I had forgotten how hard it is to leave, to say goodbye, and how much I hate packing up my life into two suitcases (leaving Star is so much easier because I don't have that stress). It didn't hit me until this evening when I was packing; this afternoon I was enjoying the beautiful and unseasonal weather as I did some last minute shopping in town, and I knew it would be the last I see of that city for a very long time and so I took pictures to document it but I didn't feel it. Now the only reason I'm not feeling "the end" is because I won't let myself; if I did, I would be unable to concentrate on the necessary packing (which I can't do anyway but I'll somehow get it done).
I made new friends last night—bad timing on my part, really. Knowing you're leaving and may never see people again is very liberating, but sad when you meet people you do want to see again. But, so it is. I feel like that's kind of been the story of my life for the past week.
For fire måneder siden, I arrived in this country, exhausted and overwhelmed. In that time, I've learned a bit of a language and a lot of the culture, particularly the political culture. As Jacob said, "we now think like Danes." I haven't found the answers I was looking for, but I understand the way the world, and certain states and cultures, work a little better now. I have a sense of the differences and the whys and the consequences. I have a deeper understanding of racism, particularly as it pertains to a European context. I have a greater appreciation for my own traditions, and a new perspective on my rights. I have more respect for respect. Et cetera, et cetera.
Here I am, again exhausted and overwhelmed, though not quite as much, about to return to the land of the free and the home of the brave, where everything is so much bigger and busier. But I know an old mantra, that I've never failed to stick to, which makes leaving easier: I will come back. I will come back. I will come back. It's not quite sacred ground, but here, in the gentle arms of familien Nissen, jeg er hjemme.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
seasons greetings from the christians and the pagans
I was shocked to learn the other day that most Danes are completely oblivious to the pagan roots of their Christmas celebration. At the DIS Julefrokost there was a quiz competition, and one of the multiple choice questions asked "Why is Christmas celebrated on December 25th?" Answers were along the lines of "That's when Jesus was born," "The Bible says to celebrate then," "That's when Christmas trees are in season," and what was, to me at least the obvious answer, "To compete with a traditional pagan holiday." It didn't help that the Danes at my table were unfamiliar with the word "pagan," which I explained to them as pre-Christian, but when I told them that was the correct answer, they took it as new information. My worldly Danish teacher is well aware of the pagan origins of the Danish "Jul;" she pointed out in class one day that the Danes still use the old name for the holiday, which lacks any direct reference to Christianity, unlike "Christmas." Yet maybe this is part of the reason they are so ignorant of the pagan celebration: Jul=Jesus's birthday—the Christians successfully commandeered the old Nordic solstice festival.
This being said, Danish Protestant Christianity and Danish Jul, in their present forms, must be explained. There is no separation of church and state in Denmark; in fact, to not be a member of the official church, one has to opt-out on one's birth certificate. For this reason, about 98% of Danes are members of the national Christian church, yet only about 2% regularly attend services. Most people do go to church for Christmas and Easter, as a part of tradition, though not all. My host family, for instance, does not; however, my host siblings were confirmed. I really don't understand why Danes bother to get confirmed, because they'll probably never go to church again until their funeral, but they do nonetheless. Despite this, the Danes are a very skeptical people. In a sense, they can't understand the devoutness that limits the ability of some Muslims to integrate. The idea of putting religion first is a foreign concept. I don't know what the general stance is on the existence of God, except that they would say "Jeg tror på Gud," which expresses an opinion or belief that is not based on experience. I think (jeg tror), though, that no one would be presumptuous enough to say ultimately whether there is or isn't a God.
Although Jul may be the one time each year most Danes get themselves to church, and plenty of songs refer to the birth of Jesus, the celebration really has very little to do with Christianity. Tivoli is one such example - I don't know of any greater concentration of holiday decorations and lights. And hidden among the evergreens and nisser (elves) and hearts and lights there actually is a nativity. I was somewhat surprised to stumble upon it the first time I was at Jul i Tivoli, and except for the fact that I went out of my way to point it out to friends on future visits, they never would have seen it. There are such occasional, subtle religious references, but for the most part Jul is a holiday of gløgg and æbleskiver, nisser,
Julemanden (Santa Clause), hearts, flags (and the colors red and white in general), and of course, LIGHTS. The streets and stores of København have been decorated since November, making the city an especially beautiful and happy place after dark. And given that it's pitch black outside by 4 pm, the little pick-me-up given by the sight of the lit-up city is important for mental health. Slowly but surely, as the days get darker, the festivity increases--Tuborg releases their Christmas beer in early November, Tivoli opens a little later, by the end of the month Nyhavn Jul Market is open as well and there's ice skating in Kongens Nytorv, and in early December the Christmas tree in Rådhuspladsen is lit following a grand parade. Holiday festivities and lights run throughout the month of December, with Christmas dinners at every workplace, calendar candles lit every month and advent wreaths lit every Sunday, and packet calendars (Advent calendars)
of little gifts to make waking up easier on dark mornings. These festivities are not about Jesus--they are about getting through the dark time, about making the dark days brighter. The decorations, the celebrations, the lights, they all respond to something innately human, a need older than Christianity, a need older than even the Vikings.
