Eli Cohen's Adventures (2009-present)

Mine, all mine!

2010-04-28T23:18:00.001-07:00

So, I have my blog back, as my professor put it. Am I going to use it? I don't know yet. However, there are some other things that I do know:

I know that I have a week and a half left in this semester before I return to Boston. I'll be living with my brother Michael again at his place in Medford and interning at EnerNOC where I worked last year.

I know that by nightfall on June 19th, I will have a sister-in-law, as the aforementioned brother Michael marries his fiancee of three years. I know I'm looking forward to that weekend.

I know that later in the summer (though I do not know exactly when yet), Michael will move to the west coast to get ready to attend grad school at Berkeley in the field of sustainable energy. This means me being happy for him, and it also means a slight change in my living arrangements from that point in the summer onward.

I know that this fall, I will be taking courses that I'm very excited for. All of my classes follow a "I liked it the first time, so I'll probably like more of it too" pattern:

Seminar in Human Motivation: Intrinsic Motivation. I took the 200-level version of this course last year and loved it; now I'm back for more with the same professor and a similar topic at the 300-level.
Topics in Peace Studies: Conflict Resolution Skills. There's been a lot of discussion in the Peace Studies department lately about how students feel like we talk a lot about building consensus and using mediation techniques, but we never actually learn these skills. Some of these discussions later turned into informal skills workshops run by faculty and students, which have been great. Perhaps part of that discussion lead to one of the professors offering this course next semester.
U.S. Environmental Policy. My current enviro class has been great (the one that I've done these posts for) so I'm taking another enviro course with the same professor.
Internship with United Workers. Working with that particular non-profit has been incredibly educational for me, especially this past semester, and I believe by spending more hours a week with them, I'll be able to learn more about community organizing and running or being part of a campaign.
African Drum and Dance. I'm coming back for round 3. I still don't even really think of this as a class; it's just a fun thing to do that they happen to give me credit for.

I know that this fall, on October 10th (10/10/10) there will be a massive global work party organized by 350.org. Baltimore will be the site of just one of the thousands of events happening worldwide that day. As it stands right now, we're trying to get as many local groups involved as we can. We're still early in the planning stage, but I know it's going to be awesome.

Of course, I use "know" loosely. I say "know," but I really mean, "These are my current plans, but all things are still possible." I don't know where the universe is going to lead me, but I'm excited about it. Yay life!

Response #8: Nature vs. Nature

2010-04-05T13:57:00.000-07:00

I appreciate Berry's willingness to break down the typical environmental discourses. Basically, he points out that we see nature either as a pool of natural resources from which we can and rightfully should take everything we can, or we see it as a beautiful thing to be protected because we are really just part of nature and when we hurt nature we are only hurting ourselves. These have natural parallels in Dryzek, namely Promethian and Survivalist, though the survivalist parallel is more tenuous. Then he points out that, although the survivalist mentality is closer to accurate, viewing ourselves as "part of the natural world" doesn't really tell the whole story.

Berry states very well a point that I've tried to make before, though never done as him. Our definition of "progress" is leading to our own destruction, and that's no progress at all. Once again, it's not about saving polar bears because they're cute, and it's not about planting flowers because they smell nice (although Berry isn't inherently against those things). It's about a recognition that helping nature thrive helps us thrive, as the survivalists say, with the caveat that it only works if we know exactly what we're doing. We don't need to leave nature alone, as some would say. We can help nature. But we also need to be aware of the difference between helping nature and spraying nitrates which double crop production. There are short-term and long-term effects, and the long-term has been ignored.

Last, and most importantly, I'm going to restate the point I made two posts ago, because Berry says the exact same thing. Nature conservation areas were a good idea to get us started on the environmentalist path, but really, it's an illusion. Everywhere needs to be a conservation area, in a sense. Farms, forests, cities, etc. Of course, they'll look different than what we think of as a "conservation area" today, but they will all be operated under the same principles.

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Side note: I've had some experiences with the "so-called nature lover" phenomenon this week worth sharing. A friend posted on his Facebook status how annoyed he gets when people shake cherry blossom trees so that they can get a picture of them swirling around in the wind. I said early on that there is a difference between a pet owner and an animal lover (though they sometimes line up), and similarly, there is a difference between a person who thinks cherry blossoms are pretty and a nature lover (though they sometimes line up). Many people I know aren't willing to make the leap and say that every living thing is worthy of care. Unfortunately (or fortunately, really) we can't just protect the pandas and butterflies; we also have to protect the snakes and algae and spiders.

Response #7: Goucher

2010-03-29T17:28:00.001-07:00

To my friends: I know, my blog got all formal 'n' stuff. I apologize to anyone who's disappointed, which means you, Eli Moss, the only person who reads this anymore now that I'm not in Denmark. Hi Eli!

So, what do we do at Goucher, and what don't we do?

Well, I see the school taking some steps towards environmentalism, all of which are admirable. Our dining services do a good job, and we have a very efficient heating and cooling plant. However, we miss the boat on some fairly obvious measures. I somewhat accepted reliance on paper as a fact of life in college until I went to Denmark for a semester. All my classes either encouraged or required that we hand in papers via e-mail, which were returned with comments via "track changes." No paper involved. So, why don't we all do that? Well, professors here have reasons that are understandable, but I'm not sure if they're sufficient. Most of them fall back on "I don't want to stare at a screen all day," or a lack of desire to learn a new piece of technology.

In order to get any kind of environmental initiative pushed through, it has to start with student action on a large scale. The school rarely actively opposes initiatives except on the grounds of funding, and even then they don't push back very hard or for very long if the suggestion is unambiguously the right thing to do. So, in truth, all we have to do is ask. Only a few years ago, SGA made double-sided printing standard on environmental grounds; it's just a question of how much we want it. Of course, the difference between reduced-paper and paperless is significant; nobody really opposed double-sided except for a few professors who were sticklers for proper academic format, and even then they didn't really care that much. Students and professors will oppose a paperless classroom much more.

That said, there are certain things that absolutely should be digital. The course syllabus should always be online, as should reading handouts. Even if a few people decide to print it on their own, we're still saving tons of paper. I'm using very specific examples, but the point is that in nearly all cases, the thing that we could be doing better is raising more of a fuss. The school only very occasionally makes a move on their own without student demand.

Response #6: IPCC

2010-03-08T12:01:00.000-08:00

Unsurprisingly, the 2007 IPCC report and its summary were brought up quite frequently at Klimaforum09 in Copenhagen, giving me another opportunity to discuss my visit. (Hey everyone, did I mention that spent last semester in Copenhagen? I thought some people may not have picked up on that yet).

The report took several years to put together from hundreds of pieces of scientific and sociological literature, and by the time COP15 rolled around only two years later, some of the data was said to be out-of-date by climatologists. In fact, further research done in 2007 and 2008 pointed at climate change occurring even more rapidly and dangerously than that predicted by the IPCC. This seems to be a recurring trend. Perhaps due to fossil fuel lobbies, greed, naivete or some other factor, but we seem to think that climate change is not as big of a deal, only to find later that we should have taken action a long time ago.

On page 15 of the report summary, there is a table of how various sectors could improve in the area of environmental sustainability. In almost every category, after a series of specific suggestions, is the idea "incorporate climate change concerns into design and daily practices" or something to that effect. This points at an important goal of environmentalism. A Department of the Environment is important, and many countries have one in some form or another. However, the goal of any environmental bureau should be its own obsolescence (credit to Ailish Hopper-Meisner for teaching me that concept). A government cannot have a Department of Energy build new coal plants and a Department of the Environment create conservation areas and claim to be meeting everyone's needs. Environmental concerns will not be met as long as they are considered separate from other concerns. They must be integrated into every aspect of society. The IPCC does a good job of showing the magnitude of the problem and pointing out that it cannot be solved by disjointed efforts.

Response #5: Multi-faceted

2010-03-01T13:21:00.000-08:00

In chapter 6, Speth focuses on the multitude of socioeconomic factors that go into calculating environmental impact. I appreciate his willingness to depart from the "old model" (that is, IPAT) and recognize the many other factors involved.

Matt brought up a great point in class a few weeks ago about the unfairness of using population as a factor with such prominence. Environmentalists are more or less in agreement that more people leads to a greater environmental impact, but the population factor is not of equal bearing with affluence, technology, or any of the seven other factors Speth lists. To paraphrase Matt's point, one average American child will consume more resources in his lifetime than fifty average children in the developing world. Therefore, limiting population, especially in the developing world, is a band-aid solution at best and a dishonest and unjust non-solution at worst.

The third factor, technology, I feel is also misapplied. Speth does a good job of clearing things up. It is not inherently the development of new technology that is the problem, but our unwillingness to change the definition of "progress." It has been pointed out by many environmental leaders (including many at Klimaforum09 in Copenhagen) that we have all the technology we need to solve nearly every environmental problem we are facing. We can create a sustainable electric grid worldwide, produce the things we need in a nearly waste-free way (see: Cradle to Cradle), and keep CO2 down to safe levels. Our problem is not that we need more technology. Our problem is that we have not committed to the applicaiton of technology. For example, once we have started building the number of wind turbines we really should have in the US, then we can always upgrade or switch to new methods when more efficient wind turbines become available. In the meantime, we ought to get started; the tendency is to say "the technology is not ready yet" when in fact, it has been ready for anywhere from 10-50 years, depending on which aspect of climate change we're talking about.

What does this say about us? Well, to repeat a point I've made at least three times in previous posts, we're always looking for excuses to be passive, when this is a problem that requires us to be active.

Response #four-and-a-half: Charismatic Megafauna

2010-02-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

A screenshot which I think aptly illustrates the "charismatic megafauna" effect described in response #1 (click for larger version):

Response #4: More Opportunities to Bash Free Market Economics

2010-02-22T11:41:00.000-08:00

Ah, yes. The old "free markets would solve everything if only those stupid governments would stop getting in the way" approach. How I missed thee. Dryzek chapter 6 focuses on the market, and the discourse in which the market can solve all of our problems. While Dryzek does poke holes in this discourse, as he does with all the discourses, I want to add a few that he missed.

On page 124, Dryzek notes that "owners of forests that could not be logged economically would keep them as wilderness areas or invest in wildlife conservation in order to attract hunters or photographers, who would be charged admission to provide income for these conservation investments." While Dryzek later points out that privately owned conservation land often end up being sold to developers, he missed an opportunity to make a broader point: conservation lands need to simply exist. We cannot just save forests that people want to visit, hunt in, or take photographs of. That is not truly a market solution because there are only so many hunters and photographers and only so many people taking vacations at any given time. The entire model relies on the assumption that photographers are a major economic actor. I can think of few wildlife photographers who have the kind of money required to make conservation a good investment. In the end, a forest that is not commercially viable for logging will now (most likely) eventually be commercially viable for logging, or at least for something, and whatever that thing is will probably make the owner a lot more money than conservation. Therefore, by this model, the forest will eventually be cut down. Therefore, we need a system in which forests are allowed to simply exist, regardless of whether we are actively using them for something (because we passively use them for regulating global CO2 levels, among other things).

In my high school economics class, when we were studying Adam Smith's notion of free-market capitalism, my teacher was quick to point out that even the most hardcore, bottom-line, anti-regulation capitalists admit that governments have certain responsibilities. Namely, governments must handle pieces of business that are in the best interest of everyone, but no individual has any reason to take care of. For example, ensuring drinkable water: no individual will clean a whole reservoir, but collectively everyone around needs the water to be clean. Smith lists other examples including education, the prevention of monopolies and maintaining an active military*. So, Dryzek is making a straw man argument in parts of this chapter. I'm not sure there are truly that many free-market capitalists who believe that a healthy environment will happen when every single piece of air, water, and land is owned by an individual or firm. All but the most extreme capitalists tend to back off when it comes to certain issues like drinking water. The government does have its place, and that place is to protect the people when the market does not protect them.

*I find this somewhat questionable, but he was writing in the 1770's, so I'll cut him some slack. Anyway, while I'm staunchly anti-military, I suppose if one has to exist I'd rather it be run publicly, by the government, than by a bunch of rich people each with their own private militias.

