cabinet for a second time, there it was, staring me down from atop the box of cookies. I slammed the door shut again, and this time heard it run across the entire kitchen by way of the connecting cabinets. Gross. Later that night I told my host dad about it, and as it turns out, my host mom is terrified of mice. She then proceeded to talk about selling the house throughout all of dinner, and whenever there was a pause in conversation she would say, "aye! En mus!". My host dad set up a mouse trap where the cookies used to be, and left for work. My host mom didn't realize that her husband had already thrown away the cookies, and wanted to get rid of any other food that was on that shelf, so she went into the kitchen, and screamed. Apparently the mouse was upset that his cookies had been removed, and decided to be waiting there to stare down whoever happened to open the cabinet next. I was legitimately worried I would need to call 221 because my host mom had had a heart attack, but she just ran out of the kitchen and seemed to be alright. About an hour later, we were watching TV and heard a loud snap which was clearly the mouse trap, and my host mom did not like this at all. I turned to her and convinced her to leave the mouse alone until her husband came back - I knew there was probably no way she'd be able to handle getting rid of it herself. She agreed, and we continued watching TV. A little while later, I went back into the kitchen to put away some glasses, and heard a lot of rustling in the kitchen - turns out, the mouse wasn't dead. This bothered my host mom even more, and she decided she just had to take care of it - so she put on some plastic gloves, and cowered in the doorway until she convinced herself that the mouse could wait until her husband came home. I went down to my room a little later, and didn't hear anything about the mouse until this afternoon, when I found out that after mouse 1 was removed, the trap was set back up, and in the morning there was a new mouse inside. Mouse 2 was removed, and by the afternoon mouse 3 had been captured too. And with every new mouse, my host mom gets more and more jumpy every time she hears any noise at all. Admittedly, it's really gross that they're in the kitchen, but I'm glad we're getting rid of them. 

Almost every time someone finds out I'm from the US, they say something to me along the lines of, "Good job with Obama!" (Really, I personally worked quite hard to make it happen). People think it's cute when I try to ask for something in Danish with my silly American accent, or when I follow up an all-English interaction with "tak!" They're more than willing to help me when I'm lost, or when there's an announcement on the train/metro and I need it translated so that I can understand. That's why I was taken very much by surprise the other day, when I was actually looked upon with disdain by an older gentleman because of where I'm from. I was standing in the supermarket, when he turned around and said something to me in Danish. I apologized, for about the millionth time that day, for not speaking Danish. He thought about it for a second, and then said, "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't skipping you in line." "No," I said, "It's alright - you were here first." So the man turns around, and about 30 seconds later turns back to me saying, "Where are you from? You don't sound like you're from the UK. Are you a student here?" quite excitedly, I might add. "Oh no," I responded, "I'm not from the UK. I'm from the US." As a response, I got a quite disgusted, "The US?" "Yes, the US." "Oh," he said, again quite disdainfully, and turned around. ... Wait, what? Now, I expected this type of interaction to happen while I'm in France, or maybe some other country. But the people here are warm and friendly, and if anything are excited that someone from the US is interesting in being in Denmark. ("Why come here?" is a question I frequently get.) I told my host parents about it later, and they were just as stunned as I was. All my host mom could say about it was, "Well, I certinaly hope he was just confused!"

I'll probably stick another short update on here later, but right now I need to go watch over dinner. It doesn't matter how long I stay here, I'll never figure out how to use this oven.

A Danish birthday extravaganza

On Monday, it was my host sister's birthday - she was turning 13, and quite excited about it. I have to say, I was pretty excited too, knowing full well that Danish birthdays had to be different from US birthdays, which is something I was actually hoping to experience while I was here. Now, keep in mind that I'm just sort of assuming most birthdays here are celebrated in a similar fashion, which probably isn't really true. Just like in the US, I'm sure different families have different traditions, but since this is the only Danish birthday celebration I've been exposed to, it's all I have to go by.

