timmyintransit

its almost over?!?

2006-12-20T10:21:00.000+01:00

wow. i cannot believe that this trip will conclude in under 48 hours. i hope to conjure up one last reflective post about this entire journey. but before then, let me tell briefy of two other adventures i had recenty: a trip back to møn and hamburg.

møn began at 5:30am, as Nicole and I wanted to see the cliffs while there was sunlight. because i am hundreds upon hundreds of miles more north than practically everyone reading this, the sun is out for about 6 hours a day. it doesnt rise until sometime after 8, and sets before 4. okay, maybe thats closer to 8 hours...but you know what i mean.

nevertheless the cliffs were (yet again) beautiful. whilst there we met these two older Danish men, and I was even able to speak to them in Danish a little bit (hooray C+ on the oral final!). i learned that they were from southern zealand, and both retired. one even collected old russian military artifacts. i'm not kidding - he gave me his card. the other man gave us 20 kroner for is (ice cream) and we went on our merry way, having a lovely picnic on this large rock a little out from the shore.

it was nice to enjoy møn without having to run 3 miles in under 45 minutes. despite i losing my ticket at nørreport station (which i later found), the trip went off without any major issues.

jump to friday, where i got paid for my work study job. rather than simply blow all of it on booze and other nefarious deeds (just kidding!), i decided to take advantage of this mega sale that dsb (that danish national railway, similar to amtrak) had for hamburg. i remembered that hamburg was a cool city from this german fellow i met two years in montreal, so i decided to take advantage of the deal and go there.

because my so decision was so last minute, i travelled by my lonesome. that however did not the hilarity that ensued there. overall, hamburg was a fascinating city as it doesnt looked like it got bombed to hell sixty years ago. and its a port city that is actually nice - i didnt know such places existed, but hamburg's it! despite having a rather large red light district, the city seemed to be a really safe place. the hostel i stayed at was not great (no kitchen! how can they get away with this!?!), and hardly anyone was there because it was a week or so before christmas. but the location was superb - it was very reminiscent of greenwich village in nyc. lots of (attractive) females, hipsters, punks, hippies, etc dwelled in the area.

but let me summarize the entire trip in small bullet-esque points:

on the train to hamburg i sat across this guy who used to work for dis, so we discussed the program

the hostel i stayed at didnt have a kitchen, but instead this organic restaurant. my waiter there was this rumanian film student studying in hamburg so he gave me his email address and said he wanted "to see my work." we first started talking when he asked where i was from, and upon hearing Boston, he responded "oh, culture there. no cowboys." (i am going to write about this phenomenon on a latter date. its gotten really, really annoying).

in the red light district this old asian couple was having a loud argument and the women was throwing all this clothes off the top floor

some squatters almost puked on me under a bridge i was walking through

i went to this german punk/hc show at this ungdom huset (thats the type of place that had the riots here in copenhagen last saturday. if you havent heard about it, look it up. pretty crazy stuff) where this obviously drugged up dude told me to "f--- off and die" because i didnt speak german or have any rolling papers. needless to say, that pump a damper on the rest of my evening.

at this other bar i went to the bartender was wearing a tshirt of a motorcycle store in worcester (Sheldon's to be exact). i asked him where in the world he got it as i am from worcester, but he just said "second hand store"

sunday morning i went to a fishmarket, where there were lots of festivities going on. later on during the day as i was meandering toward the train station, numerous christmas markets littered the entire downtown of hamburg. and by numerous i mean about 1000. i've been to christmas markets in three different countries, and these were by far the best. but then, the germans did somewhat invent christmas as we know it.

so overall i had a great time. i just wish a was with someone, and/or spoke german. which is something that really bothered me: no one spoke english. now, i dont mean this in an ethnocentrist way (wow, i just actually used that term in an unironic way. i am going to light myself on fire now). but if there is one nation that should theoretically speak english as its second language, it is germany. does the marshall plan ring a bell?

although it may seem i am completely enjoying myself here (which i am) and dont ever want to return home, thats not that case. i actually want to go home. after going to hamburg, i felt ready to return to the states for a multitude of reasons. i'll post these later (hooray cliffhangers!).

as always, photos are here.

eesti

2006-12-07T22:09:00.000+01:00

So guess where I went this past weekend? That’s right, Estonia!

Now, I had always wanted to visit a Baltic State. I had no real reason, but I thought it would be really unique to do so. Luckily I met a friend who is second generation Estonian, and her parents owned an apartment in Tallinn (which is the capital). So needless to say, I took her up on her offer.

So jump to this past weekend where I and three other friends visited Estonia. We arrived rather late on Friday night (about 11pm), so we just hung around the apartment. Hillevi’s (whose apartment it was) mom was also there for the weekend, so she made us some Estonian cuisine. The biggest dish they serve is blood sausage, which is exactly as it sounds – sausage with blood. In all actuality, it was extremely delicious.

Saturday we went and visited the Old Town. Because we were about a mile outside of the Old Town we got to walk for a bit through the outskirts of town (Tallinn is really small. I think the population is only about 400k, and the entire Estonian population is a mere 1.2 million or so). It was really a unique sight, as there were old houses from the turn of the previous century, soviet style complexes, and empty lots all strewn together. At first I was abhorred, but then I eventually discovered a certain charm to it – kind of like Baltimore and Worcester.

Old Town was absolutely beautiful. Essentially, it’s an old medieval fortress on a hill. And what made my appreciation of it even greater was that it was not uber-touristy. Sure there were some tourists (e.g. me), but not a plethora so that things were tacky. We spent the day wandering around, visiting museums and churches and whatever else caught our eyes. We saw this great exhibit on Bernt Notke’s morbid “Dance of Death” at the Niguliste Church, along with this contemporary Estonian painter Navitrolla’s studio. Be sure to check out both artist and work of art, as they are quite unique.

After several more museums and visiting the Christmas Market at the town hall square (which was built in the 1400s!), we decided to kill some time at a cigar lounge. That’s right, I went to a cigar lounge in Tallinn, smoked Cubans (hooray items that aren’t contraband everywhere else!), drank some brandy, and discussed the economy. I felt quite Victorian.

Saturday’s dinner was provided by Hillevi’s mom (as the slang-idiom goes: “we got the hookup!”), and I had more blood sausage. My friend Matt had the pork knuckle (another Estonian staple) that I was too timid to attempt, as I am not barbaric enough.

But the highlight of the entire trip was going to these cellar bars in Tallinn. That’s not to suggest that drinking is my fondest memories, but there was a level of ambience at these places that I had never experienced before. They were essentially speakeasies, as there were no signs demarking them – just a staircase into a basement door. The insides were essentially medieval cellars with electricity. No tacky décor, no loud and obnoxious music, just people sitting around talking. They were listed as “Dive Bars” in this guidebook I had, but that is a clumsy and improper title.

On Sunday Hellevi and Matt flew back to Copenhagen leaving Abbie and I on our own in the city. We went and visited the Open Air Museum, which was the reconstructed Medieval Estonian Village (think Plymouth Plantation, only way less tacky). There were hardly any other visitors there, and it was a really nice day so it was quite enjoyable to walk around open spaces in nice weather.

Because we had to depart Tallinn at 6:30am on Monday, Sunday night was quite uneventful. That did not stop me however from walking around the neighborhood. I saw more of the same three neighborhood elements as I mentioned earlier. All in all, I was kind of disappointed that weren’t many Soviet relics remaining, but given as Estonia was occupied by the USSR for over fifty years, I suppose its not surprising.

So on Monday we both got up, with some help from Hillevi’s mom, at 5:30am and hopped on a cab to the airport. We departed at 6:30am, and got into Copenhagen at 7:30am. To make matters more depressing/frustrating, IT WAS STILL DARK. Nevertheless, I arrived at school just before a class and handed in the big paper that was due. After that class I had to take a culture test in my Danish class. A couple classes later I attended my Danish friends Christmas party, before retiring home and passing out at midnight. I’ve had some long days in my old age, but that ranks up at the top.