Response #3: Promethians are Environmental Obstructionists

2010-02-15T11:49:00.000-08:00

A bold title, I know.

Dryzek barely hides his own contempt for the notion that we can solve every problem by figuring out how to exploit new resources, or exploit old resources better. The Promethean argument extends as far as saying that we will eventually figure out how to harbor yesterday's pollution into today's energy source, which Dryzek compares to alchemy. There is only really one central point where I agree with Prometheans, but then feel that they take their argument in entirely the wrong direction.

I absolutely agree that there is no limit to human ingenuity. We are amazing creatures and can come up with a solution to any problem we put our minds to. However, unlikely Prometheans, I would argue that this is what we are doing right now. While the Promethean viewpoint appears to be, "we're smart, so we'll learn to live with global warming, depletion of resources, and pollution when the time comes," my viewpoint is, "we're smart, so we'll build wind farms, a smart grid, and take a sustainable approach to logging." Yes, we are incredibly resourceful as a species. That's why many of us are trying to nip this problem in the bud now, rather than wait for the economic tipping point.

At the risk of simply restating Dryzek's point, the Promethean viewpoint is unabashedly capitalist, and sees no other form of progress other than continued accumulation of things. It relies heavily on the use of misleading statistics such as global averages, which fail to account for regional differences. For example, it includes the absurd notion of "trickle-down economics," by stating that mean global increase in wealth equals increased prosperity and ability to solve new problems as they come up. In fact, what is happening is that one part of the world is accumulating wealth, and when these new challenges come up, that part of the world will be fine while the rest of the world is left by the wayside.

This time, in answering the question "what does this say about us?" I can't help but be a little sarcastic. It says that many of us in the wealthy part of the world are comfortable living the way we are living, and will come up with any excuse to protect what we feel is rightfully ours, regardless of whether or not we earned it. We are willing to cause very direct harm to people in other countries, or even the poor within our own countries, as long as it can be rationalized in terms of progress or blamed on some other factor. Critical? Yes. Harsh? Absolutely. But I can't see any other way of putting it. This is happening right now, and it's going to take a lot more pressure and education than previously thought to convince Prometheans of the error of their ways.

Fantasy and the Art of the Mundane

2010-02-08T13:39:00.001-08:00

Note: this is not a PSC140 post. Scroll down for my environmental blog contribution for the week of 2/8/2010

I've had a few conversations with friends recently about growing up in a world filled with wizards and magic spells. Somewhere between video games, books, movies, and role-playing, many of us spent our childhoods in the backyard with a boffing sword, holding off hordes of imaginary Chaos Warriors (yes, I went for the obscure Hero Quest reference). I've been thinking back on that a bit lately, and I've got a few thoughts about my own childhood that I want to try to iron out here. There are references in this post that not everyone will get, but I'll try to keep it accessible, such that with context clues, you can figure out what I'm getting at (if I haven't already lost everyone with Hero Quest). All references to "Avatar" are to "...: The Last Airbender," not James Cameron's recent film.

First, magic (and other magic-like things, such as elemental control in Avatar) seem to only exist as a backdrop to war. It's especially black-and-white in video games like Final Fantasy or non-video games like Dungeons and Dragons. Magic is a weapon, and nothing else. In an RPG, you would never waste your precious spell slots/points on a spell you're not planning on blasting goblins with. Maybe an occasional spell such as invisibility, so that you can sneak up on a goblin before blasting it. But that's about it.

(Gandalf with his Instant Comedy Sticks. Just add fire!)

In books, the world is typically more complex and developed, but the non-battle applications of magic are still limited. Gandalf makes fireworks for the hobbit children. Avatar Aang amuses children with spinning beads. But it's more for comic relief than any actual plot purpose. Much to my own surprise, the one counterexample I could think of was one of the most pop-culture-ish interpretations of magical worlds: Harry Potter.

The world of Harry Potter leaves room for day-to-day magic use. It's the only system I can think of where there is a spell for cleaning a room. There are magic objects that serve "mundane" purposes, like pensieves, or the Maurader's Map. Sure, they end up being plot-relevant and in the book exist only to further the fight against Evil. But it is made clear that the Maurader's Map was created for common childhood pranks, and that was it.

J.K. Rowling took steps to create a world that is "normal" except for the inclusion of magic, and I think that's noteworthy. It may be part of the reason why the books were so compelling. But at the same time, I sometimes felt like she stopped short, and created a number of spells and items that only existed for Harry and friends to find. The one I joke with friends about most often is the "patronus" (from the third book, but used again later). It appears to serve no purpose other than scaring away dementors. Which are something that the average wizard never ever encounters. Yet, it's set up as an important spell that every wizard would know. There are hundreds of these convenient set-ups in fantasy stories, and we, the readers, wouldn't have it any other way.

A second thought is that fantasy worlds tend to be completely black-and-white in terms of good and evil. Granted, other genres fall into the same trap, so we're not talking about something unique to fantasy. Still, it's worth noting that we're comfortable with our Saurons and Voldemorts and Kefkas and Firelord Ozais, and the list goes on. One of my favorite comics points out the limited nature of this setup.

(The classic D&D "alignments")

So, this all got me thinking. What if someone created a comprehensive fantasy world, with as much richness of history and detail as Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, (or even MORE history, perhaps). Then someone took that world, and *didn't* turn it into a cataclysmic battle of good vs. evil. Would anyone read it? Would it be engaging? Could a non-epic story be told in an epic fantasy setting? If properly written, could it be deep and nuanced? The only thing that's coming to mind right now is a modern Hollywood romantic comedy set in a fantasy world, and that's actually the thing I'd *least* want to see created out of this little brainstorm.

I'm not sure what the solution is, but I know how to define the problem I'm having. Regardless of the medium, the fantasy world is a place where pretty much any action is justifiable if the enemy is "evil" (see comic linked above). And if the enemy is not human, it's even more justified. Maiming evil humans sometimes require a degree of moral turbulence, but nobody ever feels bad for an orc. Again, fantasy is not the only genre to oversimplify good and evil, but it's the one I grew up with. I see fantasy, along with a million other forms of media, as continuing the notion that the world is black-and-white. Without some other counter-balancing perspective, it becomes easy to see criminals as The Bad Guys, rather than human beings screwed by a society we create and control. It's easier to view greedy CEOs as People Who Should Die, rather than people who need a new kind of education.

I guess what I'm asking is this: in a few years, when most of the world has figured out that we've been missing the point for most of human history, and that widespread cooperation, respect and trust are truly the basis of civilization, and that there is no such thing as Good and Evil, and that we are all just People... when all those things happen, what will fantasy look like?

Response #2: Review

2010-02-08T12:54:00.000-08:00

Before we started reading Red Sky, it was mentioned in class that the book was a good summary of environmental issues. Unfortunately, that's all it has been for me so far. If I hadn't just spent a semester in Copenhagen learning about these issues, it would have been the perfect book for me. Unfortunately, it's ended up being more of a review so far. Hopefully later chapters will present new information. For the record, I'm not writing this to be smug about my vast, unending knowledge of environmental issues or anything so bold. Merely pointing out that this book is a summary, and is review for folks who are already involved. That said, it is incredibly well-written.

One piece of information that stuck out the most was the 450ppm C02 target. It was only three years ago that studies confirmed 350ppm as more of a "safe" target (safe in quotes, because even 350ppm will result in significant climate change). Perhaps seven years ago, during the writing of the book, 450ppm was still seen as a reasonable target. Now, further research has debunked that.

These constant readjustments seem to mirror a larger issue in our society of wishful thinking vis a vis global warming. We are constantly saying "maybe the problem will fix itself" or "maybe we'll only have to make small, incremental changes in our lifestyle." In reality, environmental issues have always required a complete overhaul of society, but we have never collectively risen to the challenge. Even if 450ppm was still considered "safe," we're on track to pass that in only another 20 years. What does this say about us? Well, first and foremost, we're comfortable living the way we are. We don't want to change, even at the expense of those who will suffer the brunt of the consequences despite their lack of contribution to the problem. Even more than that, it says that active environmentalists need to ramp up their efforts more than ever before. Helping educate people who don't know about the environmental issues, and helping mobilize people who do. That's the next step (and coincidentally, the next chapter in Speth).

Response #1: Saving the Cute Animals, and other missed opportunities

2010-02-01T11:07:00.000-08:00

"Defending species on a one-at-a-time basis has proven politically treacherous, at least beyond the defense of bald eagles, bison, and other charismatic megafauna." - Red Sky at Morning, James Gustave Speth, p. 25

More than any other, this snippet from the Speth reading caught my eye. While serious environmentalists generally have a sense of respect for all forms of life, it can be difficult to rally the public around the idea of saving a rare snail or fern. While saving the whales is important, the whales have somewhat hogged the spotlight for the past 40 years. Smaller, less iconic, less "majestic" animals get little press.

It brings me back to 2007, watching the film "Happy Feet," which does do a good job of presenting overfishing in a way that is accessible to children. But I ended the movie feeling that the point was, "Let's save the penguins because they entertain us with their wacky tap-dancing antics." The film presented this as a triumph, but for me, it more closely resembled a scene in a different animated film: the scene in The Lion King, where Zazu is being forced to sing for Scar's amusement, and if he stops he will be fed to the hyenas.

At the end of the chapter (p. 42) Speth notes that the cost of a well executed nature reserve plan would equal the amount of money spent on pet food annually by wealthy OECD countries. Pet owners are often mistaken for animal lovers, and while those two groups sometimes overlap, they certainly do not always overlap. I frequently meet pet owners who love their pets, but care little for other animals. While there are clearly much better ways of funding conservationism, I appreciated the notion that a sudden abolishment of pets could free up enough money to meet present and future forest needs.

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Side note: Comedian Denis Leary also has something to say about saving the cute animals (first 1:20 of the clip. Contains profanity, and quickly devolves into some disturbing imagery after about 1:30).

Two Point Oh

2010-02-01T10:57:00.000-08:00

In an unexpected turn of events, I have a school assignment to keep a blog (for my environmental studies class, no less). So, it turns out that I will be using this again after all. For my friends and family who were reading my Copenhagen postings, there's nothing stopping you from keeping this up, but expect me to make quite a few references to books and articles you haven't read.

Consider this blog rebooted!

...

*whirrrrrrrr...*

...

...

*BSOD*

Sixty Hours

2009-12-23T21:18:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-20T14:51:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-15T21:01:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-12-08T10:21:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-06T14:05:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-26T07:45:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-16T15:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-16T09:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-12T07:13:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-09T08:45:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-29T16:37:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-28T07:07:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-23T10:44:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-23T07:35:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

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.”

Specificity is key (Scotland Post 4)

2009-10-16T00:31:00.000-07:00

The first night in Glasgow, four of us went out to a comedy club where there were four female comedians each doing a short set (the title of the show was "Wicked Wenches." Don't think too hard about that). They were actually a pretty diverse group. One native Glaswegian (best adjective ever), one Irish, and two Americans. I was initially disappointed by the presence of American comedians, but they were funny, so I got over it.

The four of us took a lot of shit from the comedians, mostly for being American, but also for being happy, which was sort of confusing at a comedy club. For a moment, I was thinking, "Are we laughing too loud? Should we be laughing less? Do people not laugh at comedy clubs here?" Turns out, people laugh at comedy clubs in Scotland too. So, I got over it.

(Three of my friends standing on a comedy club stage. We showed up VERY early, and they didn't mind us hanging around and taking pictures like the tourists we are. By the way, yes, the mural is of a cowboy child holding a gun to his head in front of an audience.)

I watched a *lot* of stand-up comedy in high school. My Carlin-inspired attitude was that there is no topic that is off-limits to the comedian, and when dealing with a touchy subject, the difference between horribly offensive and hilarious is how well the joke is constructed. I don't feel that way anymore, and it may be the reason I watch less stand-up than I used to. When comedians comment on culture, they often try to pretend that they're not part of the culture because they're the lowly starving artists who are too poor or off-beat to have an agenda. But that stereotype is also part of the culture, as are all the stereotypes they base their jokes on. There are always comedians who will question stereotypes and find a funny way to throw them back at the audience, and I love that. But so many comedians fall back on the same old jokes. Three unique punchlines, then we're back to "men are assholes and women are confusing and why do Muslims have so many phlegm-inducing sounds in their names, am I right?" I can't watch that anymore. It's been done. Even the so-called rebels, the counter-culture comedians, the Kinisons and Pryors and Carlins of the world, they all do it too, albeit less often.

