Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Travel Diary: Stockholm, Sweden
Sunday, September 27, 2:15 pm:
I suppose my lack of entries while in Stockholm is a sign that I've been quite busy. This is true. Between seeing the sights and going out at night, my daily schedule is much more jam-packed (well, relatively speaking, especially when compared to my time in Norway).
I'm currently sitting in Gamla Stan (Old Town) a charming and richly authentic medieval portion of the city. This is where Stockholm all started. During the 16th century, this was really the only part of Stockholm that existed.
I'm sitting on a bench in Stortorget, which was the central meeting place. The bench sits directly in front of a large and ornate water pump - likely the ancient, communal life source for the inhabitants of medieval Stockholm. Directly across from me is the Nobel Museum (as in Nobel Prize), but this grandiose establishment used to be the town hall. I'm face to face with the second floor central window from where penalites were once announced to criminals in front of an audience of revenge-hungry citizens. Somtimes a lawmaker would call for a public flogging, while other times, for the truly deplorable, a penalty of hanging or beheading would be imposed and then enacted immediately.
This square is also the site of the Stockholm Bloodbath of 1520, when Christian II, the reigning Danish king, fooled the Swedish nobility by gathering them for a feast, only to lock the palace doors, arrest each person and kill them each one by one in this very spot where I sit enjoying the view. It is from this event that King Christian II earned the nickname, Christian the Tyrant.
Nowadays, the only tyranny in these parts is the attempt of territorial domination by the hundreds of pigeons obnoxiously flapping their wings and begging for food.
Pigeons and grim history aside, this square truly is a sight to be seen. Stores and restaurants now line the streets where blacksmiths and printing presses likely once resided. Teenage girls and Chinese tourists wearing face masks are a common sight nowadays and there's no sign of anyone who might be anxiously awaiting a beheading.
The wind picks up speed and I've just heard a church bell, which usually indicates that I should wrap things up. My time in Stockholm has been wonderful. I was pleasantly surprised by its active nightlife, effortless style of its inhabitants and its historical relevance available for exploration. It seems to me that Stockholm is not a city on the cutting edge; in fact it's more like they've already cut out the pattern, seen what works, and have followed it for years putting the people first and implementing progressive ideas in order to ensure the city's thriving welfare, cultural appeal and staying power.
Stockholm is definitely a city to visit. It's urban and fresh, thoughtful and cool. I would even go so far to say it's the best city in Scandinavia.
I suppose my lack of entries while in Stockholm is a sign that I've been quite busy. This is true. Between seeing the sights and going out at night, my daily schedule is much more jam-packed (well, relatively speaking, especially when compared to my time in Norway).
I'm currently sitting in Gamla Stan (Old Town) a charming and richly authentic medieval portion of the city. This is where Stockholm all started. During the 16th century, this was really the only part of Stockholm that existed.
I'm sitting on a bench in Stortorget, which was the central meeting place. The bench sits directly in front of a large and ornate water pump - likely the ancient, communal life source for the inhabitants of medieval Stockholm. Directly across from me is the Nobel Museum (as in Nobel Prize), but this grandiose establishment used to be the town hall. I'm face to face with the second floor central window from where penalites were once announced to criminals in front of an audience of revenge-hungry citizens. Somtimes a lawmaker would call for a public flogging, while other times, for the truly deplorable, a penalty of hanging or beheading would be imposed and then enacted immediately.
This square is also the site of the Stockholm Bloodbath of 1520, when Christian II, the reigning Danish king, fooled the Swedish nobility by gathering them for a feast, only to lock the palace doors, arrest each person and kill them each one by one in this very spot where I sit enjoying the view. It is from this event that King Christian II earned the nickname, Christian the Tyrant.
Nowadays, the only tyranny in these parts is the attempt of territorial domination by the hundreds of pigeons obnoxiously flapping their wings and begging for food.
Pigeons and grim history aside, this square truly is a sight to be seen. Stores and restaurants now line the streets where blacksmiths and printing presses likely once resided. Teenage girls and Chinese tourists wearing face masks are a common sight nowadays and there's no sign of anyone who might be anxiously awaiting a beheading.
The wind picks up speed and I've just heard a church bell, which usually indicates that I should wrap things up. My time in Stockholm has been wonderful. I was pleasantly surprised by its active nightlife, effortless style of its inhabitants and its historical relevance available for exploration. It seems to me that Stockholm is not a city on the cutting edge; in fact it's more like they've already cut out the pattern, seen what works, and have followed it for years putting the people first and implementing progressive ideas in order to ensure the city's thriving welfare, cultural appeal and staying power.
Stockholm is definitely a city to visit. It's urban and fresh, thoughtful and cool. I would even go so far to say it's the best city in Scandinavia.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Midnight (10:58) Train to Oslo
Wednesday, September 23, 10:49 pm:
Have just sat in my seat on the train. Am taking an 8 hour overnight train ride from Bergen back to Oslo. This time, the scenery will be absent as it's way too dark outside to even try to glimpse a intimidatingly gorgeous mountain.
I made a stupid mistake. Decided I wanted to leave a day earlier, so I bought a 199 NOK ($33) train ticket for tonight. Went in after to get my refund for my 1,099 NOK ($150) ticket only to find out that it was non-refundable. So, have essentially wasted $150. Lovely. However, I did overhear a guy in the hostel today who was planning to buy a sleeper ticket for tomorrow night. Told him of my dilemma and he bought my ticket off me for 400 NOK ($68). He got a great deal and I got to feel a bit better about being a massive idiot. Oh well, I suppose these things happen when we travel. Can't expect everything to be perfect.
11:30 pm (maybe?):
Have just overheard an American girl (why are they always American?) on the train talking about being a vegetarian. She doesn't believe it's for everyone - at least being a total vegetarian. "I don't believe in absolutes," she says. Well, you're absolutely annoying Princess Granola. She sounds like she just got on the train from Santa Cruz, not Bergen. Good God! Eating meat is bad for the planet and bad for you, she says. At least I can agree with that one (even if I have stuffed some burgers and hot dogs down my throat since landing in Europe - they're so cheap!)
Midnight (whatever, I have no idea, but it sounds accurate):
I wish I could permanently feel the vibrations of the train beneath my socked feet - like a portable device that would just always deliver this sensation under my feet whether walking, sleeping or sitting. So gooooood.
It's late, that's all I know:
There's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight. These girls are so loud near me and I can hear them through my iPod earphones. And now my earlobes are sore from too much wear so that's not really even an option anymore.
2:30 am:
I should have paid another $100 for a sleeper. This sucks.
6:05 am:
Well, I didn't get much sleep, but it did go by surprisingly fast. Will arrive in Oslo in 10-15 minutes. I can't think anymore, bye.
Have just sat in my seat on the train. Am taking an 8 hour overnight train ride from Bergen back to Oslo. This time, the scenery will be absent as it's way too dark outside to even try to glimpse a intimidatingly gorgeous mountain.
I made a stupid mistake. Decided I wanted to leave a day earlier, so I bought a 199 NOK ($33) train ticket for tonight. Went in after to get my refund for my 1,099 NOK ($150) ticket only to find out that it was non-refundable. So, have essentially wasted $150. Lovely. However, I did overhear a guy in the hostel today who was planning to buy a sleeper ticket for tomorrow night. Told him of my dilemma and he bought my ticket off me for 400 NOK ($68). He got a great deal and I got to feel a bit better about being a massive idiot. Oh well, I suppose these things happen when we travel. Can't expect everything to be perfect.
11:30 pm (maybe?):
Have just overheard an American girl (why are they always American?) on the train talking about being a vegetarian. She doesn't believe it's for everyone - at least being a total vegetarian. "I don't believe in absolutes," she says. Well, you're absolutely annoying Princess Granola. She sounds like she just got on the train from Santa Cruz, not Bergen. Good God! Eating meat is bad for the planet and bad for you, she says. At least I can agree with that one (even if I have stuffed some burgers and hot dogs down my throat since landing in Europe - they're so cheap!)
Midnight (whatever, I have no idea, but it sounds accurate):
I wish I could permanently feel the vibrations of the train beneath my socked feet - like a portable device that would just always deliver this sensation under my feet whether walking, sleeping or sitting. So gooooood.
It's late, that's all I know:
There's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight. These girls are so loud near me and I can hear them through my iPod earphones. And now my earlobes are sore from too much wear so that's not really even an option anymore.
2:30 am:
I should have paid another $100 for a sleeper. This sucks.
6:05 am:
Well, I didn't get much sleep, but it did go by surprisingly fast. Will arrive in Oslo in 10-15 minutes. I can't think anymore, bye.
Travel Diary: Bergen, Norway
Thursday, September 22, 8:09pm:
Well, I hate to say it, but Bergen has turned out to be a bit of a bust. I don't blame the city though. It's exciting, yet quaint, and very appealing to the eye. This city definitely has a lot of potential. Unfortunately, the weather has been just awful, which has pretty much shoved its potential in a box. It's also ruined most of my plans - namely, my grandiose fjord adventures.
I suppose I knew all this going into the trip. Before I bought the ticket, I actually expected a lot of rain everywhere I went (it being September and all), but after the beautiful, sunny days in Copenhagen, I guess I just got my hopes up.
