Sixty Hours

I'm back in the US, and man, is it weird. Reverse culture shock all over the place. It's not that it's been a problem readjusting to American culture, so much as it's been a problem readjusting to my mom's house. She cooks for me and buys me things, which is a change from the self-made lifestyle I had in Denmark. Plus, she lives in DC, and I was wandering around today only to be asked for money by three of the fine (poor/homeless) citizens of our nation's capital and offered cheap DVDs out of the back of a car trunk by three different people. I was only out for about 45 minutes. Welcome home, Eli. To the land of "Screw you, you probably deserve to be poor." I miss social welfare already.

So, we'll see what I end up doing with this blog. I may keep updating this winter, or I may just abandon it as a testament to my trip. It is called "2009 adventures" after all, and soon it won't be 2009 anymore. But, that remains to be seen. This may be the last post, or it may not be. It'll be left up to fate, and my personal whims. You, my six readers, will be left in such great suspense, I don't know how you'll possibly handle it. Sitting there, biting your nails, holding your breath, wondering if the blog will continue. This is, after all, a piece of work that will revolutionize the very concept of literature.

But what I really want to talk about is my last two-and-a-half days in Denmark.

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Friday morning, I woke up late and headed to our pre-show rehearsal for the DIS closing ceremony. I've been in a singing group with other American DIS students all semester, cleverly titled DISchord (yes, it was my idea, and no, nobody else thought it was as funny as I did, but they humored me). For the final show we would be singing "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. Because it's not a closing ceremony if it doesn't include the tackiest song ever written. Then again, maybe that's unfair; it certainly could have been worse.

So, the closing ceremony happened, we sang nicely. We were rewarded for our efforts with Christmasy tea light holders, which are a big deal in Denmark. As are candles in general. We heard a few student speakers who were pretty typical in their student speeches; "we'll all return home a newfound sense of self and trying to figure out what to do with our experiences but I'm sure we'll all be juuuuuuuuust fine, etc. etc." The president of DIS showed a slideshow of things relating to our stay, and Denmark in recent months. His one slide representing recent environmental stuff was of protesters getting arrested. He did it so that he could make a joke, but it kinda pissed me off. The reason why violent protesters are so detrimental is that the media, and subsequently the populace, latch on to these images of jerks getting arrested, so we never really learn about the cause. And he just reinforced that for the umpteenth time. But I had to let that slide to enjoy the rest of the show.


(A relatively tame example of what I'm talking about. The woman says flat-out that it was a peaceful protest with only a small pocket of violent people who were largely ignored by the rest of the protesters. And yet, a full minute of the 1:45 video is focused on them, and the title of the video implies that the whole protest went sour.)

After the ceremony, we were given free cookies. Standing around munching, I realized how few people I knew or cared about at DIS. My handful of friends left, and suddenly I had no reason to be there. I ended up chatting with a couple professors, which I always seem to find more exciting than the college kids. I'm weird like that. Besides, all the goodbyes were awkward, in part because we all knew we'd be around for another 2-3 days. We weren't really sure what to say to each other, I think.

So, I left that party and had the difficult (read: easy) choice to make between the DIS post-close party at some club downtown, and the final party for Klimaforum. The Klimaforum party included a couple guest speakers, then two different klezmer-rock bands (your guess is as good as mine). I danced a lot, and got hit on quite a bit more than I'm used to. I guess activist parties are the kind of parties where I'm considered good-looking/fashionable (beards are the new black). Or could have been my awesome dance moves. Regardless, it was a fun time.

Just as it was ending, I ran into a guy from DIS named Tim, who I only considered an acquaintance at the time, though I now consider him a friend. We had spoken a couple times about environmental stuff and living in Maryland, but we were really only at "Facebook friend" levels of knowing each other. However, after we left the party around 11:30, we started looking for a place to catch the end of the COP15 proceedings on TV, and chatted quite a bit on the way. It turns out that we have a hell of a lot in common, and the things we don't have in common are things that make us interested in hearing about each other. So, we pretty much didn't stop talking for the next three hours as we searched for a screening. We found one, but it was for journalists and NGO people only. So, we left, and just kept talking.

Saturday was spent uneventfully cleaning my room. We can just skip that part, I think. Although I do have some photos.


(Before and after cleaning my room. Cleaning even helps with hue correction!)


(Just before leaving the room for the last time)

Sunday morning I put the finishing touches on my room, kissed my key goodbye, and headed to DIS to handle some final business. I dropped off some books, recycled a huge pile of paper, and got ready to meet up with Tim. DIS housing ended on the 20th, but I was staying until the 21st, and I had a few ideas for how I was going to deal with that. However, Tim offered his air mattress, and I gladly took him up on the offer. We had a late lunch with a third friend at Riz Raz, a place downtown with an awesome vegetarian buffet. They specialize in Mediterranean food, so I had a ridiculous amount of chickpeas (in their original form, as well as in the form of hummus and falafel). I was careful about not eating out all semester so that I didn't waste money, and as a result I didn't feel too bad about having a $14 meal, especially given that it was my last lunch in Copenhagen. Good place to do it, too.


(Riz Raz, with buffet pictured on the left. It's a hell of a lot of food, and reminded me that being a vegan wouldn't really be that hard; I'd just need to learn a couple more recipes.)

We went back to his place where he immediately fell asleep. I wrote that last blog post over the next few hours while he napped. I didn't realize quite how long it was until I finished. About 2000 words, it turns out. Hope you guys enjoy my writing.

That evening, we went to Christiania to check out the last night of their Julemarked (Christmas market), but arrived to find that it was being taken down. For no logical reason, we decided to wander around the warehouse which was full of people carrying things and power tools. Not the smartest or safest move, but we ended up running into three guys in the corner playing hackeysack, which was the best thing that could have possibly happened. I hadn't played since high school except maybe once or twice, and we hacked for a good hour. Everyone was better than me by enough for me to be impressed, but they didn't have the high school "look what I can do" attitude that makes the game annoying. They didn't hog the bag, and they joked and spoke in English for our benefit. I can't think of a better way to have spent my last night in Copenhagen. We also went to one of Christiania's eateries just before it closed for the night and got some good food. It was a great time.


(What the Julemarked would have looked like, if I'd been there)

Upon returning to Tim's place, I had to blow up the air mattress manually, which was the perfect thing for making sure I passed out as soon as I was done. The thing took 20 minutes to inflate, and I've never been good at even blowing up balloons. It was satisfying, though. There's something very self-made and independent about knowing that I blew it up myself. Or maybe there's some kind of metaphor in there, with me literally sleeping on my own breath. Don't know what that means, but it at least sounds philosophical.

The next morning, Tim headed to the airport before me; there was a four-hour gap between our flights, and I didn't want to sit around for that long. So, I went to DIS and sat around there. At least I had internet. I also got my last slice of Istanbul Pizza, the local college eatery in DIS's part of town. It's that area's Antonio's, basically. Though not quite as delicious. But what is, really?

The flight was uneventful, except for running into a couple other DIS kids. I saw a few movies, listened to music, and slept. As one does on nine-hour flights. Coming back to the US, I could tell things were different right away. First of all, in Copenhagen airport and around town, there were all sorts of climate-awareness billboards and advertisements. Nothing of the sort in Chicago O'Haire or Dulles. However, two funny things did happen in Chicago worth sharing:

1) We had a 25-minute taxi from where we landed to the gate. The main theory going around was that only certain runways were cleared off after the recent snowstorm, and they were all the ones farthest away. As a result, we actually taxied across a highway. Apparently there's a highway cutting across the airport, and we literally took a plane over it (well, over a bridge over it). It was something I'd never seen before, and it cracked me up.

2) Since I've been gone, I apparently came into the possession of a chain of Chicago dessert shops. Who knew? Alas, my name did not earn me free cake, but they didn't refuse when I asked to take a picture of their stall. And I think that picture is a fitting end to my Copenhagen adventure. Partly because it has nothing to do with Copenhagen. Welcome home, me.

Klimaforum Abridged

So, I went to a LOT of talks over the past week and a half, and I'm going to list all of them, but only discuss the highlights in detail or else this post will drag on forever. In fact, it's already pretty long, so you can always do what I did to choose which presentations to go to: look up and down this post at the topic headings, and read the details on the ones that sound interesting. Worked for me. There was a lot more info than I'm posting here, of course, so feel free to ask me about anything I went to.



