Warming up my cold shoulder: the one month mark in CPH

Good morning, Upper-East Siders
Jk, most of you are in central IL

Last time we spoke, I was a bit hot-headed following an unsuccessful attempt at Copenhagen nightlife.
With my one month mark here in Copenhagen just around the corner, I'm happy to inform you that much has changed. Whether I want to admit it or not, I'm actually starting to settle relatively well here in the tundra.

Before I commence my emotionally-clouded memoir, let me clarify the delay in blogging.
If you read the last post, you are quite aware that things were not going as expected. So I took an oath of silence not to post until my attitude changed.

Triumph in Transportation & the first successful night out in CPH

After a few short weeks of cursing all that public transportation has to offer in Copenhagen, I am proud to say that I have mastered the art of transport...well, almost. But, I can get to class and back sans tears. Following this triumph, I decided it was time to give Copenhagen nightlife a second chance. Ironically enough, the first time my clan of minions (Chloe, Caitlin, and Shane) and I went out to the Drunken Flamingo where I traumatically payed 12 USD for a sad sad vodka tonic (refer to last post..still bitter), we actually met a Dane that invited us to a "semester-end" rager at the Copenhagen Business School the following Thursday. To sum it up shortly, I finally got to be the sloppy mess I was itching to be. Met a couple of Norwegians along the way, as well....interesting folks. The next day I actually managed to make it to class without pants on. You see, I've been wearing thermal compression pants underneath my clothes since it's cold as tits here. Well, in my potentially still-drunken state the next morning I forgot to put real pants on over the compression pants...and quite frankly, I LOVED IT. So liberating! My body has never felt a breeze down there before; quite rejuvenating, if you ask me.

Sugga Daddy's First

That Sunday, sugga daddy (my host dad, for future reference) spoiled me with a trip to Frederiksborg Slot in Hillerød (Refer to Facebook for fab pics of medieval castles & naked statues). Lucky to be his first "host child," my host dad has been taking me to museums each Sunday now! That night I also got to meet his daughter and grandchildren for dinner--phenom! It blows my mind how educated and cultured the people are on this side of the Atlantic. Don't get me wrong #USA4life, but all his grandchildren speak fluent English, something I find so remarkable! Like how many of you can fluently speak several languages? Anyways, this past Sunday, sugga daddy took me to a viking museum in Roskilde. Believe it or not, I'm a total sucker for history. So fascinating seeing the remains of ships used thousands of years ago. After a cup of coffee, he also took me to see the Little Mermaid. Although I loved seeing her (Ariel was always my favorite princess), I was kind of surprised at how anti-climactic she was. A bit of a tease, I suppose. Nevertheless, the harbor surrounding her was beautiful.

One of my favorite aspects about staying with sugga daddy has been getting to know his family. Last week his grandson and their dog stayed with us while the parents flew to Nice. I harnessed whatever culinary skills I possessed and made the best effing fajitas for them! Not going to lie, was incredibly impressed at what I'm capable of in the kitchen. Last night, we were invited to dinner again at his daughters, and I agreed to make a traditional Lebanese dish next Tuesday (wonder how fast I can ship kabobs from Beirut?)! 

So although the distance and commute blows, I am incredibly grateful for the experience I am having with my host family. I learn so much everyday, not only about the Danes, but about myself as well, and I'm not sure I would have been able to had I been placed in another arrangement.

Growing Pains: that time I turned down a threesome for Jutland

The slightest chance of  a Destiny's Child reunion at the Super Bowl prompted me to help organize an "American-esque" Super Bowl party for the Danes at Studenterhuset, a coffee-shop by day, nightclub/concert venue by night. It's also where I have been volunteering this semester as a bartender/barista. Regardless, the event was a successful drunken debauchery. However, while passing out shots (secretly fulfilled my dream of being a shot boy), I was bluntly asked if I would join in a threesome. Obviously, I didn't hesitate to say yes! Sadly, I had to turn down the menage-a-trois, for Jutland...aka provincial/rural Denmark...the following morning. I will admit, after I got over the initial shock and horror that someone actually found me attractive...actually, two people found me attractive; I was incredibly flattered! I mean, hell, there's plenty of this to go around...Nevertheless, I informed them that I would return and would be volunteering here until May. So, if the invitation was still open, I would gladly accept. When in Rome, right?

