From Field to Food

I thought maybe this post would be a good time to take a (mostly) break from all of the cultural sites and sounds of Denmark, and explore a little more in depth the tasty side of life.  Well... that's not entirely true.  For this to be even remotely relevant, I have to give a back story, which I am quite sure will spiral into an in-depth Danish exploration.  Oh well, enjoy it while it lasts.

My Sustainable by Design class at the Frilandsmuseet.  On the left, in red/pink shirt is our very attractive Danish professor, Christian, who led use through the zoo of buildings.

I hate to say it, but this is coming pretty late, because the story begins on August 29th (aka, 2 weeks ago), when I went on a mandatory field trip (called a 'field study', and they are very fond of them at DIS.  Good and bad.  Good because it means we get some context and actual experience with what we are learning in class.  Bad because they can schedule them for any time- weekend, Wednesday- our day of rest- or any other time in the week) to the 'Frilandsmuseet', known in English as the Open Air Museum.  The best description I have heard of it is a VERY big zoo (like 200 football fields) for buildings- let me be more specific: senile old buildings.  The kind that act a little funny in front of your friends when they come over to visit, and still manages to think that you are your aunt Suzie who looked like you 40 years ago, but now lives in Nigeria with her husband and three children.  Just kidding.  But really, they are REALLY, REALLY old.  Most of them date from 200 to 400 years ago, and considering that they are vernacular buildings (that is, a building made for necessity, not design), mostly houses, and many have thatch roofs and stone walls, it is pretty remarkable that they are still around.

One of the VERY old buildings of the Museum- this is from inside the stable... which the animals shared with the humans!

You see, the founder of Tivoli (yes the amusement park), Georg Carstensen, thought it would be a good idea to preserve the history, culture, and building traditions of Denmark for future generations.  In 1901, he opened the Frilandsmuseet, which contained original structures from all over Denmark, it's territories, and former lands.  This means that Western Sweden and Northern Germany are also highly represented in the buildings of the museum.  And, most amazingly, they have been shipped, often piece by piece to remain their original integrity, to the site.  To explain what a task this is, many of the buildings have loose, round stone foundations, which were numbered so they could be perfectly placed when they got to their new homes.  Some of the roofs are also incredibly ornate (such as the 'smurf house' from one of the many nearby islands, who's roof is made of a dense dried and woven seaweed thatch), and some of the structures are very, very large.  Being vernacular buildings, they also typically were built to respond specifically to their site (a tract home does nothing for a farmer in the middle of nowhere who is trying to keep his family dry and warm), and so the museum has actually recreated many of the conditions of the buildings, such as hills, marshlands, and rivers, so it is clear how the buildings actually functioned.

The seaweed thatched 'Smurf' House!

 But, this is getting off-topic.  Like I said, the museum was also intended to preserve the cultural traditions of the region.  It does this by being a 'living museum', much like you would find on the East Coast at many of the important historical sites- with people dressing in costumes and acting as if they were from that time period.  Except not that kitschy.  Why?  Well, because these people aren't just going through the motions of living that life.  They actually ARE living that life.  I got the distinct impression that many of them live on site.  And there, they farm (vegetables, grains, and animals for meat and dairy), sew, weave, and make traditional foods.  I got to try some bread that was baked in an earth oven!  YUM.  Plus, I think these people must have very specific skills to be able to work at the museum doing this.  I saw an old woman sitting alone in the courtyard of one of the buildings with a spin making wool yarn.  I don't think many people even know how to do that anymore.

The cute little old lady making yarn!

Aside from all that, the museum has a very special food/architecture surprise: working mills!  There are two windmills on site, one in the Danish tradition, and one in the Dutch style, as well as a water mill (which, again, think of the work required to make it usable on a new site!).  The day we were visiting, it turned out that the water mill was in use, meaning that they were actually grinding grain (rye in this case) on it.  When you stepped inside, it was dusty with flour, and people in adorable white uniforms were performing the duties of mill-people. 

The men in the white uniforms at work!

 They had to do the grinding in loads, so when we first went inside everything was quiet (dusty, but quiet).  Then, all of the sudden, the beautiful, polished, hardwood cogs above our heads started to spin (sending even more flour all over us), and a sifting table began to shake.  After a while, a man came up with a HUGE bag of flour, and they filled paper sacks and gave them to us FOR FREE!  Yes, I got a FREE bag of FRESHLY GROUND rye flour.  How cultural is that?  And, bonus: it was like taking fresh copies off of a copier.  Still warm!

The spinning cogs of the mill.

