Towers, Castles, and Happy Happenstance

Since today was my last full day here, I ended up cramming in quite a lot.  After breakfast, I kicked the day off by walking down cool streets like this:

 

to get to this:

 

The Round Tower, as it is aptly named, was built by Christian IV in the 1600s as an observatory/astronomy tower, and for a few centuries it also housed the library of the University of Copenhagen.  It is attached to Trinity Church, where I stopped first to take a look and also to say prayers for some friends who are going through really difficult things right now.  

 

I then began my ascent up the tower.  Instead of having stairs, it simply has a steep ramp that circles you 7 1/2 times before you reach the top.  It was built this way so heavy equipment could be brought up by cart.  I think the man in this photo was feeling a bit like one of the horses of yesteryear pushing his son up in the stroller.

 

Near what used to be the library (and is now an exhibition room undergoing renovation) was a conveniently placed loo.  A little explanatory brochure pointed out that since Hans Christian Andersen most certainly studied in the library, he probably made use of these facilities (just think of that the next time you read one of his fairy tales).  Bringing in a pipe to smoke while they took care of business was such a popular practice among students that there ended up being a thick layer of nicotine they had to scrape off the ceiling during renovations.

 

The center of the tower is hollow, and at one point towards the top, they give you the option of crawling in through a small entrance and standing on a glass plate so you can see the drop down.  I must admit that I needed to take a breath to do this, but it was pretty cool.  I think it helped to read that in 1880 a choir boy fell all the way down and lay trapped behind the thick walls of the core for almost a full day, only to emerge (miraculously) with only a scraped arm and a few loose teeth.  So, no biggie.

The reward at the end of the climb, which really wasn't that bad given the gradual nature of it, was this:

 

After making my way back down, I headed across the street for a strawberry, banana, and apple juice blend that I later calculated cost me about $8.  Food here in Copenhagen isn't cheap (understatement of the century)--I have yet to eat a meal that doesn't cost at least $20-25--and that's for a sandwich, although they are pretty great sandwiches.  Anyway, refreshed by my juice and consciously willing myself not to cry at the price, I headed over to Rosenborg Castle, which was only a few blocks away.  The grounds there are beautiful, and quite a few people were enjoying sitting on benches, playing with their children, having picnics, etc.

 



The castle itself was built by Christian IV (shocker, I know) as a summer palace, but over the years it's turned into a kind of super fancy storage facility for the Royals to stash all their accumulated stuff.   There are rooms chock full of intricate clocks, crystal, everything and anything you can imagine made of gold, ivory carvings, etc.  Probably all the gifts they've received over the years, which adds up to quite a lot.  I guess if you've seen one gold clock with tiny figurines, you've seen them all.  I can imagine the kings and queens graciously thanking the giver, then as soon as the door closes beckoning a servant and saying, "Put it in Rosenborg" with an airy wave.  There were lots and lots of paintings and tapestries as well. 

 

 

The castle was beautiful and impressive for sure, but a reminder that I could never handle being a royal (not that this is ever a real possibility for me, but still).  It's all just a bit too heavy, ornate, and overwhelming for my taste.  This little cottage in the back is more my speed:

 

All that ostentatious wealth gave me an appetite, so I walked down to Nyhavn to see if I could get the sandwich from yesterday again (it was well worth a second go).  However, the place was packed, and the woman I spoke with informed me it would be an hour's wait.  That sandwich was good, but not worth waiting another hour, so I walked out and was just about to start wondering what to do next when I ran into one of the couples (Keith and Francis) from the UK party I'd sat next to yesterday.  They'd had the same idea, and when I told them about the wait, Keith said, "Well, let's go to the one across the street!"  The funny thing is that that was the restaurant their group had tried yesterday and it was too full, but today it was the other way around, and we ended up seated at a table with a pretty courtyard view right away.  While I am doing okay eating meals by myself and either people watching or reading on my Kindle, sharing a meal with Keith and Francis was much more enjoyable, and it is still making me smile that we ran into each other like that.