Nevertheless, I really enjoyed Tallinn, and want to go back to visit it and the rest of the country. Everyone else should do the same as well. It is really fascinating to see how far they’ve westernized since they became independent fifteen years ago. Oh yea, and it is really cheap there too. So if you want some exotic place to visit that isn’t too heavy on the wallet, I highly recommend Estonia. Personally, it’s been the icing on this entire amazing journey I’ve had in Europe.

as always, photos are here

what i've been up to

2006-12-01T00:38:00.000+01:00

since i've gotten back into copenhagen, i've been quite busy. here's a quick rundown of some of the highlights:

the discovery of the film institute.
this is a recent development, that i wish i had taken advantage of awhile back. i knew it existed and visited it, i just never went there to watch movies. well i've gone to two this week, and plan on seeing many more in the future. this place is immaculate, and i think i may do my grad work there.

exploring all the coffee shops this city has to offer.
when i would go into boston, it would be usually to see a film and/or go to a cafe. for some reason, that habit did not carry over to when i got here for the first month or so. well, now my friend kevin and i are on a mission to visit 2 a week. soon i will be able to give a full account of every coffee shop and cafe here in copenhagen. because, you know, knowledge like that is useful.

louisiana art museum
this modern and contemporary art museum is a sight everyone needs to see if they ever visit Denmark. it is built on the edge of the water, and the corridors are all glass, so when passing from exhibit to exhibit you can look out and see water, trees, and other pleasantries. the guide mentioned that nature was supposed to act as a background for all the art.
but what was really interesting there was the huge film still exhibit. each section of the exhibit dealt with a theme, and would supply film stills to display that theme. it was pulled off masterfully, although there were many questionable films in the exhibit (eg. the day after tomorrow. seriously, who allowed that?)
it was also nice to get out of the city, and visit a small town. luckily it was a beautiful day out, so a friend and i were able to see the sunset (which is a rare occurrence as it always cloudy here) at 4pm.

new people i've met
meeting new and amazing people is always enjoyable when school ends in three weeks!

two days of thanksgiving
thats right, i had two feasts to celebrate thanksgiving, of which each were equal in their grandeur and fun. i think i am still full a week later.

discovery of a massive church near my apartment.
this place looks like a spaceship. i'm not kidding. here is some proof: and i've also taken advantage of how everything is closed here on sundays, and been going on walks around the beautiful parks and lakes near my apartment. i really enjoy where i live, and will be sad to leave it more than anything else.

bike trips
and lastly, i used the money DIS gave me for a public-transit pass and bought a bicycle as soon as i got back. so whenever its been nice out (which hasnt been too much, sadly) i go on a bike ride to some different part of the city i've never been to. this had been great as its made me feel more a part of the Danish culture AND i get to see new areas whenever i want. its like getting your driving license all over again. although one time i was exploring and both my tires went flat, and it was terrible. but thats another story.

so that is all for know. i'm very ambivalent about returning home, as i feel i've suddenly found my niche here. but then again, that ALWAYS happens. as i always say: "alas".

now if you'll excuse me, i am going to estonia tomorrow. ta-ta!

ireland.

2006-11-25T18:16:00.000+01:00

So I went to Ireland a long time ago, and mentioned how amazing it was and how I couldn’t wait to write about it. Remember that? Nah, I don’t either.

Okay, I do. Sorry it took so long to update, but I’ve been really busy with school. These next few weeks are going to destroy me. But hey, I’d rather be doing this than cleaning a meat room (which I return to when I get home. Please, someone shoot me.)

But my travels in Ireland began in Dublin, a city I had high expectations for. As you know already, those expectations were not met – at all. I was fortunate enough to meet some students from Notre Dame at the airport, and we spent Friday night visiting some of the thousand pubs that exist in the city. But my night was brief, as I needed to meet Chris at the airport extremely early.

The only portion of Dublin worth mentioning was when we visited St. Michan’s Church, and took a tour of their crypt. Our tour guide was somewhat crazy, but a priceless raconteur. He showed us some exposed mummies, and even allowed us to touch one that was the skeleton of a Crusading Knight. I thought touching a skeleton would be very creepy, but it was less scary than I imagined. I was amazed how well preserved the bone was, but limestone apparently is good for keeping places dry.

So skip to the next day, when Chris and I had to go out to Dingle. Now, we hadn’t booked a hostel yet and my phone was not working so I was quite worried on the travel over there. But luckily we were able to find a payphone, and procure a place at the Ballintaggart Hostel (which as I mentioned earlier, was the best place we stayed at). We spent that night touring the tiny town, before stumbling upon a pub where traditional Irish music was playing. Unfortunately, this was the only time we heard trad music during our tenure there, as most pubs had places playing American music (this one place in Galway had a BLUES band. They were really good, but I was in Ireland, not Memphis).

Chris and I rented bicycles the next day and biked all around the western portion of the peninsula. It was so pleasant out that we were riding in short sleeves, which for the middle of October is not necessarily commonplace. The landscape was simply beautiful. I wish I could use some more hyperbole, but I think being minimalist in this situation is just as effective. Just visit there – you’ll understand.

Our stint in Dingle ended on Tuesday, when we trekked up in Galway. Keeping with our trend of not booking ahead of time, only to find out we didn’t need to anyway; we stayed at this rather sterile hostel in Dingle. However, we met some really cool and interesting people from the States and Canada. Most notable was this guy from Wyoming, who we spent some time with and would later meet up with in Belfast.

But the nights in Galway are probably the best memories I possess. We found this really large, fun pub called the Black Rose (it was actually in Gaelic, but I don’t remember how it was spelt: Roisen Dubh or something). There we randomly met these Irish Girls, who soon enough introduced their fellow Irish friends, who with their New Zealander “mates”, who were also with these French and German girls. Oh yea, and these two older guys from South Africa and Portugal were involved in this (large) crowd. The pub turned into a dance club after-hours, so needless to say we danced. Luckily, Europeans are terrible at dancing so our buffoonery was not as lame as it would have been stateside.

On Wednesday we attempted to rent a boat and row to this nearby castle, but because it was pouring outside, and being the middle of October, we were unsuccessful. Needless to say, it was a day spent indoors reading, which is always nice from time to time.

We were originally going to leave on Thursday for some unknown location in Northwestern Ireland, but because a) we weren’t in the mood to leave Galway and b) a musician Chris really enjoys was having a free show that night we decided to stick around another day. We made good use of it, and visited the Cliffs of Moher, and passed through the Burren. The two landscapes were entirely different, but both amazingly beautiful. The Cliffs were absolutely massive, and so windy that at some parts you had to walk backwards because the wind gusts were so strong that it blew your breath back into your lungs. The Burren is this large landmass that is covered in limestone. On Thursday night we saw James Yorkston (check him out by the way. Good stuff) and ran into the same people that we met on Tuesday.

So on Friday, with our amazing journey quickly ending, we arrived at our final location: Belfast. I must say that Belfast was probably the most enjoyable place we visited. Perhaps it was the culmination of an already amazing week, or that I was totally unprepared for what and who we were about to meet. It was probably both, but nevertheless it was incredible. From the moment we arrived at our hostel, we felt at home. Everyone, including the staff, was so friendly, that we all went out for drinks. Now, this never happens at hostels, or anyone for that matter.

We went to this pub that was once a communist printing press, until it was bombed during The Troubles. Now it houses a HUGE variety of whiskeys, and that night was host to a Halloween party. It was humorous to see the different costumes, the best being a girl dressed as a Rubik’s cube. Personally, the funniest moment for me that night was in the bathroom, where a man dressed up as Robin Hood stumbled in, shouted something completely incoherent, was then immediately picked up by a bouncer, and brought outside. It was surreal.

Saturday Chris and I went for a walk to the Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods to see the murals. I had really wanted to take a Black Cab Tour around the neighborhoods, as they provide a personal account of what it was like living, or growing up, during that period. However, we were really short on funds so we decided to do it on our own. When I go back to Belfast, I am going to make sure to have enough pounds take the tour.