This festive spirit transcend religion. But as Christianity has co-opted it, the question remains, how do the non-Christians, in Denmark the 2% who are sure to opt-out of the state religion, relate to this season? How do they brighten their darkening days? I have heard that Chabad sets up a menorah in Axeltorv, as is their right, though some of the more integrated Jews aren't too happy about it. There are, additionally, though of no religious significance, Stars of David among the decorations about one of the streets downtown. In this country of freedom of speech and religion, it would be impossible, politically, (ludicrous even) to argue that the Christmas spirit is oppressive, and that other holidays deserve equal representation. How then do those who identify as Jewish or Muslim or Hindu relate to this time of year? The darkness is omnipresent, though not something their religious tradition is used to in such extremes. Do they join in the Jul celebrations? I'm sure some do, just as some American Jews have a Christmas tree. Celebrating Hanukkah can easily be incorporated into Danish life, and very discretely—for 8 days, you light some more candles on a certain candlelabra and say a prayer, and maybe you have another or just a shorter pakke-calendar for the kids. But this raises questions about Hanukkah—this festival of lights also falls as days get darker; as I said before, the darkness is not felt as much is Israel as in Denmark, but I have to wonder, did those 8 days really fall around this time of year, or was this time of year connected with the holiday because it was most useful around the solstice? The answers to my questions are probably available from some knowledgable source, but for now I'm happy just to muse.
From a northern hemispheric perspective, I conclude, when it comes down to it we're all still celebrating the solstice, and doing what we can to get through December. Christianity and consumerism have both managed to co-opt the holiday. I think it's time we reclaim and depoliticize Jul. Light candles, eat food, decorate the house with stars and hearts and snowflakes and symbols of life (such as an evergreen tree, perhaps) and whatever you damn well please, even religious symbols if you like. Sing songs, be they about snowmen or Jesus or the sun goddess—it's the spirit that you sing them in that matters most. I think the Hortons have it right when they follow their solstice celebration with Xmas caroling. The one rule should be, whatever your religion or belief system or philosophical inclination, have a good time, be festive, and do what it takes to get you through this darkening time.
This being said, Danish Protestant Christianity and Danish Jul, in their present forms, must be explained. There is no separation of church and state in Denmark; in fact, to not be a member of the official church, one has to opt-out on one's birth certificate. For this reason, about 98% of Danes are members of the national Christian church, yet only about 2% regularly attend services. Most people do go to church for Christmas and Easter, as a part of tradition, though not all. My host family, for instance, does not; however, my host siblings were confirmed. I really don't understand why Danes bother to get confirmed, because they'll probably never go to church again until their funeral, but they do nonetheless. Despite this, the Danes are a very skeptical people. In a sense, they can't understand the devoutness that limits the ability of some Muslims to integrate. The idea of putting religion first is a foreign concept. I don't know what the general stance is on the existence of God, except that they would say "Jeg tror på Gud," which expresses an opinion or belief that is not based on experience. I think (jeg tror), though, that no one would be presumptuous enough to say ultimately whether there is or isn't a God.
Although Jul may be the one time each year most Danes get themselves to church, and plenty of songs refer to the birth of Jesus, the celebration really has very little to do with Christianity. Tivoli is one such example - I don't know of any greater concentration of holiday decorations and lights. And hidden among the evergreens and nisser (elves) and hearts and lights there actually is a nativity. I was somewhat surprised to stumble upon it the first time I was at Jul i Tivoli, and except for the fact that I went out of my way to point it out to friends on future visits, they never would have seen it. There are such occasional, subtle religious references, but for the most part Jul is a holiday of gløgg and æbleskiver, nisser,
Julemanden (Santa Clause), hearts, flags (and the colors red and white in general), and of course, LIGHTS. The streets and stores of København have been decorated since November, making the city an especially beautiful and happy place after dark. And given that it's pitch black outside by 4 pm, the little pick-me-up given by the sight of the lit-up city is important for mental health. Slowly but surely, as the days get darker, the festivity increases--Tuborg releases their Christmas beer in early November, Tivoli opens a little later, by the end of the month Nyhavn Jul Market is open as well and there's ice skating in Kongens Nytorv, and in early December the Christmas tree in Rådhuspladsen is lit following a grand parade. Holiday festivities and lights run throughout the month of December, with Christmas dinners at every workplace, calendar candles lit every month and advent wreaths lit every Sunday, and packet calendars (Advent calendars)
of little gifts to make waking up easier on dark mornings. These festivities are not about Jesus--they are about getting through the dark time, about making the dark days brighter. The decorations, the celebrations, the lights, they all respond to something innately human, a need older than Christianity, a need older than even the Vikings.