After a delightful meal together, they headed back to their hotel to pack for their flight back to London this afternoon and I walked over to the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek.  Just about everywhere you go here, you see signs for Carlsberg beer, and the man who owned that company (Carl Jacobsen) used his considerable fortune to build this museum to house his art collection.  There is a gorgeous atrium in the center that fills the place with light.

 

Most of the art collection is actually sculptures (hence the "Glyptotek"), which range from Ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Roman pieces to more contemporary French and Danish sculptures ("contemporary" meaning 19th-century).  There's this impressive hall, lined with a bunch of ancient Roman statues, where they have concerts and lectures:

 

And here are some of the more contemporary works by various French and Danish sculptors.  The photos don't really capture how beautiful and dynamic (and large) they are in person.  It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself.

(Adam and Eve after the Fall)

(The First Funeral)

 

(The Return of the Prodigal Son)

 

I've just come back from a wonderful traditional Danish dinner from a restaurant two doors down from my hotel that I've been eyeing for a couple days now.  A wee bit pricey, but worth the splurge for my final night in Copenhagen, especially the strawberries and cream at the end for dessert.  I don't know why European yogurt and cream is so much more delicious than American yogurt and cream, but the difference is dramatic enough that it was one of the things I was looking forward to when I was preparing for this trip.  And I made more new friends at dinner.  A man and woman were seated at the table right next to mine (which was about four inches away) and I was careful initially to stay focused on my book since I thought they were on a date.  But the man (Henry) initiated conversation about 10 minutes into our respective meals, and things just took off from there (turns out they're colleagues).  Quite the character, Henry is, and all I had to do was listen and nod and laugh for most of the rest of dinner.  He owns a company that produces organic salami--"The best salami in the world!"--and made it very clear what he thinks about the US FDA's stupid labeling rules about how some of the ingredients (I assume he's talking about the nitrates) could cause cancer.  As he pointed out and I will now think about every time I go to the grocery store, the water they mist the lettuce, etc. with is "full of bacteria" and "far more dangerous" than whatever's in his salami.  Of course, he could be slightly biased. 

 

In a totally unexpected and poignant moment (I had asked if he had any children) he said he had two sons, but his jovial confidence faltered for a moment and he stumbled over the word "two," then revealed that one of his sons died of cancer at age 26.  "So you have two sons," I said, and his colleague nodded and echoed, "two sons" and he nodded and repeated, "Yes, I have two sons."  I asked about them both, and the one who died was named Daniel after one of the "best people" Henry had ever met while doing business in Australia years ago.  And his own Henry, he said, had been a "beautiful person" and "as good a man" as the original.

 

Which reminds me of how at lunch, after I shared where I was visiting in Scotland, Keith shared a memory of when he was a boy living in northern Scotland because his father was in the Royal Air Force stationed there, and how he had his own little boat and he'd go out in the water every day with his dog in the boat with him and fish for hours, and those were some of the happiest days of his life.  "I'd almost forgotten about that," he said, and even his wife looked a little surprised, as though she hadn't heard about this before. 

 

I find it both strange (in an incredible sort of way) and deeply moving how you can get these intimate little glimpses into someone's heart and soul in such a short time of knowing them.  In a strange and counter-intuitive way way, I think there's actually something about being complete strangers and knowing that we'll probably never see each other again that allows us to sometimes reveal more of ourselves and be less guarded than we'd otherwise be.  Whatever it is, I feel I've been given something precious.

 

Tomorrow I pack my bags and head up to Helsingor.  I'll most likely take a little break from this blog and return to it on Sunday.  Until then, thanks for all the lovely comments and wishes, which have all been good company as I go about my days!

 

 

Explorations and Limitations

Today was a little windy (is it just me, or do I bear an uncanny resemblance to Alan Rickman's Severus Snape here?)

 

and since there was also rain predicted, I abandoned my plan to rent a bicycle from my hotel and instead walked about 45 minutes to visit The Church of Our Savior, which is reported to have a great view from the tower.  I say 'reported' because when I actually go there, there was a sign saying the tower was closed due to weather.

and the pretty corner where I stood to take my photo of the church

 

After I recovered from that disappointment, I went into the church and found solace in its beauty

 

as well as with these cute kids who were clearly fascinated by a young man having an organ lesson

 

I then made my way back across the bridge, passing scenes like this

 

 

and then settled in at the National Museum for the next couple hours.  This building houses an amazing collection of artifacts from the various historical periods/ages dating back to the prehistoric period.  And it's all free (well, free for those of us who don't pay all the local taxes).