Speaking of Jutland, I ventured with my Human Health and Disease course to bumfuck nowhere for "core-course week." There, I had my first experience with European hostels/Scandinavian brothels. Nothing like being stranded in the boonies of Denmark without internet/access to the outside world--great bonding tool. Anxious to drink (naturally), was hoping to find a local bar in one of these towns. To no surprise, nightlife wasn't really on the agenda. Always one to make the best out every situation (obviously, kidding), I decided a bottle of wine from the local grocery would do. Here's the trick: drink the bottle in under an hour. Result? guaranteed to be the slop sauce of the party. well, "party." 

Three days in provincial Denmark was more than enough. I mean, I learned a lot in three days: 1) At some point in my life, I fell out of touch with ambitions of becoming a NASCAR driver 2) After visiting an IVF clinic and watching artificial insemination occur in real time, I have a new found appreciation & ownership of my sperm. yes, my sperm--such strong little guys! 3) I'm never going to be a candidate for the Real World, because I would actually murder the entire cast

"It's F***ing Cold, I get it. Stop Bitching." 

If I could send a letter to myself, that's probably what it would say, and I would probably spray it with Dolce & Gabbana's Light Blue, because it actually makes me weak in the knees. But, that's not where I'm going with this...Okay, how do I get over the cold? I actually feel like my balls are so far up my body, I'm basically sterile (which is probably not the worst news in the world). On the reals though, these Danish bitties are out in tights/leggings and basically nothing else? And I'm just like bitch, are your thighs made out of steel? So, in the name of public intoxication, i'm lacing up my boots and bracing the tundra yet again. Fingers crossed I don't fall asleep on the nightbus. Yes, that happened. Yes, it sucked. Yes, I missed my stop. No, it's not funny. 

When all else fails, book a trip to Amsterdam

...and Istanbul...and Berlin...and Prague...and Italy...and Spain

That's the beauty in living in Europe. Literally, everywhere you've ever wanted to go is just a hop & a skip away. Unfortunately, my bank account is still recovering from excessive retail therapy via Gilt Groupe and Mr. Porter during finals...and my birthday. But, I'm trying to live with as little "fucks given" as possible. So, booking my trips and hoping my bank doesn't drop me from the credit union. In my head, I'm just picturing myself drunk and dancing at some electro club in Berlin, or ripping a bowl at a "coffee shop" in Holland...and then I remember that somewhere in the near future I have to get into med school...and then I think of how I'm going to do it anyways. As you can see, I'm learning a lot here in Europe. Not only about the Danes but about myself. I've become incredibly independent and self-sufficient (humble brag, bite me), and I can't help but reflect...why the fuck have I been such an anal prick the last three years? As if i'm out to become a martyr of academics...for all I know I could be crowned St. Cullom Davis. There is SO MUCH more to life than a high GPA and the perfect resume.Without sounding like I'm sitting on Oprah's yellow couch, the experiences I'm going through, both internal and external, alongside the lessons I'm learning, make my accomplishments back home seem incredibly insignificant. Now, I don't know if I'm just really emotional and feeling a bit prophetic right now, but I'm hoping that I can return to the States with even fewer fucks than what I got on the plane with. Life is so much more enjoyable when you take that stick out of your ass..and I really hope some of my friends back home learn that soon (love you xoxo). But being the self-fulfilling prophecy that I am, I will more than likely still be holding down the lib weekdays & weeknights. 

For the meantime: I'm going to take a shot, put on some leather, throw up the deuces, and make this city my bitch.

You know you love me,

xoxo

Allen Abroad