(Map of the DGI-Byen, Copenhagen's massive community center and venue for Klimaforum09. All the colored rooms contained events. The largest, the orange hall, was a full basketball court plus bleachers, so it probably seated about 700 people with plenty of moving around room. The red room could hold about 100-150. I only mention this so you can get a sense of how many people were there during peak hours).

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"The Inner Dimensions of Climate Change." A panel of spiritual leaders discussing the connection between our thoughts and the outer world. The main points were that the more we have respect for all people and for all living things, the more we are likely to make change in our outside world. Getting rid of our own greed is part of that. It was also noted that this was a rare occasion where highly respected people of varying religions were in unanimous agreement.

"Survival Pact, not Suicide Pact." Bill McKibben, the founder of 350.org, spoke for about an hour about the success of the movement. 350.org is a campaign about spreading the word on emissions. 350 parts per million is the maximum allowable concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere if we want to live in a world that looks like it did before we industrialized (i.e. relatively cool). He credits the success of the campaign and its ability to spread worldwide to a few factors:

1) They created a 90-second video that did not require language skills to understand. Even in the poorest developing countries, someone usually has a cell phone with internet access, and word was able to spread worldwide without a language barrier.

2) They trained leaders who trained other leaders and got people mobilized through local campaigns

3) Perhaps most importantly, they had a rallying cry that rose above individual organizations. Every organization has its own focus (preserving the rainforest, reducing emissions, saving whales, funding research, etc.) but all those things somehow come back to the principles of the 350 campaign; these groups are all connected by a common environmentalist thread. So, when it came time for a global day of action, thousands of individuals and organizations did their own, decentralized actions under the 350 banner. We also got to see a lot of photos from recent 350 events.

Bill told a few personal stories about the photos, then introduced Mohammad Nasheed, the president of the Maldives. Nasheed came to speak to us before going to COP15 because in his eyes, the Klimaforum folks are the ones actually accomplishing something for the environment and for his country.

The Maldives are worth reading about. They're going to be one of the first countries to get completely screwed by global warming because the whole country is a series of low islands, and the place is disappearing underwater fast. When I say "going to be" I really mean that it's already begun. They've already lost their coral reefs, which provide some protection against natural disasters. I didn't actually know that coral reefs did that, but apparently they do. Well, they did, anyway. Not so much anymore.



"Eventually We'll All Be Middle Class." A pointless art film I wish I hadn't wasted my time seeing. The artists decided the night before that they would sign out the room to show it because nobody else was using it. Their justification for showing it there was that it's about "the world" and "saving people" but it had nothing to do with climate change, and more to do with saving the poets and artists. Even the really, really bad ones, apparently. It's only notable because it reminded me why I hated my Workshop in Experimental Theatre freshman year. It's "art for art's sake," which is an invention of the privileged. The "art of the masses," if we want to call it that, doesn't come from a sense of "this would be a fun diversion," it comes from a deep need to get something out there. If it does not feel soul-burningly necessary to make whatever it is you're making, then you're not really making art, so much as goofing off. Which is fine, I guess. Except in this sort of context, when people who could have been learning about climate change were tricked into coming by a misleading description in the Klimaforum program. But now I'm getting ranty about this. Moving on...

"Progress - A New Millenium." A film about how we need to stop defining "progress" as "the accumulation of more things. Plenty of famous people interviewed on this, including the Dalai Lama, Gorbachev, and a bunch of scientists and writers. Interesting film, and I'd recommend it to others, though it didn't tell me anything I didn't personally already know.

"Political Salon: Reflections on Gender, Climate and Change" A pure discussion, in a fishbowl format. It was opened up by a group of Latino women dressed as panthers doing a performance about climate justice. The theme of the discussion was about how the rich, and mostly rich men, benefit from fossil fuels, and the poor, mostly women in developing nations, are harmed by the effects of climate change. Excellent discussion that highlighted the multifaceted nature of the issue.

"Moving Towards Zero Carbon and Beyond." A panel of speakers, including one of the main people from zerocarbonbritain.com. Their proposal is not perfect and includes a carbon-trading scheme that most people at Klimaforum are against. But other that, they've created it's a completely feasible way for the UK to go carbon neutral in only ten years (or at least most of the way). It needs fixing, but it's the best and most detailed proposal of its kind that I've seen. Worth checking out their material. The whole proposal is on the web, as are summaries for those of you who don't have hours of free time (read: all of you)

Also presenting was a member of the Australian parliament, who was talking about the hidden challenges involved in most green proposals. For example, we absolutely need to have a plan that says "we're going to install X number of wind turbines and solar panels" but those proposals also need to say "we're going to set Y amount of money aside to train people on how to install them." The infrastructure to support a green advancement has to appear at the same time as the advancement itself. When that doesn't happen, you have 100 qualified contractors trying to do the work of 1000, and things don't get done on time, or done well. The speakers were great, and among my favorites at Klimaforum.

"Growth is Good!" A presentation of the cradle to cradle concept. Look it up.

Basically, everything we make has organic components and inorganic components, and if we could separate those out, and use the right materials, we could always bury/biodegrade the organic and reuse or reprocess the inorganic, preventing us from ever needing new raw materials ever again. The presenter explained the concept well, and it's a great concept, but the guy was also a bit of an ass, and pissed off half the audience by making jokes in poor taste and saying that the environmental movement has missed the boat, and that he, in fact, has the answers. He also used the examples of carpet squares, because a company called Desso is making 97% cradle-to-cradle carpet squares. He got called out during the question period on picking the most bourgeois example possible, and that saying we should all buy carpets from Desso doesn't really fit with the anti-consumerist vibe of Klimaforum.

My conclusion was that most of us took the good parts of his presentation (C2C) and left the bad (shameless capitalism), so no real harm done. He undermined his own point a bit, but nobody actually disagrees with cradle-to-cradle at its core. So yes, he used the pretty mainstream example ofcarpet squares (in the words of one angry activist, "nobody gives a shit about carpet squares"). But he COULD have used shoes or diapers or a few other items which will probably still be necessary after The Revolution (unlike carpet squares).

"Breakthrough Advanced Free Energy Technology." I tried to be open minded about this one, but basically, it was two conspiracy theory groups talking about how the government has a secret thing that makes electricity out of nothing, but the oil lobbies don't want it to go public. One of the groups believed that we had this technology because aliens have landed with it. I buy the underlying concept, that the government and oil lobbies have stifled progress. But... seriously? Aliens?

I'm not even ruling out the possibility that aliens exist. The truth is, I just don't care whether they exist or not. If they landed and are talking to the president, or have been flying around secretly for eons, or any of the other theories people have come up with... it doesn't change anything. Even if this guy is right, and they're here and the government is hiding technology... so what? I'm already protesting the government's refusal to go green. I'm going to keep doing that, and weaken the oil lobbies how I can, and if that eventually leads to the revelation of an environmental Magic Bullet, then yay. If it leads to incremental improvements in renewable capacity, then also yay. It really doesn't change a thing. Except, possibly, for how crazy people think I am.

"Climate Broadcasters: How to Communicate Climate Change." A presentation of ideas for how weathermen could be used to present climate issues to a large audience. Especially in places like the US where there are millions of people who still Don't Quite Get It. The panel consisted of weathermen, who liked the ideas, but would have a hard time getting more airtime.

"Are You Getting the Deal You Came For?" An excellently moderated three-hour discussion with hundreds of people to answer the important questions, including "What would a good deal look like?" and "What do we do now that the deal is clearly not going to happen this year?" Most effective group discussion I've ever seen with 600 people in a room. It wasn't perfect, and some people had to be cut off due to rambly or off-topic mic-hogging, but it worked very well, largely thanks to the guy running it. He was very focused on keeping things democratic, and we got to hear a lot of perspectives and ideas. The general consensus is that the deal needs to be stronger, and the "what we do" is "keep building the movement." It's vital that those in power hear that there is a large (and quickly growing) number of people who want the temperature to stay put where it is.

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The last thing I went to was the Klimaforum closing ceremony/party, but I'll wait until my "What I did the last couple days in Copenhagen" post to talk about that. Kickin' party. Klimaforum was a great time, and I learned a lot. I'm ready to go home and be much more involved in the various organizations in and around Baltimore. I'm not typically one to care about arbitrary calendar designations, but I'm specifically excited about 2010 for some reason. Should be good. And now, it's time to get some sleep, as I fly back to the US tomorrow afternoon. Yay for home.