9:08 pm:
I have spent the last hour planning the rest of my time in Bergen tomorrow and the beginning of my trip to Stockholm. Something tells me Stockholm might be the highlight of my trip. I hate to put all the rest of my eggs into one basket, but I really do just have a good feeling about it. I do realize, however, that I have neglected to share my experiences in Bergen so far.
So far, my favorite part of this city is Bryggen - the medieval fish market street with rebuilt medieval houses along the water making it a UNESCO World Heritage site. Today, I also went up the funicular to Mount Floien. Beautiful views overlooking Bergen. You can see how the city sits in a fjord between two towering mountains. Even through all the fog and rain, it was a remarkable sight. It reminded me of standing atop Mt. Timpa in Brasov, Romania.
There are houses that sit just perched on top of hills here - almost like in Laguna Beach, but in an obviously completely different environment. At night, looking out the window of my hostel, I can see all the lights on inside the houses. It reminds me of my mother's Christmas village knick-knacks she would decorate the house with during the holidays. It turns out they really do exist!
Wednesday, September 23, 3:30 pm:
Today, I walked around with Anton, a Russian expat musician living and working in Bergen. Anton was kind enough to show me around the outer parts of Bergen. (You know, the parts that require getting on a bus - something most tourists don't dare to do.)
At the bus stop, we waited for a bus for a while. Anton told me that Bergen has just completely reorganized their bus system, so it's pretty much brand new for him as well. We finally found our bus though, and it took us 15 minutes out to the city's outskirts.
We then hiked a bit along the highway and Anton pointed out some student housing to me. Naturally, I asked if there was a university in the area and he told me that, no, there wasn't. Mostly international students live in these dorms and bus in every day to the university in the center of town, he says. Hmmm, so Bergen makes all non-Norwegian students live at the city limits? Very interesting.
After a bit more hiking alongside the road, we enter the forest and all of a sudden, in the middle of nowhere there's a church. But it's not real, it turns out. It's just a model of an old church that was burnt down years ago. I cannot remember the Norwegian translation, but I believe it's Wooden Church in English.
From here, we hiked more downhill, out of the forest, through quaint suburban neighborhoods to a castle along the fjord's inlet. This castle, Gamlehaugen, was used as a summerhouse for Norwegian royalty. It's very beautiful, but not like the castle I saw in Denmark.
5:05 pm:
It rains for 5 minutes, then stops for 5 minutes, then continues this pattern endlessly. This incessant rain is crazier than Seattle. I'm at the end of my trip and to be honest, I'm just ready to move on. I realize that the way I've described my adventures here in Bergen make it seem like I had a miserable time. I absolutely did not. I loved this city. It's just that my expectations for it were way to high.
Well, it's time for me to head out. The only thing more obnoxious than this rain is the American from Colorado staying in my hostel who keeps making conversation with people who obviously don't care. "We've got more elk per capita in Estes Park than any other town, city, or state. They outnumber humans 10 to 1. I'm not lyin'!" That's... super.
Well, I hate to say it, but Bergen has turned out to be a bit of a bust. I don't blame the city though. It's exciting, yet quaint, and very appealing to the eye. This city definitely has a lot of potential. Unfortunately, the weather has been just awful, which has pretty much shoved its potential in a box. It's also ruined most of my plans - namely, my grandiose fjord adventures.
I suppose I knew all this going into the trip. Before I bought the ticket, I actually expected a lot of rain everywhere I went (it being September and all), but after the beautiful, sunny days in Copenhagen, I guess I just got my hopes up.
9:08 pm:
I have spent the last hour planning the rest of my time in Bergen tomorrow and the beginning of my trip to Stockholm. Something tells me Stockholm might be the highlight of my trip. I hate to put all the rest of my eggs into one basket, but I really do just have a good feeling about it. I do realize, however, that I have neglected to share my experiences in Bergen so far.
So far, my favorite part of this city is Bryggen - the medieval fish market street with rebuilt medieval houses along the water making it a UNESCO World Heritage site. Today, I also went up the funicular to Mount Floien. Beautiful views overlooking Bergen. You can see how the city sits in a fjord between two towering mountains. Even through all the fog and rain, it was a remarkable sight. It reminded me of standing atop Mt. Timpa in Brasov, Romania.
There are houses that sit just perched on top of hills here - almost like in Laguna Beach, but in an obviously completely different environment. At night, looking out the window of my hostel, I can see all the lights on inside the houses. It reminds me of my mother's Christmas village knick-knacks she would decorate the house with during the holidays. It turns out they really do exist!
Wednesday, September 23, 3:30 pm:
Today, I walked around with Anton, a Russian expat musician living and working in Bergen. Anton was kind enough to show me around the outer parts of Bergen. (You know, the parts that require getting on a bus - something most tourists don't dare to do.)
At the bus stop, we waited for a bus for a while. Anton told me that Bergen has just completely reorganized their bus system, so it's pretty much brand new for him as well. We finally found our bus though, and it took us 15 minutes out to the city's outskirts.
We then hiked a bit along the highway and Anton pointed out some student housing to me. Naturally, I asked if there was a university in the area and he told me that, no, there wasn't. Mostly international students live in these dorms and bus in every day to the university in the center of town, he says. Hmmm, so Bergen makes all non-Norwegian students live at the city limits? Very interesting.
After a bit more hiking alongside the road, we enter the forest and all of a sudden, in the middle of nowhere there's a church. But it's not real, it turns out. It's just a model of an old church that was burnt down years ago. I cannot remember the Norwegian translation, but I believe it's Wooden Church in English.
From here, we hiked more downhill, out of the forest, through quaint suburban neighborhoods to a castle along the fjord's inlet. This castle, Gamlehaugen, was used as a summerhouse for Norwegian royalty. It's very beautiful, but not like the castle I saw in Denmark.
5:05 pm:
It rains for 5 minutes, then stops for 5 minutes, then continues this pattern endlessly. This incessant rain is crazier than Seattle. I'm at the end of my trip and to be honest, I'm just ready to move on. I realize that the way I've described my adventures here in Bergen make it seem like I had a miserable time. I absolutely did not. I loved this city. It's just that my expectations for it were way to high.
Well, it's time for me to head out. The only thing more obnoxious than this rain is the American from Colorado staying in my hostel who keeps making conversation with people who obviously don't care. "We've got more elk per capita in Estes Park than any other town, city, or state. They outnumber humans 10 to 1. I'm not lyin'!" That's... super.
You Can Dance. You Can Jive. You Can Learn?
I realize that when I share secrets on my blog, they're not really secrets since they could potentially reach the entire world if the entire world really cared to read about my absurd life.
I also realize that shame is something that should be reserved for teenagers and fools. The times I have been embarrassed or ashamed of the things I've done have been almost completely eliminated in a gradual progression since middle school.
Therefore, I have a secret that I am neither ashamed nor embarrassed to share with you:
Today, I will be visiting the official Abba museum - ABBAWORLD.
Here's a throwback to where it all started:
I also realize that shame is something that should be reserved for teenagers and fools. The times I have been embarrassed or ashamed of the things I've done have been almost completely eliminated in a gradual progression since middle school.
Therefore, I have a secret that I am neither ashamed nor embarrassed to share with you:
Today, I will be visiting the official Abba museum - ABBAWORLD.
Here's a throwback to where it all started:
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I Most Certainly Approve: Ruminations.com
My friend Jackie recently sent me an email with the "All Time Best" pieces of wisdom from our generation according to the website Ruminations.com.
I was just getting ready to get some dinner. However, as soon as I got the email, I basically sat at my computer screen and laughed for about thirty-five minutes instead of eating. And now instead of eating, I'm writing a blog post about it.
If you haven't seen the website, you should visit it now. People just post random thoughts and revelations that are totally relevant to the generation of us born in the 1970s and 1980s.
Here are a few of my favorites from the email Jackie sent me:
(Note: I've also taken the liberty of changing the font OUT of Comic Sans - whoever compiled this list should know that Comic Sans is definitely the worst font ever.)
1) The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase “Regards” again.
2) Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn’t work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQs. We just figured it out. Today’s kids are soft.
3) I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.
4) That’s enough, Nickelback.
5) How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6) I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
7) Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.
8) How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said?
9) While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it…thanks Mario Kart.
10) MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
11) If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.
12) Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I’m from, this shouldn’t be a problem….
13) “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this ever.
14) I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it’s on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.
15) Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
16) It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.
17) I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.
I cannot stop laughing. I most certainly approve!
I was just getting ready to get some dinner. However, as soon as I got the email, I basically sat at my computer screen and laughed for about thirty-five minutes instead of eating. And now instead of eating, I'm writing a blog post about it.
If you haven't seen the website, you should visit it now. People just post random thoughts and revelations that are totally relevant to the generation of us born in the 1970s and 1980s.
Here are a few of my favorites from the email Jackie sent me:
(Note: I've also taken the liberty of changing the font OUT of Comic Sans - whoever compiled this list should know that Comic Sans is definitely the worst font ever.)
1) The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase “Regards” again.
2) Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn’t work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQs. We just figured it out. Today’s kids are soft.
