AmsterAWESOME

Needless to say, I was, shall we say, inebriated for most of this weekend, but sober or otherwise, I was able to appreciate this beautiful city, though at the same time felt frustrated that its feeling like the Las Vegas of Europe cheapened an otherwise important culture capital. Serious highlights precede silly anecdotes.

-contemplating the colors and strokes in a VERY impressionist painting of a glass of water in the Van Gogh museum
-seeing Vermeer paintings at the Rijkstmuseum
-visiting Anne Frank's hiding place and seeing her real diary at the end
-beautiful beautiful canals

-sharing a bed with Natalya 5 nights in a row
-popping Natalya's hostel cherry
-space cakes
-taking shots of jenevir (similar to rum) with an Australian and a South African
-once again managing to spend my Friday night at the hostel drinking with other Jews

Maastricht

Natalya had orientation this week, so I had two days to entertain myself in this town in the south of the Netherlands. This town is a beautiful Medieval town, reminding me of Brugge. I also went to nearby Valkenbourg where there was a ruined castle.

Here are some highlights:

-dancing barefoot in her hallway to "Gay Boyfriend". With Natalya.

-making alphabets ;-) With Natalya

-"actively participating" in a coffeeshop on a boat. With Natalya.

-going to Holland. And actually meeting people from Holland.

-ordering strange things on the menu and winding up with sausage smothered in mayonaise. (something I would NEVER eat in California)

-managing to make more friends in Natalya's program in 2 days than my own in 2 weeks.

This morning, we head to Amsterdam!

Heather's Wedding

Yesterday my close friend Heather married her beloved Joseph. Because I know she reads this blog, and because I was not present for the wedding, I must wish her a HUGE MAZEL TOV here.

For the past two weeks, I've been meaning to go to Helsingor yet have gotten sick or injured. But yesterday I FINALLY went with my friend Yakov. Helsingor (or Elsinore) has Kronburg Castle, where Shakespeare located his play Hamlet. Hence, how appropriate that the day of Heather's wedding, I visit Hamlet's castle.

After a 14 hour train ride, am now in the Netherlands, visiting Natalya in Maastricht!

New attitude?

I don't fit in. I never have. I've always been the odd one out in big groups. In Santa Cruz, I am able to pretend that I am normal, because everyone else is weird and awkward and I have multiple groups where I have a defined niche. But here? It's feelings and emotions I never wanted to feel again. A reminder that just because I'm in a different country doesn't mean I haven't changed.
Today I realized I need to change tactics. I am a traveler, and I will do things by myself and stop trying to depend on people because whenever I put myself out there or attempt to make plans, people continuously disappoint me. So this afternoon, I took myself to Christiana, which is a hippi commune that was created in the 1970's when some people began squatting in abandoned military barracks. It is technically its own governing body, and does not belong to the E.U. While walking around, this girl in dreads on a bike asks me if I would like to join her in a meal. I ended up having a lovely afternoon with her and now have a place to stay the next time I decide I need to go to Helsinki. Since I am clearly not making friends with the international students, I need to keep meeting people in random places. I need to continously put myself out there, do my own thing, and stop trying too hard to be friends with people I'm not connecting with.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when I sit with a group of people that I kind of know and hear about the amazing time they had together.

Updates

Random occurrences undeserving of their own posts.

-I had to ask someone in the supermarket to help me pick out laundry detergent.

-visited the grave of Hans Christian Andersen in a cemetery near my apt. It's very beautiful, and people go there for picnics, which is weird.

-had a conference call with Natalya on skype in the Netherlands and Zac on speakerphone in Los Angeles. It was epic.

-went to an outdoor concert in support of Iraqis who were seeking refuge in a church to avoid being deported but who were still kicked out by the police. Amnesty Int'l had a booth, and if you remember, I was involved with them in high school. I asked if I could volunteer with them, and they said no because I don't speak Danish. Greenpeace has also neglected to return my emails. If I'm not volunteering, what am I supposed to do with myself?

Today was also my last day of Danish class. Hurrah! Unfortunately, this means a written test tomorrow morning, and then an oral test on Monday.