This festive spirit transcend religion. But as Christianity has co-opted it, the question remains, how do the non-Christians, in Denmark the 2% who are sure to opt-out of the state religion, relate to this season? How do they brighten their darkening days? I have heard that Chabad sets up a menorah in Axeltorv, as is their right, though some of the more integrated Jews aren't too happy about it. There are, additionally, though of no religious significance, Stars of David among the decorations about one of the streets downtown. In this country of freedom of speech and religion, it would be impossible, politically, (ludicrous even) to argue that the Christmas spirit is oppressive, and that other holidays deserve equal representation. How then do those who identify as Jewish or Muslim or Hindu relate to this time of year? The darkness is omnipresent, though not something their religious tradition is used to in such extremes. Do they join in the Jul celebrations? I'm sure some do, just as some American Jews have a Christmas tree. Celebrating Hanukkah can easily be incorporated into Danish life, and very discretely—for 8 days, you light some more candles on a certain candlelabra and say a prayer, and maybe you have another or just a shorter pakke-calendar for the kids. But this raises questions about Hanukkah—this festival of lights also falls as days get darker; as I said before, the darkness is not felt as much is Israel as in Denmark, but I have to wonder, did those 8 days really fall around this time of year, or was this time of year connected with the holiday because it was most useful around the solstice? The answers to my questions are probably available from some knowledgable source, but for now I'm happy just to muse.
From a northern hemispheric perspective, I conclude, when it comes down to it we're all still celebrating the solstice, and doing what we can to get through December. Christianity and consumerism have both managed to co-opt the holiday. I think it's time we reclaim and depoliticize Jul. Light candles, eat food, decorate the house with stars and hearts and snowflakes and symbols of life (such as an evergreen tree, perhaps) and whatever you damn well please, even religious symbols if you like. Sing songs, be they about snowmen or Jesus or the sun goddess—it's the spirit that you sing them in that matters most. I think the Hortons have it right when they follow their solstice celebration with Xmas caroling. The one rule should be, whatever your religion or belief system or philosophical inclination, have a good time, be festive, and do what it takes to get you through this darkening time.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
just keep swimming
Thoreau (or was it Emerson- all I know is I spent way too much time on both of them in my Am Lit class) said something about how you shouldn't travel, there is more than enough unexplored territory in your own mind and your own backyard. I have two main critiques to this: 1) sometimes traveling abroad is the best way to explore one's own mind, and 2) anyone who sits around all day in a cabin in the woods just exploring his own thoughts would go mad if he wasn't already crazy when he started.
That being said, I could spend time in any of the places I've lived and never cease to find new and interesting things. There is so much of New York I have yet to explore. Of New Jersey, too, even, though I suppose most people would think that's a waste of time. I have barely set foot in Minneapolis and St. Paul, even though they are not that far from Northfield. As for in Northfield itself, there is much of the Arb that has yet to be seen by these eyes. Perhaps Star Island, due to its limited size, is the place I know best, but just think of how many new places I discovered this past summer, plus I still need to visit the rest of the islands. Here in Denmark, there are parts of Copenhagen I am completely unfamiliar with, and parts of the country I will not get to visit (notably Southern Jutland and Fyn), despite the fact that I could probably fit this entire little country in my back pocket. And yet despite all these places so close to me where there is so much left to discover, I keep moving, making the list of places I know but not completely longer and longer.
And it's not that I don't know where I'm going or where I've been or who I am and so I just keep going forward hoping to figure that out. I mean, it's true I don't know where I'm going but I certainly know where I've been and have a pretty good sense of who I am. So now it's just inertia and antsiness and the fact that NOW is the time when I have the opportunity to go everywhere and do anything so I might as well keep moving. It's true, when I'm old I might have another opportunity, but I can't count on that. So I'm off and there's no looking back (except for the fact that I look back all the time) but every once and a while I just want to stop and root my feet in and just live rather than have experiences. But now is not the time for that, and some day I expect to be wishing for the opposite.
In other news:
1) Jul i København is lovely (and incredibly pagan), but I miss Christmas in New York
2) I am officially living in Davis 207 next term. Apparently I'll even get floor life this year! Maybe we'll have a broomball team!
3) I have been accepted to volunteer at Buduburam Liberian Refugee Camp in Ghana this summer. I must now decide if I think this particular program is the best choice for me.
4) In exactly two weeks I will be on an airplane bound for Newark, NJ. Two weeks is actually a pretty long time.
That being said, I could spend time in any of the places I've lived and never cease to find new and interesting things. There is so much of New York I have yet to explore. Of New Jersey, too, even, though I suppose most people would think that's a waste of time. I have barely set foot in Minneapolis and St. Paul, even though they are not that far from Northfield. As for in Northfield itself, there is much of the Arb that has yet to be seen by these eyes. Perhaps Star Island, due to its limited size, is the place I know best, but just think of how many new places I discovered this past summer, plus I still need to visit the rest of the islands. Here in Denmark, there are parts of Copenhagen I am completely unfamiliar with, and parts of the country I will not get to visit (notably Southern Jutland and Fyn), despite the fact that I could probably fit this entire little country in my back pocket. And yet despite all these places so close to me where there is so much left to discover, I keep moving, making the list of places I know but not completely longer and longer.
And it's not that I don't know where I'm going or where I've been or who I am and so I just keep going forward hoping to figure that out. I mean, it's true I don't know where I'm going but I certainly know where I've been and have a pretty good sense of who I am. So now it's just inertia and antsiness and the fact that NOW is the time when I have the opportunity to go everywhere and do anything so I might as well keep moving. It's true, when I'm old I might have another opportunity, but I can't count on that. So I'm off and there's no looking back (except for the fact that I look back all the time) but every once and a while I just want to stop and root my feet in and just live rather than have experiences. But now is not the time for that, and some day I expect to be wishing for the opposite.