3) I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.
4) That’s enough, Nickelback.
5) How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6) I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
7) Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.
8) How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear what they said?
9) While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it…thanks Mario Kart.
10) MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
11) If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.
12) Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I’m from, this shouldn’t be a problem….
13) “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this ever.
14) I like all of the music in my iTunes, except when it’s on shuffle, then I like about one in every fifteen songs in my iTunes.
15) Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
16) It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.
17) I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.
I cannot stop laughing. I most certainly approve!
Travel Diary: Train Ride From Oslo to Bergen
Monday, September 21, 11:45 am:
Today marks the official halfway point through my Scandinavian vacation. Oslo was great and I got a really good feeling about it, however I feel like it was totally doable in a day. If I had stayed longer, am not sure what else I would have done, really.
I am currently on the train to Bergen, a city on the western coast of Norway. It's nicknamed "The Gateway to the Fjords" - so basically, I'm expecting a lot of natural beauty. I didn't get a window seat like I would have preferred, but I can still see outside of the windows. We're not too far into the train ride, but I can already see the beauty that is Norway. We just passed by a small town, Drammen, and it looked like a lovely place to live ... houses high on hilltops, people walking around the lake for an afternoon stroll. How nice, to stroll.
Around 1:00 pm:
The freshly naked sheep wander the fields that are colored with multi-shaded greens below the hills carved of granite. Red farmhouses, life-sized yet remarkably similar to a child's toy, dot the scenery like they would in a caricature painting of country life. A one lane street, with visibly old pavement but still fresh like nobody's ever driven on it, cuts through the hills at convenient points, but still looks like an outline for a roller coaster of a drive.
The sun shines down on the trees - I've never known green like this before. Lakes, too many to count, rest as peaceful as puddles. The beauty goes by too fast on this speeding train - so fast, I'd almost rather not look at it at all. Then it vanishes to darkness without warning as the train pushes through a tunnel. It's like clockwork - nature:darkness:nature:darkness:nature:darkness ... tick:tock:tick:tock:tick:tock. It's an overdose of impossible landscapes. It almost makes me want to cry.
There are no water banks - the lake and the land just blend together seamlessly. The water's so close and inviting, I just want to jump in from here. The trees are as long and skinny as pencils, but grouped together they're a formidable herd. As the train speeds by, seeing the villages behind these trees is like observing them through prison bars. We slow down. We've reached a town called Nesbeyen. A brief pause, immobility. Then the conductor blows his whistle and the ride starts again.
Around 2:30 pm:
Finse - where you can "bike the famous glacial road" according to signs. Looking out the window at the chill that has overcome this town, I have a feeling the season for this is over. I've overheard a train employee saying that this is the highest we'll get on our trip - 1,222 meters. I don't have to know what that is in feet to realize that it's high. But the waters here still rush like we're at the ocean - it's weird.
2:45 pm:
I feel like I'm on the train to Hogwarts.
3:30 pm:
Still on the train. The sun has abandoned his shine as we've made our ascent above 1,000 meters. The wind and the mist reign in these parts, but it only adds to the beauty. A consistent, mysterious gloom hovers over everything. I have a peek into the world very few have the privilige to live in - rather, the very few who have the courage to live in. Glaciers are visible on jagged mountain tops in the not so far distance. Thousands of tiny running streams flow with gentle fervor at their bases. Waterfalls spurt out of mountain facades like leaking pipes. Have arrived to Hallingskeid.
10:05 pm:
Have arrived in Bergen. Just spent about 2 hours online reserving plans for the rest of my trip. Walked around Bergen just for a bit, but it got dark pretty quickly. This town is adorable.
Today marks the official halfway point through my Scandinavian vacation. Oslo was great and I got a really good feeling about it, however I feel like it was totally doable in a day. If I had stayed longer, am not sure what else I would have done, really.
I am currently on the train to Bergen, a city on the western coast of Norway. It's nicknamed "The Gateway to the Fjords" - so basically, I'm expecting a lot of natural beauty. I didn't get a window seat like I would have preferred, but I can still see outside of the windows. We're not too far into the train ride, but I can already see the beauty that is Norway. We just passed by a small town, Drammen, and it looked like a lovely place to live ... houses high on hilltops, people walking around the lake for an afternoon stroll. How nice, to stroll.
Around 1:00 pm:
The freshly naked sheep wander the fields that are colored with multi-shaded greens below the hills carved of granite. Red farmhouses, life-sized yet remarkably similar to a child's toy, dot the scenery like they would in a caricature painting of country life. A one lane street, with visibly old pavement but still fresh like nobody's ever driven on it, cuts through the hills at convenient points, but still looks like an outline for a roller coaster of a drive.
The sun shines down on the trees - I've never known green like this before. Lakes, too many to count, rest as peaceful as puddles. The beauty goes by too fast on this speeding train - so fast, I'd almost rather not look at it at all. Then it vanishes to darkness without warning as the train pushes through a tunnel. It's like clockwork - nature:darkness:nature:darkness:nature:darkness ... tick:tock:tick:tock:tick:tock. It's an overdose of impossible landscapes. It almost makes me want to cry.
There are no water banks - the lake and the land just blend together seamlessly. The water's so close and inviting, I just want to jump in from here. The trees are as long and skinny as pencils, but grouped together they're a formidable herd. As the train speeds by, seeing the villages behind these trees is like observing them through prison bars. We slow down. We've reached a town called Nesbeyen. A brief pause, immobility. Then the conductor blows his whistle and the ride starts again.
Around 2:30 pm:
Finse - where you can "bike the famous glacial road" according to signs. Looking out the window at the chill that has overcome this town, I have a feeling the season for this is over. I've overheard a train employee saying that this is the highest we'll get on our trip - 1,222 meters. I don't have to know what that is in feet to realize that it's high. But the waters here still rush like we're at the ocean - it's weird.
2:45 pm:
I feel like I'm on the train to Hogwarts.
3:30 pm:
Still on the train. The sun has abandoned his shine as we've made our ascent above 1,000 meters. The wind and the mist reign in these parts, but it only adds to the beauty. A consistent, mysterious gloom hovers over everything. I have a peek into the world very few have the privilige to live in - rather, the very few who have the courage to live in. Glaciers are visible on jagged mountain tops in the not so far distance. Thousands of tiny running streams flow with gentle fervor at their bases. Waterfalls spurt out of mountain facades like leaking pipes. Have arrived to Hallingskeid.
10:05 pm:
Have arrived in Bergen. Just spent about 2 hours online reserving plans for the rest of my trip. Walked around Bergen just for a bit, but it got dark pretty quickly. This town is adorable.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Holm, Swede Holm
For those of you keeping tabs, I'm leaving tonight on the midnight train (well 10:58) train to Oslo. Then I'm off to Stockholm in the afternoon. Very much looking forward to Stockholm. Think it might be the highlight of my trip.
Good thing I have a Swede tooth! (Cue drums)
Good thing I have a Swede tooth! (Cue drums)
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Travel Diary: Oslo, Norway
Sunday, September 20, 2009, 10:15 am
Well, I have two Saturdays in Scandinavia and one of them just went to waste because I felt too ill to do anything. It's really too bad, although my general lack of energy probably would have prevented me from having much fun anyway. Major jet lag plus some sleepless nights out will take its toll on you, I suppose.
I got up early this morning to get to the airport from the Copenhagen train station. Well, did so with flying colors. I half expected it to be quite difficult given my previous experiences with European train travel in Romania and Moldova. I should have known better. Just as I started to get nervous about missing my train stop, a calm voice over the intercom told me when it would be... in English!
When I arrived at the airport, I found that my flight was actually an hour later than I originally thought. So, now I've been here for a couple of hours just waiting to fly to Oslo. Only spending one night in Oslo before heading off to Bergen.
12:35pm
Have just landed in Oslo. Exchanged my money only to spend about $18 on a pizza, breadsticks and 7-Up at the airport restaurant. This will likely be the most expensive leg of my trip; and likely the most unhealthy given food options in my price range.
5:30pm
Well, everyone has said that Oslo has little to offer. My first impression was quite the same to be honest. But I gave this town some more time and upon walking around with no agenda, I am taken aback by it's charm.
It's a quiet Sunday and almost all the shops are closed, but my peaceful stroll along Aker Brygge has changed my opinion of this seaside town. In fact, this section of town specifically reminds me of Seattle. It's cold and it's wet, but the occasional ray of sunshine peeks through the drifting clouds. The light waves lap up against the wooden piers and columns. The islands of green in the distance with the ferries that shuttle back and forth to them; the new condos above shops and restaurants clearly reserved for the city's elite - could Oslo be the Seattle of Europe?
6:00pm
A man puffs on his pipe while taking a picture of himself on his iPhone. A couple kisses at the pier's end in front of the setting sun - he's short and she's, well, Norwegian. A young man navigates his bike across the narrow beams of wood that separate land and sea all while carrying a cup of coffee in one hand. Out in the sea, a Swedish sailboat starts to dock on the pier, a young blond man giving orders in a foreign tongue to seahands who understand and start pulling at sails and grinding winches. Arm in arm with a long-haired beauty, a man whistles while he walks. He whistles while he walks. Sisters are giggling with each other, shopping bags in both hands. And then a church bell rings in the distance. No joke. Doesn't it always?