The birthday celebration actually started on Sunday (which I actually think may not have been intentional) with a visit from the two older siblings, the older sister's friend (and roommate? maybe?) my host dad's parents, an uncle and two young cousins. The night started with a game of pictionary between the "kids" (admittedly, 20-23 year olds aren't really kids anymore, but I'm at a loss for another word.) This isn't the first time I've played Pictionary since I've been here, but that doesn't mean it still wasn't a challenge. All the words are in Danish, obviously, so I always needed someone to translate them for me. Some of the words I was actually able to figure out on my own, which needless to say, made me extremely proud. Others weren't even in the dictionary, and we ended up having to pick new cards. I got crushed pretty badly, but I guess it's only fair, since my team did win the last time we played =) Later on, we all crammed around the dining room table, and somehow, we all managed to fit - an idea which defies science itself. There's actually a picture of Albert Einstein hanging on the wall next to the table, and I was convinced I saw it shake a little, because even the master of physics himself was confused by the number of people who were able to fit around that table. It was a little hard for me to understand what was going on, since everyone was so excited by the family reunion that they didn't really translate all that much for me. But let me tell you, it was pretty satisfing when I understood a word here and there. for some reason, the word "cheese" seemed to be thrown around a lot. I spent a lot of the dinner wracking my brain to try to figure out why on earth they were talking about cheese so much. It didn't occur to me until later that maybe I was simply misunderstanding, and they weren't talking about cheese quite as much as I thought. Still, I like to think they were arguing over the pros and cons of imported cheeses, or something along those lines. As usual, things are probably much more exciting in my head than in real life.

The night wound down after dinner, but the next morning the festivites started up all over again. It's the Danish tradition to wake up the birthday girl/boy in the morning with a song. I can only assume it's the Danish birthday song. Basically, the entire family parades into the bedroom, waving Danish flags and singing. At the end of the Danish birthday song, we started singing the English version, which I doubt was part of the usual tradition. Then, it was time for presents. (When I told my host family that in the US, you get your presents after dinner, they told me that was a cruel thing to do to a child.) She didn't get all of her presents, just a few - and I figured out as she was opening them that they were all the components of an outfit - a pair of shoes, jeans, a shirt, and a belt. Which meant that Josephine got to wear a cute new outfit to school on her birthday, which I think is a very smart idea. I decided to give her my present then, too - I have her a Pandora charm for her bracelet, and she really seemed to like it. She put it on her bracelet right away and wore that too, so my gift seemed to fit right in with the "new outfit" theme. We then went into the dining room for breakfast - and the table was covered in a table cloth with Danish flags all over it. It's a funny concept, because I don't think anyone really celebrates their birthday by waving the American flag around. We had rolls and hot chocolate, and I unfortunately didn't have time to sit for very long, because I needed to catch the 7:35 bus.

By the time I got home at 7 that night, the house was full with family, and once again they all managed to squeeze around the dining room table (although this time, since there were more people, there was an extra table in there.) They had all already started eating, so I just grabbed a seat and joined in. I was introduced to my host mom's brother, his wife and son, and my host dad's sister. The grandparents were still there, as were the older sister, her friend, and boyfriend (who showed up a few minutes after I did, so I didn't feel so bad about having to be late due to class). Dinner was Mexican, and I was the lucky one to take a giant bite of red chili pepper - I think I singed off half my taste buds. Luckily everyone seemed to get a good laugh out of the situation, so hey, at least some good came out of it. We stayed at the table talking for a while, then had a raspberry tart for dessert. After that, the dad started playing the piano and everyone (but me, obviously) joined in to sing the birthday song. Apparently, the Danish birthday song has about a million and one verses. I'm not exaggerating. We got to sing the English version too, and I was able to join in on that one. I was, however, a bit surprised when they continuted on after the traditional song, and sang "How old are you now" to the tune of the regular song, and Josephine responded with a solo, singing "I'm 13 years old now" to the same tune. The brother then asked me what the correct words were, because he thought his sister was doing it wrong. My immediate thought was, "hell if I know!" But I decided that probably wasn't the best answer, and I explained that all we ever sing is the first part. They thought this was very funny. Silly Americans and their silly short songs.