 

 

While the splendor of the later ages (such as the late medieval to Renaissance period, when things started getting much more ornate and fancy-pants) was beautiful and impressive, I found myself most fascinated by the number of skeletons the museum had and what they could deduce about the people they once were, some of them dating back thousands of years.  Because of the bogs a number of the remains were in, quite a few artifacts, including clothing and personal belongings--and in one instance hair--were preserved.  Seeing the skirt, shirt, and some of the blond hair of one of the skeletons that had been a teenage girl made me imagine for a moment what she would have looked like, what her daily life might have been, what kind of personality she might have had, etc.  Typically much of what we see in museums and castles and palaces paints a portrait of how the wealthy lived, and while that's interesting to me as well, I find myself longing for more stories and details about common people living every day lives.  Sadly, few of them possessed enough material items to last for museum displays or status to be written about in official records. 

 

After my brain reached its saturation point, I left the museum and trekked back across the city to Nyhavn for a second go at eating at the sandwich restaurant my tour guide had recommended.  Fortunately, I left earlier and got there more quickly today since I'd done it before, and the waiter from yesterday enthusiastically greeted me and seated me in a comfy corner seat.  Christian had recommended the sandwich with the Danish potatoes, fried onions, bacon, and a creamy cheese (with some kind of greens I couldn't identify), so that's what I got.  And was it ever delicious!

 



 



I think someone needs to start this open-faced sandwich thing over in the U.S.  The rule seems to be to take a thin slice of rye bread and then pile it with so many delicious things you can't see the bread at all.  A group of travelers from the United Kingdom (they were from England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland--all that was missing was someone from Wales) got seated next to me, and when I saw them eyeing my order, we struck up a conversation and I discovered that they were on their way back from a reunion in Sweden with a bunch of friends whom they had all gotten to know 25 years ago when they were all living in Athens.  I always love hearing stories of friendships that last so many years.  The woman seated directly next to me lives in Edinburgh and when she heard about my plans to visit, she assured me that I'll have a wonderful time, and that everyone in Scotland is "very friendly."  She said she and her husband were turning around and heading out to Portugal when she got back home, otherwise she'd be glad to have me get in touch.

Speaking of friendly people, I can't get over how nice everyone in Copenhagen is.  They literally go out of their way to help you.  Case in point: the ice-cream shop owner who walked out of his store (still wearing his apron) with me, hollering back to the waiting customers that he'd be back in a moment (or I assume so--it was in Danish), just to make sure I knew exactly where the bus stop was.

And yes, I took the bus back home, because until  I finally sat down to eat my lunch, I had either been walking or standing continuously from 10:00 in the morning until 2:30 in the afternoon, and I'm no spring chicken anymore.  Plus, I've been feeling the jet lag today. The bus ended up being a good choice also due to the fact that it started raining pretty hard about 30 seconds after I boarded it.  Combined with the wind, that would not have been much fun to walk in.

I am staying in the Vesterbro neighborhood, by the way, which used to be the porn district but has transformed in the last 15 years or so into the young families neighborhood (more info from my bike tour yesterday--was that just yesterday??).  A number of hotels and restaurants have also sprung up (including my own) and the area has gotten more gentrified overall, but you can still see some of the old neighborhood around.  I get to pass this "Erotic Lifestyle" shop on my way to my hotel (Andersen), and further along is a strip club.  Oddly enough, though, I feel very safe walking around here--probably because of all the young mothers pushing strollers and walking their toddlers down the street.