The rest of the museum, I dare say, was pretty boring.  After 5 hours of walking around looking at 200 year old buildings, everything starts to look the same.  I even stopped taking pictures at some point.  But, in spite of the boredom that eventually took over, I had a good time.  And came home with a pretty awesome souvenir.  Now all I had to do was find something to do with it.  Now, I could have made bread.  As you know, if you have read the older posts, rye bread is practically a religion here (in fact, given the fact that only about 5% of the 95% Lutheran population are actually practicing Christians, and they are that passionate, maybe it is their real religion).  And, I even got a recipe for "Ullas gode rugbrød" (Ulla's good rye bread).  But, it required yeast, which takes a long time, and also translating all of the directions and ingredients.  SO... I went searching for something more exotic.  And found... wait for it... cookies.  Yes, rye cookies.  I promised Inga and Henning that I would cook them an American meal, and apparently, cookies are really American.  Shelley's Danish roommate told her that she had never made cookies before, only bought them premade (like, in a box) or 'fresh' from a cafe.  Sad day.  So, to accompany the chicken-fried-steak and mashed potatoes that I cooked up, and went with rye chocolate chip cookies.  In spite of a few calculation mix-ups, not all of the proper ingredients, and the fact that it was, originally, a vegan recipe, I was pleasantly surprised.  Anyone who would like to give rye a chance, here it is (with some personal side notes from me):


3/4 c freshly milled rye flour
3/4 spelt flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
8 tbsp (1 stick) salted butter (this was originally a vegan butter substitute- ew)
1 c dark brown sugar
1 ripe banana (I used the banana, but I would most certainly go with 1 large egg next time.)
1 tsp vanilla extract (that doesn't exist as far as I've seen in Denmark.  We had vanilla sugar instead)
chocolate chips (again, not something you can get here. We bought Smarties, like European M&M's)
*Also, I added a tad-bit of milk to make up for lost liquid from the vanilla extract.


Preheat oven to 350 F. (175 C)

Line baking sheet with parchment.

Combine the flours, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a medium sized bowl, set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the sugar and butter on low speed until just blended, about 2 minutes. Add the egg, mixing until just combined. Stir in vanilla (and milk).

Add dry ingredients, and mix on low speed until flour is barely combined. Stir in Smarties.

Form dough into balls, place on baking sheet 2 inches apart.

Cookies: Pre-Bake.

 Bake for 13-15 minutes, until the cookies have spread and cracked, the tops are dry and have browned a bit. Cool on baking sheet.

The finished product.

And then, of course, enjoy with a glass of milk (or if you're Danish, coffee... which I find to be a really funny mixture) while watching the evening Nyheder (news... and note specifically the verb I chose: watching.  There is hearing, but no listening to the news.  I have no idea what they are saying... YET)

Noteworthy Adventures (Part III and Part IV)

And now- the exciting continuation of my overly long blog post!

Adventure number three: Greve Strand.  Greve, as you know, is the village I live in.  Strand, in Danish, means beach.  So yes, this is the local beach.  I've been told that nowhere in Denmark is more that 20 km from the water- be it a sea or strait.  At first, I found this kind of an amazing thought.  But there were too geographical facts that need to be kept in mind.  First, Denmark is composed of a series of small islands, as well as 1 peninsula (Jutland).  Of course, with this shape, proximity to water is a given.  Also, the scale of this country is astounding!  I always think of European countries in terms of what I learned in French class- "La France est à peu près la même taille que le Texas." Aka: France is about the size of Texas.  The is also true of Germany, Spain, Poland, etc.  But Denmark?  Denmark ranks somewhere between West Virginia (on the bigger end) and Maryland (on the smaller end).  It is a TINY country.  In spite of all of the islands and distances between areas of the nation, to travel to Jutland takes only a few hours- thanks to the AMAZING bridges that have been added, including the second longest suspension bridge in the world, from Sjælland (pronounced Zee-land, where Copenhagen is) to Fyn (pronounces Foon, the island just to the West, which separates the capital from Jutland and the rest of Europe).  Anyway, this is a small place with a lot of beaches.  And, given the short distances to the water, the beaches are well used in the summer.  By this time of year, people have mostly given up on them, except for the polar bears (called Vikings here!).  Not that the beach is so cold, but the water is icy.  Anyway, my village, Greve, is only 5 km from the Strand, and so I hope to take advantage of it as often as possible.  You see, there is an incredible biking culture here, and most roads come equipped with either very nice, wide bike lanes, or separate bike roads all together.  Getting to the beach is pretty much a straight shot, right past the Greve Train Station.  I was briefly introduced to the Strand with my parents when we came to have dinner with Henning, Inga, and Katrine.  But it was very quick, and late in the afternoon.  So, I had to go back.  I decided that I could probably handle a 5k on my own if I took my time, and on Sunday morning, jogged out there- and made it successfully!  (Bolder Boulder, here I come!)  Unfortunately, it was difficult to document how beautiful it was... I don't typically bring my camera or my sketchbook out on my runs.  So, I came back the next morning (yes, somehow I got Labor Day off again this year!) by bike.  It's really amazing, because you can't see the water at all until you are RIGHT there.  This is because a natural thin layer of forest grows right up along the coast here- it is dense but, like I said, maybe only 30 feet deep.  Just enough to keep the beach invisible from an unknowing observer.  

