Travels and Adventures- Austria!

I write this from the bitter cave of procrastination where I've been hiding for the past few months. I hope you still remember me, I know it's been a while. I can only guess my blog has the equivalent of internet spiderwebs and digital dust from lack of use. But its only fair to say I've been a bit busy in the fleeting months between the holidays and now.

The landscape has changed from the bleak never ending rain and wind to a spring paradise overnight.

I swear the Danish gods thought to themselves us Danish peasants had suffered enough and flipped the hidden switch that allowed all the flowers and blossoms to open up all at once. I have been basking in the sunlight and perfect days while my heart goes out to the never ending Winter nightmare in Wisconsin. From a recent skype call my mother has called it comparable to the never ending winter in the chronicles of Narnia only without a talking lion and the only lesson learned was to buy more long underwear in preparation for next year's hell.

I've been fortunate enough to do quite a bit of traveling in the last few weeks. I got to traverse the Austrian mountains by bus, drive down the Swedish seaside, and navigate the never ending underground Tube in London. All within a two week span of each other.

I left for Vienna in the first days of April with my class. As a second year student at Tårnby Gymnasium,  I was fortunate enough to partake in the traditional class trip to an exotic location in Europe for a week. I envisioned myself amongst the snowy mountains recreating the Sound of music while simultaneously eating Weiner Schintzel in a dirndl. We arrived on a bright Monday morning to our hostel in Vienna. It was conviently located next to the neighborhood strip club complete with wonderfully graphic posters of human anatomy. Our first day was spent basking in the glow of the city on the first sunny day we had experienced in months. Our teachers brought us to the center of the city at 3 and just said we must make it back for breakfast tomorrow morning at 8. The freedom was exhilarating and so me and my friends made it our first priority to find the cheapest restaurant serving wiener Schintzel. The city of Vienna has wonderful cultural air to it and was brimming with history and museums. The main duration of our visit was spent underground the city trying to navigate the expansive metro system. Even during the late hours of the night, it was always brimming with people. The metro car itself looked like a McDonald's time machine with extremely bright yellow and red everywhere with an industrial feel. 

contemplating my existence and what I will have for dinner

Perhaps the culmination of the trip was our journey to the ice caves. Early Wednesday morning, we rented a bus and set off for a 4 hour bus ride into the deep mountains of Austria. As hours passed and we traveled deeper into the mountains our excitement grew as we envisioned ourselves exploring the deep caves of the mountains and traversing the ice like explorers. All 25 of us were easily getting antsy until we entered the town which would be our final destination. We soaked the town and surrounding landscape in as the bus drove closer towards the entrance of the ice cave. Our excitement was easily brewing. It was my friend Olivia that spotted the sign. Outside the entrance was a modest little notice with the following written "Ice Caves closed today". So that was fun.

The trip back was spent in silence and the bitter reality of disappointment. But while I wasn't able to explore the caves, the bus ride itself was worth the trip with incredible views and the opportunity to see a more humbler side of Austria in the tiny villages that lay in the rare flat valleys of the mountains. It was one of the most beautiful bus rides I've been on and I know I'll be back one day with my dirndl and yodeling skills ready to conquer the Austrian countryside again. 

The Holidays

Any exchange student can tell you the holidays are difficult. Being away from family for the first time and thrown into another's in a foreign country can spur bouts of homesickness. Knowing this, I prepared myself for battle and the emotional turbulance the holidays bring.

Typography made by my friend Olivia

The Danes have a special word with no English equal called "Hygge". It is a word used to describe feelings of coziness and comfort and is often used as a special weapon to combat the dreary state of Danish Winters. "Hygge" is the roaring fire on a cold winters day and the warm cup of tea with friends. In my case, it was the my blanket and 5 straight seasons of Rupaul's Drag Race during winter break. This miraculous drag queen competition also helped build my repertoire of drag vocabulary and has led to me trying to slip "gurl" and "werk" into as many conversations as possible. 

The Danes have mastered the hygge method and Christmas is a warm, joyful, occasion that lasts for the whole month of December and ending with the literal bang of fireworks on New Years Eve.