Jeg kan ikke tale dansk

Danish is a difficult language. Many of you probably have no idea what it sounds like. It's kind of like German, but more related to the other Scandinavian languages. Pre 17th century, Denmark was a larger power than it is today, and actually controlled parts of England, so Danish influenced English, not vice versa. Sentence structure is somewhat similar, as are a few of the words. I think the most difficult part of this language however are the sounds. There are vowels that are added to the end of the alphabet: æ, ø, å. Try pronouncing them ;-) When a word is written, you don't pronounce half the word. This makes listening to the cd and writing down the dialogue EXTREMELY difficult.
In class we learned some basics: Jeg hedder Lizzy. Jeg kommer fra Californien. Jeg kan tale engelsk og a lidt hebraisk. Jeg elsker mælk chokolade. (My name is Lizzy. I come from California. I can speak English and a little Hebrew. I love chocolate milk). But really, how useful are these sentences? I figured out how to say 'tak' (thanks) and 'undskyld' (excuse me) immediately, words I think people should know in every country they visit. I can tell people to speak to me in 'engelsk' when they mistakenly start speaking Danish. Of course, most people here speak English, and they don't mind speaking English to the confused American student. But it is very frustrating to be in the supermarket and to be unable to read packages, and irritating when I get a letter in the mail, all in Danish. And when I tried to tell the policeman my street name the first night I got lost, I mangled the sounds so badly he couldn't help me.
But like most things, the more I'm around them, the more familiar they will be, and maybe by the time I come home, I can say a few more things.
Hejhej!

ouch

As luck would have it, I fell down the stairs this afternoon and severely hurt my foot. The program administrator sent me to the hospital (once you've registered with the Danish authorities as living here, they give you a CPR number and all medical care is free). I waited for 3 hours before they had a chance to check on me. Baruch Hashem, my foot wasn't broken, but it's swelled and ligaments are torn. So, she gave me crutches and I need to take it easy this weekend (keep in mind I live on the fourth floor and get very restless when I'm not active). I will try my hardest not to go insane this weekend, but I know I need to take it easy so that my foot will heal and I can visit Natalya in a week.

Mrggg

OK, why is being here so difficult for me? Well, I have to completely rebuild my life. I have to find new activities, make new friends, form a new routine. I realize that not doing what you normally do is part of traveling, but I'm no longer traveling. I live here. I think back to when I started college as a freshman and how difficult it was for me to find my place, but that by the time I started by Junior year I was somebody, I had a niche and a role. But I don't have two years. I have one shot, one semester. I've met some people at Chabad; they're really nice and I love being there. I joined the British Expatriate meet up group online (the international one doesn't do anything), and they're pretty awesome; the events they organize let me know what's going on in the city. I've met people in class, and I'm beginning to pinpoint friendly people. But why is the transition between awkward acquaintance and friend so difficult? I am SO jealous of my roommates who have each other. But me? I'm still completely on my own. I can always try harder, and I always am, but after a certain while, it gets exhausting. After putting in a certain amount of effort, you want to see results, right? I know what I'm like, but many times I wish I was different, so things would be easier. The coolest people I've met are random guys in their twenties I meet while traveling or at Chabad. I don't get along with large groups of people my age. No wonder Santa Cruz was perfect for me... we're all a bunch of misfits. I need to remember why I'm here: to pull myself out of my shell, to have new experiences, to see what the world is like, to travel. But how do you see what the world is like when the only people you meet are American 20 year olds who just want to get wasted?

Food

The food here is horrible. I go into the cheap markets, and their selection is beyond limited: lots of cheeses, lots of meat, lots of sodas. Some milk and yogurts. Some packaged fish. Lots of condiments (selections vary). Cans of tomatoes, and tomato sauces, and pastas, but not many other vegetables, no cans of beans, and very limited other dry goods. Fresh produce exists, but isn't good quality, as it mainly comes from Italy and Spain. The Arab markets have a somewhat better selection, like canned hummus, and bags of dried beans. Still no burrito in sight :-(

AQUA!

Yes, it's true, the people who brought you "Barbie Girl" performed at Tivoli Gardens on Friday night. I got to dance to the songs I've been listening to since 6th grade while they sang them, and it was epic.

ILP

Just to update you as to what I'm actually doing. For the next three weeks, I am taking Danish. For three hours a day. It's a difficult language. Now that the program has started, I have a few anecdotes to share:

-I get lost about three times a day, because I think I know where I'm going but really don't. Also, my apt is on the other side of the city as my school is. This accounts for it. I have also gotten lost everytime I try to go home. One night I got so lost the policemen couldn't help me and I needed a taxi.

