Copenhagen Confusion: the truth about my study abroad experience so far

Okay, I realize the blog is a little outdated, but rest assured it was intentional. With the eve of my first full week in Copenhagen around the corner, my feelings towards my experience thus far are still pretty ambiguous. Therefore, I decided that I would wait until the end of the week to share what Copenhagen has been like...just in case I happened to find some clarity along the way. Seven days later, and I'm not entirely sure I feel any differently.

So, as opposed to a day-to-day play-by-play of the week, here's what I've learned so far.

Public Transportation Sucks...EVERYWHERE.

The U.S.A is great at many things...public and mass transportation not being one of those. However, for a country like Denmark, which relies so heavily on public transportation...it is actually incredible how difficult it is to go anywhere. Here's the deal: when I registered to study abroad in Copenhagen, I was under the impression that I was studying abroad in Copenhagen...not an hour away. During my semesters at Bradley, I couldn't stop bitching about my 20 minute commute. Well, at least my car has seat warmers. My commute to Copenhagen works a little differently. I live in the northern most suburb of Copenhagen (Holte), which implies an hour long commute to and from the city..aka every morning for class. 

To get to class, I have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to walk to the bus station. Once there, the bus takes me to the train station. From the train, I can walk to class. However, my entire day is dictated by the bus schedule (which also stops past midnight...weekends included). As a result, I have not been able to go out during the evenings because I can't miss the bus, or else I would have to walk or bike home. I realize that Copenhagen is a biking city, but I'm not built like a Dane...I'm more of a... Maltese....(get it?)...regardless, my nights have been incredibly uneventful. My typical day begins around 7 am...out of fear of being late to class, I usually take the earlier of my two options for the bus. I spend the majority of the day within the city either in class or searching for what is to become my favorite coffee shop, and trying to explore as much of Copenhagen as I can within the limitations of the buses' timetables. 

Don't even get me started on the travel zones...apparently the transportation pass I was provided with from DIS only covers my travels to and from school...If I get caught traveling outside those "zones," I get fined. 

On another note, my host family..well "family" is wonderful! I'm living alone with a retired physician named Claus. He's incredibly nice and open to suggestions since I'm his first host student. It's not your typical host family arrangement and it does make for a lot of awkward silence and mis-communication, but I'm actually really content with the system we have down. I have the independence I want, but also have dinner with him regularly throughout the week. He's a charming and cultured man, with many stories to learn from. More to come on that...

The Art of Layering: From Cardigans & Underwear to Food & Bedding:

The more...the merrier

Always a fan of layering, I made sure to arrive in Copenhagen with plenty of cardigans. However, here in Siberia...simple layering doesn't really cut it. From clothing to food: I. Just. Need. More. Let's start with the obvious: It's cold as tits. Since I've arrived, I have yet to go anywhere without my thermal bodysuit on underneath my outfits..which might I add, If anyone is interested in an instant saggy ass...nothing quite does the trick like a pair of Long Johns or Cuddl Duds.Also, in an attempt to stay remotely warm, I have resorted to layering socks. What better way to add to your laundry basket?? Anyways, the cold was to be expected...the lack of appetite was not. DO THE DANES GET HUNGRY?? WHERE IS TACO BELL? WHY DOES A MCDONALD'S BURGER COST 12 DOLLARS?? Many questions have yet to be answered...but seriously, I don't know how anyone stays alive around here.

Look, I'm obviously no stranger to skipping meals...it's actually one of my favorite past-times. But the food in Copenhagen, just like everything else, is incredibly expensive...Like I'm not about fork out seven dollars for a hot dog...JUST. NO. Anyways, where I'm going with this is here: my host dad thinks I'm a fat ass. I just can't pack down enough food at dinner...like all of a sudden my stomach became bottomless (which by the way, has always been one of my worst fears...like a one way ticket to ever-so-characterized love handles). Which reminds me, the actual Danish pastries are beyond delicious...taste like a bite of Jesus..so heavenly. 