City of Bicycles

Pretty much everywhere you go in Copenhagen, you see this:

This is because there just isn't room for that many cars and cars are very expensive.  So just about everyone (including the Prime Minister on occasion) bikes to work, run errands, meet up with friends, etc.  To get the true Copenhagen experience, I booked a bike tour before I arrived with the appropriately named Cycling Copenhagen.  If any of you reading this are planning to visit Copenhagen, this is truly the best way to see the city, especially when you have beautiful weather like there was today.  Plus, it's a good way to get comfortable with the biking customs around here since just about every hotel and tons of shops offer you bike rentals.  I can also attest to the fact that it's a natural endorphin boost and has energized me for the day--I don't feel any jet lag, which is kind of a miracle.

Cycling Copenhagen is a relatively new company, so I was surprised to discover when I arrived at its headquarters that I was the only one on the tour today.  It was a little disconcerting at first but turned out to be super fun as Christian, the company owner and my guide (and fellow English major--instant bond!) was very friendly and knowledgeable and it felt more like riding around the city with a local friend rather than a paid tour.  It also gave me a chance to ask all the questions I wanted about Danish culture and their way of life without having to worry about boring other people.  And the bikes are amazing--super sturdy, comfortable, and easy to ride.  This is Christian on the kind of bike we were riding around on:

Much of the city was established by Christian IV, including this harbor area:

Here's the Stock Exchange he instituted, which looks just a little different from the one on Wall Street.  You can't really see it (it's in the arched part above the square above the door), but King Christian helpfully put a giant 'C' circling the number 4 on every one of his buildings so you'd know he's the man responsible.

And if any of you do end up watching Borgen, here's what used to be the Royal Palace and is now Parliament.  In the second photo, I am standing in front of the steps that are featured frequently in the show, unable to hide my nerdy glee.

 

Not very far away is the current Royal Residence, although the queen is currently on vacation with her French husband at his vineyard in the south of France. 

 

Her two sons each have their own matching palace just across the courtyard (isn't that sweet?).

 

 

Palaces aside, they are a relatively laid back and well-liked royal family.  The wife of one of them (herself an Australian whom the prince met while he was in Sydney for the Olympics) often goes out and about like any other person, walking her kids to daycare, going shopping, etc.  I'd read about this aspect of Danish culture before, and Christian confirmed that Danes highly value equality and it's a big no-no to think you're better or more elite than anyone else and give yourself airs.  There's also something else, somewhat related, that I noticed and brought up to Christian--that things seem to be very safe and no one seems to be all that concerned with crime.  With all those bikes parked everywhere, I have yet to see a bike lock.  People just park them and go about their business, which is both unbelievable and awesome to me.  This fits, though, with what the article I posted a link to previously said is a main source of Danish happiness--their high level of trust.  When I brought that up to Christian, he agreed that people are very trusting here and he thinks it's in part because everyone knows that if anything bad happens, they'll be taken care of.  While he said people sometimes grumble about the taxes, they don't really worry about what will happen to them if they lose their job or get in an accident because they know the government will always take care of them.  So, he concluded, that makes people feel very secure and more willing to help others and feel good about life in general.  But, as he acknowledged, that's an easier culture and governmental system to implement and sustain in a country where the total population is only 5 million people.  In an interesting related story, he talked about how one of the richest men in Denmark (and the person responsible for the new Opera House) just died last year and his death forced a restructure of the local economy--he alone paid 200 million kroner in taxes annually and funded a good portion of the local hospitals, police services, etc. so that loss raised the taxes of everyone else in his locale after he died. 

 

Further along the tour, we stopped at Nyhavn, which was one of the main harbors for many years:

 

 



 Now this area is tourist central and the buildings house restaurants, shops, and businesses, but once upon a time it was where all the sailors stayed when they were in port, and it was also where the sailors' favorite pastimes (alcohol and prostitutes) were also located.  In other words, a bit of a dodgy area.  The buildings are all painted the same as hundreds of years ago, and it's now required by law that they remain those colors and the structures remain intact for perpetuity. 

From there, we visited the Little Mermaid

 

and the Gefion statue, which comes from a Nordic myth that Odense gave this woman a chunk of land on the condition that she would work it, so she turned her sons into oxen (that's one way to make them useful) and plowed up the piece of land that is now Denmark.

 

 

 

 

And here's a really pretty church. 