Well, I have two Saturdays in Scandinavia and one of them just went to waste because I felt too ill to do anything. It's really too bad, although my general lack of energy probably would have prevented me from having much fun anyway. Major jet lag plus some sleepless nights out will take its toll on you, I suppose.
I got up early this morning to get to the airport from the Copenhagen train station. Well, did so with flying colors. I half expected it to be quite difficult given my previous experiences with European train travel in Romania and Moldova. I should have known better. Just as I started to get nervous about missing my train stop, a calm voice over the intercom told me when it would be... in English!
When I arrived at the airport, I found that my flight was actually an hour later than I originally thought. So, now I've been here for a couple of hours just waiting to fly to Oslo. Only spending one night in Oslo before heading off to Bergen.
12:35pm
Have just landed in Oslo. Exchanged my money only to spend about $18 on a pizza, breadsticks and 7-Up at the airport restaurant. This will likely be the most expensive leg of my trip; and likely the most unhealthy given food options in my price range.
5:30pm
Well, everyone has said that Oslo has little to offer. My first impression was quite the same to be honest. But I gave this town some more time and upon walking around with no agenda, I am taken aback by it's charm.
It's a quiet Sunday and almost all the shops are closed, but my peaceful stroll along Aker Brygge has changed my opinion of this seaside town. In fact, this section of town specifically reminds me of Seattle. It's cold and it's wet, but the occasional ray of sunshine peeks through the drifting clouds. The light waves lap up against the wooden piers and columns. The islands of green in the distance with the ferries that shuttle back and forth to them; the new condos above shops and restaurants clearly reserved for the city's elite - could Oslo be the Seattle of Europe?
6:00pm
A man puffs on his pipe while taking a picture of himself on his iPhone. A couple kisses at the pier's end in front of the setting sun - he's short and she's, well, Norwegian. A young man navigates his bike across the narrow beams of wood that separate land and sea all while carrying a cup of coffee in one hand. Out in the sea, a Swedish sailboat starts to dock on the pier, a young blond man giving orders in a foreign tongue to seahands who understand and start pulling at sails and grinding winches. Arm in arm with a long-haired beauty, a man whistles while he walks. He whistles while he walks. Sisters are giggling with each other, shopping bags in both hands. And then a church bell rings in the distance. No joke. Doesn't it always?
Kasper the Friendly Dane
Last Thursday, in Copenhagen, I went out to a bar with a guy I met at the hostel who found somebody interesting and left me stranded on a bar stool alone. (No hard feelings, of course. In fact I think I may have done something quite similar earlier in the evening.) The night was winding down, however, and my buzz was wearing off, which basically means my ability to initiate conversations with random, foreign strangers diminishes.
After a brief period of no conversation in the car (due to rapid consumption of hot dogs), Kasper starts talking about fairies. Somehow, I knew this was going to come up on my trip somewhere. Kasper tells me an elaborate story about how he saw a fairy when he was little. He was reading with a friend on his bed, and this little fairy in a red hat flew out of sight, but both he and his friend saw it. I can't really tell if Kasper's joking or not (he is in actor), but I sort of like believing that he believes, so I just take his word for it and move on.
Kasper continues to keep the conversation going. He asks me if all Americans are like Miss South Carolina, then does his best impression of her saying, "Like, all, like Americans, don't have, like, maps!" He tells me that there are only 30 homeless people in all of Denmark. He gives me some lessons in Danish, at which I fail miserably. Then he sings some "Les Miserables" in Danish - it's just not the same.
The car ride is getting a bit long again, so I ask how long until we're back to Copenhagen. "No," Kasper says. "We're not going back yet, we're going to Hillerod!" I say a bit wearily, "Of course we are."
But thank goodness we did. Hillerod has Frederiksborg Castle, which used to be the seat of the Danish kings. The oldest parts of the castle date back to 1560 and you can tell. It's so old, but so fascinating. I immediately fell in love with this castle upon looking at it. It's not like most castles you see in Europe. French chateaus, for example, are usually very isolated and have an extremely elite and inaccesably royal attitude about them. Their pretentiousness and grandeur is almost off-putting and tends to make them boring. Frederiksborg, on the other hand, is right in the middle of a thriving city. Joggers with iPods ran through the cobblestone streets of the castle courtyards and local dog owners walked their four-legged friends around ancient fountains. I myself may have gotten a little carried away when I simply couldn't hold it anymore, so decided to pee on the Queen's royal gardens.
After Hillerod, we finally headed back to Copenhagen. We ate at Oscar's Cafe - I had a Mexican Burger that was delicious (considering, like hot dogs, I don't eat burgers anymore). We then went to Tivoli Gardens, an amusement park essentially, right in the middle of the city, and saw a great laser show at night right along the lake.
I owe Kasper a huge thank you for everything he managed to show me in one day. So thank you, Kasper, for really showing me Denmark. I feel like you let me see parts that most tourists don't ever get to see. As any good traveler knows, these unplanned adventures are what always make the best travel experiences.
Luckily, I met Kasper - a Danish 21-year-old who actually worked at the bar I was at (I found out later). Well, after some nice conversation about my country and his country, Kasper invited me to some local spots in Denmark that I might enjoy. He said he had a car and he wouldn't mind showing me around a bit. Without any reluctance, I took him up on the offer.
We agreed to meet at 10am at my hostel. Fast forward to 10am at the hostel - picture me, asleep in my bed, oblivious to the time, dreaming about cuddly puppies. Then fast forward to 11am and picture the same thing. Ditto noon. Well, 12:30 comes around and Carsten (the owner of the hostel I was staying in) comes into my shared room and suddenly says, "Michael, there's a boy waiting for you downstairs." At first I'm confused because I've just woken up and I have absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but it could be exciting. Then I freak the eff out! I rush downstairs to see Kasper standing in the hallway and I put on my best "apology face" (you know, all scrunched up and innocent-like) and tell him I'm sorry. He basically says that he just woke up too, so there's nothing to worry about.
I shower really quickly, then get dressed and we head out the door and into Kasper's car. We drive for a while, then a while more, then a really long while. I guess it's my own fault for not asking Kasper how long it would take us to where we were going or doing any research on the place before going there (I'm currently picturing my mother wincing at these facts). Basically I just hopped into a car with a stranger and hoped for the best.
About 2.5 hours later, we arrive in Moen in the south of Zealand. Moen is a coastal city where the cliffs are literally falling apart and dropping into the Baltic Sea. They are made of chalk, and the chalk comes tumbling down the side of the cliffs in little pieces that look like feta cheese. (Kasper jokes, "Every time these rocks fall, our country gets smaller and smaller." And he's right.) You can pick up these rocks and literally write with them. There are also tons of beautiful black rocks covering the beach. I ask Kasper what they are and he says it's flint. Like flint you use to make fire. I'm impressed... and I obviously steal some.
About 2.5 hours later, we arrive in Moen in the south of Zealand. Moen is a coastal city where the cliffs are literally falling apart and dropping into the Baltic Sea. They are made of chalk, and the chalk comes tumbling down the side of the cliffs in little pieces that look like feta cheese. (Kasper jokes, "Every time these rocks fall, our country gets smaller and smaller." And he's right.) You can pick up these rocks and literally write with them. There are also tons of beautiful black rocks covering the beach. I ask Kasper what they are and he says it's flint. Like flint you use to make fire. I'm impressed... and I obviously steal some.
On the way back from Moen, Kasper stops at a gas station to fill up. We haven't eaten all day and by now it's 4pm, so we decide to grab a quick bite. I had one of the best hot dogs I've ever tasted (especially since I've given up eating hot dogs a couple of months ago) - it was BBQ flavored with cheese on the inside and stuffed into a tiny hole in a crispy french roll filled with ketchup. They sell these all throughout Scandinavia and I've never seen them before in my life. Yummy, yummy, yumm-o!
Kasper continues to keep the conversation going. He asks me if all Americans are like Miss South Carolina, then does his best impression of her saying, "Like, all, like Americans, don't have, like, maps!" He tells me that there are only 30 homeless people in all of Denmark. He gives me some lessons in Danish, at which I fail miserably. Then he sings some "Les Miserables" in Danish - it's just not the same.
The car ride is getting a bit long again, so I ask how long until we're back to Copenhagen. "No," Kasper says. "We're not going back yet, we're going to Hillerod!" I say a bit wearily, "Of course we are."
But thank goodness we did. Hillerod has Frederiksborg Castle, which used to be the seat of the Danish kings. The oldest parts of the castle date back to 1560 and you can tell. It's so old, but so fascinating. I immediately fell in love with this castle upon looking at it. It's not like most castles you see in Europe. French chateaus, for example, are usually very isolated and have an extremely elite and inaccesably royal attitude about them. Their pretentiousness and grandeur is almost off-putting and tends to make them boring. Frederiksborg, on the other hand, is right in the middle of a thriving city. Joggers with iPods ran through the cobblestone streets of the castle courtyards and local dog owners walked their four-legged friends around ancient fountains. I myself may have gotten a little carried away when I simply couldn't hold it anymore, so decided to pee on the Queen's royal gardens.