Where I'm going with this is that I really enjoyed the comedy show in Scotland. They did relatively little of that, and when it did pop up, I let slide. In retrospect, I came to the show determined to laugh, and that made me unable to get annoyed at the material I would have perhaps otherwise disapproved of. We got made fun of, but it was mostly in the context of "you Americans did XYZ" and I understood that they were talking on a societal level, not that I was personally responsible for ruining everything. I particularly got a lot of flak for wearing one of my human rights shirts. My favorite part was when one comedian was being self-referential when making fun of me. She was basically saying, "Damn you American kids and your optimism and hope and caring about the world. Don't you know you're supposed to be miserable like us?" Most of the audience went "hah hah, yeah, we're such pessimists, that's pretty funny," except for the guy at the table next to us, who came to be known as "the scary man." His attitude seemed to be, "Yeah! Damn hippies!" which I've certainly heard before, but it was funnier coming from a gruff Glaswegian. He later got made fun of too, and everyone was laughing, even if for different reasons.

One lesson I learned that evening is that I need to get used to being a Peace Studies student in a public sphere. I anticipate the "damn hippie!" reaction, or even worse, the "great, the world needs people like you!" reaction, and I change my response accordingly. I downplay my own aspirations. When people ask me what I want to do with my life, I say, "Eh, change the world. Help people. You know." Or I say that I'm just in it to learn stuff, and may end up in an IT job in the end. Those are all accurate, but are also kind of wishy-washy. When the comedian asked me that very question during the show (looking for comedy fodder, of course), I said "Improve people's well-being." I'm a bit ashamed to admit to the world (or at least my friends who read this blog) that I gave that answer. It's not *false*, it's just *meaningless*. I was wearing the United Workers shirt. It was the perfect opportunity to say, "Secure a living wage for everyone," or "Improve schools" or even "Steal from the rich and give to the poor." All those would have been better answers. And of course, the comedian picked up on the lameness of my answer. She said, "doesn't that sound like it should be in inverted commas and said in a sarcastic tone?" And it does. In retrospect, the funniest answer I could have given would have been to say "Stand-up comedy." But I didn't think of it in time.

They say that specificity is key in comedy. Most of the time, "He hit the other guy with something silly" would be funnier if it was "He hit the other guy with a large fish," and even funnier if it was "He smacked the other guy upside the head with an eight-pound speckled sea bass." Well, specificity is also key in my self-description. I know what I want to see in the world, and I just need to get comfortable saying it. I guess I'm afraid that I'd be pidgeonholing myself if I said I wanted to stay in Baltimore and do United Workers stuff forever (which I don't). But if I say that, and I later do other things, who cares? That's my goal right now. Goals can change, and I needn't be afraid of it.

One more light-hearted moment: Out of the folks in the audience who got made fun of, the four of us got the most attention from the comedians, and I definitely got more than everyone else. One of them was mock-flirting me throughout her act (did I need to specify that it was mock-flirting? Probably not). And of course, there was the exchange I already mentioned. By the end, I was pretty popular with the crowd, and I actually felt like I added something to the success of the show. I was certainly expecting to be entertained, but I wasn't expecting to leave the show feeling that I had somehow contributed. Before the last comedian, there was a raffle, and the audience voted by applause for which previously heckled audience member should draw the ticket. There was the scary man, the Americans, and two couples (one had been married for years, the other were on their second date; the expected jokes were made about "this is your future," etc.). The four of us Americans were more or less the only people to cheer for the scary guy, which cracked me up. I won by a landslide, got to draw the ticket, get made fun of a bit more, then present the prize. I was also instructed to give the winner a kiss, which I did (with her permission, 'cause that's the kind of guy I am). Life throws unexpected twists. I certainly couldn't have told you a few weeks ago that I'd be adding "back row of a Glasgow comedy club" to the list of places I've gotten to kiss a pretty girl. Not that I have such a list. Well, it's certainly not on my computer. And the file is definitely not called "elismooches.doc"

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For today's Random Pictures Unrelated to the Post, here's some from when we climbed a mountain/hill near Loch Katrine.

(On the way up. The peak on the left was our peak)

(The view from just below the summit, facing Eastish)

(Me on the true peak. There was a small, flat summit, but this rock was the one that jutted up the highest. Also, I look like I'm either meditating, or asking for a hug)

(The view facing... Westish? Maybe Northwestish?)

(View facing Southish)

Stock Characters and Absent Friends (Scotland Post 3)

2009-10-13T16:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not quite done with the Royal Oak yet, because I barely talked about any of the people I met there. I don't have any photos of the place, but I'll put some photos of unrelated things at the end so it's not just a block of text. Also, I'm going to use initials to protect identity where appropriate, not that anyone's likely to care. However, there are two exceptions, and you'll see why.

-----

First, E&H. I met a young woman (E) and an older woman (H) who were living together. I assumed they were mother and daughter from they way they were interacting, but in hindsight I'm not sure they were. I saw H get drunker and drunker, and E seemed to simply be putting up with her; she was quite sober. I spoke to the two of them briefly, but about the basic stuff (me explaining I'm a visitor from the US, here on a trip, etc.). H was my loudest fan when I was playing guitar, though I doubt she realized how loud she was.

Towards the end of the night, H invited me to sit next to her, and started a very serious conversation about how I appeared to be uncomfortable with myself. I was somewhat taken aback, but admitted that being the lone American in the pub made me feel a little awkward, and that even after several Dylan songs had been played, I still felt like "the American hippie kid" by playing one myself. I was perhaps being hypersensitive to my own social miscues. She insisted that it was something else. I assured her that was the biggest thing going on at the moment.

Then, all of a sudden, she went from comforting to judgmental and said that I should get some Scottish shirts and a new haircut if I really care about fitting in. Scottish people don't run around with slogans on their shirts (I was wearing my United Workers Harriet Tubman shirt). It looked like it was going to become an argument. I explained that I was only there a week, so there was no need to change my whole look. She asked why I needed to make such a statement, why couldn't I at least tie my hair back. I responded that I felt tying my hair back and wearing plain clothes would be a statement, just a different kind of statement. We're always making statements, whether actively or passively.

As soon as I said that, she changed tone again and told me she thought it was great how independent I am. I thanked her, and she went to get a round of drinks. That was that. From my point of view, the universe was testing me through this old Scottish woman. But if I had to guess... from her point of view she was probably just drunk.

----

Second, I should tell you about A. A is from Belfast, and doesn't like Americans much. As soon as I told him I was from the US, he began loudly singing his idea of an American patriotic song. I'm going to call it "Tis Of Thee The Beautiful Spangled Yankee Doodle America." It definitely wasn't a single, recognizable song, but certainly had elements and lyrics from several. Just before I started playing, he yelled, "Hey, who gave the Yank a guitar?" then looked around at his friends for confirmation and laughter, but they weren't listening. I don't think they were his friends, actually. I think they were some guys who he decided were his friends four minutes prior. Which is what he would later do to me. I responded, "The Scottish musicians gave the Yank the guitar" and proceeded to play my favorite Scottish song, and one of the Scottish guys recognized it, figured out the key, and joined in. Although I certainly didn't feel the need to "beat" this guy, it was certainly a cathartic moment.

I think the fact that I was largely unphased by his verbal assault struck him as somewhat of a challenge. After I played, he sat down near me and we started up a conversation. Turns out he worked in Ocean City, Maryland for a while, and we agreed that Baltimore was a rough city with a lot of issues. Well, first he called me an ass for insulting my hometown, then agreed with me about it, then started talking about how Belfast has similar issues. So... a bit of a hypocrite. Thankfully, he went home after a bit. He made me mildly uncomfortable, but that was the worst of it; there was too much positivity around me otherwise.

-----

For the sake of narrative structure, I want to save the most feelgood story for last. The problem is, I've got two and I can't decide. So, I'll start with the dead guy.

As I said in the last post, the Royal Oak is filled with regulars who come for both the music and the company. Many people seemed to know each other, which I think contributes to the atmosphere. Along those lines, there was a plaque hanging on the wall above the end seat of a bench. The plaque read the following (exact quote, give or take a word or two): "This seat belonged to Alec Wright until 14th August 2007. He was a grumpy old man, and we miss him." I thought that was sweet. It's not the sort of thing that would fly in most communities, but it worked where it was, and that's all that matters.

-----

The last guy I want to tell you about was Bill. I'm calling him by his real name because he asked me to tell all my friends about him. Bill is a janitor. Bill works for the government, possibly through an intermediate management company, I don't know. I don't even know if they have those in Scotland, or if pointless bureaucracy is an American thing. Point is, he was one of the night janitors for a government building. I believe he said the courthouse. He takes pride in his work, and told me that the place was spotless the whole time he was working there.

He started telling me this as we were both leaving the bathroom. I told him I was a tourist, and he asked if I had seen the Scottish Parliament building. Although he was pretty wasted, Bill was able to explain the above, and told me that he was out drinking tonight because he had just been moved to the Parliament, where he was made head of that cleaning crew. So, in six days, he would be starting his newer, better paying, and much more important cleaning job. Since it's been a week now, I suspect last night was Bill's first night on the job. Hope it went well.

The point I want to drive home is that this man's joy was infectious. Sure, he was moving from cleaning one building to cleaning another building, but to think that would be to completely miss the point. Bill was celebrating because he felt he had done a good job and was being recognized for it. I was incredibly humbled by his excitement, and I'll be thinking about him for a long time. I need to remind myself to be that happy about good things when they come along because it's a great way to live.

About ten minutes into the conversation, he had the wherewithal (despite his drunkenness) to notice that he'd been talking to a total stranger for quite some time. He apologized for yammering on, seeing as I probably came to listen to the music, not listen to some old guy talk about mopping floors. I told him that I appreciated the thought, but that I had, in fact, come to meet people, and I succeeded. He laughed and thanked me for listening. "I've been telling everyone," he said, because he wanted to celebrate. "As well you should," I told him, and congratulated him again. He then wandered off out of the bar, presumably to another bar.

I tell you this not only because I want to, but also because I promised I would. Bill told me that I should tell all my friends to visit Parliament and marvel at the cleanliness. More importantly, he told me to tell all my friends back home that I met the man in charge of cleaning it. He's a VIP in his own mind, for sure. But hey, I think he's Very Important too. So, I promised I'd tell everyone. And I succeeded. So, if you're ever in Edinburgh, check out the place. Not only is Parliament a tourist attraction in its own right, but I also hear that it's spotless.

I'm a Rover, Generally Sober (Scotland Post 2)

2009-10-13T05:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, that's not how the song goes.

I'd like to talk about nights out on the town in Edinburgh. The first evening, a few friends and I wandered around in the New Town (a relative term, as it's several hundred years old) just north of the Royal Mile. We got to see a lot, and we took some pictures:

(The Scott Monument)

(A model of Edinburgh. Also, my legs.)

(The Loft Crew, so named because we shared a cabin in Jutland. The sixth and final member is behind the camera)

Night two, I decided to go out on my own and look for some live music. By the time we were done with the wonderfully tacky Ghost Tour of Edinburgh, it around 9:30PM and I knew there would be a pub in the area. I had already received a few recommendations from the friendly man at Coda Music, which is an awesome store, by the way. You know, if you're ever in the area.

The first bar I went to was called Sandy Bell's. According to the people I talked to, it was the original folk revival bar in Edinburgh. In the early 60's, musicians would gather to share tunes and play together at the bar. There was no stage, nor was it officially a show. Musicians simply gathered at a table and started playing. Connections were made, and bands that became popular in the area often had their start at Sandy Bell's. Nowadays, it's more or less the same story. That evening there were five people playing their instruments: a somewhat tired-looking (but very talented) concertina player, a guy playing a set of uilleann pipes, a banjo/mandolin player, a flutist, and a fiddle player. They were crammed around a table just large enough for them; the fiddler frequently looked like she was going to whack the concertina player with her bow when the music got fast. Thankfully, spatial awareness prevailed, and no such injury occurred.