My bike at the edge of the 'forest'.  The beach is just about 30 feet to the right through the trees!

Once you get through the narrow trails of the forest, the wide expanse of the water opens up before your eyes!  The sand is very, very fine and incredibly white, and in the morning, the semi-low fall sun makes the still water glimmer playfully.  Because this is a strait, not open water, there are few big waves, just a gentle ebb and flow of the natural tide.  On this particular bit of beach, right as you pass through the trees, there is a tiny little pier meant for sitting and descending into the water, if one is willing to brave the cold.  As you walk onto it, there is the most bizarre feeling that you are not walking on a solid object, like a pier, but rather some invisible force like a cloud, holding you suspended by just a few feet over the water.  And it feels that if you keep walking, you could walk the same way, all the way to Sweden, which, by the tiniest hint of a black line on the horizon, and a few even tinier vertical lines like boat masts, seems to be waiting somewhere far off.  To the left of the dock, one can see the gray silhouette of a power plant, with a trapazoidal main building, and thin, sleek wind blades turning slowly and silently.  On the right, a small jetty, where boats have been tied up on either side.  Off behind it, the silhouette of further coastlines.

The view to the South.

I sat on the pier for some time, sketching for my Visual Journal class.  Although, when I first arrived on the beach, there was already someone on the pier, and from the experience I had had the day before, I wanted to be able to approach the water and follow the path to the terminus on my own.  So, I sat in the sand for 15 or 20 minutes on my own, taking pictures, pondering, and beginning my drawings.  You can imagine (given the Danish way of dealing with strangers) my surprise when the woman who had been on the pier approached me, speaking Danish, and smiling.  I explained my lack of proficiency in the language (I am working on that, I promise!), and so she began to speak somewhat choppy English to me.  She asked me what I was doing (I showed her my sketchbook) and why I was here.  I explained that I was a foreign student, and we then determined where, in the city, I went to school.  She then asked where I lived, and I was, happily, proficient enough to properly pronounce "Greve Landsby" (again, pronounced Gray-veh Laands-boo.  The word Landsby means "village" and differentiates where I live from the Greve Strand, as well as the new community that has developed near the station, adopting the name of Greve).  She, apparently, had a relative living in the village, so we happily drew a map in the sand showing roads, the Greve Museum, the local church, the village store, and my house. 

Our beautiful map in the sand.  My house is the big circle in the upper right corner.

The woman, Linda, then happily explained that her relative, Susanne, lived very close to me- in a yellow house!  And... just as quickly as she had approached me, Linda was gone, running off to receive a phone call.  After she was gone, I finished what I was sketching, and because the pier was finally vacant, approached it again.  And yes, it was as magical the second time as it had been the first.  The same sense of floating, the same amazing openness. 

The pier.  I swear, some magic power would take me all the way to Sweden.

Happily, I sat at the end of the pier and sketched and took pictures.  But, surprisingly for a Monday morning, the beach was actually fairly active.  In fact, people came and went, most of them coming onto the pier at one time or another.  And despite the very solid construction, every time someone walked down the catwalk, the entire pier shook in a mini earthquake.  So it was when a quiet old man, wearing a purple robe and using a walking cane, came out to the water.  And... imagine my surprise when the old man, completely without hesitation, put down his cane, threw off his robe, and completely naked jumped into the water for a quick swim.  I did my best not to look, but he definitely wasn't wearing anything.  And again, with the same straightforwardness as he had entered the water, he climbed back up the ladder, put on his robe, picked up his cane, and went walking back towards shore.  Next came a woman to swim (thankfully, she wore a bathing suit), and just as she was finishing up her routine, a large group of people- mostly young women about my age, but of all ethnic backgrounds (it was incredibly diverse for Denmark) came through the trees onto the beach.  They walked around looking like this was a new and splendid wonder, and so, it seemed to me that they were foreigners.  The woman must have thought the same, and said to me something in Danish, ending with a chuckle in the word "turister", which means tourists.  I chuckled too, knowing what she was thinking, and muttered the only word I could think of in Danish- "ja".  Quickly, the swimmer went her own way, and I, ignoring the tourists, went back to my drawings.  