Speaking of layering, here's a funny story for ya. My first night here in Denmark, the heater was broken in my room. I actually thought I was on an episode of Survivorman, where someone just dropped me off in the Arctic Tundra and told me to stay alive. Went to "sleep" that night in my thermal bodysuit, pajamas, sweats, and turned my North Face down coat into a comforter...wrapping it around my legs while using the bedding to swaddle my torso...yes, swaddle. Since I woke up the next morning..I'd say I was pretty successful at survival. Luckily, the heating issue was resolved faster than I could book a plane ticket back to Honduras. 

Copenhagen: I want to love you...but you're making it so hard.

Tired of spending the majority of my time at the home, I decided to go out last night. Here's the deal: since the buses shut down after midnight, my only way home would be to bike from the train station. So I said "F it," and biked to the train station. Aside from ripping my pants and upchucking outside the train station...oh and the cryotherapy treatment my face got..I figured the bus ride was doable...(emphasis on the DOT DOT DOT). Finally downtown, we started at Studenterhusert, or the student house, which is a coffee shop by day, pub by afternoon, and nightclub by night..obvi. There we had probably the best deal and the worst drinks of the night: 10 shots for 100 DKK, or 18 dollars. Well, the amount of liquor within the shot glasses was comparable to the amount you would find in a few eye drops...oh and not to mention the schnapps we ordered actually tasted like desth. Then we left in search of a club to dance at...well, none of us had realized that somewhere along the way, we ended up back in the States. Apparently, a drinking age of 18 still correlates to a minimum age of 21-23 to enter most nightclubs in downtown Copenhagen...which is awesome...My young age is actually haunting me everywhere I go...including Siberia. We then found a pseudo-nightclub called "The Drunken Flamingo," where I bought a 9 dollar vodka tonic (made with one shot of vodka, which I'm still bitter about). After a few failed attempts at dancing, we decided it was time to start our lengthy journeys back home. I caught the 2:30 train from downtown to my local train station. Then came time for the bike ride home...Apparently, I failed to realize that the way back was entirely uphill...and that the wind would be facing my direction. To no surprise, my lower half failed within the first few slopes. So, I did what anyone else would do...call a cab...just kidding (but I literally had to hold myself back). I got off my bike and walked it home...actually, the bike walked me home..like the little bitch I am... An hour later and I made it home. Beyond angry. I could not believe the lengths I had to go to in order to leave the house for a few hours on the weekend. 

Instead of choosing a program in Spain or France or England...or anywhere below the Equator...I chose to study abroad in Denmark. Let me just pick the coldest and most expensive destination. I'm not going to pretend like I didn't know Copenhagen was expensive or that it wasn't going to be freezing...but the loneliness I'm feeling really took me by surprise. Let me tell you, I was beyond excited for this trip..Like, so excited that I didn't care if I would freeze or go broke..I couldn't wait to be away from home and all the stress I've dealt with everyday for the past three years. But now, I just feel cheated. The way I see it is your semester abroad (from what I've heard, at least) is supposed to be the most exciting, life-changing, happiest, and all the other horse shit I've been fed semester of your life. I know I'm being a bit glass half-empty, and I hate myself so much for it. This is the experience I have been waiting for since I can remember, and I feel like I'm watching it slip from my hands. I tried to catch it, but I had to walk my bike home for an hour. I can't discover anything about Copenhagen, because I don't know how to get home. I can't meet any Danes, because I don't know what time to catch the bus or if the destination is in my designated "traveling zone." I can't drink a beer with my new friends because I'll miss the bus after school. 

I just don't get it. I've had several friends do the same program and have the time of their lives. What am I doing wrong? 

For anyone who's studied abroad: Does it always start like this, or did I screw myself over? 

I guess I just want someone to tell me how to fix it or tell me that it's going to get better. 

you know you love me,

xoxo

lonely boy. 

p.s. I know I run the risk of sounding pathetic by posting this blog..I'm in a wonderful city, but so many obstacles stand in my way of enjoying it. Where's the fun I signed up for? I was expecting it...just like you were. 

Paris, you stole my heart...and all my money.