In other news:
1) Jul i København is lovely (and incredibly pagan), but I miss Christmas in New York
2) I am officially living in Davis 207 next term. Apparently I'll even get floor life this year! Maybe we'll have a broomball team!
3) I have been accepted to volunteer at Buduburam Liberian Refugee Camp in Ghana this summer. I must now decide if I think this particular program is the best choice for me.
4) In exactly two weeks I will be on an airplane bound for Newark, NJ. Two weeks is actually a pretty long time.
Friday, December 01, 2006
World AIDS Day
Not much to say, except that I love this country: In the Name of God
Excerpts from press release:
"They will bomb back sexual education and ban information on contraception that they see as an invitation to voluptuousness. In the same token the Roman Catholic church asserts that contraption is impermissible according to the biblical doctrines, so they advocate the absurd allegation that only ‘unprotected sex’ is admissible. The consequences may be disastrous for the proliferation of AIDS an STD’s and so the result will be increased suffering"
"It is important for the church to join this art manifestation to emphasize that the Bible should not be used to preach against contraception, but on the contrary churches everywhere should join the efforts to combat the proliferation of HIV and display compassion and solidarity with those infected and their families."
P.S. In the mean time, this is the situation in the US: Abstinence Education for Adults
Excerpts from press release:
"They will bomb back sexual education and ban information on contraception that they see as an invitation to voluptuousness. In the same token the Roman Catholic church asserts that contraption is impermissible according to the biblical doctrines, so they advocate the absurd allegation that only ‘unprotected sex’ is admissible. The consequences may be disastrous for the proliferation of AIDS an STD’s and so the result will be increased suffering"
"It is important for the church to join this art manifestation to emphasize that the Bible should not be used to preach against contraception, but on the contrary churches everywhere should join the efforts to combat the proliferation of HIV and display compassion and solidarity with those infected and their families."
P.S. In the mean time, this is the situation in the US: Abstinence Education for Adults
Monday, November 27, 2006
the teddy bears' picnic
I went into the woods today, Hareskoven, for the first time I've been here, despite the fact that it's only a block away. It's been a lazy weekend, and today was cloudy but warm and dry, the perfect opportunity to go on a walk before finals and winter sneak in. I didn't wander too far, for fear of getting lost and then having it get dark, as it does at an absurdly early hour these days. But it was really nice. Sometimes I took a main trail, other times a lightly trodden footpath, and sometimes I just wandered amongst the trees on a soft bed of fallen leaves. There were a good number of people in the woods today, mostly families with kids, but the adorable Danish kids just made me smile; they did not detract in any way from the peacefulness and 'naturalness' of the forest. It was so calming and relaxing and beautiful. I took my camera and my journal with me, and made good use of both.Despite the warm weather (around 50° F), Christmas is in full bloom in Denmark. I went to three Christmas markets on Saturday. I find a lot of the merchandise to be a bit too Christmas-y - there's not much you can by to use any other time of year - but it's fun and festive. I haven't bought any Christmas presents yet (first I need to get throughbirthdayss in my host family-Siv's is tomorrow), but I'll get around to it. All the Christmas stuff is a bit overwhelming, but the lights everywhere certainly brighten the dark afternoons. There's a practical purpose to starting the Christmas festivities and decorating so soon--this would otherwise be a very depressing time of year.
Now that I've finished the bulk of my academic work here (besides finals), I've been thinking about what comes next. I will certainly be sad to leave this remarkable place, but it will be nice to be back in the states, to see friends and family and be surrounded by a language I understand (Oh, to know what is going on around me!), etc. I'm also pretty set on going to Africa this summer; I filled in a preliminary application to volunteer for two months at a Liberian refugee camp in Ghana. We'll see what happens there, but somehow or another I will end up volunteering or interning in Africa. I feel so ignorant in my dreams of Africa-I'm not interested in a certain place or problem, I'm just this privileged little white girl who thinks she can somehow make a difference on that poor, war-ravaged continent. But I'm tired of academia and the thought that some day I'll make a difference with the things that I've learned. I need to get into the field and put the knowledge and skills I do have, now, to work. I need to do something with my hands and my heart, and not just my head. And this is the time in my life to start.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Glædelig Kalkun Dag
My Thanksgiving this year combined the best of both worlds: good ol' Danish "hygge" and traditional American face-stuffing. Min far made his pumpkin soup when my parents were here last week (was it only last week?) so we started off with that, as usual. Then a nice Danish salad, and then the tidal wave of food. The turkey was delicious, the stuffing was stuffing, the sweet potatoes didn't have enough butter or maple syrup but were tasty nonetheless, the Brussels sprouts were rosenkål, the cranberry sauce was perfectly tart, and very few of the plain old boiled potatoes were eaten (am I forgetting anything? I don't think so.) Less dishes than usual, but less people too. We all ate very heartily, so there were surprisingly few leftovers; still the refridgerator is bursting at the seams. We took a break to dance and play some Danish Pictionary Junior, and then dessert. I made my chocolate cheesecake with a brunkager (gingersnap) crust. For some reason the cake was denser and sweeter than usual, but still absolutely delicious. We also had homemade pumpkin pie and whipped cream, to top everything off. It was a feast of food, a tradition transported, a family festival, a hearty hygge. You get the point.