Back to shore and the North from the pier.

Until, of course, I was approached again.  This time is was a man- probably 35 or 40, bald, with olive colored skin.  He spoke to me in Danish (which surprised me, because he was part of the tourist group) and then, again, I had to explain, embarrassed, that I don't speak Danish.  So, he switched to English and asked me what I was doing, and where I was from.  I explained (again) that I was a foreign student from the United States, studying architecture, and was drawing for one of my classes.  He replied with two comments which I found equally surprising.  First, he told me that he had thought I was Russian.  (Random!) Second, that he was Afghani, and that he loved the United States, and that they were doing very good things for his homeland.  Honestly, I have NEVER been told by a foreign person that they a. liked the US or b. thought they were we doing good work in the Middle East.  It made me really happy, because I had gotten used to being sort of silently disapproved of here.  Well, after that I had to head out.  I needed to do some shopping at Wave, the second largest mall in Scandinavia, in Hundige (pronouced Who'n-dee).  

Waves!  Beautiful but eerily empty.

In case you are wondering, I bought a headband (short hair and strong winds do not mix!) and a scarf for 120 DKK (kroner), approximately $24, at H&M.  The mall itself was very big, and really quite beautiful, very open and clean-cut and light.  But, it was also sort of depressing, because it opened 3 years ago, in the midst of a financial meltdown... and I've got to say, it really hasn't gotten that much better.  Large portions of the mall were closed or empty, and all of the walking space was being taken over by signs of "unsalg" (sale).  After getting what I needed, I didn't really stay that long.


My fourth adventure was a family outing- the annual DIS Housing Picnic.  It took place at Staunings Plæne (plæne means lawn) in Klampenborg, a city just North of Copenhagen.  It was a really beautiful park RIGHT on the beach, amptly called a lawn, because the grass was amazingly green and very expansive.  

Across Staunings Plæne to the beach.

I came with Inga and Henning, and we brought this really cute picnic set- a green backpack full of plates, knives, forks, napkins, and a really classy thermos, plus a picnic blanket- an American flag one!- as well as a barley salad to share with everyone else (we all had to bring something to share) and pork cutlets and sausages to grill.  We also got one free drink each (of course I got a Carlsberg... I mean free beer.  Really?  Who would pass that up?).  Everything was delicious- fruit salads, pasta, couscous, bread, and the sausages!  Mmmmm.  Plus, we had these mini chocolate chip cookies (the cute round packaged kind) to have with coffee at the end.  How Danish!  What was also really nice was that it was an institute-wide picnic, so I got to see a bunch of people with their host families or Danish roommates.  

My many many salads at the picnic!

 Eva, for example, has a VERY cool older (like 30's) guy roommate, who I think is the editor of a magazine.  Also, Kelton, who is from Boulder (went to Fairview) and goes to Cornell (studying architecture too), introduced me to his host family.  I guess his host dad loves pizza, so he went to Italy to buy an Italian pizza over, disassembled it, shipped it all to Denmark, and reassembled it in his back yard!  They, obviously, have pizza parties with it, and I (hopefully) will be invited to one in the future!  And finally, I met a girl named Tally, who sat down with her host family right next to us.  What was funny about this is that our host parents (and her host sister) recognized one another immediately.  They live in completely different areas of the Copenhagen region, but I guess their daughter went to school with my host sister, Katrine, and they are really good friends.  Katrine wasn't there because she is already at school, and this girl was about to leave in a few days I think, also.  But to run into these people, who were also very nice, was pretty cool.  

Look at all the people!!!

After we finished lunch (before coffee) Henning and I went down to the water to walk around.  And what did we find but a bunch of kayaks brought specifically be someone (I'm not sure who... I think a host parent) for DIS students to use in the water!  So, I got to suit up in a life jacket and sea kayak for a few minutes.  I hit a bunch of SUPER big waves because I boat had just passed by- it was so fun.  It was even more fun because there were 20 or so kayaks in a very tight space, so everyone kept running into everyone.  Not great for the kayaks, but kind of a fun bonding activity for us.  Not that I will ever see those people again, but the sense of group good spirit was very nice.  

Action shop of me at the end of my kayak adventure!