Sacre Coeur: Home is where the heart is

Our final day in Paris was incredibly special. Having seen the majority of what was originally on our list of "must-sees," Morgan and I were looking forward to picking up some friends studying abroad in London from the train station.After realizing that the train station was too far of a walk, Morgan and I decided to give public transportation a shot. Luck was on our side, we happened to catch the bus straight to Gare du Nord. The long-awaited arrival of  Lissy, Taryn, Rachel, and Carol was like a scene out of your favorite romantic comedy. They had given me the wrong arrival time, so they had been waiting for an hour at the train station by the time Morgan and I got there. Ironically, Morgan and I arrived to the train station an hour early...and decided to have a cafe au lait across the street. Once inside, we were searching all throughout the train station for four obvious tourists. Then I saw the most luscious ombre locks I had ever seen, and knew I was looking at Rachel. Sure enough, the rest of the girls were behind her. Running into my arms, I picked Rachel up and twirled in the middle of the train station (locking eye contact the whole time). Ok, that didn't happen, but I was incredibly excited to see some familiar faces. Morgan and I had created a tentative itinerary for their short day in Paris. Since we were already in the Eastern neighborhood, we figured a trip to Sacre Coeur and the Moulin Rouge were in order. After the a steep hike up Mont Martyrs, the view from the Sacre Coeur was well earned. You could see all of Paris East of the Seine. The beautiful buildings, cobblestone streets...couldn't help but imagine what Mont Martyr was like in the 19th century. Gypsies, prostitutes, and cigarette-clad artists and writers. However, what were once brothels now stand as kiosks selling I <3 Paris apparel. Walking back down, we ventured on our highly-anticipated visit to the Moulin Rouge. Think less tassels, and more sex shops. With a porno store at every corner, Pigalle was definitely my neighborhood. Nicole Kidman was not in sight, but a baguette was (equally attractive). After a quick dejuner, we decided to head back to the train station to see if we could catch the bus to the Tour Eiffel. 

Paris: The city of....mustard gas?

On our way back to Gare du Nord, we noticed screaming, yelling, and protesting in the distance. As we got closer, we realized that a well organized riot/protest (called Manifestation) was occurring in the heart of the neighborhood all the way to the end of the Rue Lafayette, blocking the train station. Our poor visitors from London (as well as ourselves) were scared shitless to say the least. It was surreal, roughly 15,000 people were marching and protesting the murder of three Kurdish women that occurred previously in the week. Little did we know, all public transportation above the metro was shut down for the day. After running into a lady cop (my favorite), she informed me that the only way to get around would be through the metro. Those of you who know me are familiar with my irrational fear of all things dirty. Hesitant at first, we were really left with no other choice. So the six of us and my lacking French headed towards the railway catacombs of Paris. To our surprise, the metro was much easier to use than we had imagined, and ended up using it the rest of the night. Making sure the girls had their purses well secured and had calmed down since the riots, I couldn't help but feel a bit paternal...kind of weird..but almost like the head of a pack of...wolves? Maybe?

Anyways, after a morning full of adventure (well, not really adventure...more so us running away from the adventure) we had finally arrived to the Eiffel Tower. 

60 Euros. 

You could buy a dinner for 5 in the US, or 4 cappuccinos off the Champs-Elysses.

After a stroll down the Champs-Elysses, and the terrifying morning we had experienced...we were ready to take a piss. However, Paris is unique in that to take a leak you have to dish out at least 2 euros...and let's be real, ain't nobody got money for that. So we held it in. And held it in. And held it in...until I thought Taryn was going to pass out on the Champs-Elysses from some sort of urine poising. So we decided we would stop for coffee and hopefully use the restroom. Well, safe to say that was the most expensive (and relieving) piss I've ever taken. After a few cappuccinos and an argument with the waiter, it was time to head back to the train station. 

Paris, I just don't know what to say about you anymore.