And now, my papers are finished, my stomach is full, and I have had a delightfully hyggeligt aften. There is MUCH to be thankful for.
And now, my papers are finished, my stomach is full, and I have had a delightfully hyggeligt aften. There is MUCH to be thankful for.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
there and back again
It's good to be back in Copenhagen. Fall is fully in swing now (actually, the Christmas season has already started), but it's warmer than Bucharest and Bratislava and dryer and more pleasant than Athens. 
During the past two weeks, the only sunny days were ones I spent in airports and on airplanes. Despite the cold and rain, I still had a fabulous time. In Athens, I explored the Acropolis and other ruins (for free, as a student in Denmark) and went to the beach, where the water was warm but I would have died if I went swimming because the air was so cold and wet and windy. What stood out most about the Acropolis was the broken umbrellas, more than the ancient ruins that I was too cold to really enjoy and appreciate. 
Still, I was very much aware of the history around me as I stood on a weathered, rocky outcropping at the base of the Acropolis overlooking the city. It really made me realize that for all that history repeats itself, for all that things can be restored or recreated, nothing will ever be the same.
Bucharest is bleak and sad, in a very post-communist sense, I think. At the same time, it felt surprisingly familiar and safe, especially inside of restaurants and cafes and museums. There were definitely many happy people, but I did notice one ride on the Metro when everyone in our car looked glum and sad. There were plenty of nice buildings falling apart, with yards in disarray. And the amount of neon billboards is almost astounding, and all for international corporations. It's hard to find Romanian beers to try, because pretty much all the restaurants and bars serve Carlsberg and Tuborg. I wish I knew more about recent Romanian history, because the city seems very unsure of its identity. They love the French, and recently unveiled a statue of Charles de Gaulle, who really has no relevance whatsover to the city or country. However, I can see Bucharest being the next Berlin in 15 years. It felt perfectly safe to walk around, at least with someone else, despite all the grafitti and buildings in disrepair, except when we had luggage. Walking out of the airport Dan and I were accosted by illegitimate taxi drivers trying to rip us off. The same happened when we walked by the train station on our way to our hostel. In general, people weren't particularly helpful. A woman who worked at the airport claimed there was no ATM. One young woman who spoke English helped us at first, but when she missed the first bus to town because she was confused about where to catch it, she stopped talking to us completely.
Dan and I expected a similar experience when we got off the plane in Bratislava, but instead we felt a welcome return to the
European Union. Everything was clean and in good condition. The cold wet rain we had been experiencing farther south turned into dryer and more fun snow. Bratislava is like a smaller, cheaper, less tourist-filled Prague. The clean streets are filled with random statues, there are enough places of interest to fill more than a day, and a full night out (dinner and drinks) for two can cost about 20 dollars. Basically, Bratislava is a hidden gem of Central Eastern Europe.
Dan and I had a snowball fight and built mini snowmen at the castle.
My parents come on Thursday(!!!) so I get to be a tourist again, this time in Wonderful Copenhagen. I'm excited to go to museums and eat at restaurants. Until then, I'm locking myself away to write a paper.
During the past two weeks, the only sunny days were ones I spent in airports and on airplanes. Despite the cold and rain, I still had a fabulous time. In Athens, I explored the Acropolis and other ruins (for free, as a student in Denmark) and went to the beach, where the water was warm but I would have died if I went swimming because the air was so cold and wet and windy. What stood out most about the Acropolis was the broken umbrellas, more than the ancient ruins that I was too cold to really enjoy and appreciate. 
Still, I was very much aware of the history around me as I stood on a weathered, rocky outcropping at the base of the Acropolis overlooking the city. It really made me realize that for all that history repeats itself, for all that things can be restored or recreated, nothing will ever be the same.
Bucharest is bleak and sad, in a very post-communist sense, I think. At the same time, it felt surprisingly familiar and safe, especially inside of restaurants and cafes and museums. There were definitely many happy people, but I did notice one ride on the Metro when everyone in our car looked glum and sad. There were plenty of nice buildings falling apart, with yards in disarray. And the amount of neon billboards is almost astounding, and all for international corporations. It's hard to find Romanian beers to try, because pretty much all the restaurants and bars serve Carlsberg and Tuborg. I wish I knew more about recent Romanian history, because the city seems very unsure of its identity. They love the French, and recently unveiled a statue of Charles de Gaulle, who really has no relevance whatsover to the city or country. However, I can see Bucharest being the next Berlin in 15 years. It felt perfectly safe to walk around, at least with someone else, despite all the grafitti and buildings in disrepair, except when we had luggage. Walking out of the airport Dan and I were accosted by illegitimate taxi drivers trying to rip us off. The same happened when we walked by the train station on our way to our hostel. In general, people weren't particularly helpful. A woman who worked at the airport claimed there was no ATM. One young woman who spoke English helped us at first, but when she missed the first bus to town because she was confused about where to catch it, she stopped talking to us completely.Dan and I expected a similar experience when we got off the plane in Bratislava, but instead we felt a welcome return to the
European Union. Everything was clean and in good condition. The cold wet rain we had been experiencing farther south turned into dryer and more fun snow. Bratislava is like a smaller, cheaper, less tourist-filled Prague. The clean streets are filled with random statues, there are enough places of interest to fill more than a day, and a full night out (dinner and drinks) for two can cost about 20 dollars. Basically, Bratislava is a hidden gem of Central Eastern Europe.
