København: saving the Danish language!

[bitchy_merlin]

We left for Denmark at 7:30 on Thursday evening. First stop: Amsterdam Amstel train station to catch our connecting Eurolines bus. E ery thing was going well - we barely even had to run to get the train, and it looked like for once, we would manage a journey without too much stress. Yeah right! Not halfway from Groningen to Duivendrecht does our train stop for almost an hour in the middle of the tracks due to technical maintenance issues. Oh, great. Suddenly it was the train station Olympics all over again: sprinting off trains, leaping down stairs, skidding around corners and through parking lots, all while carrying our respective body weights in luggage. We only actually made it onto the bus, panting and gasping for air, due to Jamie saving the day by calling Eurolines and asking them to please please please hold he bus for five minutes. Thank God. 

Once on the bus, though, we had a pleasant journey to Hamburg, Germany (I managed to find the strangest sleeping position ever and consequently spent the rest of the trip having to make full body movements in order to turn my head). Had just enough time there to drink the coffee of the gods at the station before being whisked away by our connecting bus bound for København. We took a ferry for part of the route, which was really cool!

We finally arrived in Denmark (woohoo!) and stayed long enough to buy postcards, stamps and coffee, and to take a preliminary stroll down Storegatan (sp?), a really popular shopping district. We also saw the Vor Freue Kerk and ate extremely expensive - but delicious - ice cream. Then, true to form, it was back to the train station to board our train to Sweden (because anything less than four countries in 24 hours is underachieving). 

So, we crossed the Øresund by train and that was beautiful and lovely. We arrived in Malmo around 5 pm and went straight to meet our Couchsurfing host, Tomas. His apartment was absolutely gorgeous and situated in a great part of the city. Being a bit fragrant by that point (hey, 22 hours of traveling will do that to you), we showered quickly and sat around Tomas' flat, drinking generous amounts of wine and talking. Around 9, we went out to a small local bar ("a falafel's throw away," said Tomas because "Here in Malmo, we throw falafels, not stones.") there, we met Pernilla, a 47 year old Swedish bombshell and her Couchsurfer, Steffi, a chemistry student from Germany. They were really lovely and we spent a while there talking to them; Pernilla is a habitual runner, and she invited me to go for a run with her and Steffi  the next morning. 

After a relatively peaceful night on Tomas' couch (a godsend after the bus, omg), I stumbled along after Tomas through Malmo's city centre down to the North Sea where Pernilla and Steffi were already warmed up and waiting for me. It was cloudy and slightly chilly but we had a great run nonetheless: 6km at 6 mins/km and the last three at 5 mins/km. I was initially worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up with them, especially since usually if I do 10k, I definitely don't speed up toward the end, but it was actually quite nice (though tbh, I'm glad it was only the last three on I had to worry about, since I don't think I could have done more at that pace). It was so nice to run along the seaside and having running partners was seriously great for a change. 

Hanna and Jamie met us there and we all went to a Swedish sauna! BRB, achieving SO MUCH SCANDINAVIA! It was so great! Being really sweaty after our run turned out to be a blessing in disguise: we stopped off and JUMPED INTO THE NORTH SEA. It was fucking cold! And fucking awesome! To warm up, we headed into the sauna for some relaxation time surrounded by sweaty naked Swedish people. Gezellig. (it is, in fact, true that everyone in Sweden is attractive). 

The sauna ( well, technically, there were three) was lovely; unfortunately, we had a bus to catch that afternoon. After saying goodbye to Pernilla and Steffi, Hanna and I picked up Jamie and trekked back to Tomas' apartment to grab our things and thank him for his hospitality. Europe is definitely rubbing off on me: that walk felt like forever, though it can't have been more than 40 mins -t he distance I used to walk to Chloe's house in Toronto. 

We picked up our stuff and bustled off to Malmo's bus station again. We grabbed lunch in an express shop at the station, where I managed to gracefully spill my hot coffee all over the cashier and her counter ... Oops. But she seemed understanding, and we got on the bus successfully, so no harm, no foul. 

An hour later. We were back in København central. This time, we took the S-bahn to Brøndbyøster station (INTERLIDE: DANISH TRAINS ARE THE BEST TRAINS, so pretty and hi tech omg) where we at last reached the haven of our campsite, Absalon Camping. 

Then came the part I had been dreading the most: setting up the tent. Having only one previous camping experience under my belt, I couldn't stop the rise of apprehension in my gut when Hanna and Jamie suggested camping in Denmark as an affordable alternative to ridiculously priced Danish hostels. Sleeping outside? Not for me. And setting up a tent? Surely the strain would be too great and our beautiful camaraderie and friendship would collapse under the enormity of such a task (mostly I was scared of being a complete bitch to everyone). But lo! What light hrough yonder campground breaks? It is the east and our tent is... A LION?! 

Yes. The tent had been on sale in the Netherlands because it was an unsold Queen's Day leftover in the form of a neon orange lion. Seriously. PIC it came with a tail. Teeth and everything. There was even a bootmat in he form of a pink tongue. The casing read "We are the CAMPIONS".  It couldn't get any more ridiculous if it tried.

We named him Brian Mufasa. We referred to him as "inside the lion's den". 

Feeling like champs after our outstanding success of Tent!, we embarked for the nearest grocery store: it was love at first sight. Denmark is apparently host to a chain called Kvickly, which is pretty much the Loblaws of København.  Kvickly!, I cheered each time we walked past the sign (helpfully located on the way from our camp to the train, for maximum amusement on my part and maximum homicidal fantasies on Hanna and Jamie's). Anyway, much to our chagrin, Kvickly indeed lived up to its name and we found ourselves having to shop at lightning speed while  being chased Kvickly out of the shop by an irate sales lady intent on closing right at six, by the gods!  We did get a sweet deal on some fresh-baked bread though - le om nom nom. We finished our grocery shopping at the shop directly across the street, Fakta, which was open til 8pm. screw you, Kvickly. 