After Hillerod, we finally headed back to Copenhagen. We ate at Oscar's Cafe - I had a Mexican Burger that was delicious (considering, like hot dogs, I don't eat burgers anymore). We then went to Tivoli Gardens, an amusement park essentially, right in the middle of the city, and saw a great laser show at night right along the lake.
I owe Kasper a huge thank you for everything he managed to show me in one day. So thank you, Kasper, for really showing me Denmark. I feel like you let me see parts that most tourists don't ever get to see. As any good traveler knows, these unplanned adventures are what always make the best travel experiences.
I Most Certainly Approve: All My Single Babies
I think this baby might be mine. I have no memory of ever impregnating a woman, but I think I may have secretly done so because this baby belongs to me.
Thanks, Christos for sending this my way. Hilarious.
This baby, he's clearly a single lady just like yours truly, and I most certainly approve.
Thanks, Christos for sending this my way. Hilarious.
This baby, he's clearly a single lady just like yours truly, and I most certainly approve.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Hot Daddy Nation
I’ve never liked Tom Cruise, but I have to admit that whenever I see a picture of him carrying Suri through a sea of paparazzi, I suddenly find him a whole lot more attractive. Ditto Brad Pitt and his 17 children.
There’s just something sexy about good-looking dads taking an active role in the parenting process. It’s sad to say that seeing this is such a rarity in the States. The status quo of paternity seems to follow the “back seat” approach with occasional final decision rights usually related to discipline.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Denmark – a dream come true for hands-on dads. I guess it helps when a government starts treating dads like moms in terms of parental rights (i.e. – paternal leave, flexible work schedules, etc.) After all, I’m sure there are many dads in America who would jump at the opportunity to spend more time at home with their kids, but find themselves working for American companies still sold on the idea of macho domination, that man equals breadwinner and not caretaker.
During my time here in Denmark, I am not exaggerating when I say that I see just as many fathers pushing around strollers in the middle of the workday as I do mothers. Right in the middle of the 9 to 5 daily grind, it’s perfectly common to see a father playing with his daughter in the park or changing his son’s diaper on a park bench without an ounce of shame or embarrassment. It’s just… normal. And I love it.
Being a dad here also seems to be equal opportunity. There are young dads, old dads, gay dads, straight dads, hipster dads, preppy dads, working dads and stay-at-home dads. I just can’t get over it – really, I just envy the social attitude knowing that one day I want to be a dad who gets respect for actually parenting.
Is it strange that responsibility seems to be a huge turn on for me? A guy can be relatively good looking to me, but the minute you throw a baby in his arms with a matching hat, I'm 75% guaranteed to melt on the spot. I really have trouble thinking of anything cuter, so if that's strange then I don't want to know anything else.
Life is good.
Why No Pictures?
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I brought the wrong camera cord with me. :(
Therefore, pictures will have to wait until I get back from my trip. Nobody feels worse about this than I do. Major bummer.
Try to contain your excitement.
This Means I'm Getting Old
There’s something refreshing in the fact that teenagers, no matter where they live or what culture they’ve grown up in, are all exactly the same. I don’t like to stereotype, but they’re all inconsiderate little demons.
Now I’m not sure how the school system works here in Denmark, however, I have noticed that every time I’m on the main shopping street here, Stroget, whether it be 10 in the morning or 2 in the afternoon, there are always packs of teenagers giggling, yelling and running into people without apologizing. There they are decked out in their experimental clothing and metal mouths, at all hours of the day, not studying.
I know what some you might be thinking. Like, “Come on, give them a break, we were all there once.” I agree, but just because we all went through the same awful phase doesn’t make it right. I know it’s not their fault, which is why I am formally suggesting that the FDA start researching and testing a new drug to combat adolescence. Looking back on our own teenage years, I’m sure many of us wouldn’t have minded a cure back then either.
Those who know me personally may be thinking to yourselves, “That’s odd, because Michael used to be a teacher of teenagers.” WRONG! I taught 6th grade, which is generally 11 and 12 year olds. The difference may not seem too big to those who haven’t worked with 6th graders, but it’s actually huge. Yes, 6th graders can certainly be a handful, but they still (for the most part) are willing to listen.
Anyhow, I hate to sound like the old granny deflating abandoned soccer balls landing in her backyard or the uptight teacher with a “June Drawer”, and of course I’m kidding about that whole drug testing thing. I just think it’s remarkable to me how even on these Danish cobblestone streets laid hundreds of years ago in front of beautiful fountains and buildings teeming with historical significance, teenagers can still manage to ooze that pervasive self-conscious moodiness and dangerous cockiness. As much as they don’t want to be, teenagers are so predictable.
Friday, September 18, 2009
"Michael and the Bicycles" or "Copenhagen, Day 1"
"I am thrilled (on the inside) to be here, but I'm too exhausted to enjoy it at all."
- Directly quoted from my travel journal
- Directly quoted from my travel journal
Although figuring out how the Metro worked was a feat on it's own, it was surprisingly easy once I got on. I took the Metro all the way to Christianshavn, got off at the right stop (Hooray!), then climbed the station stairs above ground only to be immediately thrown into a slew of bike riders rushing by me.
Just so you know, when I say "slew", I mean like hundreds. It's crazy. Bikers here have their own lanes (REAL lanes, as in cars can't touch them), and they have their own rules of the road, which they all follow (I'm pretty sure I may have even seen a biker get pulled over, but he was talking so nicely to the cops and everyone was smiling, so this could be totally untrue - or just very Danish). So far, I've seen bikers on phones and one woman actually eating with a fork, but nobody neglects to raise their hand to signal their exit from the lane. Girls in short skirts and high heels, men in business suits, families with children - everybody rides their bike to get from Point A to Point B.
Aside from being remarkably good for the environment, this form of transportation pretty much eliminates obvious signs of social status and has some pretty visible health benefits. According to my guide book, Danes bike on average 375 miles a year. To make things even more interesting, as far as I can see, Danes don't lock their bikes. They lock the wheels, but I have yet to see anybody bother with a U-Lock or, even worse, the curly, stretchy wire of doom. Bikes are parked all over the city and I guess it's just assumed that nobody will steal them.
After my shock at the frenzy of morning rush-hour, I wandered around aimlessly hoping maybe I'd just run into the street I was supposed to be on. You know like, "Oh look, it's Lillehoevenstraedesorvenhavn Street. Go figure!" I like doing this to an extent because getting lost in a city is the best way to figure it out. I say "to an extent" because after a while, my pack started hurting my back, so I was very grateful when I actually found my hostel.
The hostel I'm staying in, Carsten's Guesthouse, is a hostel for gay people. Can you believe it? It's in a great location, right on the water and close to the city center. When I arrived, I had to actually wait for Carsten himself (he was out walking the dog). He checked me in, but then said I'd have to wait a bit because people were still sleeping (fair enough, it was only about 8 am). After about an hour of catching up on emails and reading more of my guidebook, I finally was able to set my stuff down. I took a shower, got dressed, and on zero hours of sleep, prepared for my first day of travel.
Things started off well enough, but after a few hours, I just started to hurt. I knew things were getting bad when I walked into McDonald's. I looked at the menu, ordered (in English of course - everyone here speaks it), only to be told that they were out of chicken. Like, all of it.
I took it as a sign, so I left... and walked right into Burger King. I know, I know - it was a weak moment. I ate a crispy chicken sandwich, then started to walk around again. I basically just found that I wasn't enjoying myself. Here I was, on vacation, miserably tired and lacking energy. I just needed to sleep. I started on my way back to the hostel and out of the corner of my eye, saw a small entryway to a courtyard. I had entered the Radhuset, or Town Hall. I found a bench and sat down in it's beautiful courtyard garden just writing, thinking and relaxing. Every 15 minutes, the clock tower let off an authoritatively soothing "ding-dong" and locals kept walking in and out on their lunch breaks to munch on sandwiches. It was just what I needed.
I headed back to the hostel, took a nap, went out on the town a bit and met some new friends. All in all, although very tiring at first, it turned out to be a wonderful first day in Copenhagen.
Just so you know, when I say "slew", I mean like hundreds. It's crazy. Bikers here have their own lanes (REAL lanes, as in cars can't touch them), and they have their own rules of the road, which they all follow (I'm pretty sure I may have even seen a biker get pulled over, but he was talking so nicely to the cops and everyone was smiling, so this could be totally untrue - or just very Danish). So far, I've seen bikers on phones and one woman actually eating with a fork, but nobody neglects to raise their hand to signal their exit from the lane. Girls in short skirts and high heels, men in business suits, families with children - everybody rides their bike to get from Point A to Point B.
Aside from being remarkably good for the environment, this form of transportation pretty much eliminates obvious signs of social status and has some pretty visible health benefits. According to my guide book, Danes bike on average 375 miles a year. To make things even more interesting, as far as I can see, Danes don't lock their bikes. They lock the wheels, but I have yet to see anybody bother with a U-Lock or, even worse, the curly, stretchy wire of doom. Bikes are parked all over the city and I guess it's just assumed that nobody will steal them.