My host family helped build up to Christmas (Jul in Danish) through a wide array of seasonal traditions. Starting the on the first of December everyone across Denmark began the Advent calender for the countdown to Christmas. My family bought me chocolate calender that only lasted til the 12th and every night we plopped down on the couch with a cup of tea and watched the yearly "Julekalender" which is a traditional Danish tv program that is usually geared toward children and involves something along the lines of saving Christmas. This years involved Santa a light house, a transparent villain, and twins. 

Perhaps my most favorite aspect of the season was the food. In the midst of December evenings, we dined on Æbleskiver and Gløgg. Æbleskiver are basically little balls of dough and magic that are cooked on a special pan over the stove and served with powdered sugar and jam. Gløgg is a special alcoholic drink that is made of mulled wine and spices. Call me an American prude, but I still prefer my mother's nonalcoholic version. 

Juletræ

The warmth and magic of hygge bind the country together until the momentous 24th of December where the main festivities happen. I had purchased and wrapped all my presents hastily in newspaper and leftover ribbon in a true penniless exchange student fashion. We gathered in the car and headed over to my host parents' grandparents house. At around 6, we unbuckled our belts in preparation for the Christmas feast ahead of us. We dined on flæskesteg (pork with the crispy fat still attached), white potatoes, carmelized potatoes, red cabbage, and risalamande (rice porride) with a traditional cherry sauce on top. The risalamande is the food of my dreams. It tastes like everything good and holy left in the world smothered in the sweet decadence of the warm cherry sauce. The tradition with this dessert is to hide an almond within the bounds of the large porridge substance and whoever finds it in their bowl, wins a special prize and envy from all the other family members. Though I was not lucky enough to find it this year, I plan to bring an extra almond next time around.

After dinner we let our bellies hang in shame and danced around the Christmas tree. And by dance I mean slowly walk around and try to remember the words to the Danish Christmas carols. Next, we settled ourselves down into the main event of the evening- the gift giving. Surrounded by marzipan goodies and overflowing bags of gifts, each of the teenagers took turns in distributing gifts one at time to each person. It was a wonderful evening that truly embodied the essence of "hygge". I also came home with a fresh pair of seal gloves from Greenland, Danish cookbooks, and giftcards galore! 

The gracious gods of the Danish school system awarded us with about 3 weeks of Christmas break so after Christmas, I went into default mode. I devoured both the Christmas leftovers and Netflix offerings. Between Christmas and New Years, we traversed to family members houses for julefrokost (Christmas lunch consisting of the many open faced sandwich variations and fish) and social gatherings. I even defeated my innermost demons and ate pickled herring. I tried three variations of the fish just to find one that would hopefully taste better than the last while trying not to gag on the tiny comb like fish bones going down my throat. I concluded I could only stomach it when it was smothered in some kind of curry or sauce to stifle its original flavor.

Then, the day before New Years Eve, my host family sat me down and prepared me for the series of events that we transpire the next day.

Apparently Americans have been doing New Years Eve wrong for a while. In Denmark, the arrival of the new year is treated in a celebratory manner where everyone across the land dresses in their evening best and hosts parties that could rival those of Jay Gatsby. 

New Years Countdown with the family

At promptly 6 in the evening, we all gathered around in the television in our best clothing and watched Queen Margrethe II's annual New Year's speech. It was a splendid one with the usual grace and poise expected from a monarch. After that, we dined on a fabulous 5 course meal at home that consisted of shrimp tail, seasoned reindeer, culinary mashed potatoes, and for dessert: homemade meringues with ice cream and berries followed by chocolate covered marzipan cookies and champagne that were to be devoured when the clock struck 12. At midnight and within seconds of the new year, we rushed outside to see the sky blazened with fireworks. Nearly everyone in Denmark lit off their own fireworks and as a result the sky was lit up bright lights and spirals of smoke as far as the eye could see. Even the Swedes across the bay were going nuts. It was truly an experience that far surpassed any expectations I had of fireworks from America's own Fourth of July. Seriously, America, get it together.

And thus the holidays were concluded.

From then on, I spent the remainder of my vacation enlightening myself with various cultural outings, fervently studied the Danish Language hours on end, and overall improving myself as a person at the start of the new year. 