Woah there, slow down

Note: sorry about the wonky font-changing in this post; I copied some of it from a word doc, and that seemed to mess everything up.

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Okay, so many things have happened this week. I'm going to try to put my thoughts together, but it will require spreading it out over several posts.

As I finished my last couple assignments for school, I was able to start going to all the Klimaforum events I talked about earlier. I haven't spent as much time wandering the city and seeing the exhibits because there's about eight things going on at any one time at Klimaforum alone. I'm glad I got to see the other stuff around town earlier on, because it feels like there's just not enough time to do everything. Which there isn't. There are literally seven presentations going on at the same time in the same gigantic building all throughout the day, every day. So, I've picked the ones that seem the most interesting, and accepted myself as a finite being. I may have stolen that phrase from Ailish, one of my mentors at Goucher. I think I'll spend next post creating a list with descriptions of all the Klimaforum things I've been to. Some of them have been great. In the meantime, I want to talk about Saturday.

I went to a massive climate demonstration. We marched from Christiansborg (parliament building) to the Bella Center (site of COP15). There were between 25,000 and 100,000 people there, depending on who you ask. There were at least a hundred different organizations represented, many of which made banners, floats, etc.

I’ve heard it said in the past that protest movements died in the 70’s, and that may have been true to some extent. Images of thousands of people marching with signs and yelling stopped being a new and exciting phenomenon, and the news stopped covering these protests. It became harder and harder to get publicity. Those times are over. The protest is back. I have a theory as to why, and it starts with that idea of media images.

Organizers have come up with new and creative ways of getting their message out there. There’s no longer just a bunch of people. There are a bunch of people coordinating their dress, making human formations, creating floats, whatever they have to do to present a single, clear message. A sound bite, a photograph, whatever gets the message across.

(Photo of Saturday's crowd)

Protests get a bad rap when it appears to be just a mob of angry people yelling, especially when they seem unsure as to what they’re yelling about. Back in 2004, I was at the massive anti-RNC protest in New York City. The only lingering memory I have from the march was the pro-Gore and pro-Nader people screaming at each other. That’s the sort of crap we don’t need, and the kind of crap that has been blessedly absent here in Copenhagen.

A single unifying message is incredibly important. While the various groups present were at the protest focusing on different aspects of climate legislation, everyone more or less agreed with each other. While some focused on indigenous peoples' rights, some focused on wildlife conservation, some focused on emissions reduction, and some focused on keeping the world anti-nuclear. Nevertheless, all these groups understood that these issues were related, and that a truly fair deal at COP15 could not ignore any of them. As such, folks got along just fine across movements, and it was a great event.

I've heard that a violent group tried to infiltrate the protest, but they more or less got cut off in the back, and didn't really manage to cause serious trouble. Arrests were made, though. Meanwhile, as you'd expect with a protest that size, those of us in the middle and the front didn't hear a thing until after the fact. We were too busy being positive.

Anyway, while our action was going on in Copenhagen, folks around the world were holding candlelight vigils in solidarity. Some great photos and beautiful displays of global unity, much like the 350.org event back in October (when I got to be a Mr. Green). I'll talk about 350.org more in my next post, and show some more photos as well.

(This vigil photo was captioned "Amherst, USA," but I have no idea who or where it is)

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Quick updates from recent posts:
1) The polar bear took about as long to melt as expected. Unfortunate, really. I was hoping for some irony. Or is it double irony? (Hint: no, it's not irony at all)
2) The weird temporary glass buildings on City Hall Square house various climate solutions. The overall exhibit is called "the future city.

COPing with Climate Change (hah hah hah)

COP15 is here, and yesterday, the city went nuts.

Okay, not nuts, but there's a noticeable excitement around the place. Every large public area in Copenhagen has some kind of display, tent, booth, or exhibit on climate change.

• Greenpeace has docked their ship in Copenhagen's harbor. Y'know, the ship they use to run off giant Japanese whaling tankers. That one.
  
• The World Wildlife Fund (perhaps most famous for metaphorically beating the crap out of a wrestling organization) has a huge tent a block away from DIS where they're showing films, holding lectures, and so on.
• Just outside the tent, there is a massive polar bear statue made out of ice (pictured below). Inside is a bronze skeleton, which will be all that is left when the statue melts, representing the endangered nature of the animal. It's supposed to take about ten days to melt, but it's only the end of day 3, and this afternoon the skull was already poking out of the ice quite a bit. Maybe it was (ironically) warmer than they expected this week, leading to a faster melt. That would be a pretty great message, in my opinion. Also, in case you were wondering, the baby is about three-quarters melted at this point, we'll see how it's doing in the morning.
  
• 
• In Rådhuspladsen, a.k.a City Hall Square, there is a giant bicycle-powered globe and several temporary glass buildings which I haven't quite figured out the purpose of. Something green, I'm sure. It's on my list of things to investigate further.
• In Kongens Nytorv (The King's New Square), has been showing a photo display of "100 places to remember before they disappear." The exhibit has been there since late September, actually, but it was all in anticipation of the next couple weeks. There is a website here, which contains photos of all 100 places, as well as a description of the climate-related problems they are facing. Many of them are "naturey" landmarks, which are certainly worth protecting for the sake of biodiversity and natural beauty, but the more striking ones to me are the "human" landmarks. Pretty much every coastal city in the world is going to be flooded if the oceans rise as much as predicted. Chicago, Caracas (Venezuela), Beijing, New York, Amman (Jordan), and the entire country of The Maldives are featured in the exhibit, but that list is certainly not extensive.

Over the next two days, I'm going to have a lot of homework, but then I'm more or less done for the semester. I plan on spending my last week and a half monitoring the news closely, and attending as many lectures and exhibits as I can. In addition to the above, there is also an event called Klimaforum, which is sort of "the people's COP15." It's a series of events and lectures for those of us who can't actually attend COP15 (which is everyone). Plus Christiania is putting on their own event to celebrate visions of hope for the future. My favorite bit is that each day at 2:00PM, they're "burying" an abstract concept which hinders progress. Unfortunately, I was in class yesterday and missed out on burying The American Dream, but I'll be sure to catch a couple of the other funerals before I leave. It's looking like it's going to be an awesome couple of weeks.

A Week Lost, A Week Gained

When I got back from my travel break, I was a little bummed out.

After a semester that was mostly devoted to exploration and discovery with fairly little academic BS (we had work, but it was manageable, interesting, and rewarding) I realized that I was going to have to do a chunk of typical, boring, academic writing, which I wasn't looking forward to. In addition, during the two weeks I was away, Copenhagen went from "gets dark early" to "gets dark really early," and the idea of wandering aimlessly around parts of the city stopped being so appealing. So, I spent a lot of time emotionally removed from Denmark during the last two weeks of November. I chatted with friends back home, stayed up ridiculously late, and didn't leave my hall except an occasional shopping trip, plus classes.

Part of my funk was because the darkness, but another part was being somewhat disillusioned by the Danes in my kollegium, and not really knowing where else to meet Danes. And of course, the DIS students were all busy doing work. I guess there was a sense that it was too close to the end to make new friends, and that I might as well do something else. Like play video games. I'm not saying that's true, simply that it's part of what I was thinking.

When we got back from Thanksgiving, I started to go to a whole bunch of get-togethers. Some DIS sponsored, some otherwise. I've been to several Christmas lunches, and also a final reception for my department. This definitely helped me out of it; I enjoy being around people more than being alone, and I think the first party reminded me of that. Also, at the Psychology reception, about 50 people showed me how much they appreciated my presence, which isn't something that happens every day. All of this just made me want to spend the last few weeks as involved as possible.

I felt a little silly this weekend because there was a setup for an environmental display that needed volunteers, and I chose to miss that in favor of a Danish Christmas lunch. It's one of the big DIS-sponsored events, and I'm glad I went, as I got to meet a few Danes, and I was part of a group that was performing. Even so, it felt very typical of me to come up with some excuse to miss out on doing something good for the world. I enjoyed myself, but I think the climate folks needed me more than the singing group did. Next time, I guess. There will be plenty of opportunities in the next two weeks, with COP15 starting tomorrow.

All that aside, I still have to write a paper about something I don't care about. It's an unfortunate thing that happens frequently. I tend to pick topics that I'm interested in, which seem to always be different from what academics are interested in. So, I can't find any evidence or research one way or another, and I change my topic to something more boring. This time it's for my Gender and Sexuality class. I'm on my third topic, and it's about Danish vs. US marriage norms. That's not inherently uninteresting, but there's so much more I'd rather be doing.