I think wandering around on our owns was more beneficial anyway, as we stumbled upon really interesting things: the Sinn Fein headquarters; a massive wall that still divides the two neighborhoods; an old checkpoint gate; an array of Protestant and Catholic murals; and a pleasant park. I’m not going to give an account of the conflict that occurred in Northern Ireland, as it would take awhile and I am unsure of my accuracy. But you should read about it though. It’s amazing that a conflict of that ferocity and magnitude (from a civilian perspective) occurred within Western culture since the Second World War. It is also appalling that I knew very little about it, other than it being some religious conflict, which is really only the tip of the iceberg (and not necessarily correct).

So there you go. Sorry it took so long to post it, and I must admit I don’t think I recapped it well. But alas. Photos are here and here.

Chris – if you have any additional comments or stories, feel free to post them.

visiting d-day

2006-11-12T21:51:00.000+01:00

[I decided to break the posts into two, because as one it would be too long]

So ANYWAY, the next day I toured Normandy. Unfortunately I had to leave the really amazing hostel at 7am, because I had to walk to the train station and be there by 8am for my tour started then. Around 8am, a young man stepped out of the van and asked if I was Tim, and told me that I would be the only one of the morning tour. From that moment, I knew that the day was going to be amazing.

My guide, Patrice, first drove me to Utah Beach and showed me around. Luckily it was sunny, so I got to see a lot of the beach and surrounding area. It was high tide however, so the beach was drastically smaller than it would have been. I got to roam around the beach and the remaining bunkers that weren’t filled in with sand (their filling wasn’t intentional, but just natural. I mean, D-DAY was sixty years ago).

After Utah Beach we went to Ste-Mere-Eglise, were the 82nd Airborne was supposed to land and capture the town. As we all know, the droppings didn’t go to plan and they (and the 101st) were scattered practically everywhere. Nevertheless this one paratrooper, John Steele, landed on the Church and to commemorate him being there for the amount of time he was (several hours), a dummy paratrooper is still hanging from the spire. There was a museum in town that I went to, which was interesting but the manikins dressed in army gear was extremely tacky. What was most fascinating about the museum was a film that was shown about the battle to liberate the town. In it, it discussed the total deaths of D-Day. My numbers may be a bit off, and I don’t know if it was accurate/how they got these figures, but I remember it stating that 80,000 Allied Soldiers died compared to 200,000 German. That immense discrepancy impacted me, for I never considered the amount of German lives the battle took. Later when I visited the German cemetery, I would discover that a majority of those killed were younger than I was (and I’m only 21…)

After Ste. Mere Eglise, Patrice showed me these small villages where battles took place that I had never heard of. As we drove through the country side, it was powerful to imagine the chaos that must have been going on during the initial hours, and that some random soldier was walking the roads I was travelling on, not fully knowing where he was or who was around him. One of the places we went to was Graingers where a massacre occured (more on it here), and the other was St. Côme-du-Mont, where this man Joseph Beyrle began his amazing story throughout World War II. I would explain, but it would honestly take awhile. More info is here. I also noticed the plethora of American flags and paraphernalia both in the town around Normandy. I mean, the US did liberate France...but its also France. It really was an odd sight to see and then attempt to rationalize.

The morning session drew to a close, and the afternoon one began with a new tour guide and group. I was kind of annoyed at first, because I really enjoyed traveling around with my own personal guide, but I eventually enjoyed the new one, Oliver who was born in Normandy and whose father fought in the French resistance. The group however…well I’ll just say this: young kids, and people my age from California. Get the point? Okay, let’s move on…

We toured Pointe du Hoc, which was stilled cratered from the intense bombing and battle that occurred there. After which we went to Omaha Beach, which was interesting on two levels: first, it was HUGE. It was low tide by this time in the afternoon, so the beach extended for a quarter mile or so (I don’t know really, it was just really long); and there were also houses built on the beach. Now, I am quite ambivalent about this and don’t necessarily feel like sharing on this because this post is already ridiculously long.

Finally we visited the American Cemetery, which really put the entire battle into perspective. There were bells that occasionally playing “God Bless America,” which obviously triggered an emotional response (along with the row upon row of crosses and Stars of David.

Before long I was back in Paris, where I completed my travel break. I didn’t do too much there, save for wandering around and seeing the sights. The last night there Katie’s cousin took us out for dinner at this great streak house, where I had the rawest meat I’ve eaten and it was delicious (oh, and some nice French wine).

I probably should give Paris more justice, but because it was the end of the tour I was practically broke, and very weary of traveling. I had seen sights that I will probably never see again, although I hope I can one more time. I had been on the road, a nomad for three weeks and was ready to return to a place that I called “home” whereupon I could do laundry for cheap and sleep in my own bed. And come morning, not worry about having to catch a bus, train, or airplane; or that breakfast was ending soon and I would have to check out shortly thereafter. Once you begin traveling, you are infected with some desire to see and do everything that you can. But its also nice to have a place you can return to and see people that experienced different, yet similar experiences – which I think is the greatest facet I will take out of my tenure here. When people think of traveling to different continents, it is made to seem that they are traveling to outer space (well, I suppose Tokyo is like that). I know that before I came to Denmark I was told of/envisioned some socialist utopia where everyone is tall, blond, and beautiful. What I discovered is that wasn’t really the case (except for the beautiful part). Yet despite the language and cultural differences, everyone is still human. Everything that ranges from their leisure time, to emotions, to architecture, to the public transit systems are essentially the same. Some claim that this is the product of “globalization,” but its so much more basic than that. It’s about the current that runs in between each human - our souls perhaps?

Wow, sorry I kinda got carried away with that. I hope that I covered every topic during these few days, although I probably forgot some really funny and interesting things. But whatever, I’ll add them when I remember. Photos of my adventure are here.

prelude to normandy

2006-11-12T21:47:00.000+01:00

Sorry for the delay with updating – I had a rather busy week and weekend. I was going to enjoy a quiet Saturday by a) refining what I already wrote by adding some facets I forgot; and b) write about Paris and Normandy. However I was awoken early on Saturday morning by a phone call from my friend Zack, asking if I wanted to play at this nearby indoor Frisbee tournament for this coed Norwegian Team. [Quick note – in Frisbee there are two groups: open and girls. Girls can play on guys teams (thus making it “open”) but guys cannot play on girls team. Most “open” teams are usually just guys though.] I obviously accepted and have been since playing ultimate. Needless to say I am very sore, as I haven’t had any real physical activity in three weeks; and our team only had two subs, two girls, and one dude with a bad toe. But here goes (warning, its VERY long):

Mariah and I got into Paris sometime on Tuesday night and checked into the (bad) hostel. I had a horrible time trying to make a phone call to the hostel in Bayeux as my international sim card, which hadn’t worked AT ALL yet, wasn’t working either. In Ireland I was able to survive because their phones used change. In France however, you need to purchase a seven-fifty euro phone card – which also didn’t work. It’s been two weeks and I am still angry about that. Nevertheless I/we met some of Mariah’s friends from her school in Italy, and we spent Halloween night wandering around Paris.

I was quite worried when I first got to Paris, as I was supposed to go to Bayeux the next day but I had not: contacted the hostel to see if there was any vacancy; purchased a train ticket; or spoken with my other friend whom I was meeting in the city as both of our phones weren’t working. Luckily Katie gave me the address of the Hotel her mother and she were staying at, so I quickly left the hostel and went to the hotel at around 11am (which is when most places require you to check out). When I got into the hotel, I pretended that I was someone really important and that I needed to know whether the two of them had checked out or not. The lady at the desk offered me a telephone to call the room. I did, and discovered that they were in fact still there. I met them in the lobby, whereupon Katie’s cousin, who was living in Paris, also arrived to meet them. I told Katie my situation with Bayeux, and her cousin offered his cell phone to me to make the call. I did, and found out that there was in fact vacancy so I could sleep there at the hostel, and not have to cancel my reservation for touring Normandy the next day.