Ha. Just kidding. I spent the majority of my time watching 5 seasons of Rupaul's Drag Race and aquiring a vast new knowledge of drag queen culture. And I even went outside a few times. Mom would be so proud. 

An Ode to Denmark

As the air grows colder and trees dress more bare
My bicycle travels and cuts through cold air
December approaches in this foreign land
And I procrastinate on the blog post at hand

Last Sunday I moved to a new family
Its closer to school, with sisters of three.
Three as in quantity, not of age.
Shout out to the Palms on this page

I was walking back home late at night
With my death glare on and scarf wrapped tight
When I saw a dansk rider out on his bike
And then he upchucked in my line of strike

Miraculously he did so with ease
His throwup discarded as he swept on like a breeze

Thankfully I emerged without harm
And I made my way home, clean but alarmed

Such is a normal occurance at hand
For the Danes like to drink and bike in this land

Christmas approaches and my money runs thin
I guess I will have to just give out my pins
As an exchange student, my pins run abundant
I have brazillians ones by the hundred

Along with Christmas, Thanksgiving arrived,
Yesterday evening and my spirits thrived
On the turkey and stuffing on instagram
But resorted to crackers and leftover jam

While I'm rambling on I thought I should say
I went to see Gravity the other day
It was super good and I recommend it
Almost as shocking as the cost for the ticket

Everything here is twice as expensive 

So naturally shopping will make me defensive

But the brazen red logo of H&M beckons

Goodbye college fund, my wallet is a weapon.

A one eyed Danish cat for your viewing pleasure

Settling

I would to start this off by dedicating this following entry to my brother, Sam, who successfully pressured me to finally update the general public on the life and times of yours truly.

PROCRASTINATION

My well known enemy has seeped into my system and plagued me to read 2 books (Haunted by Chuck Palahnuik and Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins) as well as watching all 5 series of Breaking Bad before I even thought of writing my next blog post. It's a horrible disease, but I'm trying to fight it. I've also been a little busy traveling, exploring and experiencing the wonders of Denmark.

After almost 2 and a half months here, I can finally say I've adjusted to my new lifestyle. I've tackled the public bus system as well as my 5 mile bike ride to school every day. The once foreign, guttural noises of Danish conversation is now finally resembling a language as I learn a few new words every day. As with learning any foreign language, I'm a long way off from comfortably speaking but if you ask me dead simple questions in a painfully slow drawl, I will be able to answer proudly and in horrible pronunciation.

I've been blessed with a wonderful host family with a wonderful refrigerator as well as close proximity to my small, cozy, seaside town and the bustling action of Copenhagen which is only a bus ride away. I've adjusted my clothing to the traditional Danish ensemble of all black clothing, tights, layers, and a stone cold facial expression to top it all off. It's a mix between a constant mugshot and almost crying, but not quite. Here's a picture of me pulling it off flawlessly:

But its moments where I'm waiting in line at the local Netto to buy my first celebratory jar of exchange student Nutella or when I'm walking down the street and trip over a cobblestone older than the United State that I am hit with the sudden realization I'm in a foreign country. I actually have the opportunity to live in Europe for a year where the evidence of World War II is just down my street and the health care is free! That cliche "pinch me" feeling is very real and hits me when I least expect it. 

Last week, our school had the first of its many vacations and us students were awarded a week long, fall break. It was a wonderful escape from the daily Danish grind. I was fortunate enough to explore some of Copenhagen's happiest places (both for different reasons): Tivoli and Christiana.

Tivoli is situated in the center of Copenhagen and is one of the oldest amusement parks in the world. Its colorful rollercoasters swoop over the city skyline and the smell of joy, caramel apples, and baked, greasy goods can be smelled from miles away. I had been waiting patiently for my golden ticket past its sweeping gates so I could finally experience the wonders within. 

So I was overjoyed when my Host mother offered to take me and my host sisters there for the day. Once inside, you could say all of my wildest dreams came true. The place was decked out for Halloween with vibrant fairy tale elements combined with the fantastic Danish Design element. Aside from the rides itself, I was drawn to every detail and the wonderfully unique graphic design that adorned every building and ride. I even managed the unthinkable and rode a rollercoaster for the first time. Judging all my limbs are still intact, I would call it a success. Disney has nothing on this place. 