 Finally, maybe the highlight of the day for me, even above the great food or kayaking, was sitting and drinking our coffee to the music of the fødselsdag (birthday) song.  As opposed to English, where we all wearily sing a very boring song off key, the Danish birthday song seems to make everyone smile.  Why?  Because it's ridiculous, that's why!  Basically, I gathered that the song entails naming the birthday person (ex- Tiffany har en fødselsdag)in song, and then naming an instrument (also in song).  You then proceed to sing a little jingle in the voice of that instrument.  The song starts again at the beginning, and goes on as long as the song leader continues to choose instruments.  I think we heard a piano, a trumpet, and a trombone.  It was super funny.  The girl who's birthday it was laughed and laughed.  I would have too.  And, her cake was basically a giant gingerbread man cake covered in icing and licorice.  Oh, and Danish flags.  They like those here.

Inga, me, and Henning at the end of our wonderful picnic day!

Well, I leave for Western Denmark and Jutland tomorrow morning at 8.  And by 8 I mean I leave here at 7 so I can be at the bus in Copenhagen at 8.  I get back Saturday afternoon, and should have lots more to tell!

Noteworthy Adventures (Part I and Part II)

As an architecture student, there are certain things that I am expected to find incredibly interesting, and certain buildings which I am expected to be willing to give my left hand to go see.  I've found that from time to time, I discover that these fashionable new buildings, which receive so much attention from every direction, are incredibly fluff-filled.  In a bad way.  That being said, one of these necessary projects to visit in København is the Harbor Baths, by BIG.  I wish I could say that I am more in-touch with contemporary architects- I wish I were like most of the people I know who could rattle off every major practicing firm in the world right now.  I am not.  So, I knew very little about BIG or the Harbor Baths before I got here.  But, like I said, it is one of those places that an architecture student MUST go to.  And, any building worth a damn is really better to visit when people are using it (as much as architects love pictures of empty buildings).  While I have 9 months in Denmark, most of those 9 months will be very cold.  So cold, in fact, that the baths are closed from September 1st to May 30th.  Meaning, more specifically, that we had only until the 31st of August to actually go use the baths.  Not surprisingly, along with several other Cal Poly architecture students, I went to the Harbor Baths on the last day of the swimming season.  While I may be a skeptic, they were FANTASTIC!

The Harbor Baths and city beyond

First of all, they were designed as a way to help re-invigorate what was until the 80's or 90's an industrial part of the city- you see, the harbor which is now home to some of the most stupendously beautiful Scandinavian architecture of our time, was actually, well, a harbor.  In fact, it was the heart of Copenhagen's industrial world.  Canneries, tanneries, etc, were scattered amongst warehouses for goods shipped in by barge or boat.  The waterline itself was lined by heavily trafficked streets and parking.  But, as the industrial activities of the harbor began to move farther away- either to distant countries or perhaps Jutland, the harbor area began to go out of use.  The local government needed to attract a new clientele to the water.  In a socially progressive decision, they moved to recreate the harbor as a center for leisure, learning, and the arts, as well as to create a home for more of the countries urban dwellers (over 25% of all Danish residents live in København!).  Because of this, one finds green spaces all along the water, as well as pedestrian and bike paths, the new Opera House, the Royal Library (called the Black Diamond), and, of course, the Baths.  In case that sounds really high-tech or expensive, it isn't.  Essentially the Harbor Baths is a pier or dock out over the water, which floats up and down with the tide.  The center is cut out in several places, leaving room for a lap pool, and sitting pool, and, most importantly, a jumping pool.  This pool sits right next to a large ziggurat (stepped pyramid) shaped structure with a stairway and places to sit in the sun.  It is perhaps 16 feet tall, and at the top, there is a place to jump back into the jumping pool.  We all jumped at least twice, and let me tell you, it was HIGH!  And, the water was COLD!  But, it was such a sense of exhilaration as you fell from way up there into what you already knew was going to be like a wall of liquid ice.

Justin, Grant, and I mid-jump!

I think we would have stayed longer (they are open until 7 PM), but we had to run off to go to a Cafe Night with our Danish classes, which was delicious.  But, in a rush to go somewhere on time where we needed to look nice, changing back into our clothes was pretty funny.  There is no changing structure on the Bath dock itself, but in a park close by.  We didn't have time for that, and had to manage hiding behind out towels from one another.  Oh well.  It was kind of funny actually.  The last thing I will say is that the Baths are really beautiful- made completely out of wood, and well constructed.  And, they seemed to do exactly what the Harbor area is attempting.  As we jumped over and over again into the water we became an attraction that brought people down to the water.  People actually walked over from the green spaces and stopped to watch the spectacle.  And not in a weird or embarrassing way, but in a curious, fun, and enthusiastic way instead.  This project had a way of lighting up the space, and creating a completely new situation out of nothing.