 

 

Christian said it's an English church and there's a large population of English citizens who live in Denmark and go there.  Interesting that the two countries are so friendly considering that at one time the famous (English) Lord Nelson wiped out Denmark's entire navy in a surprise attack (that's what you get for supporting Napoleon).



 

We stopped for coffee after that, during which time we talked about Christian's upcoming trip to Seattle with his wife and young son, our shared belief in the value of literature for all of humanity (and our disgust with the growing utilitarianism in our respective cultures--focusing on what trade you can train for and what will make you a good corporate worker versus going to university for a well-rounded education that will enlarge your understanding of the world), and his  cycling tour business, which he supplements with a part-time marketing job for a major Danish publishing company.  Earlier in the tour he pointed out something called the Soho building, which is a business "hotel."  Not a hotel where business people stay, but a building in the meat district that was converted into a bunch of rooms that all kinds of small start-up entrepreneurs could rent individually while sharing the cost of a receptionist, cleaning staff, etc. Pretty cool idea and, along with Christian's own story, it makes me think that the Danish people are a very entrepreneurial lot.

 

After a stop back at my hotel, I set out to walk around and explore more of the city, aiming to end up for a late lunch at a place Christian had recommended.  The walk took a little bit longer than planned, which may have something to do with the fact that I got lost a couple times, and when I finally got to the restaurant, the nice man who works there told me they were closed and wouldn't open again for dinner for another two hours.  He gave me directions to another restaurant that he was sure would be open and had good food, so I trekked another six or seven blocks over to that place, only to be informed by the worker there (both places had their doors open but just the staff hanging out preparing for the next phase) that it too was closed and would only open for drinks in the next ten minutes.  (Note to self: never again assume that restaurants in other countries are open continuously the way they usually are in the United States). 

 

I was feeling a little desperate at that point because when you've walked continuously for over an hour after taking a bike tour most of the morning and it's now 3:45 pm, you get really really hungry.  So guy at restaurant strikeout #2 directed me to a third location (the men at both locations were both extremely nice and eager to help--I love the Danes!), and I finally ended up with this:

 

That, my friends, is a Danish sandwich.  They are very into their sandwiches in this country, and I could understand why once I got this.  Even though you can't see it, there is some rye bread under there (which I'm hoping doesn't have as much an impact on my stomach as wheat does--so far, so good) with a bunch of lettuce and other veg piled on top, along with about four different kinds of seasoning and sweet/spicy condiments, and some egg salad, which the employee there (also super nice and friendly) described as their specialty.  I concur with that description and have to say that there are few things better in life than eating delicious food when you are hungry.  I may have whimpered a little bit when I took my first bite.

 

A few more scenes from my walk back to the hotel, which again lasted a bit longer than planned due to the fact that I'm still figuring out the streets and layout of this city:

 



 

 

 While I didn't make use of it, it was nice to know that if I needed to make a pit stop before crossing the street, there was actually a legal option:

 

I shall head out in a bit to get a small dinner (I'm still full from the sandwich), but after all that walking, it's been nice to sit here in my room remembering the day (and sitting) and eating the best cherries I think I've ever eaten in my life (and sitting), which I bought from a street vendor.

 

Finally, because I know you've all been wondering, the shower worked out just fine and stayed contained to its own little area.  This was mainly due to the fact that with the rate and pressure the water comes out of the shower head, it's a little like showering under a garden hose.  So tonight, the toilet paper can stay put.



Journey and Arrival

I'm going to start this entry with the disclaimer that it has now been more than 24 hours since I slept (and 20 min. stretches of dozing on the flight a couple times doesn't count) and I just had a glass of wine, so if it ends up being incoherent and/or full of incomprehensible statements/spellings, blame it on that.  Kind of like the bad dress rehearsal that means the actual performance is going to be great, the last couple days prior to my trip weren't so great.  Actually, the last several days.  I wasn't sleeping well from nerves, I was frantically busy all day (not eating dinner until 9 or 10 at night), and as a result of those two things, super duper stressed.  And then Sunday night, I discovered that the fence between my own house and my diagonal neighbor's house was about to fall over, and all I could do was leave them a note since they weren't home when I stopped by.