Dan and I had a snowball fight and built mini snowmen at the castle.My parents come on Thursday(!!!) so I get to be a tourist again, this time in Wonderful Copenhagen. I'm excited to go to museums and eat at restaurants. Until then, I'm locking myself away to write a paper.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
North by Southwest
After a brief respite in Copenhagen, I headed north to Bergen, Norway. It was a cloudy day, but as my plane broke through the clouds on its descent, I discovered I was going to heaven. For one, the hilly, rocky islands and slopes of the fjords only accentuated the bleak flatness of Denmark. But honestly, my train ride from Bergen to Oslo illuminated the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen in my entire life on this planet. Bergen is a cute little city worth visiting, but after everything I had seen, Oslo was kind of a letdown and way too expensive. There are some museums there that would be nice to visit, but my timing was off so instead I slept through most of my time in Oslo.
Madrid's a nice city, and my hosts were certain to make sure I had the necessary cultural experiences, though it's not someplace I feel I need to go back to. My hostel was loud, but the people in my room liked to sleep, and I met lots of nice people. I drank sangria and cider, ate paella, and had way too much tapas. I visited the Prado, home of Hieronymous Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights and too much religious art, the the Reina Sophia, a more interesting modern art museum that is home to Picasso's Guernica. I walked all around town, had a cafe con leche in the Retiro and a beer in Plaza Mayor. Despite two dinners that other people paid for and free tapas, it was an expensive trip since the Carleton contigency is used to eating out for lunch since they get most of the money in a stipend from Carleton to pay for it. It was very nice though to see and spend time with Ann and others from Carleton, and my Spanish friend Miguel that I met at French camp years ago.
From Madrid I flew to Cologne, the hub of discount airlines Germanwings. For all its randomness as a destination for me, Köln's a rather nice city, which a famous cathedral that miraculous survived WWII bombing right outside the doors of the train station. On Friday I went to the Chocolate Museum, which claims to be like Willy Wonka but is really just a museum about the history and production of chocolate, and does include some active chocolate making machinery and a glass elevator. The most impressive part of the museum, really, was the gift shop, with more flavors of chocolate products that I ever thought possible. I bought myself a Bio-Beer chocolate bar--an organic, fairtrade dark chocolate candy bar with a chocolate filling that has organic beer brandy. Fascinatingly delicious.
After the chocolate museum I headed south to the quaint old town of Oberwesel in the heart of the Rhine Valley to attend the fall retreat of the European Unitarian Universalists with Christopher. It was quite odd being a *conferee* of sorts, but a really enjoyable and relaxing time after all. Most of the attendees were expats and the children they've raised in Europe, though there were some honest-to-god Europeans among the crowd. Because of the ex-pat domination, the retreat had a very UUA feel, but with broader perspectives and a more international outlook. The guest speaker was Rev. Gordon Oliver from South Africa, who spoke on the theme of forgiveness and reconciliation. During the theme talk he discussed the steps he took to fight apartheid as mayor of Cape Town. The Sunday service took a more spiritual approach, and made me feel more connected to my faith here in Germany than I have been for the past two years in Minnesota and even on Star (which loses its religious affiliation somewhat when you work there). Sometimes you need to go far to find home. I had my first Samhain service since my youth group days, which was really nice. On Saturday afternoon I attended a workshop on international UU theology, and although I was rather critical of the New Zealeand theologian I had to present, I really liked what this one young Spanish theologian had to say about person-centered faith. The workshop in particular and the retreat overall made me much more aware of international Unitarian perspectives and standpoints. Still, in many ways this retreat could just have well have been in the states, yet I wonder what it's like to be a member of this religious minority in Europe. So many Americans have never heard of UUism, and the denomination is even smaller in most of Europe. Having retreats like this a couple times a year, even if there is often less than 100 attendees, most be really meaningful for the European UUs. It was pretty meaningful for me, as it is.
Madrid's a nice city, and my hosts were certain to make sure I had the necessary cultural experiences, though it's not someplace I feel I need to go back to. My hostel was loud, but the people in my room liked to sleep, and I met lots of nice people. I drank sangria and cider, ate paella, and had way too much tapas. I visited the Prado, home of Hieronymous Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights and too much religious art, the the Reina Sophia, a more interesting modern art museum that is home to Picasso's Guernica. I walked all around town, had a cafe con leche in the Retiro and a beer in Plaza Mayor. Despite two dinners that other people paid for and free tapas, it was an expensive trip since the Carleton contigency is used to eating out for lunch since they get most of the money in a stipend from Carleton to pay for it. It was very nice though to see and spend time with Ann and others from Carleton, and my Spanish friend Miguel that I met at French camp years ago.