After my shock at the frenzy of morning rush-hour, I wandered around aimlessly hoping maybe I'd just run into the street I was supposed to be on. You know like, "Oh look, it's Lillehoevenstraedesorvenhavn Street. Go figure!" I like doing this to an extent because getting lost in a city is the best way to figure it out. I say "to an extent" because after a while, my pack started hurting my back, so I was very grateful when I actually found my hostel.
The hostel I'm staying in, Carsten's Guesthouse, is a hostel for gay people. Can you believe it? It's in a great location, right on the water and close to the city center. When I arrived, I had to actually wait for Carsten himself (he was out walking the dog). He checked me in, but then said I'd have to wait a bit because people were still sleeping (fair enough, it was only about 8 am). After about an hour of catching up on emails and reading more of my guidebook, I finally was able to set my stuff down. I took a shower, got dressed, and on zero hours of sleep, prepared for my first day of travel.
Things started off well enough, but after a few hours, I just started to hurt. I knew things were getting bad when I walked into McDonald's. I looked at the menu, ordered (in English of course - everyone here speaks it), only to be told that they were out of chicken. Like, all of it.
I took it as a sign, so I left... and walked right into Burger King. I know, I know - it was a weak moment. I ate a crispy chicken sandwich, then started to walk around again. I basically just found that I wasn't enjoying myself. Here I was, on vacation, miserably tired and lacking energy. I just needed to sleep. I started on my way back to the hostel and out of the corner of my eye, saw a small entryway to a courtyard. I had entered the Radhuset, or Town Hall. I found a bench and sat down in it's beautiful courtyard garden just writing, thinking and relaxing. Every 15 minutes, the clock tower let off an authoritatively soothing "ding-dong" and locals kept walking in and out on their lunch breaks to munch on sandwiches. It was just what I needed.
I headed back to the hostel, took a nap, went out on the town a bit and met some new friends. All in all, although very tiring at first, it turned out to be a wonderful first day in Copenhagen.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
"Cut It Out!" or "The Flight to Copenhagen"
Yes, some might say that my trip to Copenhagen got off to a bad start. Sitting in the Seattle airport, about a hundred other people and I all waited to board our plane to Washington, DC. Finally, my announcement came: "Now boarding Zone 2 passengers." Even if I barely noticed what I was doing considering it was 6:30 am, I knew enough to realize we were right on time. Standing in line to get on the plane, I spaced out as most of us do in these situations. Then, within 5 seconds of my stepping onto the plane, a woman comes up to the front of the airplane aisle and says to the flight attendant, "Umm, excuse me, but I found this on my seat."
The box cutter - not really famous for cutting boxes anymore since it gained notoriety as the weapon of choice for the 9/11 hijackers. That's right, folks. As the woman handed the box cutter to the flight attendant, she apprehensively took it from her with that phony "buh-bye" smile and tried to laugh it off like it was nothing - "Oh my! Haha, well I guess I'll take that. Haha."
Now I personally could give a rat's ass whether we decided to go even though some airplane worker accidentally left a potentially deadly instrument on a passenger's seat (I'm assuming.) What makes me really angry though, is how Zones 3-5 continued to be boarded after the weapon's discovery, only to all be told half an hour later (mid-slumber, mind you) that we all had to de-plane for safety reasons, taking our baggage with us. Duh.
We ended up leaving about an hour and half after our scheduled departure, which put me in a hot spot because my layover in DC was only about 2 hours. As soon as we landed, I rushed to the international terminal, waited for the gate clerk (that's right, I wasn't even checked in yet) and was extremely relieved to find out that I was in fact going to make the flight. I arrived mid-boarding though, so my stomach was not so happy with me as I had not eaten any breakfast, just assuming I would grab lunch in DC. There went that plan.
The flight to Copenhagen was great, however. We were given two meals (much to the relief of my empty stomach) and had our own personal television screens - I watched half of Star Trek before I almost started poking my eyes out and listened to the Scandinavian Music Channel to get in the appropriate mindset.
We arrived in Copenhagen around 7 am local time. I walked out of the terminal, bought a Metro ticket (after about 10 minutes of intense thinking... "What are all these funny letters?"; "How many zones until my stop?"; "Why isn't this in English?"), hopped on said Metro, and started my journey into Copenhagen's city center...
The box cutter - not really famous for cutting boxes anymore since it gained notoriety as the weapon of choice for the 9/11 hijackers. That's right, folks. As the woman handed the box cutter to the flight attendant, she apprehensively took it from her with that phony "buh-bye" smile and tried to laugh it off like it was nothing - "Oh my! Haha, well I guess I'll take that. Haha."
Now I personally could give a rat's ass whether we decided to go even though some airplane worker accidentally left a potentially deadly instrument on a passenger's seat (I'm assuming.) What makes me really angry though, is how Zones 3-5 continued to be boarded after the weapon's discovery, only to all be told half an hour later (mid-slumber, mind you) that we all had to de-plane for safety reasons, taking our baggage with us. Duh.
We ended up leaving about an hour and half after our scheduled departure, which put me in a hot spot because my layover in DC was only about 2 hours. As soon as we landed, I rushed to the international terminal, waited for the gate clerk (that's right, I wasn't even checked in yet) and was extremely relieved to find out that I was in fact going to make the flight. I arrived mid-boarding though, so my stomach was not so happy with me as I had not eaten any breakfast, just assuming I would grab lunch in DC. There went that plan.
The flight to Copenhagen was great, however. We were given two meals (much to the relief of my empty stomach) and had our own personal television screens - I watched half of Star Trek before I almost started poking my eyes out and listened to the Scandinavian Music Channel to get in the appropriate mindset.
We arrived in Copenhagen around 7 am local time. I walked out of the terminal, bought a Metro ticket (after about 10 minutes of intense thinking... "What are all these funny letters?"; "How many zones until my stop?"; "Why isn't this in English?"), hopped on said Metro, and started my journey into Copenhagen's city center...
Monday, September 14, 2009
Mission: Scandinavia
And I'm off. I will be traveling for the next two weeks in Scandinavia. As of right now, my plans involve visiting Denmark, Norway, and Sweden (no offense, Finland).I leave early tomorrow morning on a flight to Copenhagen and will arrive early in the morning on Tuesday.
Needless to say, I am extremely excited. Yes, I waited until the last minute to pack (um, now), and yes, I still don't have my plane tickets or train tickets for travel within these three countries, but if I've learned anything so far in my life, it's that planning too much will get in the way.
Here's to hoping everything comes together! Expect some pictures and stories to arrive here throughout the next 2 weeks.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Song of the Mo: "Can You Tell" by Ra Ra Riot
Ra Ra Riot! Aside from having one of the best band names I've ever heard, I actually have a (slightly) personal connection to them. You see, I went to college at Syracuse University, and Ra Ra Riot (or at least most of the band to my knowledge) formed at SU while they were students and I was still there.
It gets better! When Mathieu Santos, who plays bass guitar, was a freshman, I was a junior and I was his RA... you know, as in Resident Advisor? It's definitely a loose connection, but it's pretty cool to see them on TV and be able to say, "I was that guy's RA!" (however dorky that may really sound).
You may think I'm biased then, considering I'm so close to the band (uh oh, delusions of grandeur). You think wrong, I tell you. They're actually talented, tons of fun and totally legit. They were the opening act for Death Cab for Cutie on tour and they've appeared on David Letterman.
Check out the video for the song, "Can You Tell?" below. I'm totally into the video - as well as the song - and definitely think you should be too.
It gets better! When Mathieu Santos, who plays bass guitar, was a freshman, I was a junior and I was his RA... you know, as in Resident Advisor? It's definitely a loose connection, but it's pretty cool to see them on TV and be able to say, "I was that guy's RA!" (however dorky that may really sound).
You may think I'm biased then, considering I'm so close to the band (uh oh, delusions of grandeur). You think wrong, I tell you. They're actually talented, tons of fun and totally legit. They were the opening act for Death Cab for Cutie on tour and they've appeared on David Letterman.
Check out the video for the song, "Can You Tell?" below. I'm totally into the video - as well as the song - and definitely think you should be too.
Friday, September 11, 2009
I Most Certainly Approve: Margaret and Helen
Margaret and Helen have been best friends for 60 years. You can tell by the picture on the front page of their blog - the two of them navigating a large ship in their motorized wheelchairs, one behind the other - that these broads know a thing or two about loyalty and friendship.
One day, Helen's grandson decided to help her set up a blog to document her musings, opinions, rants and raves - and thank God he did! Most of the blog posts are dominated by Helen, who I'm assuming is a bit more computer savvy. In fact, in the "About" section of their blog, Helen notes that Margaret "prefers to pick up the phone and call".
Many of Helen's recent posts surround the topic of politics. Her ideas are refreshing, but she packs them with a punch with her simplistic, straight-forward, "you-should-know-better" writing style that almost makes you feel like an idiot if you weren't already agreeing with her.