With the heavy burden off my shoulders, the three of us (Katie’s mom having flew home) went to a friend of Katie’s cousin, where he cooked us French toast. The rest of the afternoon was spent with us lounging around until I had to leave for the train station. Needless to say with all the traveling and the near disaster I managed to avoid, doing nothing for a few hours and watching television while someone cooks you food was WONDERFUL.

So in Europe, you need to validate your train ticket before boarding the train – otherwise you’ll get scolded and/or fined. When the train for Bayeux departed, I realized that I had in fact forgotten to validate my ticket. Luckily a rather cute gal was sitting across from me and I was able to ask her (in French that is) if she spoke English, and if not validating your ticket was a big deal. In a very friendly manner she said yes to both. I was worried that I would infuriate a French conductor (already did it in Italy and its not enjoyable) and then get fined, more so than an attractive and seemingly kind French gal, that was willing to speak English, was sitting across from me. Luckily my anxiety subsided when she reassured me that it wasn’t too big a deal, but I should notify a conductor when they walked by. She even told me how to say it in French! (No conductor however ever came by to check, so that crisis was avoided). Before long we were engaged in a conversation for the entire train ride about all sorts of things. Among which are: she thinking I was English (why does this keep happening!?); my lack of “American” (i.e. Texan) accent; her being an art student at Toulouse; the French Rivera and Provence; her laughing/reveling at the European-language phrasebook and guidebook I had on me; and how she was from Normandy. Not to get sappy but I think I fell in love that night, and by the way she said goodbye and how nice it was to meet me I think the emotions were mutual. Alas.

Like any small town in Europe, Bayeux was extremely old and beautiful. I had to walk through it to get from the train station to the hostel, and felt (surprisingly) at home. It was so quiet and serene, and it was really nice to be alone for an extended period of time. The cathedral was light up so beautifully that I was just totally in awe – on my list of favorite places I visited, it is one of the best. And the hostel there was equally as amazing. It was in an extremely old building that wasn’t a house or a mansion – it was really quite unique. The woman running it didn’t really speak any English, as she just gave me my key and asked for 20 euros. I had my entire room to myself, which was quite a relief as the night prior in Paris was tumultuous because of these two German girls stumbling in around 3am and making lots of noise (but that’s another story for another time). Once of the best memories of my trip was as I waited for my dinner to cook, I stood outside and reveled in how peaceful it was. The weather was also wonderful - just brisk enough that a sweatshirt suffices. There weren’t very many people in the hostel (I would say 5 total), but I was able to bump into this girl from the States who recently graduated college and was currently teaching English south of Lyon, and we watched a soccer blooper tape from the 1980s – in French. There was also this other guy in the room, but he never spoke so I don’t have anything to say about him.

Venice was nice. Nice was nice too.

2006-11-06T22:14:00.000+01:00

So I figure that until I receive the photos of Ireland from Chris, I am going to write about the third week of my adventures. I don’t really need the photos, but they would assist in creating a better narrative of the trip (plus they look better than mine).
My trip to Venice and France really began on a Saturday Night (the 28th of October to be exact) in Belfast. Because I had a 6:30am flight from Dublin to Venice on Sunday Morning, I decided to take a 1am bus out of Belfast to Dublin, rather than be in the airport for six plus hours. This may sound illogical, but I had no intention on sleeping anyway.
As Chris and I were waiting for the bus to arrive, a fight broke out at the nightclub next to the bus stop. Being as it was Halloween weekend, this just wasn’t any fight – it was a fight involving a kid dressed up as a priest, another as a woman, and others as lamer costumes. I don’t really know how it started, but I do remember bottles being chucked against the side of the club, a fire hose being used on the said kids, and someone getting punched and kicked in the face. Oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid. Not to be crass or macabre, but it was actually comical. Perhaps because one of the assailants was wearing an exposed fake breast set that flopped out of a torn flower decor dress, and the other kept shouting “I’m a priest!!” It was surreal.
Anyway, I was able to get on the bus and avoid the fight. I slept the entire two-hour bus ride, and arrived to the airport at 2:30am. I remember it was now daylight savings time, so I had another hour to kill at the airport. So I made the best of it and slept on the floor. After an hour of sleep, I found a gal that had been at the hostel in Belfast with me, and we went to the check in gate at 4:00am. You’d be surprised how busy airports are at such ungodly hours; it is almost disturbing.
So I arrived in Venice (or Treviso, which wasn’t close to Venice. Again, these budget airlines really get you with baggage fees and airports nowhere near your destination. Thank God Southwest and jetBlue do not pull that crap) at 9:30 after sleeping the entire plane ride. I met Mariah at the train station in Mestre; checked into the hostel in Fusina; took a ferry to Venice; and began our adventures.
Venice was scenic in a unique way, and the weather was just perfect. The canals weaved their way through the city and created a complete maze. It was however, immensely touristed. I didn’t mind, because it was just so cool. Yet our patience soon subsided as we discovered two things: there were way too many people to really enjoy the city; and there wasn’t much to do in the Venice anyway – San Marco is about it. Thus we looked for a less touristy spot. Luckily, because I had been just reading Death In Venice I remembered the Lido as being quite tranquil. So we took another water taxi and headed there.
The Lido lived up it is hype, and then some. It was so quiet and beautiful, being as we arrived in the late afternoon on a Sunday. We wandered along the endless beaches until the sun was beginning to set, and we decided we should slowly head back to Venice, and then the hostel. And that I should get some sleep.
My only comment to those going to Venice and trying to leave at night is this: buy some gelato, relax, and don’t worry about getting lost – it’s inevitable. Even if you think you know where you’re going, you don’t. All the canals and alleys are so complicated that even a taxi driver would get hopelessly lost. Plus, getting lost and then finding your way, only to repeat the steps six thousand more times is actually fun.
The next morning (after actually getting a nights sleep) we took a train from Venice to Nice via Milan, Genoa, Monaco and Cannes. I don’t have much to say about that because it was immensely long and uneventful. Although the countryside was quite nice.
Speaking of Nice…we arrived on Monday night. It seemed a lively city, and it retrospect I wish we could have spent another day. I finally got to see palm trees in a (seemingly) native habitat; and, not that I ever had any intention to, I no longer need to go to Miami for I visited the French version. The only really complaint I had with our tenure there was that the entire main drag and square was under construction. I don’t understand who/how this was allowed to happen. It would be like if Boston suddenly decided to close down and do construction on Mass Ave and the Common. And that the hostel we stayed at didn’t have a stove. I mean…how is that possible? I didn’t book the hostel, but I feel that if I did, I would hope to see that as a MAJOR disclaimer about that. If anyone is wondering, spaghetti is possible in a microwave. It just doesn’t taste good.
On Tuesday the weather was 21.5 degrees Celsius, which is about 70-75 Fahrenheit. Needless to say, we had a picnic and I saw in the MEDITERANEAN SEA! Okay, I didn’t really swim – but I did get a third of my body wet. The only issue was that the beach we were at, like all beaches in Nice, was topless. I got to admit, I never really got used to the public nudity. It wasn’t that it was totally omnipresent, but it was enough to make two outsiders feel very awkward after awhile.
After browsing the lovely MAMAC (Musee d’Art Moderne et d’Art Contemporain), we discovered that the bus line to the airport was on strike. Luckily, a German couple was also experiencing the same problem (they kept saying “catastrophe!”) so we decided to split a cab to the airport. They mentioned that they had visited and really enjoyed Miami, which I found humorous because we basically were in Miami; albeit the French version. I probably shouldn’t be writing this, but what the heck – security at the airport there was a joke. Nevertheless it was one less hassle to endure, and before long we were on a plane to Paris!

I’m going to write about Paris and Normandy at a later date for this post is already long enough, and those two locations (especially Normandy) had enough stories to warrant a novella, let alone a silly blog post. Photos from Venice and Nice are here.

i just got back from travelling europe and boy is my but tired..