-In class we said what languages we speak. Jeg kan tale engelsk og a lidt hebraisk. (I can speak English and a little Hebrew). My teacher says, "Hebrew! Why?" Ummm....

-On the street, a man asks me something in Danish. I proudly respond "Jeg hedder engelsk". He looks at me for a moment, then speaks to me in English. Later at night, I realize I had told him "My name is English"

O, and a word about bike culture: bikes are EVERYWHERE. I bought a hot pink one named Barbie Girl in honor of Aqua (who are Danish). Bikes have a separate lane. But people don't wear helmets. And there can be lots of bike traffic.

On the other hand, I can't find water fountains. And at a cafe, they wouldn't serve me a glass of water. So whenever, I'm thirsty, I have to spend $4 on a little plastic bottle. And then I can't find a recyling bin. How again is this city sustainable?

First Day

The scariest thing I've ever done was go to orientation this morning for my first Danish class. I only know my roommates, and a couple other people from UCSC, but they're not to be counted on. Everyone else seems to know each other (because it seems everyone lives in student housing next to the university which btw is a 30 min bike ride from my apt. Something I am extremely unhappy about.) I decide to talk to someone who is also standing awkward and lonely. An Aussie of course (who else have I been hanging out with since I've gotten to Europe?). We are split up into small groups for Danish class. There seems to be a few cool people in my group. Maybe I will actually make a friend. Two hours go by, can't say I particularly enjoy the teacher. Danish is difficult, and I would've appreciated starting with pronnunciations not actually speaking it. Well, it's been awhile since I've begun studying a completely new language. I have an hour and a half to bike to the next orientation, and conviently run into Ben and have lunch with him. This second orientation is beyond overwhelming with so much new information. I receive so much new stimuli I need to go back to somewhere familiar to process. However, by the time I get back to my apt (a process which usually involves getting horribly lost) I'm exhausted and don't want to go anywhere. Unfortunately, everyone lives on the other side of town as I said. I cannot tell you how jealous I am of those who live in the dorm and have an easier time making friends. I have a hard enough time in general, why make it more difficult for me?

The Norrebro

I live in an Arab neighborhood. On the fourth floor of a cute apartment with a couple other students on the edge of the city. For anyone else, this is not an issue, because it means cheap falafel and markets that sell food besides meat and cheese. The Danes I met have told me horror stories about this neighborhood, how there are gangs and shootings. As long as I don't get caught up in a gang, I think I will be fine. And honestly, this neighborhood is safer than the one I grew up in (rewind to the days I could bike on one street next to my house but not the other one).
But when I go into a market with Palestinian flags and Arabic, I can't help feeling afraid. What if they find out I'm Jewish? What if they hate me? What if they want me to die? One of my main fears about coming to Europe was Anti-Semitism. I've never experienced it. In LA public school, I was judged for being white. In Santa Cruz, I'm judged for believing in God and organized religion. Yet here, part of me tingles when I walk into a bike shop with an Arab owner, or pass by Muslim women on the street. I don't want to be prejudiced, but in the States we have been taught to fear. On the upside, walking into an Arab market feels more familiar to me than a Danish one, because it's similar to Israeli food, though frustrating that I can't speak Hebrew. I think as long as I am not obvious and that I'm respectful, I will be ok. Going abraod is about new experiences, right?

Second Shabbat

I returned from my travels Thursday night, completely exhausted and recovering from a sickness that decided to strike while in Paris. Seeing as I had no friends yet and desperately trying to cling to familiarity, I went to Chabad.
At any given moment, people were speaking Danish, Hebrew, English, or a mixture. I met Jews who grew up in Denmark and had moved to Israel, Jews who had stayed, and traveling Jews stopping by for the weekend. I talked to people about what it was like to be Jewish in Denmark (mind you, the people I was with are Orthodox).
Basically, this is a very tiny community and is mostly centered in Copenhagen, but as all communities should be, it was warm and welcoming, so the next time I crave something vaguely familiar I can come back and sort of feel at home.
Balconies still drive me crazy, and I swear if I wasn't raised in egalitarian communities I would have acted as Yentl and become a man.
I didn't observe Shabbat in Paris, because I went to the Louvre instead, but found it amusing that I spent Friday night at the hostel bar with an Israeli and an Australian Jew.