Me and my host sisters at Tivoli

The next day we embarked to a different sort of paradise. A self-proclaimed autonomous community called Christiania situated on a deserted military base in Copenhagen. The place is like the island of misfit toys only for the actual hippie misfits of Danish society. Christiania was founded in the early 1970s after a few inhabitants of the surrounding areas broke down through the fence to utilize the unused space as a playground for their children and later a free spirited home away from the constraints of society. Nowadays the place is a popular tourist attraction for its free flowing marijuana and hippie ideals. There are no cars or even taxes for its residents but community members abide by self established laws that keep the place civil. Sadly, there is a strict no-camera policy so you must suffice by my crude descriptions. The whole place was like nothing I had ever seen before. It seemed like an ongoing art installation as sculpture and graffiti were meshed into the former military bullocks and landscape. Off of the mainstreet, there were a variety of twisting paths that brought you down to a beautiful lake where makeshift houses dotted the shoreline. From my understanding it was only recently that running water and electricity were made accessible to these houses. It was surprisingly serene as dread-locked citizens rode past on bicycles. For a 40 year old social experiment, I would say its working out pretty nicely. 

Anyway, if you've made it this far down the page, I congratulate you. Also putting it out there I am currently accepting care packages of peanut butter and American cereal. Cinnamon Toast Crunch preferred, but I'm not picky. Until next time.  

The Arrival

Well, for starters, I'm alive. I've finally made it. After months of preparation, long mirror-filled pep-talks, and repetitive explanations of the Rotary Exchange Program, I've finally taken the leap into a foreign country for a year. My online presence has been mostly silent except for the occasional unflattering Snapchats and daily emails from my mother (shout out to Jayne Harding for her eternal love and commitment to finally agree to make a Skype account).

Copenhagen!

I've tried to let the Danish experience fully permeate my wellbeing before I took to the ol' blog. At first I promised myself I would write something a week after I arrived here. That turned into two weeks and then three. . . . and now I have buckled down for my one month anniversary in Denmark. Cheers.

I left the airport in Green Bay at 5:30 pm, waving goodbye to the tiny monopoly houses and even tinier Packer flags down below as I ascended into the sky. I was feeling both excitement and sadness for saying goodbye to my family but also for having my two sacred jars of peanut butter confiscated at security. I guess peanut butter is a clear red flag for plane hijackers. My first connection was at the Minneapolis airport where I met with the other Midwestern students headed for Denmark. The actual 8 hour flight to Europe sent my legs into a painful solidified state only compensated by the wide selection of movies and TV shows available on the six inch screen one foot away from my face (shout-out to Ryan Gosling for making the flight bearable in The Place Beyond the Pines. Also shout-out to Bradley Cooper for making me fall asleep for the second half of the movie).

Once I finally arrived and realized I would not have to recreate the first season of Lost through a deadly plane crash, I was overjoyed to arrive in the Copenhagen airport. Immediately I was overtaken by the sea of blonde. I made my way through the crowd of beautiful Scandinavians to find my luggage and meet the wonderful strangers who would be giving me food and shelter for the next three months. Fueled by four hours of sleep over the thirty hour span I had been traveling, my first host family greeted me with flowers and warm Danish smiles.

When people ask me the most drastic difference between Denmark and the United States, it is easily the swarms of the attractiveness that make up the majority of the population here. I think it has something to do with the drinking water. At first I would do constant double takes while walking down the street as I passed
another tall, thin, blonde, trendy, attractive Dane. Now I've grown used to it. Just another Alexander Skarsgård look-alike will pass me on a bicycle like its the norm'.

But that's another thing: BIKES.

Biking is huge here. Everyone bikes. You cannot be Danish if you don't bike. I swear that children come out of the womb on tiny infant tricycles, ready to make their first few peddles into the scenic Danish landscape. At the moment I am still trying to navigate the biking laws here- as well as getting used to the fact that pedestrians do NOT have the right of way, rather they should watch out for bikes. I am almost sure there are more bikes than people here.

As I babble on, perhaps I should cover the essential information on my exchange before I go in depth on the science of salty licorice (hint, that's big here).