2006-11-05T15:46:00.000+01:00

So I had this witty recap post that somehow got deleted. Nevertheless here is what I can remember from it:

Thousands of miles crossed, eight cities, seven different airports, six countries, five beaches, four national transit lines, three languages “learned”, two seas, two battlefields, one channel, one ocean, one French beauty, and an empty bank account.

Overall, it was amazing. I’m going to write about each consecutive week in a separate post, although the week in Ireland may take a bit because I am waiting for the photos from Chris. But here is a list to recap what went down.

Best Country: Ireland
Everyone needs to visit this place. Doesn’t really matter where you go as there is so much there. Just stay away from Dublin.

Best City: Galway
An Irish college town! Why wouldn’t it be the best?

Most Touristy Spot: Venice
Although it was really beautiful and interesting, the amount of tourists was appalling. No wonder the city is losing population in droves. That, and its sinking into the sea.

Biggest Disappointment: Dublin
Speaking of touristy spots, Dublin was way too crowded to be enjoyable. It was like some simulacra of Irish Culture. Yuck.

Best Pub: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, London.
The BEST eating and drinking establishment I have ever been to. If you're ever in London, visit this place. You wont regret it.

Best Scenery: Dingle
Okay, the whole of Western Ireland could fit into this category with the Cliffs of Moher, the Burren, the Ring of Kerry, and the entire northwestern part (which we didn’t have time to explore). But with the quietness and isolation of Dingle, and the view from our hostel, it was the best.

Best Hostel: the Ballintaggart Hostel, Dingle
The murdered wife of the Earl of Cork allegedly haunts this old manor house. But unfortunately, she did not visit Chris and I. Instead, we paid a bargain 15 euro a night for our own private room with shower. (We should have had roommates, but late October isn’t necessarily tourist season). And the view in the morning was simply amazing.

I want to add an appendix to this title, as the hostel in Belfast is well worth mentioning. If ever there, stay at Arnie’s Backpackers as they had wonderful people, a great vibe, and the kindest hostess ever. This place is what being a hostel is all about.

Best Beach: Nice
And it wasn’t because it was topless (which Mariah and I discovered to our chagrin). The weather was 21.5˚ Celsius, which is about 70+ degrees Fahrenheit, and the Mediterranean Sea was this bright blue, almost turquoise. Best beach picnic ever too.

Most Powerful Sight: The Murals in Belfast.
The American Cemetery at Normandy should normally be #1. But I think because I hardly knew anything about the intense, crazed conflict that occurred in Northern Ireland that it takes the top spot. To learn how there was an actual war going on thirty years ago, to view how each side commemorated their involvement with hauntingly beautiful murals, and see the walls that still exist to segregate the Loyalist and Republican neighborhoods was probably the highlight of the entire trip. I wish we had more time and money to take a tour of the battlegrounds and learn more contexts. Everyone needs to learn about this clash, as it’s a shame that my generation (myself included) only know of it as some conflict between Catholics and Protestants, which is a gross inaccuracy.

Worst Bank: Bank of America.
When I get Stateside, I am switching banks. No more outrageous user and conversion fees for Timmy!

jolly old england

2006-11-05T10:43:00.000+01:00

My trip to London and the rest of the British Isles/Europe began with a heart attack. I had set my alarm to 6:30am, as we needed to be at the airport at 8am. I remember being woken up by my alarm. Then next thing I know I look at my clock and its 8am. I don’t know if I’ve ever sworn as much as I did in the following moments. Luckily my roommate was able to get me a taxi to the airport, at which I arrived at 8:30. That was one experience I never want to endure again.
With that near catastrophe aside, London was similar to a sports team’s preseason or exhibition games: enjoy it as much as possible, but try and get out with the least amount of damage. With the ghastly conversion rate of nearly 2 US Dollars to the British Pound, the zeitgeist of the group was see and do as much as a shoestring budget would allow. I followed this practical ideology, as I usually do anyway, for the entire week. In addition to the touristy stuff (e.g. Westminster Abbey, Parliament, Piccadilly Circus) I went to two evensong services at St Paul’s Cathedral (although I was unable to sit in the quire both times!); A friend and I were able to haggle the price at the Charles Dickens Museum; I also strolled down Oxford Street (that where the cover photo of Oasis’s What’s the Story Morning Glory was shot…not that I’m a fan or anything) and visited the neighborhoods of Brixton and Camden. I really enjoyed Brixton and its immense diversity of people speaking with Jamaican and West Indies accents, and markets with raw chickens hanging from the windows. This took me aback, as I am used to hung cooked chickens in various Chinatowns, but never raw ones. Camden was fun, but I was partially disappointed and perplexed. With the plethora of “vintage” clothing shops and food stands, I felt it was a fusion between consumerism and alternative subcultures, which is totally illogical and impossible. It would be like if Christiania, or other subculture havens went über-capitalist. Other than those facets, it had a great atmosphere and ambience.
From an educational standpoint (which is why we were there), many activities were provided for us: We explored East London and explored the gentrification that is occurring there; We toured the BBC Headquarters; We viewed the Holocaust exhibit at the National War Museum and had a great discussion about how other genocides are seemingly second fiddle to the former. Lastly we visited Tate Britain, which was one of the few art museums that I enjoyed (I mean museums in general, not specific exhibits).
Academia aside, the highlight of my stay in London was attending the Fulham/Charlton match. Not only was I seeing my favorite team play a crappy opponent (a guaranteed home win is always a good time), but also I was getting out of seeing the silly musical Billy Elliott with my group in the process. I couldn’t have been happier.
Before the match, I went into a pub and ate some pie and chips while downing some fine ale. I know it’s a cliché statement but: when in Rome, do as the Romans do! After the meal I strolled to the stadium, and stumbled upon the team store where I bought a home jersey. I’m not going to disclose the price, but it wasn’t cheap. The stadium, or Cottage as its called, was very old and reminiscent of Fenway Park with its turn on the century construction, wooden seats, and giant poles that restrict the view of many seats. After I got my tickets, I proceeded into the stadium where an usher showed me my seats: 8 ROWS UP! I only paid about $30 US Dollars for the seats, and I was closer than I have been to any professional sporting game in my entire life. My euphoria eventually subsided when I discovered that alcoholic beverages were not permitted in the stands at all. Now I had no intention of getting intoxicated, or even purchasing a drink (remember, I’m on a budget!), but the disallowing of any alcohol beverages within sight of the field (or pitch as the called it) blew my mind. I know that some stadiums have passed this measure at their stadiums or ball parks in order to create/sustain a “Family Atmosphere,” but no drinks anywhere is, from an American perspective, completely unfathomable. No team would even think of banning alcohol possession in the stands (if I’m wrong about this, please correct me). Another interesting measure the stadium took was sanctioning Home/Away/Neutral fan sections. A big placard (next to the no alcohol sign) read that any fan wearing an opponent's colors or jersey would be removed from the stadium. Either I was in an inner city public school, or Fulham took their security seriously. But then again, soccer does have its share of hooligans…
Nevertheless, I befriended the group of Fulham fans next to me and upon revealing it was my first match, they told me it was their 2,635 time attending (I cant quote their exact amount, but it was around there). With the exception of the lively fans and their great cheers/songs, the first half was quite lousy. Charlton, who was last in the Premiership rankings, could have easily scored several times but luckily did not. The second half however had both Brian McBride (an American) and Claus Jensen (a Dane) score within a few minutes of another, thus putting the stadium and I into jubilation. I found these goals both fitting and intriguing, as McBride is probably my favorite player (For those who know me and think I am making this up, I’m not. This past summer consisted of working in a meat department; watching European art house films; beginning to follow soccer. I’m not kidding). Charlton got a (cheap) goal late, but too late to be able equalize the score as Fulham went on to win 2-1.
Overall, it ranked very highly on my sporting viewer ship experiences, be it live or on television. Obviously, the Yankees colossal choke and subsequent Red Sox World Series Championship is #1; and the first Patriot Superbowl victory is #2. This event ranked number three, just ahead of my first ever Ice Cats game in 1994.
So that’s about all I have to say about London except for these random, seemingly arbitrary memories: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese is the best eating and drinking establishment I’ve ever been to, which is somewhat bad because now I think every place sucks in comparison; I asked some older lady for directions once, and before I was finished completing my question she retorted with “NO!”; There are a lot of Chinese students in my group, and one night after going out with them they facetiously dubbed a fellow American “Chairman Geoff.” Personally, I found it absolutely hilarious. But Geoff seemed very wary and not wanting to accept his position.
The trip to London concluded with I witnessing the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, which was actually quite long and extravagant. Its cavalcade was completely different than the changing of the guard in the States. After which I began my trip to Ireland by trekking out to Stansted Airport (which is an hour away. How can a “London” airport possibly get away with being that far? Could Providence or Hartford ever claim to be a “Boston” Airport? No!). Per usual, go here for photos

before i go for three weeks...