However, I'm determined to not let something as trite as homework get in the way of my education.

I got an idea a few days ago for a project I might start on when I get back to the States. We talked in one of the DIS-sponsored climate change seminars about how if we want to remain within the "safe zone" for CO2 emissions, we can only emit about 2 tons of CO2 per person per year. Right now, the average Dane is at about 6, and the average American is at about 22. So, I wondered what a ton of CO2 actually amounts to, and if those numbers could be more accessible to the public. I'd like to create a scorecard of some kind, that says "driving a car five miles = X lbs. of CO2, taking a bus = Y lbs. of CO2." I know there are millions of nuances, i.e. city driving vs. highway driving, the efficiency of your car, etc. But I still think there's a way to make those numbers at least somewhat more accessible to the average person.

I often hear two things on the topic of personal responsibility for climate change. 1) "I changed my light bulbs to the eco-friendly kind, so I've fulfilled my obligation." 2) "It's impossible to live a green lifestyle, so I'm not even going to bother." The first person has not, in fact, done everything possible, and the second person is being pessimistic without even having access to the numbers. I would like to be able to show people exactly what it takes to be "under the line" for CO2 emissions, and also show people that it's attainable.

By the way, if anyone has any resources offhand for this sort of thing, send them my way. The first thing I'll need to do is find dozens of sites that say how much CO2 is emitted by different activities and industries.

Miscellaneous Stories

It's been a pretty uneventful week here in Copenhagen, so I'm going to tell a few more short stories from my travel break.

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#1) In Barcelona, as in many cities, you can take busses, trains, and metros cheaper if you buy a T10, which is a ten-trip pass. In Barcelona, this is an especially good deal, because the T10 pass costs roughly the same as three train trips, or five bus trips. Usually these things are only a 10%-20% discount, at least in the cities I've been in. So, that's how I was getting around.

When I arrived at the airport to go to Cork, I realized I had a half-used pass, which I was not going to be able to use. So, I quickly used my wits and a pocket Spanish-English dictionary to figure out how to say "I am going to fly, but I have a T10 with six trips left on it, and I would like to give it to you." My plan was to approach the first person who looked like s/he was about to walk up to the ticket machines and give it to that person. For some reason, though, I spent a long time just standing there, watching people buy tickets.

There's some part of me that is still nervous about approaching people and breaking up their routine, even when I'm trying to do nice things and be a generous person. I felt like the awkwardness of me trying to explain myself in broken Spanish would not be work the five euros I'd be saving them, and all these pointless fears and insecurities started cropping up. I had a full four hours before my flight, so I was in no rush. So I just stood there watching people buy tickets for about ten minutes. It was just a pointless thing to be scared stiff about. Again, this was me being insecure about approaching people with a gift.

Finally, a group of about four people stopped, and I know enough Spanish to be able to tell they were trying to figure out which pass they were supposed to buy. I decided that it was time to make my move. Me feeling ridiculous outweighed me being nervous about the conversation, so I went for it. I said my line. The guy paused, looked and at me, and said (with a Spanish accent) "You speak English?"

So, that's how badly I botched my line.

I explained myself in English, and he at first thought he was misunderstanding me, that maybe I was trying to sell it to him (which makes sense; how often do people give stuff away at a train station?) But I assured him that there were six passes left on this, and that it was his. I was flying to Ireland, and wouldn't be back in Barcelona for a long time, so I would have no need of the pass. He and the folks he was traveling with seemed happy, which was my goal in all this, so as soon as he took it and thanked me, I told him to have a nice day and went for my flight. It was every bit as awkward as I expected, but I consider it a worthwhile experience.

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#2) In Cork, on the way back from one of our day-trips, Scott and I ran into a crazy old drunk guy. I think I mentioned in a previous post that this happens to be on a regular basis. Our conversation started when we asked him, in Cork, if we were at the right stop. He nodded and mumbled something, then all of us got off. On the way out of the station (which, thankfully, was the right one), I thanked him for the directions, which was either polite, or a huge mistake, depending on how you view the next fifteen minutes of my life.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something relevant, like maybe "you're welcome," "no problem," or even "enjoy your trip." But no, after a moment of what looked like deep thought, the words that exited this man's lips were "I got drunk." I believe the next line out of his mouth was "...but god bless ye, yer still young yet." Apparently "young" is an antonym for "drunk." This guy had obviously not been around many college campuses.

He then proceeded to explain (drunkenly) that the large cruise ship out in the harbor was being repaired because it had scraped some rocks. The guy is the navigator, and as such, got an unexpected week off, which he was enjoying spending in a stupor. He explained that the crew could still come back to the ship, so he could go there to sleep and get food while it was in harbor. At first he made it sound like he was going back to the ship now because it was going to depart soon, which made me a little nervous (remember kids, friends don't let friends navigate cruise ships drunk).

He repeated the phrase "god bless you" several times during the conversation in a tone that made it sounds like a farewell, so we started walking away, at which point he kept talking. There were many opportunities for us to get out of there if we really wanted to (I'm sure we could have outran him) but my view was that this was all funny enough to make a good story, and we were in no rush. The highlight of it may have been a phrase I alluded to a few posts ago. He said "god bless you," I responded "yeah, you too, nice meeting you," and he responded "yeah... it's nice... to be nice... to *mumble mumble*." Yes, it's nice to be nice. God bless you too, drunk old navigator guy.

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#3) I mentioned in my last post that we had the 6-bed room in Belfast all to ourselves the first night. Well, the second night we were joined by a very international group of travelers. There was a Brazilian guy, a Slovenian girl, and an American girl who appeared to be dating the guy, although he kept referring to her as his "friend," much to our amusement.

When they arrived in the room, the guy asked us if we knew where any good nightclubs were. He was talking about how much of a party animal he was, so we were all a bit concerned that they were going to come back at 4:00AM and throw up all over the place, as party animals are wont to do. We were discussing this possibility and how annoying this would be, and even went so far as to move our stuff from the middle of the room to one side where it would be less likely to be in the line of fire. Yes, we were that paranoid. To be fair, the guy was talking about his previous Crazy Nights, and it sounded like he was like looking for another. The Slovenian girl was not interested, however, which may be an explanation for what happened next.

We had gone to bed around 11:30, because we had to get up early the next day. EC and Annie fell asleep almost instantly, but I was up reading a bit. At around 11:45, our roommates returned, much to my surprise. They got ready for bed right away, and were out by a little after midnight. I overheard them saying that they had an early start the next morning, which would explain it. I went to bed at the same time, happy to know that they decided to take it easy.

At about 4:00AM, I woke up to the sound of the guy throwing up in the bathroom. Yeah, I was surprised too. I'm guessing it wasn't alcohol-related, since he had slept peacefully for several hours before throwing up. I'm guessing it was a bug, or maybe food poisoning (probably the latter, but I say that mostly because none of us got sick over the next few days).

So, that was a night of double-irony. We expected them to be irresponsible, and they were responsible. Then I expected them not to throw up because they had been responsible, and the guy threw up. He cleaned up fine, and in the morning there was no sign of anything. No harm done, really. It was just a series of weird expectation-defying twists. Just another reason I should stop trying to predict the future.

Belfast, and the return of visual stimulation

Hey, it's a post with pictures! Haven't had one of those in a while. Hope you weren't bored by all the text in my blog, I know it's not really what they were made for.

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Above is a map of our 14km (8.5mi) walk around Belfast. We had under 48 hours in the city, which only included one full day, so we made the most of it. Points A and H are our hostel, the Belfast International Youth Hostel, which was a nice place and only 12 pounds apiece to stay in a six-bed room, which we were lucky enough to get to ourselves the first night. We ate breakfast at their cafe both mornings, which was delicious and similarly inexpensive. Annie and I shared a large "Ulster Fry," which is basically the "a little bit of everything" breakfast that many American diners also serve, but with more Irish foods.


(They asked me to pose with the breakfast. I obliged.)

Point B is St. George's Market, which is a huge indoor space with booths where people mostly sell food or crafts. I considered getting something, but I had just eaten breakfast and don't like buying things that just sit there looking pretty. So, we walked around for 20 minutes and left. Cool place, though. If I come back to Belfast, I'll be sure to go when I'm actually hungry.

Point C is the town hall, where there was a Ferris Wheel for some reason. It sounded like some kind of festival was being prepared for, but honestly, it appeared to just be the one attraction. We went on, though, and got the best view of the city you can get without going out to the hills. Good way to start our journey.