If you're not sold yet, here's the first paragraph of her latest blog post, which by the way, she's titled, "A Buttload of Moolah":
One day, Helen's grandson decided to help her set up a blog to document her musings, opinions, rants and raves - and thank God he did! Most of the blog posts are dominated by Helen, who I'm assuming is a bit more computer savvy. In fact, in the "About" section of their blog, Helen notes that Margaret "prefers to pick up the phone and call".Many of Helen's recent posts surround the topic of politics. Her ideas are refreshing, but she packs them with a punch with her simplistic, straight-forward, "you-should-know-better" writing style that almost makes you feel like an idiot if you weren't already agreeing with her.
If you're not sold yet, here's the first paragraph of her latest blog post, which by the way, she's titled, "A Buttload of Moolah":
"Margaret, I guess if you get enough morons congregating in one particular geographical area, eventually they will vote a fellow moron to represent them in Congress. Kind of like sleeping with your cousin – eventually your offspring are not going to be right in the head. But the idiot parade coming out of South Carolina seems to be getting longer and longer these days."
You can visit Margaret and Helen's blog here. They're witty, clever and hilarious as hell. I most certainly approve.
Camera Ready!
As the days drew closer to my Scandinavia trip, I decided a couple of weeks ago that it was about time to invest in a better camera. Don't get me wrong - I love my deep purple Nikon CoolPix point and shoot (it was the last color in the store and it was a replacement for an older, broken one, so stop judging); however, I figured it was about time for me to get a bit more sophisticated in my photography skills.
Before I bought my new camera, had you asked me anything about cameras other than how to function the zoom or show the pictures to your friends immediately after taking them so you can hysterically laugh at their drunk faces, you would have been barking up the wrong tree. Well, guess what? Woof, woof, y'all! I now know approximately 7% more about cameras than I did before, all thanks to my recent purchase.
Now, my Kodak EasyShare Z712 IS and I got off to a rough start. Basically, I kept missing her delivery and the FedEx people refused to leave it in my apartment lobby without a signature. So, I had to hustle my ass all the way down to Auburn (45 minutes away) to pick her up from the FedEx distribution center. Now that's love.
But it was worth it. Now, the EasyShare Z712 IS is far from being a truly sophisticated DSLR, but it IS a great camera for beginners to the new grade - or so I read. Well, I decided to take my new camera out on the town today to test her out and push her buttons. Talk about success. I love her! She's compact, totally easy to use and has incredible zoom. In fact, the lens sticks out so far I wouldn't be surprised if she is actually a he.
I went down to Pike Place Market and just fooled around a bit to see what results I could get. Not only do I feel like I have more camera credibility just by carrying her around, once I uploaded the pictures I could immediately see better results in quality, lighting and color (and I'm colorblind!).
So, here's to the excellent Scandinavia pictures of the future, which I will of course share with you here as well.
Shout out to my favorite street performer, Bagpipe Boy, who (according to his sign) is playing on the streets to get money for tuition - although a couple of weeks ago, he was raising money to compete in Scotland. Either way, I gave him a dollar.
Before I bought my new camera, had you asked me anything about cameras other than how to function the zoom or show the pictures to your friends immediately after taking them so you can hysterically laugh at their drunk faces, you would have been barking up the wrong tree. Well, guess what? Woof, woof, y'all! I now know approximately 7% more about cameras than I did before, all thanks to my recent purchase.
Now, my Kodak EasyShare Z712 IS and I got off to a rough start. Basically, I kept missing her delivery and the FedEx people refused to leave it in my apartment lobby without a signature. So, I had to hustle my ass all the way down to Auburn (45 minutes away) to pick her up from the FedEx distribution center. Now that's love.
But it was worth it. Now, the EasyShare Z712 IS is far from being a truly sophisticated DSLR, but it IS a great camera for beginners to the new grade - or so I read. Well, I decided to take my new camera out on the town today to test her out and push her buttons. Talk about success. I love her! She's compact, totally easy to use and has incredible zoom. In fact, the lens sticks out so far I wouldn't be surprised if she is actually a he.
I went down to Pike Place Market and just fooled around a bit to see what results I could get. Not only do I feel like I have more camera credibility just by carrying her around, once I uploaded the pictures I could immediately see better results in quality, lighting and color (and I'm colorblind!).So, here's to the excellent Scandinavia pictures of the future, which I will of course share with you here as well.
Shout out to my favorite street performer, Bagpipe Boy, who (according to his sign) is playing on the streets to get money for tuition - although a couple of weeks ago, he was raising money to compete in Scotland. Either way, I gave him a dollar.Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Slippery Slope to Becoming a Nazi
You may have already seen this, but I couldn't resist posting it.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Ukrainian Sand Art
The horrors experienced by those living in the former USSR during World War II are still extremely difficult to talk about in the former Soviet nations. Having lived in this part of the world for a short time, I have met sons and daughters of parents who survived work camps in Kazakhstan and Siberia who have shared with me their personal histories surrounding this tragic time.
I recently found this YouTube video clip from "Ukraine's Got Talent" where a young woman - I guess we could call her a "sand artist" - documents the personal history of a fictional (?) couple from pre-war to post-war. I don't want to give away too much, but this form of art is absolutely astounding and I've never seen anything like it. Very, very impressive. See for yourself:
Monday, September 7, 2009
Travel Tales: Vancouver, Canada
Oh, Vancouver... I think I love you.
Despite the lousy weather and post-game aches and pains, the trip to Vancouver was a huge success. The Buzz (my softball team) placed 1st after the first day of play with 4 straight wins. Great bats, awesome team work and fielding as well as (tooting my own horn!) 1 home run from yours truly. After the "Round Robin" play (which basically determines your seed in the tournament - ours being 1st), we lost our first game. As for me, it turns out gravy fries and grilled cheese plus some excellent brownies don't mix well with running the bases. Bad news.
Sunday came, bringing along a bunch of rain, wind and pain in our bones. I have been battling a sore groin muscle for the past couple of weeks, so I applied some IcyHot right before we played and five minutes later felt the immense pain that accompanies IcyHot on your privates. I now know what chlamydia must feel like. Anyhow, we played our hearts out against a Vancouver team that we love, the Heat, I got another home run (toot toot toot!) but we lost, which unfortunately booted us out of the tournament.
So, instead of advancing, we drank beer and laughed obnoxiously with one another while watching other teams play their games.
Softball aside, the trip was great. Went to a bunch of local bars along Davie Street: Pump Jack's, Pulse, Oasis, Odyssey, and Numbers (the last 3 being the best of the bunch). We ate some great food at Moxie's, Characters, and Cafe Luxy (pesto gnocchi was unbelievable). I also ate a pretty decent vegetarian "Benny" (eggs benedict on an English muffin) this morning at the local Hamburger Mary's. We met some awesome people through softball and at the bars, and all in all, just enjoyed a nice relaxing weekend.
If you have yet to visit Vancouver you should definitely include it in your future plans. They're hosting the 2010 Winter Olympics too, which should bring a ton of tourism and fun activities. It's my #1 favorite Canadian city and am very happy that it's only a 2 1/2 hour drive away.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Do They Have Labor Day in Canada?
I'll be in Vancouver, Canada for the next few days participating in a softball tournament with my softball team. (Currently taking requests for prescription drugs!) Won't be updating again until Tuesday or Wednesday. This will be my second time in Vancouver. I went with my friends Jacob and Kathleen when they visited me in Seattle in January 2008. We went on New Year's Day - bad idea. It was the most isolated big city I had ever seen. NOTHING was open and NO ONE was there. In fact, our trip highlight was an excursion to the Capilano Suspension Bridge right outside of Vancouver. (Highly recommend it.) I'm sure this time, fun will be had IN Vancouver.
Will be sure to update you on my trip when I return. Until then, enjoy your Labor Day weekend!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Song of the Mo: "Animal" by Miike Snow
They're Swedish! (I'll be in Sweden in 2 weeks so I'm ALL about Sweden right now.) Not to mention - ding dong! - that lead singer's a looker.
If you like this, also check out the tracks, "Burial", "Silvia", "Song for No One", and "Black and Blue".
The Blushing Ball Boy
Oh, to be a ball boy at the US Open. You worked so hard to get here. You are a competitive tennis player in your own right, with good instincts, incredible speed, and probably a parent on the executive board. There you are, waiting at the edge of the net or the back of the court, your eyes magnetized to that rotating yellow orb, on the balls of your feet ready to lunge at any error. You repeat your mantra: I see the ball, I hear the ball... I am the ball.
Then this happens...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Poop Scoop
I love the news! This just in:
A man from Portland, Maine was caught hiding in the bottom of an outhouse at a campsite... again. Supposedly, the first time this guy was caught, he claimed he lost his wedding ring. This time, however, I think it's obvious he didn't have much time to think of a clever alibi. When asked what the hell he was doing in a shit latrine again, he claimed he lost, get this... his shirt.
When I was in the Peace Corps, I used an outhouse (in fact, the picture I've provided is the outhouse I used). There were volunteers who would accidentally drop money, cell phones, or other valuables in their own outhouses. It happens. It's best to just think of it as an abyss - if it falls down there, you are never getting it back. (You can read more about some of my adventures with outhouses from my old blog, Mike Likes Peace.)