2006-10-14T21:22:00.000+02:00

i'm sure i will be able to keep in touch in cases of emergencies, but i just got an international sim card so i can talk to you if its really important. just email me for the number.

does anyone have any suggestions for things to do in london/dublin/ireland/venice/nice/paris/france/etc etc? i'm all ears.

thanks for everyone wishing me a happy birthday. its great to know so many people care (and its also really overwhelming). some crazy friends from columbia (the university) got an entire, packed bar to sing my happy birthday. i'm not kidding, 100+ people from various nationalities singing "happy birthday to timmy." the festivies were spread over tuesday and wednesday, for wednesday was the carlsberg brewery tour. but i'm not going to indulge on that for sake of not turning this blog into my decline into alcoholism (which may or may not have already begun).

anyways, wish me luck on my travels. i will be thinking about you and your boring professions as i visit exotic lands and meet beautiful women. ta-ta!

dance the weekend away. and other random notes.

2006-10-08T21:04:00.000+02:00

This weekend was one of dancing. Friday it was swing, Saturday it was...fun dancing.

Evidently Copenhagen and Malmo, Sweden has a lot of swing dancing. I really wish I knew this before hand. But nevertheless I and several other people went dancing on Friday night. Then we went to jazz in Christiania. As far as I’m concerned, it was 1940 on Friday night.

Saturday was Jonathan's (the captain of flying circus) housewarming party. So needless to say there was dancing there. I think if there's one thing I miss most about goucher social life (oxymoron, I know), it’s the copious amounts of dance parties. Except for the newly discovered swing dancing, if you want to dance you can really only go clubbing here - which I abhor. And DIS student's apartments are a) tiny and b) not theirs; so there isn’t much alternative. Luckily, last night satisfied my appetite for making an utter fool of myself and dancing.

Anyway, my travel break is essentially all set.

Week 1: London for my study tour.

I’m not looking forward to this as much as I should, because London is so expensive. But I have epl tickets, and a majority of our stay is paid for (I really love DIS) so it should be fun. Unless my study program drives me crazy, which I’m afraid may occur.

Week 2: trekking all over Ireland for eight days with Mr. Christopher [edited].

This, I am looking VERY forward to. 2 days in Dublin; then 2 more in Dingle (yes, there's a peninsula called dingle. I’m not going to comment any further) and Galway; a day in the isolated northwestern part of the country; before hopping the border into Northern Ireland and visiting the Giants Causeway and Belfast. Expect a large, detailed account of this particular trip in a month or so.

Week 3: jutting across Italy and France with fellow goucher-ite ms. Mariah [edited], and other folks I plan to see along the way.

Okay, I’m really only jutting across France, but I am flying from Dublin to Venice where I will meet ms. [edited] and spend the night there. I wanted to spend a longer time there, but it’s a really expensive city. From there we're going to Nice, France via a train and spending a day and night in that lovely city before heading to Paris! I’m not actually very enthusiastic about going there; only because I plan on going to Bayeux, France on the Normandy peninsula soon after arriving. Yes, I am going to the d-day beaches and everything else. Other than Ireland, it’s the other big thing I am VERY looking forward to. I hoped to go to Mont St Michel (this amazing monastery on an island. wikipedia's got some great info on it) after Bayeux, but I don’t know if I’ll have time. I then plan on returning to Copenhagen via a jet out of Paris.

So starting next weekend, that’s essentially what I plan on doing for the next month. Hopefully I’ll update with brief blurbs when I’m in transit (pun intended), but expect a mammoth, dissertation esque account when I get back from it all. (If I get back.)

Oh yea, my birthday is Tuesday. I’m not sure what I have concocted to celebrate it (I know, I’m vain) but it’s going to be a blast.

ring out the warning bell

2006-10-02T14:08:00.000+02:00

Before I came to Europe I had two fears: a) get cirrhosis and b) somehow become un-American. Well, the jury is still out on the former, but the latter appears to be occurring. Several weeks ago, to coincide with my time in London, I purchased tickets to an English Premier League match (that’s one of the top flight soccer, ahem, football, league in the world) of fulham versus charlton. After watching the world cup this past summer I decided that I should probably attempt to follow the sport that the entire world watches, so I randomly chose fulham as my team.

Fast forward to yesterday, where I went to Brøndby vis-à-vis FC København. Just to let you know, I have never attended a professional or collegiate American football or basketball game, and whatever other random sports are uniquely American. Yet already I have gone to one European match, and plan on another in a few weeks. Thankfully, because I take Danish, DIS purchased tickets to this game so I attended this game for free. ANYWAY, these two clubs are both located in Copenhagen; with FCK being the centrally located club, and Brøndby residing on the outskirts of town. Their intense rivalry is similar to White Sox and Cubs (assuming that both were in the same league, and both were actually good): one team represents the middle class; the other the upper elites of the city. The two annually contest to be champions of the major Danish soccer league (the Danish Superliga if you're so inclined to know). Being as I hail from Worcester I automatically rooted for the middle class team (Brøndby), and went against the popular notion of my fellow DIS students of (being unoriginal and) rooting for FCK. Personally, I could've cared less about the game's (crap, I mean match's) outcome. But that didn’t stop me from experiencing quite possibly one of the greatest moments of my life. And did I mention that EVERYONE and I started drinking at 2pm?

A popular notion of European Football fans is that they're crazed hooligans. Well, Denmark has Cooligans. That means that they are crazy about their respected teams, but not to the extent that the archetypical soccer fan is (which compared to the US, is still fairly ridiculous). The festivities began around 2pm (the game started at 6pm), with a copious amount of people settling near a massive park directly adjacent to the stadium drinking a copious amount of beer. Needless to say, I partook in said activities.

Well, lets jump ahead several hours and many beers to when I enter the stadium with many other bewildered Americans. I really can’t describe the atmosphere and ambience of attending a large football match in Europe - maybe the Sox/Yankees compare? Our seats were located in the Brøndby family section, practically in the nosebleeds, and the place was still rocking. For the entire 90 minutes of play, the fans were cheering and singing various soccer songs - it was never quiet. You could even hear the FCK fans and their cheers, and they were situated on the opposite end of the stadium! I couldn't understand either team's chants, but I know they said "Ole" a lot.

Unfortunately Brøndby lost 1-0 (at least someone scored), but it didn’t ruin my spirits. And evidently I missed some fans going nuts and throwing seats onto the field and shooting off flares, but alas. As we departed on the trains, we (somehow) got onto the Brøndby train, where they were all singing and jumping around, ON THE TRAIN. My friends had the misfortune of wearing FCK scarves, and were thus shouted at/heckled/sung to in Danish. Oh the times.

So I guess this doesn’t make me un-American, for what isn’t more American than: getting utterly intoxicated at an otherwise totally unacceptable hour of the day; rooting for your home team; and then performing otherwise socially unacceptable boisterous, violent behavior?

