Day 1: Delirium Sets In

Allow me to briefly preface this inaugural post.  My name is Dan, and I am a student at a reputable university in the mid-western United States.  I decided to go to school in Copenhagen for a semester because:

a. I want to see Europe.
b. The classes are in English.  I speak some Spanish and German; neither quite well enough to confidently take classes.

So I booked my ticket, packed perilously lightly, and off I went.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 2011

5:15 p.m. EST
The Scandinavian Airlines Airbus A340 has a neat camera system.  Passengers can see the view in front of and underneath the aircraft on their seat back television screens.  I watch the ground slip away as we blast off for the land of...Danishes.

5:45 p.m.
I am surveying the passengers surrounding me.  To my left, three young ladies from California open their tabloids simultaneously.  To my right, an American boomer takes advantage of the flight attendant's generosity with the wine.  In front of me, that guy is being that guy and reclining in his seat.  Behind me, there is a wall.

6:30 p.m.

Two tall blond stewardesses push meal carts down the aisle.  Dinner is served.  It's the first time I've eaten an actual meal on a plane since the '90s, and it isn't so bad.  There is a hot dish containing a barrier of white rice dividing something that is very likely beef and something that is very likely not.  There is also cheese and crackers, rolls and butter, something that resembles coleslaw, and a piece of cake. 
"What would you like to drink?" the stewardess asks in a pan-European accent.
"Red wine, please." I say, surreptitiously eying the flight information screen to see if we have left American airspace.  Tea is served in time for me to start on the cake, with refills offered later on.

7:00 p.m.
Dinnertime is over.  I have imbibed a fair amount of wine, and my courtesy blanket is now pulled up over my sport coat.  I am listening to the jazz station and trying to sleep.  But I can't sleep on planes.  I like to be awake in case something exciting happens!

9:00 p.m.
This is about when the babies begin to cry.

10:00 p.m.
My legs feel more than slightly uncomfortable.  Will I die of a blood clot before we land?

11:30 p.m.
Breakfast is yogurt with granola, orange juice, and a ham and cheese sandwich.  The orange juice goes down fast.  Next goes the yogurt and granola.  Usually I am not a fan, but what the hell.  I will eat anything now.  Then the sandwich.  Coffee is served afterward.  I keep wondering if the stewardess will offer more coffee, like she did with the tea.  This thought occupies my delirious mind from the time the coffee is served, until the plane puts its wheels down.  I need that coffee.  At the same time, I am watching the airspeed indicator indicate airspeeds that indicate that I am beginning to see things.

1:00 a.m. (7 a.m. Denmark time)
We've landed early at Kastrup.  Between disembarking and customs, I find and successfully return a student ID and a purse.  I am awesome at this.  The airport is very easy to navigate and everything has a translation into English.  I claim my bag and find an agent from the Danish Institute for Study Abroad to point me to the right bus. 

"Godmorgen." I say as I hand the bus driver my suitcase.  "Hoffmans.  Tak." 

On the bus, there are two bros drinking from flasks and cracking jokes.  A fellow named Xavier sits down next to me.  He comes from Colorado and is studying urban design.  He carries a tennis racket with him.  He points out that all of the taxis in the taxi lane are brand new Mercedes.  This is fascinating, and just a little bit depressing on a number of levels.  After about 20 minutes, we head off to make stops at the different dormitories.

Even for a Sunday morning, Copenhagen is, as Xavier put it, a "zombie town."  There is literally no one on the street save for a few cyclists.  The houses are very quaint and the cars look...well, they're mostly Volvos and Citroens. 

Things Get Bizarre
It starts when I see my car, a PT Cruiser, parked on the side of the road.  This thing would be a gas guzzler in Denmark.  Then I see a sign with the ominous golden arches.  And three quarters of the signs on buildings are in English or have an English translation. 

"Does anyone here speak Danish?" I wonder aloud.  Xavier notices that all the bikes propped up against the shops are unlocked. 

"I guess all of Denmark is on the honor system." I say. 

More proof that America rules the world.

"I guess everyone already has a bike." he replies. 
As we go further into Copenhagen's burroughs, things get weirder.  Graffiti begins to spring up all over the place.  There's a 7-11 on the corner.  Xavier says it's just like the ones in America, only with booze and better pastries.  Then my jaw drops as I spot a Blockbuster next door.  It takes me a few seconds to recognize what I'm looking at.  It's like seeing a dinosaur. 

In all seriousness, this is a lovely place.

I finally arrive at Hoffmans Minde Kollegium, an international dormitory where I live.  It's mostly Americans right now, but there's a Spanish guy down the hall. 

My room has a kitchenette, which is home to a spider and several Cold War-era appliances.  The bathroom contains an attempt at a shower, which I believe was deliberately designed to flood the apartment.  There is a ton of plastic sheeting and plywood outside the back door, and most of the lights don't work.  I am thirsty, so I find the tap and guzzle water.

The bathroom, optimized for maximum flooding.

Mads "pronounced, "Meds", one of the building managers, knocks on my door.  He is handing out complementary foodstuffs.  He hands me a tube of biscuits, a bag of carrots, two apples, and finally two very large bottles of mineral water.  As he walks away, I look at the water bottles and then at the tap I had just finished drinking from.

The Netto dog, which appears to be either holding a basket or trying to grab a cigarette.

I decide to take a walk to the discount Netto grocery store down the street.  I am nearly run over by a woman on a bike.  Cyclists mean business here.  They even have their own lane.  I then consider jaywalking to get to the store faster, but it seems like such an orderly country, and I have no business doing that.  I buy my first groceries: instant coffee, beer and wine, olive oil, bread, pickles, olives, cheese, rice, and pasta.  I calculate that if I live off this for a week, I can manage to stay within the $600 stipend.  Back in my room, I eat an apple for lunch and drink a Carlsberg, which is impossibly foamy.  I then go for the instant coffee, which works rather well.  I figure I should nap, but of course, I decide to drink the coffee and attempt to force myself into a normal schedule.  And that is where I leave this today.