(Three different views of Belfast from above)

Part of the reason we came was to see the murals from the Northern Irish "Troubles," a conflict I'd learned a lot about my freshman year. I have yet to find a website that adequately sums up the conflict for the uninitiated, so I'll do my best in the next two paragraphs, so you know what's going on with these murals.

The British once controlled all of Ireland, but in the early 1900's, Ireland started its major push for independence. However, in the northern part of Ireland, there were a lot of people who wanted to remain part of the UK, most of them Protestant and of English descent. Although it's easy to say that Ireland should belong to the Irish, many of the Protestants had families who have lived on the land for hundreds of years. Think of it like modern America and the Native Americans. Even though it's easy to say that white men shouldn't have come to America and committed genocide, I'm also not sure that the right move at this point is to give the land back and find somewhere else for the 300 million of us to live.

Northern Ireland, it was decided, was going to remain part of the UK. And the battle lines were drawn. In general, Irish Catholics wanted a unified Ireland, and English Protestants wanted things to stay how they were. Militant groups on both sides started bombing each other. Regions that were already segregated in practice became even moreso. Belfast was and is the largest city, so it couldn't be easily labeled a Catholic or Protestant area, and the lines ended up being drawn by neighborhood. The fighting officially stopped about ten years ago with a treaty, but you still hear about the occasional bomb here and there.

That's about as good as I can do in two paragraphs, look up more if you're interested, or just e-mail me.

After the Ferris Wheel ride, we walked north a bit then started west on Shankill Rd. It's a Protestant area where historically quite a bit of violence took place. One of my professors told a story about getting off the bus there once to find that everything was on fire. However, we went during the day, and in the 21st century, both of which I consider to be good moves. Basically, it's a fairly normal commercial street with shops and businesses and an occasional gas station. That is, with the exception of murals and political graffitti, both of which were notable. I didn't see a lot of random crudeness on the walls. People who buy spraypaint in Belfast do it because they have something poignant to say, and that doesn't include "for a good time, call..."

We stopped briefly at Woodvale Park (point D) and then walked through a very confusing suburban neighborhood (note our travel path between D and E; it was actually a bit windier than that, I think). At E, there was a large gate through a wall that was covered in razor wire. This separated Shankill from the Catholic neighborhood of Clonard.


(A mural'd gate)

(yes, razor wire. They didn't call them the Troubles for nothing)

And here's where I make the point about the murals. In Shankill, they looked like this:


(A mural calling out the IRA on their "strategy")

(The UVF, aka The People's Army, are noble soldiers and peacemakers, while the IRA are scary and wear black masks)

Once we crossed the gate, the murals became a little different:


(Glorifying the Irish guys with the guns)

(Calling out the English army on the Ballymurphy Massacre.)

Seeing the murals confirmed what I had already learned. While they were, in one sense, propaganda, the were also legitimate memorials to people who had been wrongly killed (as though anyone is rightly killed). The IRA mostly killed Protestant civilians, and the UVF and British army killed mostly Catholic civilians. There were very few cases where two groups of people with guns ever faced each other head on and had a shoot-out. I'm not trying to say that a shoot-out is a noble form of warfare. It's not. I'm merely saying that people who never intended to fight suddenly became part of the fight, if it could even be called a fight. The Troubles consisted of mostly marketplace bombings and shootings from each paramilitary group, and thousands of people died as a result.

The thing that defied my expectations was the lack of general peace murals. No images of Republican and Loyalist children playing side by side, or anything like that. Like in the Buffalo Springfield song, the murals "mostly say 'hooray for our side.'" Those that don't say "damn the other side for killing us." I expected at least one "hey guys let's all stop with this fighting, shall we?" Maybe we were in the wrong neighborhoods, or maybe they don't exist. I'm not sure yet, though I'd like to find out.

We wandered around some suburbs in the Irish part of town (around point F) where some official-looking people were hanging plain black flags on fences and poles. I never found out what they were for, though I kind of wish I'd asked. Annie and EC attempted to befriend two dogs, but they were having none of it. They became suddenly aggressive, and although they didn't touch us, we were all a bit freaked out. This is notable mainly because I was actually the least freaked out of the three of us when faced with a vicious dog. Those of you who have known me since childhood will verify that this is not typical. So, that was our 14 km trip. We stopped for some giant sandwiches, then headed back to the hostel.

I got up early the next morning to check out Belfast's botanical gardens. There's a huge rose garden with somewhere around 50 different kinds of roses, most of which have ridiculous names. Some had random abstract nouns, including two right next to each other called "Freedom" and "Mischief." I wish I could make a joke here and say that Freedom smells a lot like Mischief, but really, neither of them smelled like much of anything. Both were past their season (not a metaphor). Others were named after people, which was even funnier. At one point I was, in all seriousness, sniffing Uncle Pete, and I started cracking up.

After Belfast, I had a three-hour layover in Amsterdam, which might have the most ridiculous airport in the world, although I can't say that for sure until I've been to all of them. However, I feel comfortable saying that it's large, confusing, and expensive. But, I made it home, and now I'm back in Copenhagen where there's an annoying amount of schoolwork and other things I'd rather not have to deal with. It's only been 24 hours and I'm already longing for winter break. At this very moment, I'm not feeling particularly positive, but I think tomorrow will ease that a bit. I've got six things weighing on my mind right now, but four or five of them are going to be resolved by mid-afternoon tomorrow, and I'll feel a little less overwhelmed. I'll leave you with one final image for this evening:


(The obligatory adorable group pose. EC, Annie, me.)

Random Encounters in Galway

Galway is more or less a typical college town. There's plenty of cheap food, bars, and trendy shops. The whole place appears to be built around the school, as most of the people I ran into around town, whether it was 5PM or 2AM, were young university students. At around 2:00 one night, a bar/nightclub closed for the evening and there was what could only be described as a stampede of around 150 drunk college kids staggering in my direction. I momentarily thought he zombie apocalypse had come, but then I saw one hold his drink in the air and yell "WOOOOOO!!" and I realized that I was facing an entirely different type of zombie horde.

I got to go to see a different free live music nearly every night with EC and Annie, occasionally joined by an Irish buddy named Gar (rhymes with "dare"). Monday we went to a traditional tunes session, which usually includes about 4-5 people and takes over a corner of a place called the Crane Bar. The night we were there, however, it took up half the room and included about a dozen musicians (including five flutes! FIVE!) Wednesday we saw a mandolin/guitar duo who played a mix of modern acoustic covers, with a few Irish tunes thrown in. They played a couple Tom Waits songs, much to Gar's delight, but we were more or less the only people listening. The music was occasionally drowned out by a group of loud college rugby players in the back corner of the room. Apparently, they'd won a match and were celebrating. The final night in Galway we saw a great blues band whose singer and lead guitarist could have passed for Derek Trucks, both in appearance and talent.

Wednesday night while on our search for music, EC, Gar and I ran into an older guy with an awesome moustache. Gar knew him from some previous encounters, and he hung out with us for the evening. His name was Michael, and he was a self-described poet, though it doesn't seem like he considers that his full-time job (how many do?). Generally jovial person, and we got some banter going. He joked that the weather turned sour as soon as I showed up. I pointed out that one of the days had been beautiful with an awesome rainbow, and he asked me if I could work on doing that again. I told him that rainbows are expensive, and I can't just go dropping rainbows every other day; they're an investment saved only for special occasions. He laughed. It wasn't the most substantial conversation of the week, but he was a nice guy, and I wish him the best.

A while after Michael joined us, a girl named Maria followed suit. She's been helping Michael type up his poetry. I'm not clear on how they met or what the connection was, but I'm glad she joined the conversation. She's originally from Argentina, but had been living in Ireland for a few years. We talked at length about Peace Studies, and how I should really go to Argentina, where there are hundreds of human rights groups, labor groups, etc.. I told her I'm open to pretty much anything once I'm done with college, but I'd definitely want a plan, because randomly showing up to help may not be helpful at all. Maria told me that getting there would be easy. There are lots of jobs available on ships, and as a result, I could go to Argentina for free. Admittedly, that wasn't what I meant when I said "a plan" (I'm not worried about how to GET to Argentina), but that's cool to know, and one of many possibilities for the future. I am aware, however, that there is a big difference between working on a ship and "let's all sing another sea shanty with the folks dressed up as pirates."