From Madrid I flew to Cologne, the hub of discount airlines Germanwings. For all its randomness as a destination for me, Köln's a rather nice city, which a famous cathedral that miraculous survived WWII bombing right outside the doors of the train station. On Friday I went to the Chocolate Museum, which claims to be like Willy Wonka but is really just a museum about the history and production of chocolate, and does include some active chocolate making machinery and a glass elevator. The most impressive part of the museum, really, was the gift shop, with more flavors of chocolate products that I ever thought possible. I bought myself a Bio-Beer chocolate bar--an organic, fairtrade dark chocolate candy bar with a chocolate filling that has organic beer brandy. Fascinatingly delicious.
After the chocolate museum I headed south to the quaint old town of Oberwesel in the heart of the Rhine Valley to attend the fall retreat of the European Unitarian Universalists with Christopher. It was quite odd being a *conferee* of sorts, but a really enjoyable and relaxing time after all. Most of the attendees were expats and the children they've raised in Europe, though there were some honest-to-god Europeans among the crowd. Because of the ex-pat domination, the retreat had a very UUA feel, but with broader perspectives and a more international outlook. The guest speaker was Rev. Gordon Oliver from South Africa, who spoke on the theme of forgiveness and reconciliation. During the theme talk he discussed the steps he took to fight apartheid as mayor of Cape Town. The Sunday service took a more spiritual approach, and made me feel more connected to my faith here in Germany than I have been for the past two years in Minnesota and even on Star (which loses its religious affiliation somewhat when you work there). Sometimes you need to go far to find home. I had my first Samhain service since my youth group days, which was really nice. On Saturday afternoon I attended a workshop on international UU theology, and although I was rather critical of the New Zealeand theologian I had to present, I really liked what this one young Spanish theologian had to say about person-centered faith. The workshop in particular and the retreat overall made me much more aware of international Unitarian perspectives and standpoints. Still, in many ways this retreat could just have well have been in the states, yet I wonder what it's like to be a member of this religious minority in Europe. So many Americans have never heard of UUism, and the denomination is even smaller in most of Europe. Having retreats like this a couple times a year, even if there is often less than 100 attendees, most be really meaningful for the European UUs. It was pretty meaningful for me, as it is.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
disenfranchised?
My absentee ballot arrived in the mail yesterday, so I quickly filled it out, sealed it up, and went to the post office today to mail it. In my experience in Denmark so far, mailing ANYTHING to the US costs at least 8 kroner. But the postal worker today, when I was sending the most important document I have sent so far from Denmark, charged me only 7 kroner. Maybe it's cheaper to send things is official government envelopes, or maybe the woman was new and confused, or maybe she was taking a stand against American hegemony and ensuring that I couldn't be an active American citizen while living in Denmark. Either way, I'm concerned that my ballot will not get to New Jersey and thus my vote won't be counted in this close election. (Someone's actually running against my asshole Representative, and although he probably doesn't have a shot he does have a similar last name, so if you're from NJ's 5th, get out and vote! And watch the clip of Paul Aronsohn on the Colbert Report.)
In other news, autumn is in full swing. The trees haven't really started changing yet, because it was such a warm summer, but there's that chill in the air. The apple I ate today just tasted like fall. It was delightful. I'm about to head south to slightly warmer weather, but so it goes.
I had a pretty busy weekend; I went out with some friends Friday night, but didn't stay out to late because I had to wake up early on Saturday to make some nice fluffy American pancakes with real maple syrup. My host family didn't really think there was anything so special about the syrup, as my mom thought they would, but they quite enjoyed the pancakes. At the dinner table on Saturday night I observed the universality of tension between a mother and her sixteen-year-old daughter. "You can only go out with your friends if you get your homework done beforehand, and no talking online while you're doing it!" Mothers will always, wherever they are and whatever their daughters do, find some point on which to hassle them.
On Sunday, I returned to Jutland, spending many hours on a bus in order to visit Legoland. It was well worth it. The miniature world is AMAZING, and although the park is aimed towards kids, there are a lot of great rides. It's definitely a place I'd like to bring my kids some day, as an excuse to experience it even more fully.
In Danish news, the Danish People's Party has made a fool of themselves and their closed-minded racism. There's a travel warning for Danes going to Muslim areas, such as Turkey, where my host sister is going with her father tomorrow. Besides that, I don't think the rest of the world cares, yet. But we'll see--it took a few months for the cartoon crisis to get out of hand. That whole situation exploded because of a lot of overreacting on all sides along with an unwillingness to engage in dialogue. People even outside of Denmark continue to defend the publication of the cartoons as freedom of speech, as though in objecting to them Muslims are backwards people who will force us to do away with our most prized freedoms. An article in the New York Times quotes a Dutch woman with a Muslim husband: "No amount of explanation about free speech could convince her husband that the publication of cartoons lampooning Muhammad in a Danish newspaper was in any way justified." I do agree that the government can't legally do anything to Jyllands-Posten for publishing the cartoons, but the Prime Minister could have still met with the Muslim leaders in Denmark, and there is certainly no need to socially defend the paper. Just because there's freedom of speech doesn't mean you can be a complete jerk without suffering social consequences.
In other news, autumn is in full swing. The trees haven't really started changing yet, because it was such a warm summer, but there's that chill in the air. The apple I ate today just tasted like fall. It was delightful. I'm about to head south to slightly warmer weather, but so it goes.