After about an hour, I decided to find something else. I enjoyed the tunes, but I also wanted to hear some singing. After a brief stop at an unimpressive open mic, I found the Royal Oak, which was only two blocks from where we were staying. Similarly small, this was more of a group-participating sort of place. As random musicians would show up, the folks who were playing would say "Hey, Peter, come play a few for us." I heard a couple new songs which I fully intend to learn, and spirits were generally high. The folks playing were definitely regulars who everyone knew and liked.

One of the regulars asked me if I played anything, and encouraged me to give it a shot. He explained that the pile of drums, guitars, and other instruments on the shelf above the door were for public use. I should just grab one and start playing when there's a lull. So, I grabbed a guitar and did just that.

It should be noted a this point that I play decently, but I always fingerpick, which comes at the cost of volume. I can't even hold a pick properly; I really should practice that, even if I don't stick with it. So, only the people immediately around me could hear, but those who could said they liked it. I stuck to the couple of Scottish songs I knew, so as not to be "that guy," but later on some other folks pulled out a few Dylan songs and a Joni Mitchell song, so I played my favorite Dylan song when they asked me to play again. There was sort of an unwritten rule that there should never be a moment without music. So, when the main guys went outside for a smoke break, they asked me to play again. In reality, they were asking me to fill in for them for ten minutes. There was an implication that they couldn't leave otherwise. I happily obliged.

The next night (my final night in Edinburgh), I went back to the same place. This time, there was more of an American blues/folk/country feel to the group that was there. There was a guy with a horrendously ugly but very impressive homemade electric guitar with an amp embedded into the body. He was playing slide, then there was an accordian and a guitar, later joined by a fiddle. The musical fusion was pretty cool; blues sounds great with an accordian and a fiddle. So, I grabbed a guitar and joined in on a blues jam that was happening, but didn't lead anything myself. Both nights were great.

I also found a beer that I liked the taste of, which was a nice change of pace. Deuchars. Apparently it's brewed right in Edinburgh. I don't know if that makes it taste better, but it was good. Despite Scotland's reputation as a place where people get drunk all the time, the drinking was super low-pressure. Nobody yelled at me for not drinking to their standards. It seemed most of the room was drinking slowly, and nobody really made a fuss about what anyone else was doing. Felt more like a community and less like a competition. That's the sort of place I like.

If One More Person Uses the Word "Character..." (First Scotland Post)

2009-10-12T15:32:00.001-07:00

(Boarding the plane from Copenhagen to Scotland)

So, I'm back from Scotland, and after a few days of reflection, I'm ready to write. I'm not sure whether a full chronological account is as appropriate for this trip as it was for my Jutland trip, so instead I'm going to take my posts in a thematic order, of sorts. The first thing I want to talk about are the two cities we visited, and the differences between the two.

We spent three days in Edinburgh and two in Glasgow, and the cities are very different from each other. Edinburgh is more of a cultural/governmental center, while Glasgow is more of a business center. It's noticeable as soon as you enter the cities. In Edinburgh, all the buildings look old and castle-y, and in Glasgow they look like modern office buildings. Edinburgh is "prettier" by some people's standards, but I have this nasty habit of seeing beauty where others don't, and there were things I preferred about each city. However, it's no wonder that most of our "cultural visits" were in Edinburgh and most of our "academic visits" were in Glasgow. You'll get what I mean by the end of this post.

Edinburgh has that old-Europe tourist appeal to it. It's no accident, either: there were about eight shops within sight of each other along two blocks where one could purchase the same tourist items. CDs, shortbread cookies, "I *heart* Scotland" t-shirts, and of course, kilts. Edinburgh castle is both large and beautiful, and the whole city seems to fit in with the castle motif.

(The view of Edinburgh, as seen from behind a cannon in the castle)

Glasgow on the other hand... well, it's a city. It looks like Boston, or maybe DC. There are many buildings that have that "old city" look to them, but then there's the unmistakable modernity to the rest of it that completely overshadows any sense of antiquity. As soon as we got off the bus, some students were already complaining that Glasgow didn't have as much "character" as Edinburgh, a statement which I found to be completely unfair. My view was that Glasgow was simply more of a modern city. I quickly found supermarkets, clothing stores, cafes, and several dozen restaurants of every variety.

In Glasgow, I found several pound stores (like a dollar store, but everything costs $1.58). It wasn't until then that realized I hadn't seen a single supermarket in Edinburgh. Admittedly, I only strayed a few blocks from the touristy area, but I don't see that as a coincidence. They don't stick "real people" stores in the middle of the touristy part of town; there's an unspoken (or sometimes spoken) rule that we all understand. It breaks our suspension of disbelief. I've heard many historic cities have ordinances stating that no new buildings can be taller than the current ones. The churches sticking out above the other rooftops are part of the charm. Edinburgh at least appears to have such a rule (once again, it may not be codified, but it's certainly observed).

(The inner wall of Edinburgh castle, taken from the outer wall)

I'd have a hard time convincing anybody that one city is better than the other, least of all myself. At times, I felt like Edinburgh was a tourist attraction, while Glasgow was more of a genuine city with "real people." But then again, I've never been one to think of businessmen as genuine. A lot of my classmates had more fun in Edinburgh, though, and I suppose I did too. But I'm glad I went to both places, and I wouldn't take any part of the trip back. Both cities have plenty of "character," albeit of a different variety.

-----

Now, for my two favorite things in Edinburgh castle:

This is an old cannon hole in David's Tower, which was part of the castle before the tower was destroyed, I believe, by a fire. Don't quote me on that. What you're looking at here, though, is that the cannon hole has become a wishing well of sorts. It reminded me of one of those coin-pusher arcade games. I imagined that if I could roll a coin at just the right angle, I could cause the whole pile to come cascading out the other end (where they would land in some unreachable bushes. But let's face it, it's not really about the coins. It's about bragging rights.)

Moment #2: Walking through an exhibit on Scotland's crown jewels, I came across a great line. Unfortunately, I didn't have my notebook on me, but this is almost a direct quote: "In 1707, the crown jewels were lost, and by the early 19th century, people began to wonder what had happened to them." Apparently nobody noticed they were missing for 100 years.

The actual story is that they had lost their symbolic value when the English took over, so they were locked up in a chest and put somewhere off in a corner where everyone promptly stopped caring. But the way they phrase it is way funnier.

Christiania Follow-up

2009-10-01T23:51:00.000-07:00

Near the front of Christiania, there were a few people with tables or even just blankets set up, selling their artwork or other assorted items. About 20 meters down the street, there is a small, slightly more permanent commercial area with folks selling food, hash pipes, t-shirts, CDs, etc. All in all there were about 10 or 15 people selling things in this small area (and another 20 meters away was Pusher Street, which contained another handful of salesmen).

There were two things I noticed about the people who were selling things that day.
1) The salesmen were just that: men. I'm not sure what that says about the nature of capitalism, or selling things, or Christiania, but I did notice it. In fact, at the whole celebration, I felt like there were more men than women. I'm curious what the demographics of the whole community is.
2) The folks selling things weren't pushy the way street merchants usually are in the US. They waited for people to approach them and ask to buy something. No hard sell, no calling over random people. It was much more relaxed than that. Well, except one guy. One guy was being loud, calling over random people, talking at length about the history of the various paintings he was selling. Guess where he was from.

On a happier note, here's a photo of me and one of my favorite DIS kids, Kat, at the Home-Depot-type-place.

Only Two Things Come From Christiania...

2009-10-01T01:41:00.000-07:00

So, about that Christiania place.

Christiania was founded in 1971 when a group of (mostly) young people squatted in a closed-down military base in southeastern Copenhagen. There were occasional squabbles with the government over this, but the government wasn't actually using the land, so they decided to officially leave Christiania alone as a "social experiment." Their relationship with the government has been more or less peaceful over the years, with the exception of drug issues. A more detailed history can be found on wikipedia (for the lazy) or on the Christiania info page.

Nowadays, the average student (Danish or American) knows Christiania as "that place where you can buy pot." Much in the same way that they think of Jamaica as "that country where you can buy pot" or of Amsterdam as "that city where you can go into a coffee shop and buy pot." The point I'm trying to make is that while all these places contain pot, they are not defined by it (except among the narrow-minded).

During the first couple weeks here, some people I talked to were saying that they went to Christiania, and I was intrigued. I asked them what they saw, what the people were like, and if the infrastructure and art was as amazing as I had heard. The universal response was "I don't know, I only saw Pusher Street. There was some guy selling hash pipes, but I already had one, so I bought some weed." So, realized I wasn't going to learn anything without going there on my own.

I've been there twice now, and it's awesome. Yes, there's weed if you want it, but there's also a whole town. People often think of some kind of 30-person hippie commune, but this is a 750-person community. They have a bike shop, a day care, playgrounds, several cafes and restaurants, a workshop (where people do metalworking and other crafts), and a big general store/warehouse where you can get everything you need to build your own house (which is what most people there have done). They've got working plumbing and electricity which they set up themselves. It's a great place.

Drugs tend to be the public focus, but what I really appreciate is the community. People came together and created a social structure that worked, and although people come and go, the nature of the place has stayed the same. People don't come just to squat and avoid rent. These are not lazy people. They created the place they wanted to live in, and they did it themselves.

The first time I went, I got a guided tour as part of a class visit (we were ostensibly learning something about Danish culture). The second time, I went with one friend a few days later to see Christiania's Birthday Party (anniversary of the initial entry/squatting in September 1971). There was a ton of music and art (more than usual), people setting up shop selling whatever they felt like selling (clothes, paintings, CDs, drugs, whatever). A lot of people in elaborate red and yellow costumes, in honor of Christiania's flag:

Some of the costumes reminded me less of Christiania and more of Hulk Hogan:

But that's neither here nor there.

To summarize my feelings, Christiania as a cool community that happens to also have narcotics. However, the narcotics distract the world-at-large from the main purpose of the community. They didn't spend years building an entire town just to have a place to sell weed. They also:

Work towards a more equal society
Built and sustained a community that cares about each other, and where all voices are respected
Collectively embrace non-violence (including evicting a biker gang that took up residence in the 80's)

And when you think about it, all three of those things are much more subversive than smoking weed, anyway. Here's to being subversive. Long live Christiania.

More photos

2009-09-23T15:00:00.001-07:00

Expect posts on both Freetown Christiania and environmental sustainability in the near future. Today was a great day, and I learned quite a bit about each of those things. More to come, as I'll be participating in a large-scale anti-coal protest this Saturday, organized by folks from Christiania. So, the two topics intersect. I'll probably post sometime Sunday about what I think (spoiler: I like both Christiania and environmental sustainability. Hope that didn't ruin the ending).

In the meantime, a few more photos from the Jutland trip, as a few more friends have facebook'd. Specifically, many of the photos involve me. While I don't consider myself to be an important part of Jutland scenery, some of my friends and family want confirmation that I'm actually here, and not just making things up for this blog. Or maybe they don't believe me that I'm having fun, and need a picture of me smiling to be sure. Either way, I've got a handful of new photos (thanks Gina and Katia!)

(Scenery from the drive. Most of Denmark looks like this.)

(Katia's notebook at Kaospilots. If you can't read it, the text says "Best Experience so far in Denmark:" followed by a pile of M&M minis.)

(My good-lookin' self on a trampoline at the playground behind our hostel the first night.)

(Me scaling a little-kid climbing wall in an unnecessarily complicated fashion)

(There were legos inside the hostel in a common room. I was going for a "monster stomping through the city" look, but in retrospect my foot is not quite as menacing as I once thought.)

(View of the water from near our meeting room at the Danfoss Foundation. Just out-of-frame to the left, there was a few people taking their lunch break on the boardwalk. Nice place to work, I imagine.)

(Trekking the Danfoss wilderness. This picture makes it seem huge, but there's only about 15 meters of these tunnels. Still, pretty cool.)