Per usual, some photos are embedded throughout. And here is some footage I took on my camera. It gets really shaky at the end and there isn’t any sound, but try and observe the Brøndby fans (they’re in the yellow) and the FCK fans (in the white) going crazy.

danish nationals

2006-09-24T20:28:00.000+02:00

[disclaimer: this post is kinda PG-13, as compared to the other, more distilled posts.]

i got invited to the danish nationals with flying circus, the frisbee team i am somewhat a member of (i havent paid my dues). because they, and several fellow DIS American players who are actually on the team, are light years ahead of me, i only went to watch and hang out with the team (no p-t for timmy). nevertheless, the tournament took place in Åarhus, which is in northern Jutland. The team ended up taking home third place, but the noteworthy happenings werent necessarily frisbee related (like what occurs at EVERY tournament).

after splitting the two games on saturday, we left the field and headed toward our lodgings. they were not a hotel, or a campground, or a hostel: it was an elementary school. we (seriously) slept in a classroom that 10 year olds were in a day prior. apparently such practices are wholly acceptable in Denmark. i cant imagine this even being conceivable back home.

okay, before i go on any further let me explain how ultimate frisbee tournaments work so that people who dont know (i.e. everyone) wont be completely confused as to what in holy hell i was participating in. first, the saturday usually starts at 8 or 9am and last until 4 or 5pm; and you play about 3-4 games that day. after the first day of play, the host school sponsors a dinner and party (and sometimes lodgings, depending upon your relations with the school). and then the sunday is the last day of games to determine the tournament's champion (and have people run off their hangovers). therefore Åarhus, who was sponsoring this year's Danish Nationals, had a dinner and party where we and every other team was (as previously mentioned) staying: AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. if you you're still grasping that concept, it gets better.

usually frisbee dinners at tournaments stateside consist of pizza, but not this one. oh no, not only was the dinner held in the school's gymnasium, we were given salmon and caviar as an entree! (followed by various pork related dishes for a main course, but still, CAVIAR!) oh yea, and like all frisbee tournaments there was a plethora of beer. so yes, i ate caviar while drinking beer in an elementary school's gymnasium in Åarhus, Denmark with people from the US, Germany, Denmark, and other nations. and to think a month ago i was cutting meat. someone please pinch me.

flying circus somehow managed to be the only ones up by 1am (especially considering we had all gotten up at 6am saturday morning, driven three hours to get there, played two games, AND had a 10am game on sunday); so we decided to the best course of action is to purchase a crate of beers (personally, i was on about 6 at that point) and make good use of the gymnasium by hucking frisbee's at each other from one corner of the room to the other, while blasting john denver. needless to say, we were kicked out before long. so by 2 am its all 15 of us (if you think thats late, its really not here. some bars, clubs, and cafes are open till 5am in Copenhagen. Danes are party animals) outside in the pitch black, just hanging out in the schools courtyard. before long, our Captain announces that we may not win the tournament, but we won the party, and so should probably go to sleep. we all agreed, and retired to our CLASSROOM. i think it was the most uncomfortable night's sleep ever. here is some evidence of our accomodations:

on sunday flying circus played an amazing game for third place, in which they battled back from a four point deficit twice, to win the game 17-15. luckily they avoided playing Ragnarok, the best team in Denmark (and allegedly 2nd best in Europe), and their two American ringers. they were a huge facet of this weekend, but I dont want to go into detail because representation of the US was appalling. in essence, they are U Arizona alums studying in Copenhagen, and they hit on every girl on thr girls team and heckled the guy's team during several games. Just a classless duo.

but overall it was a great time. with all the partying and what not you may think that ultimate is a debaucherous and dionysian game, but it really isnt. after playing several other sports, i have found it to be the most classy and possess far more camaraderie than other sports. nevertheless, here is an action shot i took and the the team photo (thats me on the right in the jeans):

mega update part 2

2006-09-20T17:06:00.000+02:00

Because I am in the Communications Across Cultures program at DIS, we had a short study break to the border region between Germany and Denmark; this is also known as Schleswig. Basically, it is a small territory that has been both Danish and German possessions since 1864 or so. Wikipedia has more if you're so inclined to know more.

After driving on the "largest bridge" in Europe (is it me, or is every bridge either the longest or second largest? The bridge connecting PEI to New Brunswick; Lake Pontacharianian in New Orleans; Copenhagen to Malmo, Sweden; all those crazy ones in China) from Zealand to Funen, we took a ferry from Funen to Jutland. I used to hate ferries, but now I don't mind them as much. Does that mean I am growing up and will soon have a taste for brussel sprouts?

ANYWAY, so we drove across the NON-EXISTENT border between Germany and Denmark (it was seriously like merely entering Rhode Island, with a smaller sign welcoming you - gotta love the EU!) before arriving in Flensburg, Germany. There is nothing else worth noting on the first day, other than I had wienerschnitzel and a mammoth hefeweizen.

The next morning we visited the Duborg Skolen which is a Danish highschool in Germany. Because the region has had several changes of ownership per se, and referendums regarding said issue the school gets a plethora of money from the Danish Government, and other support from Germany. There is no application process to endure in order to attend, but one must learn/know Danish (which I cannot do and probably wont ever - this language is crazy!). Although that may seem like a detraction for students to attend, its not. Much like Wachusett, overcrowdedness is a problem and they have modular classrooms. Although the building was beautiful, just being back in that atmosphere made me so glad to be out of high school. Here is a photo of the building (at first glance, it looks like a prep school):

After our tour of the highschool, we went back into Denmark (no border check!) to visit Aabenraa (pronounced something like O-ben-row - I told you this language is nuts). The city was apparently very crappy until a few years ago, but is now very touristy. Personally, I thought it was a nicer New London. But we got to visit this German Newspaper called Der Nordshleswiger. Dont ask me what that translates to, but I can tell you that its layout is similar to a high school newspaper. I just wish I could read the articles.

Okay, you may think I had a really bad time on this trip because of my negative observations. But thats really not the case. In fact, I had a really fun time that began when I and two other people in my group went to a Casino. Thats right, a Casino. I didnt play any hands but one friend won 30 Euro's on a digital blackjack table. And somehow the dealer knew we were studying at Copenhagen. Perhaps they consulted Interpol? And wandering through the wilderness at 3am both nights to get to the hostel was really exciting. Dont worry mom, I am perfectly fine!

On Saturday we went to Odense, which is on the isle of Funen and where Hans Christian Andersen was born. It was a quaint town, and here is a photo:

so yea, I guess that wraps up my trip to Germany and back. more photos are here (they're not in any particular order.) everything there was ridiculously cheap which was a huge relief, not to mention having our professors buy us copious amounts of food and, uhm...beverages. the 15% unemployment rate in Flensburg was a really sad sight, but thats another topic for another time. before I go, I do have to ask: what the hell went on back home today?

mega update part 1

2006-09-18T19:37:00.000+02:00

woah it’s been awhile since I last posted. but as the previous memo stated, I’ve been really busy. so I’ve decided to make a two part post, the first being my adventure to møns klint, the other my trip to Germany. so lets begin with møn, shall we? Oh, and sorry with the photo layouts. The preview I get is completely different than what is published, so I am going to link a majority of the photos to my photobucket account from now on and only show one or two per post.

So what began as an idea between two friends from Colorado College and I to go the beach last Sunday became a day long trek to Møn. There's some background information here, but its basically this island that has beautifully quaint towns, and 128m high cliffs. We had to awake at 5:30am to hop on a 6:30am out of København (that’s how its spelt here) Station train to Vordingborg, then take a bus to Stege (pronounced STIEN-ah). The town was so beautiful, and a great place to spend a Sunday morning at 9am (which, you know, is the best time to be out and about). We wandered around and found all these idyllic gardens that we right on the waterfront, with Zealand (the island that København is on) on the other side. I've never been to Nova Scotia or the other Canadian isles, but I imagine that is what it looks like.

After getting onto the bus to the cliffs, things got really wacky. The driver didn’t speak English very well, but told us he would notify us when we got near the stop we wanted to go to. After about 20 minutes, the driver told us that we had arrived at our stop. Where was our stop? IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIELD. I felt like Cary Grant in North by Northwest. And to add to our utter confusion, some random stranger in a tweed jacket and bifocals was telling us that the festival (more on that later) was down to the left of where we got off.