Getting to LAX (via my lovely friend Joanne) and sitting in the lounge waiting to board the plane was the most relaxed I've been in months.  Unfortunately, that didn't help me actually go to sleep on the flight, a situation that was further exacerbated by the fact that I sat in a section with a bunch of women traveling together who felt it necessary to talk a LOT and also use the bathroom multiple times.  Since I get claustrophobic, I have to sit in an aisle seat, and that doesn't work well in a row with 60+ year old women.  Got to Frankfurt for my connecting flight and got a little lost figuring out the right gate (their fault because they changed it a couple times) and got ridiculously intimidated by the German guy checking my passport.  Even when they look about 14, when someone gives you a steely look and asks you in that stern German accent what you are planning to do in Copenhagen, it makes you stammer a little and feel guilty, like maybe you really are smuggling drugs into the country and you just didn't realize it until that moment. 

In Copenhagen, I had to do some searching for my bag (their fault since they listed the wrong baggage drop).  Fortunately, a nice woman at the help desk directed me to the right drop.  And it truly was fortunate, because a few other people from the flight were simply told by their info person to fill out paperwork and were ready to leave the airport without any of their suitcases until I set them straight.  Because of my experience traveling in Ireland for a week without my luggage a few years back, I feel a strong urge to reunite everyone with their bags, like some kind of Samsonite Superhero.

Here's what Denmark looks like from the sky (very pretty and lots of green, open spaces):

And here's Copenhagen's Central Station, which I was able to navigate my way through thanks to the instructions my hotel (which is only a few blocks away) sent me. 

So yay, I made it!  And though there were a few minor mishaps along the way, everything worked out okay in the end.

My room is a bright and cheery place, but there are a few things that had me scratching my head upon arrival.  One is this bathroom, which doesn't have an actual shower stall--just some curtains. 

 

 

This is a little concerning to me and I think I'll be moving the rolls of toilet paper (and anything else not waterproof) out of the bathroom when I take my first shower just to be safe.  I understand it's because of a lack of space, but this whole "I could wash my hair while sitting on the toilet" thing is a little strange to me.  The other thing was that for the first 15 minutes in my room, I couldn't get any lights to turn on.  When I went back downstairs (there's no phone to call down), I was informed that I had to slide my room key in this thing to make the power come on:

Pretty nifty actually, because it conserves energy AND you never lose your room key.

Here is where I give myself props for how little luggage I am bringing for 25 days of travel (I got quite gloaty when I saw a bunch of other American Tourists hauling around HUGE suitcases):

 

Perhaps the most awesome moment that I could have never in a million years predicted was Angela Lansbury's friendly face greeting me when I first turned on my TV while unpacking:

Who knew the Danes would be into Murder She Wrote?

As for the glass of wine, this was my first foray into the whole practicing-being-friendly thing.  I made myself go downstairs for their wine hour and, bolstered by the delirium of fatigue, plopped down next to two couples sitting and chatting together and totally crashed their party.  We ended up having a really great conversation that lasted almost an hour. Granted, they're fellow Americans (from Dallas/Ft. Worth) in town for a cruise that departs tomorrow, but still.  Baby steps.  If I can gain a little confidence from talking to American strangers, there's hope I can work up to talking to Danish strangers.

Now off to get some dinner and see if I can keep my eyes open until 8:30 or 9:00.

Those (un)Happy Danes

According to a UN study a few years ago, the people of Denmark were reported to be the happiest in the world, which this article explains further, as does a highly entertaining book I read called The Xenophobe's Guide to the Danes (and this is in spite of the fact that they also have one of the highest divorce rates in Europe).  According to the study, a lot of it has to do with their national culture of cooperation and treating others equally along with a high level of trust in their government, the laws, and each other. Trusting people are happier people, apparently.  

I have a slightly different theory, which is completely unsupported by anything anywhere, but that I'll put forth anyway:  The Danes are the happiest people in the world because they get all their angst and dysfunction out in their films.