(Trampoline at Danfoss. Wheeeeee!)

(Near the trampoline there was a spot just downhill that said something like "take photos from here." I didn't quite get why taking a photo from below would be any cooler. Until I saw this.)

(This is the Mission Impossible test that I mentioned in the third Jutland post. Nice action shot of Gina.)

(I have a Ph.D. in Rube Goldbergology! My hamsterwheelin' makes little balls go through the wire tubes on the top right.)

(Dinner at the BBQ place. My Psych of Happiness professor, Helle is kneeling on the left.)

("Twisted bread," a Danish campfire tradition.)

...Wherein Eli makes a "shaken, not stirred" joke

2009-09-19T07:08:00.001-07:00

Last night I went to the basement bar (if you're just tuning in, that's exactly what it sounds like. There is a bar in the basement of my Kollegium). Folks are pretty generous about buying a tray of drinks and just passing them around to whoever's nearby. It led me to the realization that my sobriety for most of my life had less to do with my own concerns about safe drinking and more to do with the fact that I am very, very cheap. Friends would sometimes invite me to drink, and say "hey, they've got cheap alcohol at [name of place], we can get drunk for only $20 apiece!" My immediate response was always that a $40 board game would provide a lot more fun than two nights of cheap liquor, and that it just wasn't worth the money.

That said, despite the fact that I'm no longer a complete teetotaler, I'm keeping it light; I still have no desire to get so drunk that I pass out, or vomit, or can't find my room (which is about 200 feet away from the bar). So, I'm figuring out where my limits are in a safe way. How do I feel after four drinks? After seven? Do I want to have more, or is this my limit? I still don't like the idea of not being in control of my own body, so it was easy for me to decide to stop at the point when I was getting-tipsy-but-not-yet-wasted. I know for some people the whole point is to fall over, but that's not really me.

DIS warned us not to try to keep up with the Danes, because they would drink us under the table (or put in the passive voice, we would be drunk under the table, which amuses me more for some reason). Danes start drinking a lot in high school, so by the time they're in college, they've got quite the tolerance. This is, of course, a culture like in US frats: he who drinks the most is the manliest, and everyone else is, and I quote, "A pussy." But I've seen that before, and I was ready to take DIS's advice long before they ever gave it. Most Danes have met other American exchange students at one point or another, and expect us to be lightweights. Two weeks ago, a bunch of Americans came down to the bar at 11:30, and they all went to bed at 1:00 because they drank too much. I drank less and drank it slower, but I stayed up until sunrise meeting people and having some good conversations. Therefore, I think I win whatever inane contest we were having.

But of course, that was just three paragraphs of setup for the real story that sticks out in my mind. There were two guys at around 5:00AM who decided that they couldn't have any fun because out of the 10 or so people left in the bar, *I* was not drunk enough. I had already had a conversation with them earlier in the evening about being an American student in Denmark, etc., so they (one of them in particular) pulled out just about every coercive trick he could think of to get me to have a shot. He had clearly had this conversation before, and his happiness was definitely riding on getting me to have another drink; he tried everything, and I was proud of myself for stepping outside my comfort zone while still staying safe.

Paragraphs may be inadequate to understand the breadth of this guy's tactics. I think it calls for a bulleted list, with me assigning a title to each move.

The "But what about this one" doctrine: The problem was that I hadn't tried that specific kind of shot. I explained that, in fact, I had two of them, and thought they were okay, but that he was missing the point. I was plenty drunk already.
The "I'm not too drunk as long as I can still hang on to the floor!" theory: He explained to me that I was not yet drunk enough because I still had fairly good motor skills. My response was that I enjoy motor skills.
The "Okay, sure, that's a factor, but..." fallacy: He explained that we had the same physical build (true), so we should be able to hold about the same amount of alcohol (false). I just laughed and said "that's not true at all, and you know it," and he moved on.
The "Cultural exchange" guilt trip: He explained that I was not having a proper Danish student experience because I was still on my feet. He went on to say that, as a Dane, he was disappointed and hurt that I wouldn't share a drink with him (my response: nobody else seems to mind, and they're mostly Danish). He also said that he's been in the Kollegium for a few years now and the exchange students often fly under the radar, they stick together, don't come to the bar, and then he and the other folks never get to meet us, and we miss out on meeting them. I promised not to fly under the radar, and we ended up both deciding that there should be a "meet the international students" party sometime in October, which actually sounds like a great opportunity to me.
The "Man up!" approach: He told me that I was *so close* to being a cool American. As previously mentioned, we often go to sleep at around 1:00, and the other American guy in the building had set the current record (a record this guy made up on the spot) by staying up drinking with them until around 3:00. This was an easy one to pick apart, because he was flat-out lying to my face to get me to drink. I told him that 1) I had stayed up until 4:30AM two weeks ago, and 2) that it was now 5:30AM, and I was still up, and had my last drink around 5:00, so I was not about to break the record, but had rather broken that particular record over two hours ago.
The "It's the weekend!" ideology: Blah blah, it's Friday night, you can get wasted, it's not like you have to do anything tomorrow, etc. etc. This one was sort of true, but not really a good enough reason to drink unhealthily. That's often my logic for staying up all night playing board games, but not over-drinking.

Of all those things, it was the "cultural exchange" issue that bothered me the most. I promised myself before I came that I would be open and try Danish things. So, that actually made me stop and think for a few seconds longer than anything else he said. Yet, there's nothing really uniquely Danish about getting wasted. Sure, they do it a little differently here than in the States... but not significantly. And me having ten fewer drinks than the Danish guy isn't "flying under the radar." Most of the guys there know my name now. I was there for six hours. I'm very much on the radar. It's not like sober people are invisible (as hilarious as that would be).

Besides, if I can't remember what happened the night before, what did I really experience? I've asked people what they did on their study abroad trips, and had a couple people say "eh, got wasted a lot." I'm all about people doing what they want to do, but for me, that seems like a waste of a semester. I'm determined to come home with stories that I'm proud I was part of. For some people, learning to hold your liquor may be a source of pride, but it doesn't feel that way to me. I'm proud of the work I do; none of the guys at the bar are going to the Climate Change Flashmob this Monday. So, I feel like I'm good person, and rather than be annoyed at the guy, I'm just proud of my situational awareness and my ability to stick to my guns. Go me!

Culture, Art, and Souvenirs (Jutland part 4 of 4)

2009-09-17T06:26:00.000-07:00

(View of the main courtyard of Koldinghus. The water in the fountain is flowing from a cornucopia)

The bus left for Koldinghus Castle in the town of Kolding. It was a nice little suburban cultural area, with plenty of shops and bars in the town center. The castle dated back to the 13th century, if I remember correctly, when it used to mark the southern border of Denmark. Now, the building is preserved as a cultural landmark, and some of the space is also used for museum exhibits. The one that stuck out to me most was a silversmithing exhibit which included a lot of modern silverware (including not just flatware, but also spiceboxes, bowls, candlesticks, and a variety of other things). A lot of great art, albeit needlessly expensive and fancy.

One of the wings had a fire in the 1800's, and they preserved that wing of the castle by building a new wing around the ruins. It's pretty cool; reminds me of a lot of the ancient landmarks I saw in Israel years back, although these are admittedly 1500-1800 years newer.

(a room built around the ruins of one of the old sections of the castle, burnt down in a fire in the 1800's)

At the top of the main tower of the castle, the view of the town was great. When the tower was originally built, there were statues of Greek/Roman figures on the four corners (Hercules, Scipio, Hector, Hannibal). Only Hercules is still there, and he's propped up on a tripod-type thing. I rarely picture Hercules as needing help standing up straight.

(Hercules The Frail, surveying the town)

At the gift shop, I bought my first gift for someone back home. I'm keeping it a secret, because s/he may guess that it's for her/him based on the item. I decided (and forewarned my friends) that I am not going to return to the states with a pile of keychains, refrigerator magnets and t-shirts, but only buy gifts for people if I happen to find something that makes me think "this is a thing that they will like." Or, of course, if they make a request for a type of gift (even a keychain). So, I was happy that found something that felt right; hopefully I'll find other things like that for other people close to me.

We went and hung out in town for lunch. After walking around a number of expensive restaurants, we settled on a highly Americanized pizza-and-burger joint owned by a very friendly Muslim family who clearly spoke three languages better than some people speak one. The son looked to be about 14, and had no trouble asking for my order in Danish, realizing I wasn't Danish and switching to English, then relaying the order back to his mother in his native language (which may have been Arabic, but I don't have the linguistic skill to guess). My friends all got pepperoni pizza, I went with the pita salad. I don't know if that makes me any more cultured than them, but it was certainly tasty. We sat outside for lunch, and an Irish band started playing at the English pub across the street (The Troubles don't exist here, apparently). The place was called "The You'll Never Walk Alone Pub." Adorable. After a few songs, it was time for us to head back.

(Many of the buildings in Kolding looked a lot like this. Very old-timey)

Our other stop for the day was the Trapholt Art Museum, about 20 minutes away from Kolding. About half the museum was abstract art, specifically concrete art. Apparently concrete is a subset of abstract when you're talking about art. Even though in English language classes, they are opposites. The other half of the museum was a furniture design exhibit. A lot of it, as a classmate of mine said, was "pointlessly Scandinavian." Things that were just curvy for the sake of being curvy and (according to some) pretty. But not... comfortable. At all. Which would be my first priority, to be honest. There were a few things that had a clear intentionality to them that were functional as furniture AND in terms of the artistic makeup of a room, and I liked those.

(To answer your question: yes, this is theoretically supposed to be furniture).

We also saw these cool customizable houses that were made out of roughly 3m cubes that could be built together, and when you had some money, adding an extra room-cube would be cheap and easy. They never caught on because the concept really only works in an undeveloped countryside where there aren't existing buildings in the way, but it actually seems like a really cool way to create affordable housing.

(The Cube-Flex house, as it is officially known)

So, we finished at the museum and rode the bus for three hours back to København. The whole study tour rocked, the group was positive, and even though I have some strong opinions about huge modern art exhibits, I enjoyed my time at every single place we went. The other DIS folks in my class are great, and I met a lot of cool Danes. It was a great three days. Quite possibly the best three-day stretch of my life, actually. No exaggeration. It was awesome; even just Kaospilots would have made the trip worthwhile, but it was much more than that. Looking forward to what the next thing brings.

-Eli

I can lift CARS (Jutland part 3 of 4)

2009-09-14T13:27:00.000-07:00

We spent most of day 2 (Friday) on an island in the Southern part of Denmark. This island is sometimes colloquially referred to as Danfoss Country, after the HVAC company of the same name that has its HQ in that area. Many people on the island and in the surrounding area work for the company, either in manufacturing or more behind-the-scenes work. Literally thousands of employees live in this area. Think "Roger and Me," but before the factory closed. This is a one-horse island, in some ways.

However, there is a university in the area, where the Danfoss Foundation research center is. There's 10 or so researchers doing positive psychology work, and we went for a visit. We listened to a short lecture about learning styles, then split up into groups to address a pedagogical issue and explain how we would structure a research project on that issue. I learned that some of my classmates had done research on various topics for previous classes, and chatted with some of them afterwards. Apparently research had been done showing that many seemingly minor improvements in schools (i.e. slightly more comfortable chairs) cause significant increases in student attentiveness. I'd be interested in seeing the details of these studies. I did a project back in high school about sleep deprivation in teenagers, and I shared that with some classmates too. It was a good chance to talk about what we already know, and what else we want to learn.

The university building containing Danfoss Foundation is almost pointlessly large and open. Just take a look:

(left: a shot exemplifying the open-air-ness of this space)

(below: our meeting room)

In the afternoon, we went to Danfoss Universe, a huge science park in the middle of nowhere. Not only does the place see little traffic due to poor location, but it was also a weekday. As such, we were more or less the only people in this park that day. We spent the afternoon running around like little kids, pressing the buttons on everything that had buttons. There was a Segway exhibit, which I didn't waste my time on (I'd seen them before, and we only had two hours in the park). There was a multiple intelligences building with all sorts of puzzles and games to test different things out. A few classics ("make these shapes into a cube" puzzle, the make-15 puzzle, as well as many others) and a bunch of wacky new things I'd never seen before. The "spatial awareness" puzzle was basically a Mission Impossible scene: Get through the passage as quickly as possible without touching any of the ropes stretched across the path.