Back at the campground, we feasted on fresh bread and cheese, the meal of champions and IMHO one of the saving graces of the human race. This was Safurday the 19th, of course, which mean only one thing: FOOTBALL FINALS. We headed downtown again (sans luggage this time, glory be) and wound up in a pub called Stecker's (sp?) to watch Chelsea vs Bayern-München. What a game! It was so tense right up to the final minutes and then overtime - aaahhh! This night was probably the worst part of Jamie's weekend, tbh. We were under the impression that the campground would be closed to everyone at 12 pm. If the game had ended on time, or even in overtime, we could have stayed. Alas, then, that it ended during penalty shoot outs, by which time Hanna and I were almost physically dragging Jamie to the S-bahn so we could get back to the campground in time. We set a new world record for the 500m dash.

Imagine our utter rage and despair when upon arrival at the campground, we found out that he 12pm curfew applied only to CARS. I think they heard Jamie's wail of angst in Munich. 

That said, we recovered after a while and wandered into the common room of the campground, which was fully equipped with TV and table football (necessities for every camper, naturally). We stayed up until 2:30 watching Sylvester Stallone movies in badly-dubbed German. 

That night, the tent was FREEZING. I don't know how Jamie survived, because while Hanna and I had sleeping bags, he was making do with mere blankets and a deflated air mattress. But maybe he fared better in the morning, because on Sunday, I woke up tangled in my sleeping bag and submerged in a pool of my own sweat. It felt pretty much as lovely as it sounds. (this was of course after the 5 am wakeup call of Nature shrieking bloody murder right over our heads; there was an owl with a vengeance out there that night, oh man. Also, it gets bright REALLY EARLY in Scandinavia during the summer, so when the owl hooted us awake, I could have sworn it was the middle of the day). 

We showered (ah, bliss!) in the clean, empty shower facilities in the camp. It was a beautiful day: the weather was sunny and warm; there was a light breeze and not a cloud to be seen in the sky. I lay on the picnic bench closest to our (epic)  tent and spent a while sun tanning and gazing passionately into the middle distance. 

Breakfast was - in the spirit of the true camper - sausages! Yeah, damn right, we grilled things! Awesomesauce. (Also, Hanna whittled me a knife!) After that epic achievement, we bustled off to København central again and then walked to the Friheidsmuseet, the Danish Resistance Museum. It was a small building but the exhibition was really interesting and I learned a lot. Apparently, King Christian X never wore the Star of David in protest, though he did greatly encourage  the resistance movement. In the final part of the exhibition there were a series of letters from members of the resistance movement to their families. The resistance members had all been captured by the Nazis and condemned to death. These letters were their last communications with their families and loved ones. Reading them - I'll be honest - reading them really messed me up. I was struck by the common themes running through them: The news is shocking; I don't regret what I've done - and above all - I am proud to be your child, I am proud to be your son.  I am going to die, but it is for a good cause; I  want you to be happy.

After we left the museum, I couldn't shake those words. They kept running through my head over and over again. I was lost in a vortex of emotion. How must it have felt to write those words? To receive that letter? Could I have imagined myself in that situation? Dear mom and dad: I am going to die. You are never going to see me again, but I want you to be happy. Don't mourn for me. I am proud to be your daughter. 

We walked through [Kall...], the ruins of an old defense fortress. It was picturesque and gorgeous but I couldn't appreciate it properly; I was still caught in the whirling thoughts and the pain. I spent the rest of the walk back to the camp stabbing myself with Hanna's keys because it seemed to help. 

That evening was a success on so many levels though. If by success you mean "all three of us suffered traumatic injuries", and I do. We ventured to the camp's playground (yes, that's right, a playground). It had a basket swing! Hanna and I were swinging on it; Jamie tried to hop on mid-swing - unfortunately, it resulted in him getting clobbered by the swing and being flung three feet into the air before landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Cue hysterical laughter. 

Hanna was next on the injury list, scraping her foot on the ropes of the basket. I topped off the evening in a spectacular head-pole collision while Jamie was pushing me on the swing. Le ow. 

We persevered! By which I mean we had an awesome session on the bouncy cushion, jumping up and down like loons and laughing like five year olds. Good times. 

After that, it was time for la pièce de resistance: S'MORES! I happily introduced Hanna and Jamie to these godlike creations, and we were all suitably sugar high when we retired to the tv lounge again for "studying" purposes - actually more German-dubbed movies.

Once again, freezing our asses off in the tent at night only to wake up swimming in sweat. Blegh. But on Monday I went for a run through a lovely park near the campground: it was particularly neat because it had a number of small trails going through the trees, so I felt like I was trail-running instead of just pounding the asphalt like normal. 

The weather on Monday was also fantastic - as I write this (on the Eurolines bus back to Utrecht) we are all nursing our impressive sunburns. After dissembling our tent in record time and packing up our sleeping bags after only two attempts, we were back in København central. Jamie had thesis work to do, so Hanna and I went for a bit of a walk: we explored the Glyptotek, which I don't even know what that is, and eventually found ourselves at the Christiansborg Slot, aka the Royal Palace. Unfortunately we didn't have time to go in, but it was nice to look at the neo-baroque architecture - what an impressive place! 

Finally, we collected Jamie and headed to the bus stop. It was an incredible trip, and I think, the most fun I've had on the road. I am so incredibly lucky to have these people as my friends.