In preparation for my trip, I decided to watch whatever Danish films I could get my hands on.  When I did a search, I was pleasantly surprised to realize that I'd already seen several of the most popular films over the years.  But as I watched a couple more that were new to me and started to really consider the films collectively, something jumped out to me--namely that, for the most part, they were all pretty dark and disturbing.  And about every third film stars Mads Mikkelsen.

Consider the following and what they deal with/contain (warning: there are a few minor spoilers):

The Hunt--divorced teacher accused of being a pedophile, ruined relationships, animal cruelty, a beating in a grocery store, and the total emotional devastation of a nice man

A Royal Affair--infidelity (duh), the corruption of power, oppression/suffering, execution

The Celebration--accusations of incest, suicide, family members punching each other out

After the Wedding--more infidelity, major lies between family members, terminal illness

In a Better World--third-world cruelty to women, death of a parent, bullying, retributive violence

And then there are Lars von Trier's films, which frequently portray sad, traumatized women getting further traumatized and exploited by everyone around them.  I still haven't fully recovered from Dancer in the Dark (which I saw in theaters about 14 years ago) and I'm pretty sure Björk hasn't either.

Granted, a few of the films above also offer some hope and work out some redemptive themes, but they sure put you through a hell of a lot first.  Things are a little brighter in the lovely Babette's Feast.  And Italian for Beginners, if I'm remembering correctly (I also saw that years ago) could pass as the somewhat melancholy, quieter sister to the romantic comedy.

As for all that Danish trust, the fantastic (really, you will thank me for this recommendation) television series Borgen shows just what troubling kinds of compromises, betrayals, and general political shenanigans are required to keep a coalition government going.  

All By Myself

When I applied for this fellowship, I knew there was a high likelihood of my taking the trip solo, but I was hoping that it would work out that perhaps a friend or my brother Peter (and frequent travel partner) would be able to join me for at least part of the journey.  However, the timing just seemed to be all wrong.  My friend Robyn, who was my roommate in college and spent a year in Edinburgh, loved the idea of meeting up with me in Scotland, but it was just a little too rushed (I didn't find out I'd won the fellowship until the latter half of March and had to start planning right away) and the airfare a little too expensive for her.  My friend Lise would have jumped on the trip in a hot second if she hadn't just spent her travel budget on a ticket to go to France for her spring break a couple weeks before I found out I was a finalist.  And my brother was (and still is) in the process of selling his house and buying a new one, so that was an obvious no-go even though he also would have wanted to join me had the circumstances been different.

When I got to my third strike, I started to get the sense, however terrifying and unwanted, that perhaps I was meant to take this trip alone.  It all comes back to that whole notion of doing things that scare me as a way of growing.  Travel abroad if I'm going with someone else doesn't scare me anymore.  Neither does traveling by myself for a short period of time in an English-speaking location, something I've done numerous times since my early 20s.  Traveling abroad for a long(ish) period of time by myself in countries (Denmark and France) where the primary language isn't English, on the other hand, gives me minor panic attacks. 

What am I anxious about?  Navigation is a big one.  When there are two of you, it's just that much easier to spot signs, find the right train, and generally figure things out.  It also makes it a lot easier to go to the bathroom.  The other big thing I fear is getting lonely and turn into this sad, sad Eric Carmen song:



Granted, I am someone who requires a fairly hefty amount of alone time to feel happy and sane.  But I also need and enjoy some interactions with other people.  This need is easy to fulfill when I'm home because A) my job entails interacting with 200 or more people a day, and B) I have many wonderful friends and neighbors that I spend time with on a pretty regular basis.  To have interactions with people while I'm traveling, however, I'll need to talk to strangers.  This is very hard for someone who is shy.  I'm not shy with people I know well--I can get as chatty as any extrovert--but if I don't know you well and/or there is a group of people larger than two or three, I have an overwhelming urge to flee.  Or sit in the corner reading a book.  It's about as easy to imagine myself becoming an astronaut leading a space expedition as it is to imagine myself walking into a pub in Scotland, sitting at the bar, and striking up a conversation with whoever's there.