As for Mr. Partial to Poop, I'm quick not to judge because, you know, some people just have strange fetishes. But the bottom line is it's creepy and illegal. All in all, it's just a crappy situation (I couldn't resist).
For more information on this poo piece, head over to Boing Boing's commentary on the "two-time turd spelunker" as they call him.
Hawai'i Do You Smell So Bad?
Price of deodorant getting you down? (You never know.) Well, for those in Honolulu, it may be well worth the $3 or so to buy a stick; and not just for the aromatic side effects. Those running late fo
r work who forget to apply some smelly goodness under their pitty-pits in the morning could be facing their own stinky dilemma: a fine to the tune of $500.
The Honolulu City Council is currently considering a bill that would essentially ban body odor on public transit. You heard me right. Not only could offenders get slapped with a $500 fine, some of the more serious offenders could potentially be facing jail time. That's right - neglect to use bars of soap and you'll be behind a different kind of bars altogether.
Now, as a part-time deodorant wearer (I'm convinced deodorant is bad for you, so I wear it like every other day depending on who I'm seeing or what I'm doing - don't judge), I'm not so sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I totally understand. When you're on a bus or subway car, you are in super close quarters with everyone and everything and every scent stands out. Someone who is seriously stinky really can ruin it for everyone. On the other hand, however, I see a serious problem with local government imposing laws governing how you must smell - this is crossing a serious line.
So what is a Stinky Stinkerson residing in Honolulu to do? I say if the law passes, everybody should stop wearing deodorant, stop showering and stop washing their clothes in protest. Arise, Honolulu odor anarchists, stand up for your rights - namely your right to smell like a gym sock if you want to. That's right Honoluluians (whatever), I'm encouraging you to incite a stink riot!
I seriously doubt that a law like this could pass today, but it wouldn't be the first time I "underestimated" the "system". After all, California did pass Proposition 8 and that, in my opinion, was just as ludicrous. If the law does pass, will it start a trend across the nation? What are the consequences of forbidding something natural like body odor? 20 years from now, will "public body odor" be the new "public peeing"? I guess we'll just have to wait and see... or smell.
r work who forget to apply some smelly goodness under their pitty-pits in the morning could be facing their own stinky dilemma: a fine to the tune of $500.The Honolulu City Council is currently considering a bill that would essentially ban body odor on public transit. You heard me right. Not only could offenders get slapped with a $500 fine, some of the more serious offenders could potentially be facing jail time. That's right - neglect to use bars of soap and you'll be behind a different kind of bars altogether.
Now, as a part-time deodorant wearer (I'm convinced deodorant is bad for you, so I wear it like every other day depending on who I'm seeing or what I'm doing - don't judge), I'm not so sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I totally understand. When you're on a bus or subway car, you are in super close quarters with everyone and everything and every scent stands out. Someone who is seriously stinky really can ruin it for everyone. On the other hand, however, I see a serious problem with local government imposing laws governing how you must smell - this is crossing a serious line.
So what is a Stinky Stinkerson residing in Honolulu to do? I say if the law passes, everybody should stop wearing deodorant, stop showering and stop washing their clothes in protest. Arise, Honolulu odor anarchists, stand up for your rights - namely your right to smell like a gym sock if you want to. That's right Honoluluians (whatever), I'm encouraging you to incite a stink riot!
I seriously doubt that a law like this could pass today, but it wouldn't be the first time I "underestimated" the "system". After all, California did pass Proposition 8 and that, in my opinion, was just as ludicrous. If the law does pass, will it start a trend across the nation? What are the consequences of forbidding something natural like body odor? 20 years from now, will "public body odor" be the new "public peeing"? I guess we'll just have to wait and see... or smell.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
I Most Certainly Approve: Hubby Hubby!
Today is the first day that same-sex couples across Vermont are legally able to marry. As a "hat's off to you" of sorts, Ben and Jerry's has temporarily renamed their popular ice cream flavor "Chubby Hubby" as "Hubby Hubby" for the month of September. Kudos to Ben and Jerry's for taking a stand on an important issue and not being afraid of the consequences.
It's all so adorable, I can't even take it. I can't eat it though because a) I'm allergic to peanut butter and b) it's only available in Vermont. Still, I most certainly approve!
It's all so adorable, I can't even take it. I can't eat it though because a) I'm allergic to peanut butter and b) it's only available in Vermont. Still, I most certainly approve!
2 + 2 = Math Sucks
Guess what? Math is hard.
I was going to keep this a secret in case it all ended horribly, but I am approximately 77% likely going to be applying for graduate school this year. I've always had the intent of getting my Masters - in fact, every year since graduating from college I've seriously thought about it. Right after college I was going to go to law school, so I bought an LSAT book and barely touched it. After my first year as a teacher, I was going to maybe get a Masters in Education so I researched a bunch of schools then did nothing about that. After my second year of teaching, I was definitely NOT getting my Masters in Education, but now I was going to study public policy in order to create more "systemic change" (brainwashed). After working in recruitment and speaking to college seniors on a daily basis, I was dead set on not going to graduate school given the crop of losers who insisted on going without knowing why (my future classmates?). Then after a year of Peace Corps service, I was back on the public policy track, but this time on an international level.
Well, I've sort of made a compromise now tying together all of those "almost applied" ideas. I'm seriously looking into programs in international education - it combines my experience and my passion and I think it's something that has a viable output that I would thoroughly enjoy while continuing to make a difference.
Now, any almost/would-be graduate school applicant knows that in order to get into grad school, you need to take the GRE... which brings me back to my initial thought: Guess what? Math is hard.
Either I'm an absolute idiot or somehow I missed the train on how to learn mathematic principles above the elementary level. Don't get me wrong, I am an AWESOME sixth grade mathematician (after all, I did once teach it); however, it turns out that a lot of the math on the GRE is kind of more advanced than what a normal 12-year-old knows. Bummer. (I just want to give a quick shout out to Mrs. Gillis, my 10th grade Geometry teacher, who instead of ever teaching me anything worthwhile, sat on her fat ass "grading papers" - it's because of your overly pancaked face and hairspray-freezed frontal mullet that I never learned anything useful involving angles or intersecting lines. Thanks!)
My brain has never really been able to get around mathematical concepts at a high level and now since I am pretty much forcing myself to do this, my brain sort of hurts a lot. Sometimes I catch myself staring at a sample problem in my GRE "success guide" and then five minutes later, catch myself again still staring at it. Usually I'm thinking about sailing or ice cream or how expensive those comfy chairs in Barnes and Noble are and where I can get one. Basically, anything but math.
It is a necessary evil though, I suppose, and that's really the only way I can justify studying all of this nonsense. It's a hurdle that, regardless of how I feel about its relevance, I need to get over. So, it's back to Pre-Calculus in Nutshell and Math the Easy Way, in addtion to many other titles.
I hope the verbal's easy.
I was going to keep this a secret in case it all ended horribly, but I am approximately 77% likely going to be applying for graduate school this year. I've always had the intent of getting my Masters - in fact, every year since graduating from college I've seriously thought about it. Right after college I was going to go to law school, so I bought an LSAT book and barely touched it. After my first year as a teacher, I was going to maybe get a Masters in Education so I researched a bunch of schools then did nothing about that. After my second year of teaching, I was definitely NOT getting my Masters in Education, but now I was going to study public policy in order to create more "systemic change" (brainwashed). After working in recruitment and speaking to college seniors on a daily basis, I was dead set on not going to graduate school given the crop of losers who insisted on going without knowing why (my future classmates?). Then after a year of Peace Corps service, I was back on the public policy track, but this time on an international level.
Well, I've sort of made a compromise now tying together all of those "almost applied" ideas. I'm seriously looking into programs in international education - it combines my experience and my passion and I think it's something that has a viable output that I would thoroughly enjoy while continuing to make a difference.
Now, any almost/would-be graduate school applicant knows that in order to get into grad school, you need to take the GRE... which brings me back to my initial thought: Guess what? Math is hard.
Either I'm an absolute idiot or somehow I missed the train on how to learn mathematic principles above the elementary level. Don't get me wrong, I am an AWESOME sixth grade mathematician (after all, I did once teach it); however, it turns out that a lot of the math on the GRE is kind of more advanced than what a normal 12-year-old knows. Bummer. (I just want to give a quick shout out to Mrs. Gillis, my 10th grade Geometry teacher, who instead of ever teaching me anything worthwhile, sat on her fat ass "grading papers" - it's because of your overly pancaked face and hairspray-freezed frontal mullet that I never learned anything useful involving angles or intersecting lines. Thanks!)
My brain has never really been able to get around mathematical concepts at a high level and now since I am pretty much forcing myself to do this, my brain sort of hurts a lot. Sometimes I catch myself staring at a sample problem in my GRE "success guide" and then five minutes later, catch myself again still staring at it. Usually I'm thinking about sailing or ice cream or how expensive those comfy chairs in Barnes and Noble are and where I can get one. Basically, anything but math.
It is a necessary evil though, I suppose, and that's really the only way I can justify studying all of this nonsense. It's a hurdle that, regardless of how I feel about its relevance, I need to get over. So, it's back to Pre-Calculus in Nutshell and Math the Easy Way, in addtion to many other titles.
I hope the verbal's easy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)