Copenhagen, or where I wanted to stay forever

So last weekend, we went to Copenhagen. I’d been looking forward to this trip for a while – I have a bunch of Northwestern friends studying there, and I just had this sense that Scandinavia and I were meant for each other. I was right. Although the trip was far too short, our 48-ish-hours in Copenhagen felt like all of my favorite things rolled into one city – keep reading for more on my newfound love for Denmark.

In my head, the entire city was designed by IKEA. Yes, I know IKEA is Swedish. No, I don’t care. Not only should Copenhagen’s urban planners be given some sort of medal, the Scandinavian affinity for design is evident throughout the city. Buildings, stores, clothing, menus, teacups, the foam design in your latte – everything is thoughtful and minimalist and gorgeous. If you had a dollar for the number of times I adoringly said the word “branding” over the weekend, you’d have enough money to buy a lot of pretty things from IKEA.

There isn’t anything historical to do. And I loved it. Okay, yes, there are some palaces and monuments and we did the obligatory tourist thing and saw them, but for the most part we just wandered around and saw the city. We sat in hipstery cafes and drank tea. We walked through adorable Christmas markets. We ate far more samples than was reasonably polite. I think it’s easy to get caught up in seeing things for the sake of seeing things, winding up leaving a place wondering if you’ve missed something but in the process, missing experiencing the city itself. This trip felt relaxed and comfortable and was everything I like to do when I travel. We did good, if I do say so myself.

How to look like a Dane: Be blonde, wear only black, carry a fjällräven backpack. That’s it, you’re done (for extra points add a high bun, Converse or Nike Freeruns, or a big scarf). I already do these things (although all the beautiful Danes had me ready to run to the nearest salon to have my hair bleached platinum). You guys, these are my people. 

All the food is everything I want to eat always. As I’ve not-so-subtly alluded to in previous posts, despite all the amazing-ness that is tapas and 80-cent wine, Spanish food on a day-to-day basis is not my cup of tea. Danish food is. Although there are a few foods that are traditionally Danish (the only one I tried was fisk, a sort of licoricy-minty liquor. Whatever, at least my drinking is culturally authentic), for the most part Danes eat internationally, healthily, and deliciously. My pent-up food cravings from the past three months were indulged gloriously (seriously, if your dinner yesterday consisted of fish sticks, chicken nuggets, French fries, and potato chips, you’d start dreaming about kale too). One place served things like carrot-ginger juice and quinoa wraps, had beautiful black-and-white minimalist branding, and was so aggressively health-conscious they’d set out kettlebells on the counter. I nearly fainted with joy.

Socialism, sprinkled with a little bit of anarchy. Denmark is a welfare state, and though my vacation-house-in-Aspen ambitions might be a bit better suited towards America’s competitive capitalist system, I do love me some socialism. The tax rate may be 60%, but the quality of life is high, and it shows – walking the streets of Copenhagen, it’s not hard to see why Denmark is the happiest country in the world.

But what’s a good government system without a little anarchy? I’m talking about Christiania, Copenhagen’s self-proclaimed autonomous community. As my friend Reid explains it, in the 70s Christiania was a commune filled with a bunch of weed-smoking hippies, and when the police tried to take it back under city authority, the hippies fought and won. Peace and love and sticking it to the man, man. Since then, Christiania has been in a sort of weird limbo where it has some real autonomous power, and then everything else it does is kind of just tolerated by Copenhagen’s government. Translation: Marijuana paradise. Reid calls it “the flea market of weed”, and he’s not kidding – Christiania’s “green light zone” is populated by cafés and food carts, but mostly stalls selling weed, hash, and paraphernalia. Um okay like how am I not getting arrested just standing here. The whole place is pretty cool, all dirt paths, graffiti murals, and giant stray dogs (and obviously lots of really high kids). When you leave, a sign proclaims “you are now returning to the EU” – and it kind of does feel like you’re stepping out of another world.

Plus, there were people I liked there. In addition to my infatuation with the city, the trip was made pretty outstanding because not only did I see some of my favorite people from Northwestern, but my Danish friends too! Hey everybody, look how cool and international I am I have friends from other countries. It was the icing on top of, I don’t know, like a weird trendy minimalist vegan cake or something.

Now that you’re probably sick of me gushing about it, check out photos below. I just really liked Denmark okay guys will someone buy me a ticket back like now please.

requisite photo of the street with the pretty colors

oh and everyone bikes everywhere DID I MENTION I LIKED COPENHAGEN

Christmas makes Lindsay giddy

awww isn’t Reid adorable

there are also canals and sailboats and twinkle lights and general cuteness

Barca baby

So I bought a flight for 18 euros, and survived it. And the plane wasn’t even held together by duct tape! Why trust my life to an airline that cost me as much as two burrito bowls from Chipotle, you ask? Because Barcelona. 