I will be staying with three families; the first one living in the town of Dragør, an absolutely beautiful coastal fisherman village 10 minutes south of Copenhagen. Its beauty and European appeal is enough to make any non-local break into song as they walk down the cobblestone steps and through the tiny alleys of 17th century houses. The surrounding landscape is made up of humble farmland and suburban stretch. At times my bus route will evoke memories of the many fields and farms in Wisconsin but then I pass a church or village that transcends America's earliest buildings by 200 years. The history is abundant and I'm loving it. 

Dragør!

If you haven't caught on yet, the language they speak here is Danish (no, not Dutch, Dad). The best description of its linguistic beauty would be to imagine the Swedish Chef gargling a potato. Oh the sweet guttering symphonies of the Danish language. Luckily, almost everyone speaks English here which makes communication much more easier for me. Unfortunately but realistically, I will have to learn Danish. I did not move to a foreign country for a year to be cushioned by the English language. I wanted to challenge myself and make an effort in learning a new language. At the moment I am at a toddler level of communication, but even that is an overstatement. I have a few phrases and swear words up my sleeve but for some reason the moment never arises to use the Danish word for "potato" and various cutlery in conversation. Thankfully, smiling and nodding can get you a surprisingly far.

I am currently enrolled and attending Tårnby Gymnasium which is about 800 students more than Gibraltar. The biggest difference between the school systems in Denmark and the United States would be the greater overall freedom and consequently responsibility given to students here. If you want to leave class you can leave class, no questions asked. Students are responsible for their own learning and participation rather than having a teacher breathing down their back, making sure they are off Facebook. The classes are divided into "tracks" where you can choose between more interest-based classes. I am currently in the "Politics, History, and Media" track where I've mastered the art of pretending I can easily understand the lecture on Denmark's foreign policy methods in Danish while secretly crying on the inside. I'm still waiting for the morning I wake up totally fluent. Maybe I should put more Danish dictionaries under my pillow in hopes the knowledge seeps through my brain during my REM cycle.

One could liken me to a black bear during hibernation. I've never slept so much in my life or bumbled around clueless in public. In conclusion, this first month was a whirlwind of new experiences that have already changed my outlook on the world. I long for my sweet, sweet, American peanut butter (and the obligatory friends and family) but the licorice is almost as good. Until next time. 

Rainbow Panorama Magic in Aarhus

The Beginning

And so it begins. At the moment I am a young sapling from the rural tourist valley of Door County,Wisconsin. In less than one week, I will be embarking to the other side of the world to live a year abroad in the Scandinavian landscape in Denmark. (If you were sleeping in Geography class, Denmark is the weird growth sticking off of Germany's upper region.)

So to get all the standard information out of the way:

Name: Shelby Kahr
From: Ellison Bay, Wisconsin, United States
Going to: Denmark
When: 5 days
Duration: about 11 months
Program: Rotary Youth Exchange (I will be staying with 3 families)
Interests: Art, traveling, reading, eating, sleeping, watching Milo & Otis
Nervous: yes.
Why Denmark: I love the Scandinavian culture and was drawn to explore my Danish heritage. Plus I REALLY like Salty Licorice. That may have been the biggest factor in my decision making process. 

My original environment can be classified as rural. Growing up, I endured the hour long bus ride to school where I was often overcome by bus smells and spitballs. I've gone to school with same 50 kids since kindergarten and the closest reach to American civilization is an hour away in the town (city by my standards) of Sturgeon Bay, home to our beloved Super Walmart. The town I'm going to in Denmark is 15 minutes away from Copenhagen and 30 minutes away from Sweden. This modern accessibility is mind-boggling by my standards and fills me with excitement. 

I've been relishing my last few days with packing, visiting with friends, and overall laziness knowing that soon my brain would be exploding with culture shock and inaccurate danish translations. Just the other day I visited the county fair with my friends. I was comforted by the sights and smells of animal manure and heart attack-inducing fried goods. It was at the very top of the Ferris wheel that I could spy the humble glow of the Super Walmart just across strip mall stretch. It's neon lights reminded me of the home I was leaving behind  while readying for my adventure ahead. While the cheese, Midwestern friendliness, and ubiquitous Packer memorabilia will be sorely missed, I am looking forward to my new Scandinavian home 4,188 miles away.  

Typical day in Wisconsin. (Family Portrait)