Dropping the girls back off at the train station was more emotional than expected. It was such a tease being with friends from home. The more you can share this beautiful city with, the more enjoyable it is. At the end of the day, what's the city of romance for a lonely boy? On our way back to the hotel, Morgan and I decided to spend the rest of our euros on a bottle of wine and a slice...yes, one slice..of cheese (well worth it). The wine really helped take the edge off regarding tomorrow. This is it. Tomorrow I meet my host family, find my new home for the next semester, and start a life where no one knows who I am. It's kind of all I've ever wanted...you know, move somewhere far away, start a new life where no one knows your name (what do you think of Tony? I feel like I look like a Tony?). It's funny though, because once you finally get the opportunity to run away from everything that's ever bothered you, everything you've wanted to escape...all you can think about is the good you leave behind. The roller coaster of emotions I've been riding this past week keeps going through loops and turns of excitement, sadness, happiness, and nervousness; but, the one feeling that has been consistent is that of liberation. It's almost impossible not feel invincible with Paris as your playground. So glasses raised to a hopefully enjoyable and exciting journey, where before I make a new life, I can realize all the good within the one I already have...and who knows maybe find out who I am along the way. I've seen my fare share days of reincarnation, from Allen the skater boy (wannabe, really) to Allen the whale (high school was rough), all the way up to right now...who that is I don't know.

But for now, you can just refer to me as Allen Abroad.

xoxo, always. 

3 Meals, 3 Nights, 300 dollars

No, This isn't Expedia. It's Paris on a poor student's budget. 

The Great Migration

I realize I'm a bit behind, but I'm in Paris. Bite me. 

On Wednesday, the voyage across the pond began with a bus ride on the grey hound from the ever familiar student center to ORD's Terminal 3. The bus ride was an emotional one for me, and not just because the old lady in front of me smelled like moth balls and rubbing alcohol, but because I think I was experiencing my first wave of real feelings. You see, the one thing that has gotten me through semesters tarnished by genetics, physical chemistry, analytical chemistry, etc...was the hope of studying abroad. The opportunity to study abroad was what had motivated me to continue overloading my semesters, attending school throughout the summers and breaks, and missing just about every FrAt party on Fredonia. So when the time finally came, it was incredibly surreal. Like you've been planning for this trip that's never going to happen. Then it does. So, the Greyhound ended up being a spot of rather profound and reflective thought. I could already sense how much I was going to miss my family and friends in a few weeks by the lump that sat in the back of my throat throughout the entire bus ride (you know, the lump you feel when you're about open up the flood gates...or bawl your eyes out). Anyways, no need to bore you with my flight to CDG. It was transcontinental with plenty of sick children and bitter elderly. whatever. Once we had been picked up by our driver and taken to our charming hotel on Rue Pasquier right across the Madeleine, jet lag set in. So before any Mary-Kate and Ashley "Passport to Paris" activities, Morgan and I decided  a two-hour nap was in order. 

Lost in Paris...not as romantic as it sounds

Once we woke up, we decided to go for a "stroll" through Paris. The funny thing about Paris is most people have this idea that all the fabulous monuments and tourist hotpots are all conveniently located around the Eiffel Tower. False. With different neighborhoods in every corner, it took Morgan and I about 5 minutes to realize that we had no idea where we were. Like the north star, however, the Tour Eiffel guided us to the Champs-Elysses. We followed winding cobblestone roads, had a cafe au lait on the way, and finally found the emblem of Paris shining through the fog. It really was one of the most breathe-taking sites, and not just because the cold rain was making it hard to breath. After strolling around and taking pictures from every angle like any Seine-bound tourist should, we followed the illuminated roads of the Champs-Elysses back to the hotel. It only took an hour to realize we were walking in circles, but an hour later we stumbled onto the hotel. Once there Morgan and I decided it was time for our first meal. After having asked the hotel receptionist for his recommendation on a local favorite, we found ourselves at Le Madeleine C. An haute restaurant, charming, with one waiter and about 10 tables. After browsing the menu, we decided that from now on we would have to eat very strategically, making sure to stock up on the complimentary hotel breakfast. However, every euro cent was worth it. For our appetizer, Morgan and I shared a delicious plate of escargot, still boiling in its dish. Never have I tasted so much flavor. Next up was duck thigh and scalloped potatoes. It was like gates of heaven were in my mouth. As if it couldn't get any better, the creme brulee for dessert was quite possibly one of the best desserts I have ever tried. Mind you this meal was washed down with the most delicious, dry, sharp vin rouge de Bordeaux, and that made for a Bonne-Soire!