On Friday, EC, Annie and I boarded a bus to Belfast for the weekend. On the trip, and old woman came over completely out of the blue and talked to me for the last 90 minutes of our 6 hour bus ride. This woman basically told me her life story, mostly about all the places she had gone in Europe to do various charity and social action work. I could tell when she started that she needed to talk to me a lot more than I needed to do my fourth crossword puzzle of the day, so I put it down and listened. In retrospect, it was exactly what I needed too. I didn't really have the energy to put into a conversation, but I was getting bored, and she turned the trip into storytime.

She mostly talked about the work she had done, which included helping children in war-torn areas and raising money for the wheelchair-bound. She may not have spent every moment of her life helping others, it was certainly the only thing she talked about. It could easily have been seen as bragging, and one of my travelling companions suggested later that she might have been making parts of it up. I wouldn't completely rule it out; it's certainly possible, and I'm not going out of my way to verify her story. It's more or less irrelevant to me, though. The important thing about the conversation was that the story she told was completely attainable. It seemed so simple when she was talking. There's no reason I can't just spend my life travelling around and helping people. I just have to do it. So simple. I know where to go, I know who needs help, I know how to help them. The only thing stopping me is my own head. I guess I get afraid of commitment, like I might devote too much to one cause and somehow get "stuck" or "roped in." Then again, my alternative usually involves video games. So... what's worse, really?

So, that was a nice realization. I'm not sure what it is about me that attracts conversation from people over 60 (a scent, perhaps?) but they have all been either interesting or amusing, so I'm okay with it. Speaking of which, I've got a story about an old drunk guy from Cork that I skipped earlier, but let's call this a spoiler for the next post. Our conversation included the phrase "it's nice to be nice," which I think lands somewhere between "zen" and "drunk" from a linguistic perspective.

Workin' Scorkin' McGorkin

Late Friday night, I met up with an old friend, Scott, who I've known since we were six years old. One thing I always enjoy about hanging out with him is that even if we haven't hung out for a long time, we always pick up right where we left off. I can count on one hand the people I know who I have that kind of connection with, and it's a good feeling. When I told my Galway friends that I visited a kid named Scott in Cork, EC immediately said "Scork!" which is exactly the kind of word-smashing action I'm so well known for. The title of the post is goofily named in honor of this momentous occasion.

We actually didn't spend that much time in Cork while I was there. Both Saturday and Sunday, we spent the daytime in other nearby towns, and only returned in the evenings, but I don't say that with regret. With only two days, there's only so much that it's possible to see, and everything I saw was great. Maybe if I come back, I'll spend more time in the city.

Saturday we took a train to Cobh (pronounced "cove"), which is just south of Cork, on the coast. It was the last stop of the Titanic before it departed for Crashyville, and there's a museum there now. A museum which is immediately above the train station. We left the station and said "okay, we're on the street, it should be pretty close by... oh, hey, there it is." It was a funny moment. Interesting info about the Titanic, but also about the shipping of convicts to Australia in the early 1800's. Small place, but there was a lot of good stuff.

We went back to Scott's (Scork's!) dorm later on, and cooked up a whole mess o' pasta, then watched a very, very silly Irish game show. Late at night there's an infomercial-like live program which runs for hours from midnight until something like 3AM. There's a puzzle with a very, very vague question (i.e. What is White?) and every once in a while (like, 20 minutes) they give hints. People call in the show and guess the answer to the question (which in this case was a white object). Of course, it's more or less impossible to guess until the third or fourth clue (there are many white things in the world). The highlight of the show is the fact that it's just a host talking to a camera, but dead air is a big no-no in the entertainment industry, so the host JUST KEEPS TALKING. It's hilarious, and it makes no sense, but they just keep going. The woman hosting that night was trying to pretend there was any urgency whatsoever to solve the puzzle, but ran out of good lines about ten minutes in. I don't blame her, though. It's a tough job to talk for three hours straight. So, she was just sputtering nonsense or repeating herself for hours. "Come on! Call in! We NEED you to solve this puzzle! Think! You know this! It's white! You can do it!" I never did find out what is white, unfortunately; we went to sleep instead.

Sunday, we went to visit Blarney Castle, and I kissed the Blarney Stone, but did not buy their t-shirt saying such. The legend says that I've now been blessed with the gift of eloquence, but nobody actually knows where the legend came from. They know it was in place 200 years ago because there are accounts of people kissing the stone in the 1790's. However, it's not clear who started the legend, or why. There are some stories that say the stone was from the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, or some other famous ancient building. The counterargument is "why the hell would they stick that in a relatively inconspicuous location on a relatively unimportant castle?" My answer is, "They probably wouldn't. This story sounds made-up." And it truly is an inconspicuous location. It's on the underside of a gap on the top of a castle wall, so you have to lie on your back and lean over the edge, giving the stone an upside-down kiss. Now there's iron bars to hold onto and more below, so you won't fall all the way to your death if you slip, but back in the good ol' days*, you could literally kill yourself trying this stunt.

That night we went to the Cork Singer's Club, a group of singers who meet every Sunday night upstairs at a bar. It was a public thing, and anyone could sing, but I felt no need to; the crowd there was far too talented for me to go around mucking things up. It wasn't really a matter of me avoiding embarrassment, so much as it was the limited amount of time. Any song I sang would be one less new song I would get to hear. And I did learn a few new songs I intend to bring back home. I also had a Guinness, which a friend had told me would taste better in Ireland. He lied.

Monday morning, on my way to the bus station, my debit card got eaten by an ATM, and I won't be getting it back; I'm in another city now, and they'll be cutting it up when they retrieve it (don't worry, I've had the card deactivated). It's been mildly inconvenient, but it was another opportunity for me to be aware of my own changing attitudes. Until a year or two ago, I would make a fuss over this sort of thing. I used to be a very tense person. Now, the first thought I had was, "Y'know, some people would freak out over this." I took care of what I could, and made it to the station in time to catch my bus. End of story; I've got what I need to get by, so no real harm done. I still consider myself lucky, privileged, etc.

On the way to Galway, I had a 20 minute conversation with a 77-year-old man who was visiting his son there. I told him about my trip around Ireland, and he told me a bit about himself. He didn't particularly provide me with any new information ("be careful in Belfast," "see some live music," and "it rains a lot here"), but he was a nice guy, and I enjoyed talking to him. He had moved up a seat to talk to me, and we discovered at the end of the 20 minutes that he had been sitting in chewing gum the entire time. There's something to be learned about people from how they handle negative experiences, and I'm not just saying this because of my debit card. The guy had a brief moment of annoyance ("ach, how unlucky can you be?") followed by an immediate impulse to get it cleaned up before anyone else sat in it. He let the driver know, and helped him take care of the mess. It's a minor point, but I sometimes feel like we're all really good at caring about others when things are going well, but when the day goes sour, the reaction is to become focused on the self. It's good to see people care more about others even in the midst of something unpleasant. Sure, it was just gum, but he seemed like the kind of guy who acted that way on a daily basis. Also, he was 77 and still had lots of energy, which makes me happy.

The location changes seem to be good bookends, so I'll save Galway for the next post. Annie and EC have been a lot of fun, and I've met a whole bunch of cool people the past three days. You'll hear all about it soon.

*You know, the good ol' days, when there was rampant dysentery and no indoor plumbing.

I May Take a Holiday in Spain, Leave my Wings Behind Me

So, I spent my week in Barcelona, which was pretty cool. It's a good 20 degrees warmer there than Copenhagen or Ireland, so that was nice. I got to see a bit of the city, and the mountains around it. The whole city is packed on a gradual slope between the coast in the southeast and the mountains a few miles out northwest. On one of the small mountains sits a very, very old church. Several hundred years later, they built a theme park on the hill and a tram leading up to it. So, from pretty much any high point in the city, you can see the lone figures of a cathedral and a ferris wheel next to each other.

One of the highlights of the trip was the Picasso museum. I've never been that into art museums, and even less when it comes to learning about "the greats." But there was good art, and some of the displayed talked about Picasso in a historical context, which I found interesting. He lived to be very, very old, so his career spanned a dozen different artistic movements. That's just what happens when you're an artist for a full 75 years. There was also a special exhibit on Japanese erotica, which apparently was an influence on many artists of that time. I learned the historical basis of tentacle porn, which is something I've always wondered about (I have not actually ever wondered about that, ever).