So we followed the bus driver and (apparent) crazy man's directions, following these signs that pointed toward a "Dragefestival." We obviously thought it was a Drag Fest, and were completely giddy at the prospect. Eventually we found a woman trimming her hedges, and asked where the cliffs were, and what in the world was the "Dragefestival." Apparently drage means kite in Danish, thus there was a KITE FESTIVAL! Unfortunately, it was the day before. Our sadness at that fact was subsided when the lady gave us directions toward the cliff (and I'm serious that she told us this): "You go through the next willage, and take a left through the forest." I was going to ask if any magical gnomes were involved, but I don’t think she would have appreciated it.

After going through the tiny willage and enchanted forest, and passing by several cow pastures, the sun came out and we finally found the cliffs. In a word: AMAZING. They were so high that the descent down was pretty much a ladder. Okay, not really. But it was very steep. At the bottom, you could look straight up and not be able to see their peak. There wasn’t much of a shore, but when the tide receded back over the rocks, it emitted this cracking type sound that was so tranquil. My friend Katie commented that she had only ever heard such sounds on the Lost Coast in California. I don't know where that is but after going to the cliffs, I plan on going there when I get home. You should too.

After a short picnic on the (non-existent) beach it was starting to get late and we had no inkling when, or if, the bus would be coming to any nearby location. So we attempted to ask around at the cliffs summit for either directions or a ride, but Danes are not very helpful towards strangers. Luckily we found a bus stop while two Danes were walking by and asked them if they could read the bus schedule, as not only was it in Danish but in some weird spreadsheet format that made no sense. The man and his wife talked for a minute or two in Danish as we stood awkwardly by, before he announced that the next bus would be coming at 8:30pm (it was then 5:15), or we could walk to the next, bigger bus stop that had a bus coming at 6:00pm. The nearest station however, was 6 kilometers away.

So needless to say we ran 6km in 45 minutes with all our bags and what not. I was able to take some photos of the scenery, and it was absolutely beautiful (especially now that the sun was out). Jaimie (the other Colorado College gal) attempted to hitch hike but, as I wrote earlier, Danes aren’t very helpful. I was able to stop and take some photos and here is one:

We were able to find the bus by sprinting about 100 yards to the stop it was at and get on and be off on our return trip to Copenhagen. Needless to say, on the train ride home we opened the bottle of wine I had been carrying all day in my bag in celebration at getting back, all in one piece.

So overall it was a surreal, once in a lifetime experience that I don’t know if I will ever forget. The selected photos are located here, but I am kind of disappointed in them in that I don’t feel like they fully encapsulated how amazing everything really was. Please tell me if I'm wrong. Oh, and they're in reverse order, so the first photos you see are actually the last photos I took on the day.

I will post about my trip to Germany either later today or sometime soon. Hopefully there wont be long lapses in my posts, because I know you all miss me soooooo much.
timmy.

ooops

2006-09-14T07:47:00.000+02:00

sorry its been so long since i've last updated it. i've been quite busy, and havent had the time (and patience) to post something. nevertheless, i go to germany very shortly and will post regarding that, and my trip to the isle of møn with its 150m (yes, thats meters) cliffs. take care.

observations

2006-09-03T12:59:00.000+02:00

last night several people and i went to christiania to see this 20+ piece french brass band that had elements of zydeco, yiddish, mediterranean, napoletana, and whatever the stuff comes from the casbah is called. in a word: amazing. i don't have any photos, but i think your imaginations can picture it.

here, in no particular order, are a few observations after one week of being in copenhagen :

1) yes, the women are beautiful. but they are not as angelic i was told they would be. i honestly see little difference between the gals here, and in boston or nyc in that they are both beautiful yet (for someone of my stature) unattainable. and i'm perfectly fine with that. really.

2) the danes express patience on the trains - something that is nonexistent in any american city with public transportation (or any american city at rate). i was waiting at norreport station one day, and the train that was stopped was held up for about 10 minutes, and people kept getting on and off. one lady even opened the doors just to take two puffs of a cigarette! i cannot even fathom something like that occurring on the T or the NYC Subway. either the conductor wouldn't let anyone else on, or the fellow passengers would pummel those holding up the train.

oh, and speaking of similarities to boston the trains here also stop at 12:30am. which is really frustrating because i have had to learn to take the night bus home, which has resulted in 3am-ish arrivals at my apartment (hopefully this doesn't continue - and don't worry mom, there isn't any crime here.)

3) i've had to learn punctuality. when people here say something starts at 10am, they mean it. i met this dude from newcastle england the other night, and we discussed this fact (including the english premier league) for some time. we were both completely befuddled by it, and how it has led to some fairly awkward situations.

4) speaking of awkwardness, i am on par for making every transaction as humiliating as possible. hooray language barriers!

5) shops here close on saturday afternoon, and remain closed through sunday. and they call us americans being puritanical! after working in retail i learned that being closed on saturday and sunday is suicidal, yet here its perfectly acceptable. i'm quite ambivalent about this.

6) does anyone know of any danish or scandanavian musicians besides jens lekman? while i am here, i figure i should listen to music characteristic of denmark or sweden, and not britian or the us.

7) i have to register with the local kommune here to get some cpr number. dont be suprised if i am forced to change my name to comrade tim or start wearing a beret.

8) oh yea, i AM going to school here. sorry, we just started so there is not too much to report. although my kierkegaard professor was astonished that i read training in christianity before any of his other works. i'll be sure to keep you posted on my academics. ...

gypsy market/botanical garden/crazy church/ my first happy hour

2006-08-31T19:59:00.000+02:00

i found this sweet market near the train stop by my schools that is apparently run by gypsies. maybe not, but i think its more adventurous if i convince myself it is. i obviously did not take any photos there.

i somehow scheduled a three hour break in between two of my classes, so i went on an expedition to find a park to eat lunch. luckily i stumbled upon the botanical gardens. there were tons of different trees, and people drinking beer, and birds that attempted to steal my sandwich, and one lady who thought i was a Dane.

i then went to christiana because i wanted to climb this church's steeple to see the city. it cost 20 kroner so instead i found the sanctuary and took these photos. and yes that photo on the left is an HUGE organ hanging on the wall. on the way back i learned that the new metro trains are operated by a computer. i don't think i am ever going on those again.

random note: because of my kierkegaard class, i am enrolled at the university of copenhagen.

i dont actually live in the ghetto, but after going to my first happy hour at this Irish pub i thought the graffiti on the wall was cool. so i took this photo from the train.

The weather here is like upstate new york

2006-08-29T22:24:00.001+02:00

and by that i mean how its always raining. okay, not all the time but enough to make what is amazing city appear too dreary.

i joined a ultimate club called flying circus, and one lady offered me a bike for free because she never uses it. i was amazed at the offer, even though its "girly." also, no bikes here have drop handle bars. this is odd for me because bikes seen without said handles in, say, boston are usually pretty lame; whereas here its the norm. is this when cultural relativism applies?

anyways, i took a walk today. here are some photos...

i dont know why i appear so glum in the photo with the mermaid. i was actually happy to see it. i mean i DID walk an hour in the rain to get there.

p.s. a black cat crossed my path today. so if something horrific happens to me, you know the culprit.

random photos on 15 minutes of sleep over 31 hours

2006-08-28T08:31:00.000+02:00

All 3,840.37 miles!

I was trying to think of some American equivalent to Iceland, and the best I came up with was Idaho. But only if Boise is as crazy and expensive as Reyjkavikaksd is said to be - which I doubt. But the similarities are there: both are remote. Both have beautifully changing landscapes. And they are (usually) never mentioned in conversations like "Where should we go on vacation? How about Idaho!"

On the flight this film played. I'm not kidding. Here is a random clip from it. And yes, those are plastic puppets.

ANYWAYS, my apartment

The View

I'm going into downtown later, so I'll post pictures of it eventually. Hooray for being a tourist!