Shelley, Justin, Michael, and Marcella up at the top of the structure.

Second, this weekend I went with a DIS sponsored trip to Helsingør and Kronborg.  To put that into a more clear form:  Helsingør is translated as Elsinore in English, and "borg" means castle.  Anyone who as read Shakespeare should know what I am talking about: Elsinore Castle, the home of Hamlet.  So yes, I went to see Hamlet's castle.  But not exactly.  Helsingør is not a building, but a town which contains a castle, called Kronborg.  This was the first of many, many, changes to the setting that Shakespeare created for his play.  Anyway, the town was absolutely adorable.  It had small, winding roads (typical of a town created in the Middle Ages), a lively pedestrian street where all sorts of things, including cheeses, were for sale, restaurants, and also, its very own shopping mall.  I learned from Inga upon getting home that night that Helsingør is well know for its delicious, large ice cream cones.

The walking street of Helsingør- a sale outside almost every store!

L



Lucky me- I got one without knowing that!  Not only did I have a delicious scoop of Banana Split ice
cream, but I also learned that there is such a thing as licorice ice cream (which I do not like), as well as a flavor called "Toms", which is butter rum (and I also don't like).  Shelley got "Lion" flavor, which seemed to be a toffee/coffee/chocolate chip variety (I liked that a lot more), and then we walked from the town to the castle, which was always in site out towards the sea.

Shelley- Enjoying her 'Lion' ice cream!

Around the castle are bastions, which are what give the star-shaped form to the grounds of so many castles.  You see, during the Middle Ages, strong thick walls were enough to fortify the typical building.  However, with the invention of the cannon, these walls became incredibly easy to penetrate, ant therefore, useless.  Quickly then, bastions were invented.  Essentially, they are earthen mounds which are build in zig-zagging shapes for stability.  They are fronted by a ditch, frequently filled with water, and backed by an earthen ledge big enough to support troops or cannons.  You enter the fortified ring (ok, star) by a bridge which cuts a hole in the defenses.

The view back to the bridge from the top of the bastions.

From there, you must cross another bridge over a second moat to approach the castle.  Like in many castles, the entry is not on-line with either of the bridges.  In fact, you cross the first bridge, turn right, cross the second bridge, turn left, turn right, go up a hill, and turn right again- this time, under an arch and into the center courtyard of the building.  While this seems tedious or superfluous, it was, of course, another defense mechanism, and kept attackers from gaining too much momentum upon their approach.  In keeping with Shakespeare's vision, the process of entering the castle suggests an old, stone structure with long, dark hallways, and dark, brutal dungeons.  In fact, I came to Helsingør expecting just that.  But again, Shakespeare was either taking creative liberties, or was simply mistaken.  The castle was actually built in the mid 1600's, making it a Renaissance Castle similar to many of the Chateaux one can find in the Loire Valley of France.

Defensive wall and moat, with Kronborg visible in the distance.

 At one time, it probably did have some resemblance to Hamlet's castle, as the original Kronborg was built in the 1420's.  Like many things in Denmark, it burnt down, not once, but twice (the second time, being rebuilt in the late 1500's).  The final, THIRD version, was constructed by Christian the Fourth, perhaps the most famous Danish King.  He was a prolific builder, creating Christianshavn, the hedgehog-shaped island in Copenhagen, Rosenborg Castle (where the national treasury is now), and the Stock-Exchange building.  He was also a prolific war-maker, but not a very good one.  He lost every war he entered into... and died leaving the country almost completely in debt.

The central courtyard of Kronborg.

The castle itself was beautiful from the outside, but rather sparse on the interior.  You see, Sweden is very, very close to Helsingør.  In fact, that was why the castle was built in the first place- at one point, Denmark owned much of what is now Sweden, and at Helsingør a bottleneck for ships formed.  This made for very lucrative business for the Danish government, taxing ships along what was the most profitable shipping route between the Northern countries and the rest of Europe.  And when I say Sweden is close- I mean CLOSE.  All along the coast (at least this far North of Copenhagen) you can see it across the water.

The view from the back side of the Castle, out over the Strait.  And yes, that's Sweden over there.

 Unfortunately, when Sweden gained its independence, this was not particularly safe for Denmark.  I guess they didn't get along very well, and Sweden, holding a grudge for all of those years of being forced to be Danish, invaded, taking most of the precious objects from the castle.  Also, Kronborg was used as a prison from the 1700's to the 1900's, and was a military building until the 1920's.  The beautiful chapel, in fact, was the storage facility for the army's gunpowder (think of how well that worked for the Greeks at the Parthenon!).