Who said you can't see Paris in a day?

 With the short trip to Paris half-way over, we decided that today would be spent seeing as much of the city as possible. So we just walked. and walked. and walked. and walked...until we came crawling back to the hotel. Our first stop was the Place de La Concorde (pictures to follow, can't post them all...Internet too slow), beautiful as expected. After walking across the Seine we found ourselves at the Musee D'Orsay. I've always had an appreciation for art, but have never really been a painting enthusiast. You can keep Monet, if I can see McQueen was always my thought. Well, a significant amount of that changed today. It was absolutely surreal viewing original paintings by Van Gogh and Paul Signac. Oh, being single in Paris reaches an all time low when you enter the "Party Room" within the Musee D'Orsay that is exclusively reserved for wedding receptions and other fabulous events for Paris's wealthy. The Ballroom looks like it was once Marie Antoinette's dance spot (think less beheading, more taffeta and gold plated architecture). Nothing I type will do the paintings or sculptures justice, so onto the next spot: Notre Dame de Paris. Notre Dame was absolutely unreal. We were lucky enough to have visit during the 850th anniversary. Just incredible, inside I kept picturing Quasimodo hiding behind the bell tower, or Esmiralda outside doing a little Gypsy dance. I even said a little prayer inside the Cathedral.

After Notre Dame, we sat down for a glass of wine at one of the cutest brasseries in Paris. The waitress was sweet enough to let me use her iPad to "check-in," when I had asked if there was WiFi. We continued onto one of my favorite museums, Le Centre Pompidou. So avant-garde with the exposed tubing and pipework, the abstract fountains in front, and the undoubtedly hipster college students lounging outside, cigarette in hand (naturally). Following Le Centre Pompidou, we ventured to Bastille expecting more than we found, but nevertheless, it led us to the Arab Museum, which is obviously hits close to home. There we saw some incredible artifacts from the Holy Lands as well as incredible exhibitions about the current "Arab Spring." On our way back up the Seine we found Le Musee de Louvre. The pyramid was incredibly beautiful illuminating the park in front of the palace, especially withe the Tour Eiffel twinkling in the background. After our march around Paris, our feet decided it was time to call it a day. The night concluded at Chez Papa, a cute little restaurant with a young atmosphere and delicious food. Naturally, I ordered the escargot, duck, and creme brulee yet again. So with one day and night, and about 50 euros left, I think we'll be able to afford one more meal (hence the clever title).

Now in bed, writing from the hotel, can't help but feel a little like Hemingway as the reality of not returning home for five months starts to sink in. Haven't made it to Denmark yet and already feeling a bit home sick. You can't help but wish that your friends and family were here tasting the food and enjoying the sights with you.

Until next time,

tu sais tu m'aime
xoxo
Allen Abroad

(didn't bother checking for spelling/grammatical errors..too tired)

The Pilot

(You know, like the first episode of a TV series)

As a follower of all things Carrie Bradshaw, I have always wanted my own journal column. 

Since a New York newspaper is a bit out of my league, I figured a blog is second best.

As an incoming student at the Danish Institute of Study Abroad, I decided to start a blog dedicated towards sharing my experiences abroad with friends, family, and everyone else!

Luggage is packed, tickets are booked, and passport is ready!

Before beginning my semester in Copenhagen, my travel companion and good friend, Morgan,

and I have decided to treat ourselves to a three day trip to the city of lights...PARIS!

In my head I'm picturing something out of the Hills. I doubt I'll be riding on the back of a motorcycle with the Tour Eiffel in the background like Lauren, but I suppose a stroll down the Champs-Elysees isn't too far fetched. 

I have looked forward to this semester since my first day at Bradley University. However, the night before the trip, I am filled with a mixture of emotions. Excited, terrified, nervous, and ready. 

Sad to leave friends and family, but excited for the adventures that await.

So, on here I will chronicle my adventures and experiences, everything from living with a Danish host family to nights out in Copenhagen. 

Stay tuned, friends.

you know you love me,

xoxo

Allen Abroad.