There was also an interesting alternative energy exhibit and a few random, non-educational things (like a trampoline). Out in the front of the park there was a car attached to one end of a scale, and ropes attached to the other, and we lifted the car. They were trying to make a point about lever arms (the last rope was three times as far from the fulcrum as the car) but they also used pulleys to make it even easier, so the point was somewhat lost. Didn't matter to any of us, though; mostly we just had fun lifting the car, then someone would hang onto the rope and everyone else would let go, causing that person to slowly rise 10 feet up in the air. Good times. There was a lot of positivity, and everyone seemed to enjoy running around the place.

(lifting a car)

(waterworks)

I realized partway through the afternoon that the emptiness of the park helped me enjoy it. I like being able to be a little kid at times, but when there are actual kids present, it feels deeply wrong and invasive. I have strong memories as a kid of being 8 and hanging out at a playground, then teenagers would show up and I would feel nervous and uncomfortable. Our rowdiness and size would have probably been disconcerting for many small children, but I'm glad we had the chance to run free and goof off for the afternoon we were there.

That evening we dropped our things off at a hostel in Haderslev (see map above) then went out to dinner.

(the hostel cabins. Despite the skies, it did not rain)

We ate at a semi-fancy BBQ joint. The restaurant was medium-sized, and we took up the entire place, save two tables (there were over 50 of us). The food was good, albeit very American (hamburger patty, baked potato, fries, ice cream for dessert). The restroom signs were cute. Of course, had I actually entered the one that looked most like me, I would have entered the wrong one. Thanks, societal gender constructs! Sure, I'm not the first person to make that point, but I did almost enter the women's room); I think I was looking for "not wearing a dress," and when I saw that, I assumed male.

(AWWWWWWWWWWW)

My friend Katia* and I were chosen to lead the group on the walk to and from the restaurant, due to our high scores in social intelligence and spatial awareness (because we're friendly and can read maps). Half the group got caught at a crosswalk, and I stayed behind with that group while the other leader went on ahead. Apparently that was a selfless and noble thing to do, because the professor thanked me for hanging back and one of the other chaperones bought me a Black Bird (beer) later, on account of my "being a great leader." I liked the beer better than other beers I've had, but I'm not really a beer drinking kind of guy, so that's not saying much. One positive note was that it was a local beer. We could actually see the brewery across the bay from our hostel.

We returned to the hostel to a bonfire, where we made snobrød, which are basically doughboys, for those of you who camped as a kid. You take a ball of dough, put it on a stick, and roast it. Simple as that. We hung out for about an hour, but we had been asked in advance to quiet down or head to our cabins at 11:00PM. We went down to the water briefly, then I headed to my cabin with the friends I had chosen to room with. It was the same crew who went on the late-night walk on the bike path the previous night. The cabin had two bunk bed rooms and a loft, and all six of us wanted the loft to one degree or another, so we decided to just stick all the mattresses up there and get cozy (which it was. Hyggeligt, even). We stayed up and talked while lying in bed, just like a teenage sleepover party. I joked a bit about the incredibly awkward conversation I'd been part of the previous night in the boys' room (the contents of which will not be repeated in this family-friendly blog). One of my new friends countered with a story about suddenly finding herself in the middle of a conversation about sex that she found a bit too explicit, especially for strangers. I think we bonded.

The following morning I took a shower and did some Tai Chi out by the water. I hadn't consistently done Tai Chi since finishing Peace Practice, but the place just seemed right for it, surrounded by a beautiful bay and nice plants. I watched a lone duck as I did the movements. She quacked at me when I started leaning into my Ward Off Left. She told me to stop leaning into the movements, and keep my nose lined up with my navel, like Ailish taught me. Well, at least that's what I think it was saying. Maybe it was saying "Who the heck are you?" Or maybe it was just saying "Quack."

-Eli

(the view from roughly where I was doing Tai Chi)

*I stole all the photographs in these four posts from Katia, and am forever grateful to her for the awesome photography.

Kaospilots: They actually fly entropy (Jutland part 2 of 4)

2009-09-13T17:16:00.000-07:00

We went into a large meeting room where two recent alumnae gave us a short presentation about who the Kaospilots are. It's a leadership development program for young people aged 18-30, although most do it after going to college then seeing the world for a bit, putting them in the 24-28 range. It's a 3-year program with about 30 students per class, so there are about 100 people enrolled at any given time. The first year, everyone works on a hypothetical project. The second year, the 30-person group does some sort of social action project together, and the third year everyone does an individual project as sort of a thesis.

The central theme of the Kaospilot philosophy is the idea that people with a strong vision, understanding of their own strengths, and capacity for leadership will end up doing solid work for the world. They went over a few projects that Kaospilots alums have worked on. One started a bike donation program, one started a psychological well-being program for kids who recently immigrated to help them adjust. We were introduced to a lot of projects, terminology and definitions, not all of which I had time to write down. However, my favorite slide was one that showed four kinds of leadership:

Top-down leadership. I'd call this "classical" leadership. This is the leader running a group (a CEO, a general, a manager, etc.)
Lateral leadership. Leading a group that you are also a part of. For example, showing leadership during a group project.
Outward leadership. Influencing the larger world through your example.
Internal leadership. Literally "leading" your life. Being in control of your actions, choosing what you want to do and where you want to be at any given time.

By the end of the initial presentation, I was already starting to think that Kaospilots was something I'd like to do after college. This feeling only became stronger as the afternoon continued.

After a short break, our 50-person group split in half and we did a short workshop to get a sense of what an afternoon of discovering our purpose in life might feel like (spoiler: it feels pretty damn good). The room we were in was clearly the third-year HQ. There were 30 large sheets of paper on the wall around the room, each with a name on it. On them were written things such as "interests" and "possible contacts" with text below. It was clear that several people had written on each one. Everyone does their own project, but I get the feeling that people pretty heavily support and advise each other. My favorite wall chart looked like this:

It wasn't filled in yet, but it was large enough to fill half the wall of the room, so I suspect there would be plenty of time in the next four months to work on it.

The workshop started with each of us sharing our favorite experience in Denmark so far, then we went on a "dream journey," which was more or less a guided meditation. Here's where I realized Kaospilots was the thing for me. I've tried meditation a few times, but never really been able to focus or get much out of it. I find it relaxing, but I've never had any powerful realizations or spiritual moments while meditating.

I preface this excessively only to drive home the following point: the woman told us all to open our third eye, and my third eye opened. And those italics aren't strong enough. I can't really explain it any other way. I felt a physical sensation in my lower forehead/eyebrow region where the third eye is said to be. I've never had my third eye even sort of open the previous times I've tried meditation. Then this time, it was really freakin' open. I had an incredibly clear sense of where I wanted to be in four months at the end of DIS, and where I wanted to be a couple years from now, which is at Kaospilots. That spiritual experience, coupled with the fact that I enjoyed the afternoon and agree with the pedagogy of the organization... I don't think there's a heck of a lot of question. Then again, who knows what the next two years will bring. However, Kaospilots tops my list until proven otherwise.

We spent the rest of the workshop making lists and sharing them. Things we dislike about the current state of the world, things we are good at, things we are passionate about, things that block us from doing what we really want to do. At the end, we all went around and said what we'd take with us and what we'd leave behind due to the workshop. I took with me a renewed understanding of why I'm in Peace Studies, as well as a renewed desire to meet people. I'm leaving behind my cynicism and insecurity, at least for the time being.

We drove south to Vejle (see map in previous post) to a hostel where we spent the night. We had some delicious food, then did an art project. We all painted our idea of happiness on a small canvas. Due to the size of the canvas and my own logical deduction skills, I knew what would become of these; the next day we laid them all out in a mural formation. I anticipated this, and said to the people around me that my idea of happiness is community, and asked if anyone would like to create two halves of an image and put them next to each other. My friend Caitlin jumped at the opportunity.

(Can you spot Eli and Caitlin's collaboration? Eli's is the left half)

After dessert, six of us went out to play on a playground just outside the hostel. Then we took a long walk down a bike path leading away from the hostel. I got to know some of my American cohorts a little better. I'm trying not to spend all my time with them so I can experience being in a new culture a little more, but making friends has been great. I spent the night with the four other guys in our group of 25 (sounds like Goucher, right?) Got a decent 5-6 hours of sleep, ate some pancakes, then got on the bus to head south.

HATB and the art of the low bridge (Jutland, part 1 of 4)

2009-09-13T12:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday evening, I returned from the first of our two study tours. In under a month, I will be going to Scotland for a week, which I am, of course, thrilled about. However, the past three days have been spent in Western Denmark, which was amazing beyond belief. So many things happened in those three days that I couldn't possibly compress it into one post. So, consider this part 1 of a 4 part series.

Note: many people took awesome photos of the trip, and there was a plan to create a group photo album somewhere on the web. The plan hasn't materialized yet, but I'm going to bring it up in class tomorrow and get people to post their pictures ASAP. Once they do, I'll edit this post to include beautiful pictures that perfectly counterpoint my brilliant prose.

------

Thursday, September 10th

We drove four hours across the country from Copenhagen to the region of Jutland. Jutland is the half of Denmark that is actually attached to mainland Europe; most of Denmark consists of islands. Our first stop was the second-largest city in Denmark, Århus, which contains about 300,000 people. The four hours and the 300,000 people gives you some idea of how big Denmark is (i.e. not very big).

Along the highway (E20) we passed by mostly farmland, especially sheep and horses. The scenery was beautiful, and the two main bodies of water we crossed provided an incredible view.

We arrived at Århus (rhymes with door-loose) around 12:30PM, but had some trouble getting to the headquarters of Kaospilots, our first stop. See, Århus is not a very large city, and we were in a Huge-Ass Tour Bus (HATB for short). Our bus driver, a very friendly and very adept Swede, kept having to find alternate routes as our HATB was repeatedly stopped by low bridges. At one point, he actually had to back into a four-way intersection to turn around due to one such bridge. After quite bit of maneuvering, he got us to the headquarters, where there was much fanfare.

I don't know if it's a Scandinavian thing or it's just our group, but we invited the two bus drivers along to just about everything during the study tour, except a couple of the academic workshops. DIS treated them to meals when we went out as a group, and they came with us to all the museums and cultural sites that we visited. The two drivers spent most of the time chatting with each other, but we got to talk with them a bit as well. They both seemed to love life. Our driver was more amused than annoyed by the low bridges, and laughed along with the professor and a few of the students every time we had to turn around.

So, we finally arrived at the Kaospilots HQ. The first thing that stands out about Kaospilots' HQ is the fact that all the buildings are covered in graffiti. Not "I wrote fuck on the bathroom wall 'cause I thought it was funny" graffiti, but serious art. Most of it was made by Kaospilots students, with the blessing of the organization. It was good stuff. More on them in the next post.

-Eli

(credit to my friend Katia for the following picture. There are several buildings with more, equally awesome stuff on them, but this one sums it up).

The Conclusions To Which We Have Jumped

2009-09-06T15:56:00.000-07:00

I want to take a post to address a few more things that were in our welcome handbook, phrased in the form of a "Danes are like this" statement. It turns out that a lot of generalizations we were given about the mythical Average Young Dane are either untrue or irrelevant. For example:

There's a bar in the basement of the Kollegium, open Friday and Saturday nights (admittedly, that's a little different than a US dorm). I've hung out there twice, and between what Danes say and what our welcome handbook says, I've heard the following things about Danish drinking:

1) Danes can hold a lot more liquor than Americans, in part because most of them have been drinking since a younger age (like... 13). Don't try to keep up with them, they'll drink you under the table.
2) As a result of the younger start, they also are, for the most part, just interested in getting a bit tipsy and having a good time, not getting wasted. The thing that American college kids do where we show up freshman year and go "WOOOO PARTY TIME LET'S GET EFF'D UP!" is something that the Danes all did when they were 16, so the older college kids are over it.