Northwestern has big study abroad contingent in Barca, so it’s been on the list from the beginning. One friend living in Chicago was there for a wedding, and another came down from studying in Copenhagen, so it was basically one big wildcat party for the weekend. Check out my take on Cataluña:

It’s a city. A lot of the places we’ve been lately have had an old-world vibe to them (Sevilla included – the city’s first skyscraper is currently under construction and the controversy is raging), but the atmosphere in Barcelona is decidedly international and modern, with much more of a big-city feel. Not that we didn’t get our fill of cobblestoned alleyways and historicalisciousness, but I was pretty thrilled to be in a place where you could actually get a cup of drip coffee, American-style – not to mention scrambled eggs, quinoa salad, and dressing on the side (to summarize: number one thing I miss about home? BRUNCH).

Gaudí. Bro, what were you smoking? Antoní Gaudí, Cataluña’s most renowned (and probably most totally insane) architect created most of his mind-bending constructions in Barcelona, and they’re trippy, like nothing you’ve ever seen. Geometric vaulted arches, winding edging wrapped in vivid mosaic, Seussian undulating spires… Imagine you took Dali’s clock-melting brain and said, ditch this painting thing and go make some buildings.  Gaudí’s famous masterpiece, Sagrada Familia, is absolutely stunning, but my favorites were the houses sprinkled throughout Barcelona’s streets. There’s nothing quite like emerging from the subway to set eyes on one of these.

El Clásico. Did I mention we were casually there for one of the most famous and intense rivalries in sports history? El Clásico is the name given to matches between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid, and it wasn’t something we were going to miss. We arrived at the (massive) bar half an hour before kickoff and still barely got the last seats in the place. Take a packed house and fierce fan loyalty, add gigantic 20€ beer towers and what do you get? Mostly just some half-drunk Americans trying unsuccessfully to fake their way through the Barca fight song. Blending in culturally, check.

La Boquería. Also known as, the place of my dreams. I could have spent hours in the Barcelona food market –  enormous and overwhelmingly diverse, navigating its crowded aisles is no small feat. Overflowing fruit stands neighbor butchers and fishmongers, their wares hanging on hooks, while a few steps away customers eat gourmet tapas on high stools overlooking spreads of chocolates and marzipan. Sights, smells, and tastes abound – I had to forcibly stop myself from buying everything in sight.

That Catalan thing. So despite being in Spain, Barcelona (and the entire Cataluña region) skips the whole speaking Spanish thing in favor of Catalan. They take the autonomy thing seriously – Cataluña has been trying to secede from Spain for decades. It was pretty cool to be in a place with such fierce cultural pride (many buildings fly Catalan flags, declaring their support for independence), but the language thing took a little getting used to (for example, Catalan uses the Spanish “hola” for hello, but the French “merci” for thank you. Like, just pick one?).

Also, Ryanair. So, that 18 euro flight didn’t get me killed. The seats don’t recline, the overhead bins are plastered in advertisements, and you will be charged an arm and a leg if your bag is one centimeter over the limit, or if you don’t print out your ticket before, or possibly if you breathe too closely to the flight attendant. But hey, my entire ticket to Barcelona cost less than the airport shuttle bus in London (I’m going to the UK this weekend bye bye bank account), I’ll take it.

look it’s a space invader (!!!)

some weirdos inside La Sagrada Familia

Gaudí house in Parc Güell

Tali eats the most delicious cookie-ball-thing

historicalifragilisticexpialidocious

So I spent the weekend in MADRID aka where we ate all of the things and it was awesome. I have a thousand photos to edit so I’ll do a recap when they’re finished, but until then here’s a post that’s been sitting in my drafts for the last four days… whoops

Today’s topic is (drum roll please)… history! If you don’t already know, I’m not really a big fan of history – after completing AP US and European history in high school, I proclaimed that I would never take another dry, boring history class again. After a week-and-a-half-ish in Spain (it’s only been a week and a half? what?), I’m starting to think they were just teaching us the wrong things.

Differences between the United States and Europe are by varying degrees subtle and pronounced. More delicate, elusive than in Asia, where the unfamiliar characters alone are enough to evoke a sensation of contrast. Sometimes it takes a period of adjustment to understand the cultural nuances which dictate dissimilar ways of life; others, however, jump right out at you. History is of the latter category.