Since I was gone at class all day, I missed out on the rest of the birthday tradition - which apparently included all the girls in Josephine's class coming over after school for cake and cocoa, and her opening the rest of her presents. There were a few small differences from the birthday celebrations I'm used to, but overall they were essentially the same. The most striking difference was probably the prominant role of the Danish flag (apparently a very large one was hung up outside the house - I didn't get to see it because it was dark when I came home), which you would never see at home (and not just because it's the Danish flag. Ha.)

Christiana - The city within a city

There are just some things that you can't even imagine happening in the US. The formation of a city like Christiana is one of them. I'm sure I'll butcher the history behind it, but I promise you, I've got the basic gist of it, and as crazy as it may sound, it is true.

Since Copenhagen is on the water, military ramparts were built as protection. Eventually, they were no longer needed and were abandoned. In 1971, a group of people decided to take over the area, and declared it a free town. And basically, the government let them. The citizens don't pay regular taxes, and are mostly self-governing. There are signs throughout the city stating the laws, some of which being: No stealing, no biker colors, no hard drugs, no bullet proof clothing, no littering and no personal cars. And yes, the citizens of Christiana do make a specification between hard drugs and hash - and hash is completely legal. In fact, the most famous "attraction" in the city is a street called Pusher Street, and it's exactly what it sounds like. There are numerous stands where you can choose from a wide variety of hash products. Not being up on my drug culture, I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking at, but I can honestly say I didn't realize there were so many varieties out there. In addition to the hash stands, there are stands which sell marijuana paraphernalia, which are grouped in a small cluster at the end of Pusher Street. My favorite part of the system, I think, is the fact that the paraphernalia stores sell small Ziploc bags to hold the pot in - and the dealers can be seen running back and forth between their hash stands and the vendors whenever they feel they're running low. On more than a few occasions there have been police raids on the city due to the open selling of drugs, but because hard drugs are outlawed even in Christiana, the police generally leave them alone. 

In case you haven't figured it out by now, the city of Christiana is essentially a hippie town. Every building is covered in graffiti - but unlike in the US, the graffiti is pretty and peaceful. There are pictures of trees and animals, sayings like "free love" and other creative drawings. There are no curse words or typical tagging that you would see back at home. They have their own flag (red, with three yellow circles in a horizontal line) and their own postal system. There are stands all around the city called "give and take," which are essentially the clothing equivalent of "take a penny leave a penny." There are dogs running free everywhere - they all are clean and healthy, and have tags and collars, but none of them are kept on leashes (This is why my host dad refuses to visit Christiana. He's terrified of dogs, but will never admit it. He just "doesn't like them."). And I think these were some of the largest dogs I have ever seen in my life. Some of the best vegetarian restaurants in all of Denmark are located in Christiana - my friend and I actually went into one of them and got an amazing bowl of soup. Really, it was delicious. If I lived in Christiana and was a vegetarian, I'd probably end up being very fat. There are trashcan fires almost everywhere you look, which means that I ended up coming home smelling like campfire and pot (Oh, did I mention people would use the fires to light blunts, right there in the street?). The place is very family-friendly, believe it or not, and there are children's playgrounds everywhere. There are rainbow slides, tire swings, play houses, and zip lines, all homemade but apparently very safe. (It was a gorgeous day today, and there were children climbing all over everything, so they must have been sturdy at the very least.) The entire city is painted in one way or another, and there's not a single "normal" colored building to be found. They're all covered in murals, or drawings, or tile mosaics, or tapestries. All the city maps which are placed around the area for use by tourists are home-made - we saw one which was done in crayon, and another which was painted on a plank of wood, with the outline of the city shaped from wire, and the major attractions represented by nails. Many of the houses were built by the people who live in them, and are extremely modern looking. The buildings throughout the city are considered "architecture without architects," and many famous architects spend time in Christiana to get inspiration.

Unfortunately, there is a strict "no camera" policy in Christiana (probably because there has been more pressure from the government for the city to dissolve itself as of late), and despite the fact that the people who live there are extremely friendly, there have been stories of the residents taking cameras and breaking them on the stop without a thought. So, I don't have any pictures to share, only my stories. I fully plan on going back as soon as it gets a little warmer out - there are open air concerts every day during the summer, and I'm sure it would be an entirely different place!

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.