I also got to visit the American embassy, thanks to the guy we were staying with, who works for the government (if I told you more than that, I'd have to kill you). It was a short visit, but I learned a bit more about what embassies do. Our host suggested that I might be the type to work for the state department in the foreign service, which is something I'd never considered. I have the right set of skills, though. I pick up language quickly, for one, which is important for going from country to country for just a few years at a time. Plus, a Peace Studies mindset might do some good in the government. My Peace Practice professor, Ailish, has encouraged all the students in the department not to limit ourselves to professions I might describe as "Peaceish," like starting a non-profit, or working in Baltimore inner-city schools. We need practicioners in all professions; Ailish suggested that she'd like to see a few of us on Wall Street. So, maybe this is something I should consider.

My last afternoon in Barcelona, I went down to Port Vell, the touristy waterfront area. There was a big mall, and a nice boardwalk. I sat on the edge of the water for a while, and I noticed that the water was unusually clear. Then I noticed the fish. Yes, there were fish in the harbor of a city of 4,000,000. That's mind-boggling to me; I had accepted in Boston, New York, Baltimore, etc., that city harbors are gross, and you go to an uninhabited place if you want to swim or see fish. Yet, the water in the Mediterranean was clean and healthy, at least enough to support some kind of ecosystem.

Friday evening, I headed to the airport to fly to Cork, Ireland, where I just finished two days and three nights with my old friend Scott. I'll save that for another post, though. Expect this one to be editted with photos when I get back to Copenhagen, though.

Sometimes I Have To Remind Myself That It's Not Australia's Fault

So, I thought I was telling the truth when I was talking about how I don't mind the DIS computer labs. And I was. But new evidence has arisen, both last night and tonight.

There's an Australian bar immediately below the DIS building. Weird, huh? Most of the time, there's no noise 'cause even though they're open, Monday nights aren't really "party night," and they just go about their business. However, apparently during the second half of the week, they go into rave mode. And despite being about sixty feet below me through four floors, they are loud enough to shake the building.

On the list of issues I anticipated having to deal with due to my hard drive breaking, I failed to list "butt will vibrate while writing papers." Yeah, they're pumping the bass that hard. I guess it's fine, 'cause it's a bar, but it's just not the best work environment for a tired college kid trying to wrap up a paper. And that's all I got to say about that.

thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump

Aftermaths

In Scotland, I discovered that math is plural throughout the UK. There is not math. There are maths. They take maths tests. I don't know if it's generalized to all words that include math, but I don't really care. I'm here to talk about three aftermaths.

Aftermaths #1: In the aftermaths of the big environmental event last weekend, I ran into someone from Amherst, MA (my hometown). I'd had a class or two with her; we weren't friends, per se, but we were friendly. Turns out she's studying in Sweden with a friend, and they were hanging out for a long weekend in Copenhagen, seeing the sights. She was staying a few blocks away from Rådhuspladsen and happened to notice me hanging out at the event. It was later on when only a handful of people were left, and I had already changed out of my green suit, which probably helped her find me. We chatted for a bit, and made plans to hang out the next day.

The next day was the end of Daylight Savings time, so we both showed up at the meeting point an hour early, but missed each other because she realized she was an hour early right away and left, while I was a few minutes late for our wrong meeting time. An hour later, we met (again), and had a good laugh about it. Then we toured Christiansborg (One of the main government buildings) and the nearby National Museum (it's free!) for the day. I'd seen neither of those things yet, but my guests wanted to do the touristy stuff, and I was happy to show them. I realized that in my effort to not be a tourist, I'd missed out on some cool stuff. I mean, the national museum is free, but I hadn't been there at all. Now that it's colder and walking around outside isn't so much fun, I may go another couple times.


(Jen, Christine and I at Christiansborg. It is mandatory to wear plastic bags over your shoes so as not to scuff the floor)

The other fun thing about it was that we reminisced about Amherst in a way I hadn't for a long time. My close friends from Amherst (Hi, Moss!) make jokes about things from high school occasionally, but it's often the same seven or eight people/things we're making fun of. Joking with someone else brought up a few things I'd completely forgotten about. Plus, she goes to school with someone I haven't spoken to in years who I wouldn't mind getting in touch with again. So, all around, a pretty good sunday.

Aftermaths #2: In the aftermaths of my hard drive breaking at the beginning of last week, I bought a new one online and had it shipped to my dad, who promptly shipped it to me. The cheapest thing I could find in Denmark was about 800kr ($160) and I found one online for $55 through an American company. Even with shipping, buying it online was much cheaper, and it should be arriving any day now. I sometimes wonder about the price inflation here, though. The Danes say it's because of taxes, but sales tax is 25% here, and that's a 200% markup.

I realized after I bought it that I signed an agreement last Spring saying that I wouldn't buy any new electronics until they started being produced without exploiting the Congolese. So, yay for me. I believe in human rights when it's convenient, like the white, middle-class American that I am.

The thing is, I realize now that I didn't even need a new hard drive. It's been, at worst, mildly inconvenient to use the DIS computer lab. And when I get back home, Goucher has several great labs, which I ended up using for homework despite having my own laptop for a chunk of last year. I'm not really sure what my point is, other than that I feel guilty, but I'm trying to stop feeling guilty and start doing something practical about it. Like letting my friends know about coltan mining in the Congo, for starters.

Aftermaths #3: In the aftermaths of the big olympic hubub, a video became extremely popular in Denmark. See, Oprah came to Denmark to push for the 2016 Chicago olympic bid, and while she was here, she shot some footage for her show. The focus of the piece? Visiting a "typical Danish household," and seeing how it's different from a "typical American household. The video is here. Now, you even those of you who haven't lived in Denmark for two months... you can probably guess that this isn't a typical Danish household at all. There's not enough space in Copenhagen for 1.5 million residents to live in a house like this. This is the home of a couple, both of whom are architects. That's important. Also, according to one of my friends, this was a 6,000,000kr home ($1.2m). So, this may indeed be somewhat typical for rich Danish architects, but that's about it. To be fair, the home displays modern Scandinavian design in its architecture, (the straight lines and big windows the woman is talking about) but that's different than saying it's a typical Danish house. Only people with 6,000,000kr homes have the resources to care about fashionable architecture.

So, this video has become very popular in Denmark. A lot of Danes have seen it, and many Danes have suggested bringing Oprah back and showing them an ACTUAL typical Danish home, so Oprah's audience doesn't get the wrong impression. One of my friends suggested we make a spoof in the Kollegium, showing how the typical Danish student lives. I'd be "the American" (i.e. Oprah), and he'd show me his room and the shared kitchen. When we got to his fridge, I'd be shocked at how small the fridge was, and he'd explain that he actually only has the bottom two shelves.

He also suggested I paint my face black to look like Oprah, and I had to explain to him why that would be offensive. He saw it the same way as a guy as stuffing balloons into his shirt to portay a female character. I gave him a 30-second history of Black Face, and he got it. Danes are known for having a sense of humor where offensiveness is directly correlated to laughs, and the guy in question does enjoy shock humor, but he understood why that would be "over the line."

We may end up shooting the spoof when I get back from my travel break, with me just tying my hair back and portraying "A Typical American" (which is also funny to me). I might tape a sign that says "Oprah" to my shirt; it remains to be seen. Should be funny, although he's not the only Dane to come up with the idea, I'm sure.

So, that's all the maths I have to talk about today. I'm Eli Cohen, reminding you that Danish children do not typically live in "caves."

Green Suits, Green Islands

Admittedly, the last two posts have been a bit less upbeat than my typical clown-and-kitten parade, but all that changes now. Two awesome things are happening that you all ought to know about.

First, I will be participating tomorrow in the World's Largest Environmental Action Ever. Yes, ever. At the latest count, there were over 4500 events happening across 177 countries (that's almost all of them) and I'm going to be at the one at Rådhuspladsen (City Hall Square) in Copenhagen. Not only will I be participating, but I will be going along with these folks. By the time many of you read this post, I will have edited it to add photos of me in a ridiculous green suit.

The second thing is that I've finished planning my travel break. We have a two-week vacation to do whatever we want from Nov. 1-15, and I'm going to be traveling to Spain and Ireland.

My original plan was to fly down to Barcelona for some pre-COP15 talks, and slowly take a train back north, seeing parts of France and Germany along the way. It turns out that it wasn't as great of a plan as I thought. I'd be doing it alone, not just in terms of traveling companions, but also in terms of knowing anyone along the way. While I liked the idea of being a vagrant and finding my own way and all that, I realized that having someone to show you around is really nice. I could see some things, but I wouldn't know what I was looking at. Now, I realize that's unecesarily negative, and I think the trip would have been awesome if I did it. But I realized that there are other things I'd like to do more. So, I got in touch with a few people.