But if I can peel away the layers of fear and anxiety, what I truly desire deep down is to be open to encountering other people on my travels--to smile at someone even if they don't smile back, to strike up a conversation even if my knees are knocking and I start out stuttering, to be willing to engage with those around me and hear their stories and get a glimpse of who they are.  Because I know that travel isn't just about locations and landmarks and museums--it's about people.  And while I will be a few thousand miles outside my comfort zone, I'm hoping that being alone on this trip will turn into the best part of it because of all the interesting people I'll meet.  If I can just force myself to speak instead of running away, that is.

The Fellowship

In 1891, a woman named Alice Alvira Stevens graduated from Wellesley College and, at her death,  established a fellowship in her will for future alumnae to travel.  She did so in honor of her aunt, Mary Elvira Stevens.  Her will states that "preference shall be given to persons with good temper and a natural generosity of view when confronted with alien conditions, common sense in observing ad comprehending social, economic, and political situations, a strong desire to travel, and a deep love of beauty."  It also expresses the expectation that the fellowship will provide for "well-balanced young women who may or may not teach, write, or lecture, but who in any event will live in a spirit of knowledge and understanding that will assure a reasonable degree of wisdom."

As a recipient of this fellowship for the year 2014-2015, there are a number of things that move me deeply and make me profoundly grateful for this opportunity.  Other than the quotes above, no one currently knows anything about either Alice or Mary Stevens, but the establishment of this fellowship seems to indicate a close relationship.  Surely Mary must have embodied the qualities set forth in Alice's will, and clearly Alice cherished and admired these qualities enough to want to foster them in women for many generations to come.  As someone who loves her own nieces dearly and hopes to be a good role model for them, I feel a kind of kinship (even if it is in my own over-active imagination) with these ladies and wonder all sorts of things.  Did Mary love to travel?  Was she a teacher and/or writer?  Did she and Alice travel together?  What places did they go?  What adventures did they have? 

Though no one can answer these questions (or explain why "Elvira" morphed into "Alvira"), I am amazed by the generosity of this gift, coming to me through the decades and enabling me to turn a dream into a reality.  My 'dream' is rather small potatoes compared to what some recipients have proposed in the past (many of them traveling for nearly a year over a few different continents), and I had some serious freakout moments both prior to applying and after I had submitted my application that I wasn't proposing the "right" thing or dreaming "big enough."  The specter of perfectionism haunted me even in this realm, whispering in my ear that I was wasting a golden opportunity. 

But the reality is that at this point in my life and the circumstances I am currently living in (a house in need of a great deal of attention that can't be put off, and a 2-month period between the end of one school year and the start of another), I proposed a trip that works for me right now.  It might not be the optimal way to make use of this fellowship in a larger, theoretical sense, but I am not living in a theoretical sense.  And this is what I could think of and get excited about and see use for.

My proposal is to go to Denmark and Scotland to visit the sites that either inspired or are referenced in Shakespeare's Hamlet and Macbeth, as well as to explore the culture/world of the medieval source material for both works.  I will be departing June 16 for about a month, and I'll be sharing my experiences via this blog, gathering materials to share with my future students, and hopefully laying the groundwork for a novel.  That last bit almost kept me from applying for the fellowship.  What if I decide not to write the novel?  What if I want to write  series of short stories or poems instead?  What if I have a massive attack of writer's block and can't come up with anything at all?

As if she could read my thoughts, the chair of the committee said something to me at the end her phone call informing me that I had won the fellowship that made me hang up and cry (right after I jumped around shrieking with joy).  She said that while they'd love to read my novel if I did end up writing it and it would be fun to follow me on my blog, there was no obligation to do any of that.  Then she said, "Take the money and have a wonderful trip!"

In other words, I don't have to keep earning it.  There are no strings attached.  Receiving such a freely given gift made me realize just how rare such an occurrence is.  It also made me want to do even more.  Ironic, perhaps, that total freedom creates such a deep feeling of responsibility, but far from being restrictive or oppressive, this responsibility is a joyful one and one I am honored to have.  I only hope I honor the women who made this possible in the process.

There already is a slight deviation from my original proposal.  My nieces are visiting family friends in Germany and France, and I'm going to meet up with them in Paris for a couple of days in the middle of my trip.  I like to think Mary and Alice would approve.