Statement 1 is true, on average. But they're not magic. It's not like they're downing a dozen drinks without feeling a thing. They can hold their liquor about as well as my friends back home who drink regularly in large quantity. Sure, they could drink me under the table, but I don't drink much, so where's the pride in that?

Statement 2 is just patently false. They get wasted. Many people in my Kollegium, at least. I saw a group do the asshole frat-boy thing where a guy passes out, and rather than help him out, they decide that the 60-degree-and-somewhat-wet outdoor courtyard would be a good place for him to sleep it off. I also saw a girl not be able to lift her drink to her mouth of her own power (this is #2 after "passed out" on the list of signs you've had enough). So, naturally, a "friend" offered to "help" her by more or less pouring it down her throat (oh, don't worry, she was appreciative).

I'm not saying they're doing anything beyond what goes on every weekend at a US state school. It's pretty much the same stuff, and it does feel like there's less of it here, at least slightly. And yet, I'd be lying if I said that the 30 people in the bar last night went down to have four or five drinks and get lightly buzzed. One of my DIS friends and I were berated several times for not currently having a drink in hand (because they can't drink until they've clinked cups with everyone).

Hvidovre Hospital Kollegium

2009-09-05T04:48:00.000-07:00

My home for the next three and a half months is a "Kollegium" (koh-lee-gi-um. Hard "g"). It's sort of a shared student housing building. Most universities do not have their own dorms, for a number of reasons. Many Danes continue to live with their parents through college, and many live in their own apartments with friends. However, some people want a dorm-type setup, so they come to live in one of many Kollegiums.

They're more or less dormitories, but they don't belong to a particular school. The only requirement is that you have to be a student somewhere in the area. It's sort of like if there was a big dorm somewhere in Baltimore where Loyola, Goucher, Towson, Hopkins, MICA, and other students all lived. Sounds like a crazy idea, huh? Well, there's a couple reason why I think it works here, (and why it wouldn't work quite as well in the US).

The big one is that people get a little too wrapped up in the notion of "school spirit" in the States. Goucher kids spend so much time ragging on the other schools in the area that it would take a lot for many of us to live with Hopkins kids. What with preconceived notions and all. I spent the summer in Boston, and it's the same there. I think it's not until a couple years after college that many people come to the startling conclusion that people who go to other schools are still decent human beings. I'm exaggerating only slightly. It's certainly not true of everyone, though, and I think there are many people who would enjoy living in such a setup.

-----

Onto the dorm itself (I've got pictures, albeit taken awkwardly with my laptop camera) The dorm is divided into 8 halls, each with two floors. The halls are set up off a main hallway (think of it as a spine, with four ribs on each side). This leaves space between the halls for six small, enclosed courtyards, each of which has a picnic table and a tree or two. This is my hall, and some of me:

You'll notice the hall has these red circles on the tile floor (just trust me on the "red" part). When the sun is beyond the end of the hall, as it is in this picture, those dots are completely invisible until you get close. The dots continue down the hall, but you can't see beyond the first two. They just blend into the glare.

On the first day, as I walked down to the end of the hall, I noticed that dots were appearing as I approached them. It reminded me of something from a sci-fi movie, or maybe a Miyazaki film.

My room has its own bathroom, complete with sink, toilet, and shower. No shared bathrooms here. Coming from Goucher dorms, a private bathroom seems kind of unnecessary (that's a lot of extra infrastructure to build), but I don't mind having it.

You might be looking at this picture and thinking "but Eli, where's the shower?"

Well...

It's behind the door. It's a little hard to wrap your head around it if you're used to the standard setup, but the whole bathroom is the shower. Everything is made to be able to get wet, (sink, toilet, etc) so the curtain isn't strictly necessary for anything.

No, scratch that. It protects the roll of toilet paper. That's literally the only thing in the bathroom that can't get soaked.

Anyway, I've been told some Kollegiums are like that, but most standard homes have the setup we're all used to.

That's one challenge I've faced here: I'm open to the idea that things are different in Denmark, but I'm somewhat indiscriminately open to it. I saw my bathroom and thought "Oh, that's how they do it in Denmark." Or, I'll be at the supermarket and be unable to find beans, and I'll think "Oh, I guess they don't eat beans here." Neither of those things are true; I started generalizing the moment I saw anything different.

They actually told us during orientation (without any prompting) "Yes, peanut butter is sold in Denmark, you'll just have to look around, it's not at every store." It's as though they know we're going to jump to conclusions after one store.

Anyway... my room. It's a bit of a mess. I haven't found any blu-tack equivalent yet, so I've got a pile of posters laying in the middle of my room. The room came with a bed, some bedding, a small desk/table, a desk chair, a comfy floor chair, a lamp, a shelf, and three bottles of toilet cleaning solution (two are on top of the shelf, one is out-of-frame in my closet). I'm going to take the high road here; insert your own joke as you see fit.

The door in the right half of the picture leads out to the courtyard. Sometimes I go play guitar out there.

That's pretty much all I can think to say about the captain's quarters. I don't know which things in my room were from the Kollegium, which things were from DIS, and which things were left by a previous tenant. I might find that out sometime, so I know what the expected situation is for an average Danish student living here. DIS coddles us a bit in terms of making us deal with the "real world," although not as much as the average college student (I am cooking for myself, after all). And I wouldn't want it otherwise; I'd like to know how to be a "real person" before graduating, if at all possible.

-Eli

Best. Moment. Ever.

2009-08-26T08:28:00.000-07:00

The housing post will still happen, but I had to pop in to share this story. God, I wish I had brought a camera today (or at all to Denmark, now that I think about it. I'm just using my macbook camera to take photos of my dorm, and that's it).

Today, I was walking past where the harborbus picks up (a boat that travels up and down this canal near the center of town). This is, of course, a natural tourist stop, and pickpockets love tourists. So, on the booth, there is a sign (in English) warning that this is a high-zone for getting pickpocketed. Leaning against the side of the booth, not more than a foot away from this sign, is the sketchiest man I have ever seen. Shades, cigarette, hands in his pockets leaning against the booth, his emotionless face silently scanning the streets. He was that guy, for lack of a more descriptive term.

And that pretty much made my day.

København, if we want to be technical about it...

2009-08-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

...and not look like stupid Americans.

Hi all, this is Eli Cohen ('11), welcome to my Study Abroad blog. You'll notice that there are old posts from when I was keeping a blog during my internship at EnerNOC. However, as of Monday, August 24, 2009, this is my study abroad blog for Copenhagen. København. So far, this place has been nothing but awesome. I'm glad I spent the summer in Boston prior to coming here so I could adjust to challenges of learning a transit system, cooking for myself, etc. before coming here to do all that in another language (well, partially in another language; there's plenty of English speakers).

Some things I've learned about money in my first 36 hours that are worth sharing.

"Everything costs more in Denmark" is only somewhat true. Most things cost more, and certainly eating out costs more. However, many common groceries have proven to be the same price or even cheaper than American goods (note: I've only been to two supermarkets, one which I'm told was cheap, one I've been told was average). I got a large box of corn flakes for about $2-$3 and a 1.5L carton of fruit juice for $2 (usually something like $4 for a half-gallon). And this is including the 25% sales tax. Which brings me to my next point:
It is the law in Denmark to include sales tax in the posted price. That means that when it says something costs 50 kr. (Danish kroner or DKK) that is the amount you will pay the store. None of that fussy "This $30 thing actually costs $31.50" business.
All that said, anything that could be thought of as a luxury item definitely costs significantly more. I went into a board game store thinking, "These are German board games, they'd probably cost a little less here than in the states." Turns out, the opposite is true. Games that cost $40 in the US cost about $70-$80 here. That also goes for movie rentals and purchases, video games, CDs (although those are less inflated), cafe food, and many other items.
Public transportation is expensive. DIS is buying passes for us, but we paid for them in a sense when we paid for tuition. Same goes for books; they're "free" for us in the sense that we're not paying for them right now.
Larger grocery stores are required by law to be closed most Sundays. It's an equalizing measure, of sorts. You're only allowed to be open every day if you're small; once you hit a certain size of store, you can only be open the first Sunday of each month. Helps the mom & pop stores out, I suppose.

That's all the insight I can muster right now. I'm going to go to the grocery store to get some dinner things. Unless something really interesting comes up, my next post will be about where I'm living (there will be pictures!)

Revving up for Denmark

2009-07-28T15:21:00.001-07:00

It's true, my Denmark trip is less than a month away, and I'm learning new lessons about the power of serendipity.

I picked the DIS program as my study-abroad for a number of reasons; the choice of classes, positive reviews of the program, etc. However, since committing to the program, two pieces of news have come out that I'm extremely excited about.

1) The UN Climate Change Conference is taking place in Copenhagen in December. Sure, it'll be happening while I'm trying to write my final papers and whatnot, but it will be a great change of pace to see environmental issues become local news.

2) Greenland is taking steps towards independence from Denmark. There are definite environmental and economic issues involved, and it will be great to talk to Danes about this.

Neither of these things were public knowledge (at least among the average American college student) when I chose this program, but now that they're happening, I feel like I got lucky. It's like Denmark is actively working to help me with my Peace Studies research!

Less than four weeks to go!

The views expressed here are my own and not necessarily the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc). If you thought otherwise, you probably thought Greenland was thriving with plant life.

Sweet Caroline (BAH BAH BAH...)

2009-07-08T19:18:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I attended the big July 4th celebration on the Boston esplanade. The main act was Neil Diamond, who was cheesy as ever. Plus, the Boston Pops and a few other musical acts were part of the show, and the fireworks were set to music as well. It was a pretty fun time.

There was one particular song in the lineup that reminded me of a number of conversations I've had during the school year about American identity. For the time-constricted, the song more or less says that America is about lemonade stands, high school proms, and driving around in a Chevy. You may be surprised to find out that I don't feel particularly represented by that version of America. Another verse mentions helping out the neighbors, and I couldn't help but think, "...as long as they grew up in the same white, rural area as I did."

Admittedly, I knew what I was getting into when I went to a 4th of July fireworks show. I wasn't expecting anything more out of the show. For example, when Neil Diamond failed to point out that women in the Congo died for his audio equipment, I wasn't particularly surprised or disappointed. Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. And yet, I couldn't help but notice the cultural, social and environmental issues at play.

We blew up 2500 points of fireworks on the 4th, and that's just one show in one city. Looking just to the right of the flashing lights, one could see a huge, slow-moving cloud of thick smoke. Thankfully, we weren't downwind of it, but some folks were, and that can't be healthy. Plus the material costs. Tons of metal and plastic wasted for, more or less, a big shiny thing. It's a very pretty shiny thing, but no amount of shiny things are worth that level of damage, in my opinion.

The views expressed here are my own and not necessarily the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc). If you thought otherwise, you probably also yell "BAH BAH BAH" and "so good! so good! so good!" during Sweet Caroline, but don't actually know any of the lyrics.

Nobody puts coal in their stockings anymore...

2009-06-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

So, we all know coal is bad, from an environmental standpoint. It contributes to global warming, and it kills fish. This so-called "clean coal" is more or less non-existent; you've all see the commercials. So why do we still use it?

Well, the obvious answer is "the oil companies are run by people who care more about money than the environment," and that would be true. But as it turns out, the story is more complicated than that.

As much as we don't like coal, it has one major advantage over renewable energy: it's consistent. If you burn one ton of coal, you're going to get the same number of megawatt-hours from it every time. With solar and wind, we're at the mercy of weather. If it's a cloudy day, a solar panel array could operate at 75% or 50% or 25% of its capacity, and we'd be left in the dark (literally). If we rely too heavily on wind power, what happens when it's just not a windy day in Kansas? Believe it or not, that actually happens sometimes.

The problem is that the supply of energy changes over time. Luckily, there are companies like EnerNOC, dealing in demand response. Offically, we call our service Demand Response, but it could be Supply Response as well. When a power plant goes down, we call an event, just like we would any other time (see earlier posts for an explanation of what EnerNOC does).