Now my plan is still to start out in Barcelona. I'll be staying with a friend of my mother's. I recognize the privilege present in that. Among other things, I'm getting free lodging for five days of a potentially very expensive trip. The craziest part of it is that my mother is going to take a vacation to visit the aforementioned friend, and she coordinated it to be at the same time so we can see each other in Barcelona. So, that's cool, to say the least.

As far as the second half of my break goes, I thought about people I knew who were studying abroad in Europe this semester. I realized that I actually have three friends in Ireland right now. More specifically, they are friends who are enthusiastic, fun, and like showing me places. So, I'll be spending the middle weekend of the break with my long-time friend Scott in Cork. Monday afternoon I'll be taking a bus north to Galway to see my friends and Orientation Committee comrades, Annie and EC. Expect photos and good stories. Annie, EC and I may spend the last weekend in Belfast, actually. I've left much of the planning to them so that I end up doing some things I wouldn't think to do on my own. Can't wait. I leave in nine days!

Screw You, Mr. Borg, and Your Photoshopped Hair Too

As of a few days ago, there ads at every bus stop in Copenhagen with a picture of a very happy-looking guy in a blue-and-yellow speedo (Sweden's colors). The words "spread the spirit" are written in the corner. I tried to find a picture to post here, but I was unable. However this is apparently part of some underwear campaign by some underwear company called Björn Borg, which I proceeded to look up. They're also part of a fashion group of some kind called "Swedish Exports." The joke being that the chief export of Sweden is beautiful people (it's made clear by the site. The people refer to themselves, not their clothes, as being "Swedish exports.") Anyway, site is here. Don't click that if you're at work, in a library, or have self-respect.*

I could go on at length about the body image issues present in the ad itself, but I feel like the more frustrating business is the way their image is presented on the site. They have a photo contest wherein you post a picture of yourself wearing their underwear, and people vote on the best photo. My original thought was that this was going to be a bunch of bodybuilders, but was surprised to find a few people who looked like me on the site. Then I dug a little further and noticed that those photos were meant as comedy spots, or stereotypically "alternative" in some way. Now, I'm not really saying anything that hasn't been said a million times before, but what the hell, let's hear it again. You can be pretty, or you can be funny. And if you're funny, you're probably joking about how you're not pretty (there are two photos of average-looking guys striking manly poses).

My first thought when I saw the bus-stop ad was, "I'll stop complaining when there's an ad with someone who looks like me, or anyone I know." So let's pretend that the website, at least, had photos representative of the body types of the population-at-large (which it didn't, but we're pretending). The photo they chose to print at every bus stop in the city is still the one of the ripped guy. So, thank you Mr. Borg, for making one tiny, arbitrary step on your website towards diversity in advertising. When the overweight guy makes it onto a mainstream ad, and it's *not* intended as a comedy spot, I'll stop complaining.

*I sold mine to the devil for awesome guitar skills

An Offering to Those who Love me

For some unknown reason, I'm feeling brave enough to share a piece of writing with you, my loving friends. I've only shared one poem in a public sphere before, in the sense that a high school literary magazine is public. I assumed nobody really read it except the editors, but I found out a year later that I had a fan. An acquaintance's girlfriend had read my poem, and had declared it her new favorite poem. Knowing that someone I'd never met had read and liked my poem was certainly an eye-opening experience. It was humbling. I wanted to meet her, not for the sake of saying, "Hey, I wrote that poem you liked, aren't I cool?" but simply to ask her what she liked about it. It had never even occurred to me that someone would have connected to my poem, but I'm glad I found out about it. It was a wonderful feeling.

Back to the present, though. I wrote this at the end of the first week of classes when it was still warm and I was still spending hours walking around the city at night. Now it's cold, and I no longer enjoy that quite as much, but some great realizations came out of those walks, including this writing. I don't know whether you'd call this poetry or prose. I feel like it falls in between. Prosetry?

I had started to write a preface, further explaining what I meant and what I was thinking during the writing process, but I need to get away from that. I always over-explain; I'm ready to leave well enough alone and let you form your own opinions on the piece.

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Thoughts from Copenhagen
9/2/09, 1:30AM

I.

It was a warm Monday night
I was walking down the street in a part of Copenhagen
Where the sidewalks are too narrow
And the buildings are too old
And yet at the same time not old enough to mask
The 7-11s
The Burger Kings
The Mannequins in the shop windows
Not old enough to maintain the feel of a thousand-year-old city.
And I think about how much of a travesty it is that they’re allowed to sell crap like Coca Cola in a building that King Christian the Fourth frequently visited.
Then I remember that King Christian the Fourth invaded Sweden
So I re-evaluate the relative weight of the two sins.

II.

As I was walking down this very old street, I began to think about my own inability to truly make friends in the first week in Copenhagen
Sure, I had met people, but
How many names could I remember?
How many group dinners had I eaten?
How many board games had I played?
How many philosophical conversations had I started?
How many phone numbers had I collected?
So few.
So few.
And knowing the reason why, I started to walk a little faster.
I thought about how afraid I’ve been my whole life.
That I couldn’t ask a girl for her number for fear that she might think I’m just trying to get her in bed, when all I really want is to make some friends. My self-defeating mindset stands in stark opposition to my preference for the company of women. A preference which has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with loving, nurturing, caring, and all the other important things I almost had socialized out of me in the third grade.
But then again…
Would I turn down sex if the girl made the first move?
Are my reasons for preferring the company of women really so pure and innocent?
Am I a little bit pompous for pouring all of my energy into my disdain for “those guys?”
In the end, am I not just another man with unrealistic expectations and socially imposed heteronormative values?
Maybe I’m not really any better than the misogynist frat boys and abusive fathers and high school boys who use the “nice guy” routine to get into a girl’s pants, and maybe that’s what I’m doing anyway.
What gives me the right to claim the moral high ground, when all I’m doing is sitting around and waiting for her to make the first move so that I can feel less sexist about every sexual encounter
Christ, I’m an asshole.

III.

I’m three kilometers into my five kilometer walk to the bus stop, and a beautiful young woman spills a bag of groceries.
I stop to help her pick them up, all the while wondering if I’m being sexist.
Would I have helped her if she were a man?
Would I have helped her if she seemed less friendly?
Would I have helped her if she weren’t beautiful?
I am so lost in my own thoughts, that I fail to notice when she smiles at me
Or the genuine way she says “thank you.”
And when we go our separate ways, I fail to notice that she looks back at me not once, but twice.
Another opportunity for companionship, lost to fear.

IV.

As I continue towards the bus stop, I make a vow to stop worrying about what other people think.
From now on, I will do what feels right to me, and be honest with myself in the process.
I will respect my needs.
As my professor says, “You have to help yourself before you can help others,”
And as my mother says, “You have to add yourself to the list of people who matter.”
Tomorrow, I will start mattering.
Tomorrow, I will ask a girl for her phone number.
If she thinks I’m just trying to get her in bed and refuses to trade numbers, then that is her loss, not mine.
Tomorrow I will be the friendly, caring, cheerful, funny, charming, level-headed boy I always have been, minus the insecurity.
I get on the bus, ready for tomorrow.

V.

I spend the next day in my room, alone.
There is a substantial difference between the thoughts one has at 11PM in the city versus those at 9AM in the suburbs.
The city is a whole bus ride away, and I am very groggy.
So, music will be my companion for the day.
Besides, Leonard Cohen never rejects me.
In fact, he loves me all the more for my faults.
Once during a family visit, he told me to throw my insecurities aside.
“Ring the bells that still can ring,” he said. “Forget your perfect offering.”
“Easy for you to say,” I responded. “You’re 73 years old and still kicking.”
Leonard says his life hasn’t been all roses; he was robbed by his manager a few years ago, left with only a few thousand dollars in the bank.
I explained to him that he still lived a privileged lifestyle.
“You’ll never truly be poor,” I said. “Just book one show at the largest concert hall in Europe and charge $200 per ticket. You’ll have your millions back in two hours flat.”
“They’d never pay that much to see me,” Leonard said. “I can barely sing anymore, and my voice cracks.”
“There’s a crack in everything,” I reply, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “That’s how the light gets in.”