The great hall, set up for an intimate opera, the next evening.  Note the bare walls...

But, as of 2000, the Castle is on the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites.  It has been restored, slowly, although much of the original furnishings have either been destroyed... or are now in a royal household or museum in Sweden somewhere...  I think the most fun part of the castle by far was the cellar, called the Casemates.  For a few moments, it did feel like Shakespeare's Hamlet was leading the way- it was incredibly dark, and maze-like, with low arcades and tunnels at every turn, and candles lighting the way vaguely.  The Casemates are also home to the famous statue of Holger Danske ("Holger the Dane"), a mythical defender of Denmark who will come to life and take action if ever Denmark is in need of his aid.  During WWII, when Denmark was "peaceably" occupied by the Nazis, the Danish Resistance movement was named in his honor.

Holger Dansk, the heroic Viking, pondering the fate of his country.

Because there is so much to talk about, I have divided this post into 2 volumes.  In Part III and IV:
    Greve Strand & the DIS Picnic

Danish Nights: Trains, Diskoteks, & Pastries

I am happy to say that this is being written on the S-tog.  I found out yesterday how, exactly, one accesses the 'fri internet', and, although it is slow, I'm finding it very helpful for a long commute.  I am 7 stops from my final destination, so we'll see just how much I will have time to write about.

While I'm still on the subject of trains- I have been having an interesting time adjusting to the train/bus system.  While I will agree that this is a much nicer public transit system, even so much so that I can hardly compare it to anything I've seen anywhere outside of Europe, it has it's problems- all of which I seemed to have encountered within one week of using.  For one thing, it runs incredibly infrequently at night.  Like once an hour after perhaps 8 PM depending on the route.  My bus stops running altogether at 12:07, and then a 'natbus' (a night bus) starts running at 1.  It too, only runs once an hour.  And... if I understood it correctly, it only takes you HOME from the station, it will not pick you up- at least not until 3 or 4 AM.  This makes late nights in studio, or out in the city for whatever reason rather difficult.  I did it, just for the sake of having the experience, last Friday night.  DIS threw a welcome party with a semi-open bar (free champagne and beer, the rest cost some small amount) at a nearby discotek (I love that they still call them that!) called IN hacienda.  The party was fun- for the most part.  I'll get to that later.  But, when I left for home at midnight-ish, I didn't get home and to bed until 2.  That made for a rough next morning.  Also, late at night isn't really my favorite time to be alone at a train station.  Not that it was dangerous, or even remotely frightening.  Actually, there were still a ton of people walking around then.  I was told by Henning the next morning that the local gymnasium (that's a high school, not a gym) was throwing a party/dance, so there were a lot of teenagers walking about being little Danish hooligans.  It was at least something interesting to watch while I waited for 25 minutes in the FREEZING cold for the bus.

Waiting at the Train Station in Greve

My other big complaint so far has been consistency.  I mean, yes, given the American standard, this is just fantastic.  I mean, the only time I ever road the BART I was 2 hours late for a lecture at a San Fran architecture firm.  But, since I've been told how fantastic it is, I won't lie.  I'm a little disappointed.  I still have to deal with buses 'not seeing' me, and driving right past (I learned that if you stay seated in the little bus stop bench/structure, they are not aware and just keep on going), buses coming 5 minutes early so that I'm not there yet and I miss them, and buses coming 10 minutes late so I miss my train.  But no serious harm has been done- I haven't been late to class yet, which is a big no-no.  Given the fact that Danes are so punctual, and expect everyone else to be so too (and for the record, I am totally in favor of this cultural phenomenon.  If I could only teach Americans that there is nothing fashionable about being fashionably late...) I can't really understand how other people here put up with it.  Although, in fact, on a bus to Nørrebro yesterday which should have taken 5 minutes and took 15, I saw (for the first time, I think) someone being openly upset in public.  Go figure.  I do think though, that with sufficient practice, I will understand the buses and trains, and maybe won't be quite so late or early for them in the future.