So, another reason I like EnerNOC? They're making a grid that relies more and more on unstable sources of energy like wind and solar a possibility. We couldn't just build solar panels and hope things work out, but by coupling solar/wind and demand response, we have a solution that's truly sustainable.

The views expressed here are my own and not necessarily the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc). If you thought otherwise, I'm totally putting coal in your stocking this Christmas.

Transmission Lines

2009-06-23T04:58:00.001-07:00

Man, I don't know how people update these things every day. Welcome back to my blog, after two weeks of me having too much fun to pay attention.

I recently learned some things about transmission lines. Transmission lines, for the uninitiated, are high-voltage power lines used to transmit electricity across long distances. These are not the power lines that you would see out on the street in your neighborhood; those are called distribution lines. They're lower voltage (though still dangerous) and are used to distribute electricity to homes.

Transmission lines have everything to do with why we haven't stepped up renewable energy as much as we could. I came into this job thinking "so, if we just build a crapload of wind turbines and solar panels, all our problems will be solved, right?" Well, not really. It turns out that solar panels work best in the middle of the Southwest in the desert, miles and miles from large cities. And wind turbines work best in the great plains, miles and miles from large cities. But this power is truly needed in places like New York City, LA, Chicago, etc. So what do we do? We can't just build a power source, we have to connect it to the folks who need power.

The problem we face is that it's not worth it for the grid operator to build hundreds of miles of high-capacity transmission lines to pick up a few measly megawatts here or there. In order to make it worth their while, a grid operator needs to get a significant pile of power from this very, very costly investment. When small groups say "Hey, we built twelve turbines in the middle of South Dakota! Hook us up to the grid!" the grid operator laughs in their face, as well they should. And if the grid operator isn't going to hook up the turbines, it's not worth it to build them in the first place.

One possible solution to kick-start the process is for one very bank of wind turbines or solar panels to all be built at once. The grid operator will build out to the middle of nowhere, giving way for smaller setups to be built nearby.

The views expressed here are my own and not necessarily the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc). If you thought otherwise, you're probably the sort of person who thinks wind turbines are "totally lame."

More Thoughts

2009-06-06T21:44:00.000-07:00

It turns out, actually living life gets in the way of writing a blog sometimes. I can't update the blog from work (I'm supposed to be... y'know... working) and when I get home, I like hanging out with my brother, Michael (who I'm living with) and just relaxing. I have lots to say, but I've consistently lacked the willpower to put it into words. I imagine this will only get more difficult when I go to Denmark in the fall.

One of my favorite things about EnerNOC so far has been the lateral nature of the company. Everyone is an expert in their own area, and has the collective trust of the company in that area. It's cooperative. While everyone technically has a boss, requests from the boss don't necessarily mean more than requests from a member of another group. When anyone makes a request, you're expected to do what you can. There's none of this "you're not my boss" that you might find at another company.

This setup is also evidenced by the fact that interns are trusted and given real work to do. I've only done one typical office intern job (I went on a coffee run before our first big event). Everything else I've done has been critical to the overall performance of the team. I've been making changes to the system since day 1. In most cases, every correct change I make is one more business that can participate in our demand response program, and every mistake I make is one company that gets left out. I know what's at stake, and I take their trust seriously.

That said, it's really a fun place to work. First of all, the NOC looks like the future.

I mean, look at that. The first three rows in the NOC have these huge three-screen monitors. I want one so bad.

Then there's the giant wall screen up front. It has eight sections, each of which has some piece of information about event readiness and likelihood. There's usually a weather report (events are much more likely on hot days). There's also an event likelihood calculator (next to the weather). As you can tell from all the green, event likelihood was low across the board that day. Which probably explains how someone had time to wander around taking pictures :-)

By contrast, us interns are in our own room in the corner of the NOC (it's just to the left of where the picture ends). Last summer, it was affectionately dubbed "the ICU," or "Intern Containment Unit." We lack triple-monitors, but we do get our own little space, which has been fun. We're all in our early-to-mid 20's, and we've got at least office-level friendship going. Everyone I work with is good-natured and dedicated, which isn't surprising given the nature of the company.

That's all I can think of to share. I'm toeing the line between giving lots of detail at the risk of boring/confusing everyone, and giving little detail at the risk of leaving you all wondering what the heck it is I'm actually talking about. The best way I can make this blog interesting, I think, is to answer your questions. Otherwise, I'm just going to ramble, and that seems like a waste. So ask me something about EnerNOC, or about demand response, or anything else. I'll try to answer in a somewhat entertaining way.

The views expressed here are my own and not necessarily the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc). If you thought otherwise, you're probably an overzealous lawyer.

First Weekend

2009-05-27T04:49:00.001-07:00

This past Sunday I attended two graduation ceremonies. First, my brother's fiance (soon to be my sister-in-law!) got her Ph.D. from Brown. When that was over, I walked across campus to see one of my close friends at the undergraduate ceremony, where his girlfriend was getting a B.A.. The weekend was essentially one big celebration. Congratulations again to all my Goucher friends. You're educated!

Work has continued to be a process of learning different protocols and acronyms. Much like at Goucher, there are acronyms for everything, and much like a freshman, I don't know them yet. But I'm learning.

My Peace Practice classmates might be interested to know that there's a lot of talk of "negawatts" here at EnerNOC, which is a term coined by Amory Lovins. Basically, negawatts are what I was talking about in the last post. It's a negative watt. Producing an extra watt of electricity is all well and good, but if you can reduce the NEED by one watt, you've created the same benefit without the harm to the environment or the power grid. That's a "negawatt."

That's about all I've got for now. On an unrelated note, I'm adding the following disclaimer to all my posts, since I work for the company I'm talking about:

The views expressed here are my own and not the views of the company (EnerNOC, Inc).

To some people it's obvious, to lawyers, not so much. Point is, everything in this blog represents the opinion of me, the author, and not necessarily anyone else. Because I am a free-thinking individual. This is not an official blog sponsored by the company, this is just some kid sharing what he's learned over the course of his internship, and should be viewed as such. It should be noted that the legal disclaimer also applies to my opinions on legal disclaimers (I think they're silly, but I don't represent the company in saying that).

Thoughts From Day 2

2009-05-21T19:01:00.000-07:00

So, I've had two days of work, and it's gone well so far. I'm fighting some sniffles I think I got from my dad last weekend, but it's not too bad. Otherwise, Boston's been good to me so far.

As promised, here's what EnerNOC does, in three short, exciting paragraphs:

Let's say the power company for a given region has 20 power plants. 10 of those will be on at all times, providing the baseline energy that area will use for most of the year. The other 10 are backup, or "peak" plants. During the summer when it's really hot out and everyone turns on their air conditioners, all of a sudden we need more power. That's when these peak plants turn on. But these peak plants are less efficient, and the power companies lose money turning these things on, plus they're bad for the environment.

EnerNOC comes along and says, "okay, it costs you $1m to turn on peak plant #3, and it provides you with an additional SUPPLY of 50 megawatts (mW) of power. What if you could pay EnerNOC just $500,000, and we reduce DEMAND for electricity by 50mW?" To the power company, they're the same thing, but EnerNOC does it cheaper. The power companies win because they don't have to build new peak power plants, and they can fire up existing ones less often. They also reduce their impact on the environment.

So how does EnerNOC actually reduce demand? Well, they spend that $500,000 we just talked about. They take a cut (to pay their employees, including scruffy interns like myself) and use the rest to pay big stores, office buildings, factories, etc. to reduce their burden on the power grid. The specifics depend on the location: an office building might turn off every other lighting fixture and lower the setting on their heating or cooling unit. A supermarket might switch to backup generators. The demand response solution is different for each place of business. Then, when EnerNOC sends out the call that a demand response event will be happening, the company is all set to go. The customer flips a switch, they reduce their power usage for the duration, then turn it back on at the end of the event. The customer saves money on their energy bill, and in addition to that, gets a check from EnerNOC for participating.

In summary, an event goes something like this:

A power grid operator calls EnerNOC and says "today from 2:00 to 5:00PM, we need you to cut 100mW"
EnerNOC contacts all its customers connected to that power company and says "Hey, we're having a curtailment event from 2 to 5."
At 2, companies initiate their plans (turning off lights, etc.). Supermarket A might be responsible for 1mW, office building B might do .7mW, factory C might do 4mW. In the end, it all adds up to 100mW.
at 2:01, EnerNOC starts making calls to businesses that have not reduced power usage to find out what's going on. These calls continue throughout the event.
The event ends, and lights go back to normal. The Data Analytics Group compiles all the data and (dur dur dur) analyzes it. They send around a report that says which businesses performed well, which businesses underperformed, if we met our goals or not, etc.
We make changes to our procedure and get ready for the next event.

Who wins?

Power companies: They pay EnerNOC less than it would cost them to fire up peak plants, and thus save money
The "customer" businesses: They're literally getting paid to turn off lights. How awesome is that?
The environment: Peak plants are bad, keeping them off is good
Me: I get employed!

So how does Eli fit into all this? That's totally what you were going to ask, right? Well, right now, we're not in the thick of event season, but it's going to start in about a week, and we need to be ready. During an event, if a site isn't turning off its lights like they're supposed to, we need to be able to call them, figure out what the problem is ASAP, and coach them so they can carry out their end of the bargain. My job is to make sure different spreadsheets, software and databases are up-to-date and ready to go before next week so we can waste as little time as possible searching for missing pieces. Events only last a few hours, so everyone needs to be at 100% efficiency. We can sleep later. During an event, it's all about coffee.

Sounds like finals week, right?

Much love to my soon-to-graduate friends at Goucher. I'll miss you all next year; good luck with your summer plans.

And So It Begins

2009-05-18T13:28:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

Welcome to my brand-new blog! In 37 hours or so, I will be starting my internship at EnerNOC, a wonderful company doing wonderful things for the environment. On the site there is both a video and a cute animated presentation that explain what EnerNOC does. I don't think I could explain it any better than they do, but in my next post, I'm going to try anyway.

For now, I'll just say this: I love EnerNOC because they're in the business of making environmentalism affordable. I'll explain how in the next post, but the gist of it is that they are paying businesses to reduce electricity usage. I love that.

The more I learn about envrionmental policy, the more I feel that pushing people to change their light bulbs or stop wasting water in their homes is great, but only an individual scale. When it comes to businesses, they're going to do whatever's going to make them the most money. The larger the business is, the more that model applies. Corporations will occasionally do something arbitrarily "green" or "for the community," but it's often limited in scope and usually seems to be geared towards attaining some kind of "family-friendly" label. Target is willing to donate money to help build a new park in some town, but only under the assumption that they'll create goodwill in that community which will lead to an increase in sales. Plus, they get to talk up how charitable they are, which makes more people want to shop at Target.

There is a constant process of cost-benefit analysis. If Target donates $50,000 to the creation of this park, they make $100,000 in increased revenue due to their new customer base. It's a calculated risk on their part, and if they think they only stand to make $30,000 in the long run, they'll build a park somewhere else. At the top, it's not about altruism. It's about business.

But in the end, cost-benefit analysis is part of what makes businesses work. My framework, then, is a more global one: can we envision a world where being a good person is not only the right moral decision, but also the right economic decision? The folks at EnerNOC and a few other places have that vision.

The truth is, we live in that world, but not everyone is aware of it. If Target could find a way to run their entire business efficiently without using a single piece of electronics, they would do it in a heartbeat. A business of that size has a huge electric bill, and if they could find a way to cut that, they would. Corporations don't waste electricity because they enjoy killing trees as they rub their hands together maliciously and twirl their mustaches. They would love to cut energy costs, but they just don't see how. That's where EnerNOC comes in.

The co-founders of EnerNOC came up with a great idea for how to make environmentalism the right business decision. Their methodology impresses everyone I've talked to, especially in the Peace Studies department. And guess what? The founders both have degrees in Business Administration, a field which many people would consider the antithesis of Peace Studies. I guess the bottom line here that there's only one way to create positive change. It just takes a vision and a lot of know-how. And some outside-the-box thinking. Although, as environmental guru Amory Lovins likes to say, there is no box.

I'll keep you posted as I find myself some vision and some know-how. This should be a great summer.