Two hundred and thirty seven sounds like a big number, but when you’re talking years and countries, it’s pocket change. When you stack us up on the global timeline (and I’m not even talking cavemen here), the U S of A is brand spanking new, right out of the box. In Sevilla, the cobblestones I walk each day have existed twice that long. Buildings – not just historical sites, but the places people live and work –  announce their eras of construction by patterned tiles, intricate stonework, brightly colored adobe. Gothic, moorish, baroque – divergent architectural styles exist side-by-side, indicative of the many cultures and rulers the city has seen come and go. There aren’t any cookie-cutter suburbs here, no wide swaths of land seized and cleared and built on a grid, and herein lies the culture-shock trigger. I grew up in a colonial salt-box house. Classic New England style, like it popped out of that Revolutionary War movie Mel Gibson did before he started collecting DUIs and prejudice. Hey, that’s historical, right? Nope – it’s a replica, built in the 70s (terrible time to go nostalgic – didn’t even get to cash in on the shag-rug trend). Even if we believe my home’s deception, America’s relative modernity is a stark contrast to what exists here. For Sevillians this is simply where they live, and the history is given, a factual element of their city. For someone attuned (or at least attempting to be) to the contrasts between life here and in the states, it’s striking. Learning about history in class was boring; immersed in it daily, it’s captivating.

You’re like, Emily, shut up, we’re sick of your philosophical ramblings. Noted. Anyway, for a bit of tangible inspiration behind my verbosity – check out some of the totally mind-blowing places I’ve been recently:

Alcázar de Sevilla

The Alcázar is the palace of Sevilla, where the royal family stays when they come to visit. It’s opulent and stunning. Unfortunately, my camera battery gave out on me about five minutes in, so I’m lacking in the photo department… I guess now I have a perfect excuse to return?

super candid Sam in the palace gardens

Catedral de Sevilla

The Catedral is a central landmark in Sevilla, and also the largest gothic cathedral in the world (3rd largest church overall). Like all good gothic architecture, it’s terrifying. The place is massive and extravagantly ornate, with every surface carved or gilded, and chock-full of various representations of holy figures (you can just feel them judging the amount of sangria you drank last night). We also walked up to the top of the bell tower (helllloooo calf workout), which has some pretty stellar views.

decent looking place if I do say so myself

Cádiz

We took a day trip to this beach town – it’s a little touristy (popular cruise-ship stop), but gorgeous nonetheless. Wandered around, got some coffee, worked on our tans. I don’t hate it.

diversos

¡Ay caramba, estoy en España! (I looked up ay caramba when I realized I have no idea what it means. Wikipedia’s related topics section includes pages for “facepalm”, “d’oh!” (see: “Homer Simpson” or “I can’t believe Wikipedia thinks this is a valid association”), “grimace” and “sacrebleu”. I’m now convinced it has none of the connotations I intended. Still, it sounds vaguely Spanish and I need all the linguistic credibility I can get. I’m keeping it).

I digress.

Anyway, today is my fifth day in Spain! I’ve been too busy adjusting to post, but worry not, I haven’t been taken yet – although my host family apparently likes the film and has mentioned it several times. I’m starting to wonder if they perceive me to be a potential kidnapping victim (Liam Neeson, you better have my back on this one). First off, the city of Sevilla is GORGEOUS. Narrow cobblestoned streets, abundant Moorish and Gothic architecture (along with more contemporary styles), a winding river lined with brightly colored-buildings… I could go on and on. Instead, I’ll make sure my camera makes it out around the city a bit this week and update with photos, writing wouldn’t do it justice. In just five days, I feel like I’ve learned so much about Spanish culture – I have a couple blog topics in the works, but for the time being, here’s a quick run-down of some of my recent activities (re: the title of this post, the Spanish word for miscellaneous, or so google translate tells me):

• orientation/intro courses for the JYS (Junior Year in Spain) program

• quality time con mi familia nueva (sorry Mom/Dad/Bess – learn to cook tortillas españolas like mi señora and then maybe we can talk about reestablishing acknowledgement of our blood relationship)

• doing homework in outdoor cafes and drinking espresso – how European am I, right?

• siesta-ing: Spain, how I love you. In Andalucia, it’s hot. Not, oh-there’s-a-bead-of-sweat-on-my-upper-lip-let-me-dab-it-with-my-handkerchief hot, but, I’m-dripping-sweat-oh-god-I-need-a-shower-or-a-ticket-to-Antarctica-stat hot. Because of this, when the temperature peaks from 2-5 in the afternoon everyone takes a siesta, which is the Spanish word for fucking awesome nap. And I mean everyone – stores close, classes break, offices empty out as everyone retreats into the air conditioning for lunch, or hangs out at a cerveceria for a mid-day beer. Seriously, how can I get the US to adopt this?!

• getting lost obviously

• beaching: my host family has a condo at a gorgeous beach an hour away, where we spent the weekend. This was a prime opportunity for me to sing “vamos a la playa” on repeat. If you were wondering how to cure jet-lag, it’s without a doubt two days laying underneath the Andalusian sun. Me encanta. 

• la discoteca: Spanish dance clubs, popular with both locals and tourists. These probably deserve a post all to themselves, so I’ll elaborate at a later date (hey, I rhyme)

• mistranslating and misunderstanding everything

• but actually communicating more or less (erm, less), and learning a ton already

I have a thousand more things to write about, but I’ll save them for later. In conclusion, here’s a couple photos to make you insanely jealous. Adios!

la catedral

playa de matalascañas