Me waiting for the bus... this is when the bus driver 'didn't see me'

As for the party?  Well, the party was interesting.  I think it wasn't the wisest choice I've made, given it was the first time I had ever been to a club... and most of the people there (ok, practically everyone there) was 20 or younger, so they had no real experience with drinking and dancing put in such a dense combo.  Because of this, lots of people were walking (drunk) onto the dance floor with beer in hand, and then, upon beginning to dance, spilling their beer everywhere.  The floor was like a mini stale-beer lake.  Ew.  Before I proceed- I must elaborate, because this seems very critical of my host nation, and it isn't meant to be so at all.  These drunken people were NOT Danish.  These were DIS students.  The party started at 8 (and yes, you are supposed to be on time) and Danish people were allowed to come to the club starting at 11.  I was told that this is a pretty common practice here- to throw a private event first, and then others can join later in the evening.  (For the record, this is when I had to get off the train.  I am now in a Baresso coffee house, drinking a very expensive chai and eating a very expensive scone.)  Anyway, so there were no drunk Danes floundering about, to set the record straight.  Only drunk Americans.  Which, we're all kind of used to.  As a whole, I don't think Danish people get DRUNK very often.  I think they save that for special occasions, and religious holidays... like Christmas.  And no, not kidding.  They are, however, very heavy drinkers, but high tolerances make it social drinking (even if it is 10 shots) rather than blackout status.  Truly, it is a socially accepted way of completely changing social behavior.  Danish people keep to themselves, don't talk to strangers unless approached, and follow an unspoken code in which they do not stare or pay too much attention to other people's going-ons so as not to embarrass anyone.  Which means tripping down a set of stairs here is a lot more fun than at home.  But, to prove my point about the alcohol thing opening them up, I was at the train station with Sean after the aforementioned party.  We were waiting for his train (the C) and mine (the A) and just chatting about the things we've noticed and learned about Copenhagen since we got here.  We got into a good discussion about the trains (and then things we like and dislike about them) when out of nowhere this Danish man approached us, and started to ask us what we are complaining about.  For the record, not complaining.  Just commenting.  Like I said, the trains here are better than anything I've seen anywhere, but there are still kinks which make such a reliable system sometime unreliable.  Sean, who is from San Jose, and has no public transit, tried to insist that no, we are not complaining.  We love it here.  The man doesn't really believe us, and asks again.  Sean explains very clearly that this is the best public transit we have ever seen.  The man seems relieved... and his friend seems even more relieved when their train has come and they must board immediately.  Apparently, his friend had not had quite as much to drink that evening.

København at night

Unfortunately, the evening wasn't just about people pouring drinks down my shirt and on the floor and meeting that very funny Danish man.  It also involved theft.  And a 7-eleven.  You see, it was Pablo's birthday, so we felt it necessary (at 11, when we left the party... just as the Danes were coming in, because everyone- well, but me- was pretty much plastered) to get his some equivalent to a cake.  We settled for a nearby 7-eleven and a cupcake.  For 11 at night, the place was really crowded.  And Marcella, grabbing a kroner or two to help cover the cost of the cupcake, got her wallet nabbed.  I'm not really sure if it fell out and someone picked it up, or if someone actually took it out of her purse, but the result is the same.  In it, as you can imagine, she had many necessary objects.  However, Marcella is perhaps the most prepared person ever, and had all of the emergency numbers written somewhere else, and was able to call and sort things out right away.  She filed a police report, and our DIS insurance should cover everything except the stolen cash in her wallet.  That is the bad side of 7-eleven.  I have noted to never enter one when it is late and very crowded.  Now let me tell you about the good side of them:  first of all, they are absolutely everywhere.  I think I ought to go around and count them all sometime, but to give an equivalent- anyone who has ever been to New York or Boston or another East Coast city- they are like Dunkin' Donuts.  But better than either a Dunkin' Donuts or a regular, American 7-Eleven.  Inside, one finds many exciting consumable items.  Beer, for example, which, yes, is everywhere else anyway, but is a pretty good price there in particular.  But best of all, they have amazing FOOD!  There is a bakery section at the front of the store, with fresh baked pastries, like cupcakes, danishes, muffins, croissants, as well as fresh baked breads.  There is also a case dedicated solely to sausages, which I haven't had yet, but are very cheap and delicious.  It's something like 26 DKK (a danish kroner) for 3 sausages... about the equivalent of $5.  In Denmark, that is an insanely good price.  The pølservogn is about that much for one.  Anyway, these 7-Elevens, as well as all of the other bakeries (I feel like there is one every-other shop!) are making staying out of debt and at a healthy weight very very difficult.  I know a lot of people don't like Danish food (although I do- I find it fascinating!) but I think no one can resist their breads and pastries!

An amazing cupcake from the nearby 7-Eleven

I think for now that is all.  Not that that is all I have to say, but I'm trying to keep these a readable length... and to control my desire to obsessively post things.  If I tell you all at once I won't have anything left to say!