Day 2: Downtown

Waking up significantly less tired, I walk to the bus stop with all the other students in my building to go to orientation.  It is overcast and remarkably chilly.  When the bus pulls up, the driver doesn't bother to check our passes.  It's a fifteen minute ride to the Danish Royal Music Academy, where the DIS opening ceremony is being held.

The president of DIS takes the podium.  He is a stern-looking old man with a heavy accent but a friendly demeanor.  He makes the expected opening remarks with some unexpected imagery displayed on the projector screen.  A picture of an anchor (because we must "anchor" ourselves to certain values.  Get it?)  A steamroller (which we cannot allow to steamroll over our self-confidence and initiative.)

"And this," the president says as he puts the next slide on the screen, "is some seasoned chicken on a grill."  I think he made some connection between rotating the chicken and experiencing multiple cultural facets.

"Some of you are the future leaders of your country." he says.  "We hope your time abroad will encourage you to better understand other cultures, and to make greater use of diplomacy rather than war.  Speaking of which, Colonel Gaddafi was overthrown this morning."  A lone clap emerges from somewhere within the hall.  "And now," the President says, "some music from the DIS Strings."

After the strings play a selection of music from European composers, we are visited by the Vice Consul from the U.S. Embassy.  The tough-looking man appears short and stocky next to his tall, blond Danish colleagues.  The Vice Consul's main purpose is to tell us what to do if arrested.  "There is a mandatory five-day sentence for carrying a blade larger than seven centimeters in public." he says.  "Try to call us from jail.  Your parents won't find out...unless you want us to tell them.  We cannot get you out of jail, but we can visit you, and if you pay us, we will bring you cake.  Also, I know many of you have heard of Christiansand (a known pot-sanctuary).  Copenhagen is not Amsterdam.  Marijuana is illegal."  He looks at the room with eyes that say please and says, "Don't go there."

After the opening ceremony, we walk to downtown Copenhagen for orientation.  I have no idea where to go, so I follow the largest group of students.  After a twenty-minute walk, the group fractures over a lack of collective confidence, so I blindly make my way to the classroom where we are supposed to meet, hand in my student visa application, and sit down for the first part of orientation, where we learn emergency numbers and procedures and other practical information.  We have an hour long break, so I decide to buy lunch.  Walking around aimlessly, I see many restaurants and cafes.  But which ones are good?  Which ones are pricy?  I haven't had time to research these things, so I visit the 7-11 and pick up a calzone.  It's the first time I've ever purchased a non-packaged product from a 7-11, but I'm hungry and it's the least poisonous-looking item.  Sitting down at a bench outside a nearby restaurant, I am halfway through the calzone when a waitress comes out and says something in Danish to the effect of "Are you eating here?"

"Nej.  Muss ich gehen?" I ask, pointing away.
 "Ja."

Kicked off my bench, I walk down the street looking for a suitable place to eat my lunch.  I walk onto the grounds of a church, where only God can judge me for eating my calzone.  On the way back to orientation, I pass a Lego superstore.  Words cannot describe how ten-year old me would have felt. 

I'm home.

Following the rest of orientation, we are bussed to the immersion fair, which offers various clubs and activities.  Most are athletic and cultural groups.  Seeing as I already have enough to keep me busy presently, I start to head back out when I notice that the swarm of students perusing the activity booths have failed to notice the free Danish smørrebrød (open-faced sandwiches).  Another free dinner.

Walking out of the immersion fair, I see this sign:

I used to think Ke$ha was a talentless party girl, but now it's clear that brushing your teeth with a bottle of Jack could save your life.