I had a pretty busy weekend; I went out with some friends Friday night, but didn't stay out to late because I had to wake up early on Saturday to make some nice fluffy American pancakes with real maple syrup. My host family didn't really think there was anything so special about the syrup, as my mom thought they would, but they quite enjoyed the pancakes. At the dinner table on Saturday night I observed the universality of tension between a mother and her sixteen-year-old daughter. "You can only go out with your friends if you get your homework done beforehand, and no talking online while you're doing it!" Mothers will always, wherever they are and whatever their daughters do, find some point on which to hassle them.
On Sunday, I returned to Jutland, spending many hours on a bus in order to visit Legoland. It was well worth it. The miniature world is AMAZING, and although the park is aimed towards kids, there are a lot of great rides. It's definitely a place I'd like to bring my kids some day, as an excuse to experience it even more fully.In Danish news, the Danish People's Party has made a fool of themselves and their closed-minded racism. There's a travel warning for Danes going to Muslim areas, such as Turkey, where my host sister is going with her father tomorrow. Besides that, I don't think the rest of the world cares, yet. But we'll see--it took a few months for the cartoon crisis to get out of hand. That whole situation exploded because of a lot of overreacting on all sides along with an unwillingness to engage in dialogue. People even outside of Denmark continue to defend the publication of the cartoons as freedom of speech, as though in objecting to them Muslims are backwards people who will force us to do away with our most prized freedoms. An article in the New York Times quotes a Dutch woman with a Muslim husband: "No amount of explanation about free speech could convince her husband that the publication of cartoons lampooning Muhammad in a Danish newspaper was in any way justified." I do agree that the government can't legally do anything to Jyllands-Posten for publishing the cartoons, but the Prime Minister could have still met with the Muslim leaders in Denmark, and there is certainly no need to socially defend the paper. Just because there's freedom of speech doesn't mean you can be a complete jerk without suffering social consequences.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
more disconcerts
Alas, DIS sponsored no such musical event. But "disconcerted" continues to describe my existence.
Yesterday I went to Dannerhuset, the women's shelter where I'm supposed to be volunteering, for a meeting with the committee I'm suppose to volunteer with. I had missed their first event because they had my wrong email, but now that everything was straightened out, I was excited to make it up to them. The volunteer coordinator had emailed me that the meeting would be on October 4th, at 18:30, and unless I let them know I couldn't attend, they'd be counting on me. So I go. And although there are plenty of people in the house, there's absolutely no sign of the meeting. One nice women helps me look in all possible places, but the events committee could not be found. So I left, frustrated because I had scheduled my day around this meeting and even more because my attempt to be productive and proactive had failed.
When I got home, I emailed the committee. Turns out the meeting was at 19:00, though this hadn't been communicated in any of the emails I had received (unless of course the Danes decide to invent their own numerals). I will be at their meeting next Monday at 19:00, godwilling, and hopefully I will be able to contribute in some way, though I will be traveling during the event they will be discussing, the house's birthday on November 2.
My travel plans, the flights at least, have finally been finalized. I may still end up sleeping on the streets of some random European city, but so it goes. I wish I could make some sort of interactive map showing where I'm going, but since I have not been graced with such talents, an explanatory paragraph will have to do.
On October 14th, I leave for my study tour of Berlin and Prague. I don't know the itinerary yet, but I will be back in Copenhagen on the morning of October 20th. Bright and early the next morning, this Bergen County girl flies to Bergen, Norway, to spend a day and a night before seeing the fjords and the mountains by rail on my way to Oslo. I'll have about 24 hours to experience Oslo before I take off for Madrid, to visit my Carleton roommate Ann and my friend Miguel. I'll be there until the 26th, when I'll fly to Cologne, where I'll spend the night and then take the train to Oberwesel, Germany, to attend a European Unitarian Universalist retreat with Christopher. After the weekend retreat, I'll spend another night in Cologne, before flying to Athens on October 30 to meet up with my friend Dan. We'll spend two nights in Athens before traveling north to Bucharest, Romania, where we'll spend another two nights before moving on to Bratislava, Slovakia. Finally, after taking advantage of the cheap prices of Eastern Europe, we'll return to Copenhagen on the morning of November 5th, full of energy and ready to go back to classes the next day.
Yesterday I went to Dannerhuset, the women's shelter where I'm supposed to be volunteering, for a meeting with the committee I'm suppose to volunteer with. I had missed their first event because they had my wrong email, but now that everything was straightened out, I was excited to make it up to them. The volunteer coordinator had emailed me that the meeting would be on October 4th, at 18:30, and unless I let them know I couldn't attend, they'd be counting on me. So I go. And although there are plenty of people in the house, there's absolutely no sign of the meeting. One nice women helps me look in all possible places, but the events committee could not be found. So I left, frustrated because I had scheduled my day around this meeting and even more because my attempt to be productive and proactive had failed.
When I got home, I emailed the committee. Turns out the meeting was at 19:00, though this hadn't been communicated in any of the emails I had received (unless of course the Danes decide to invent their own numerals). I will be at their meeting next Monday at 19:00, godwilling, and hopefully I will be able to contribute in some way, though I will be traveling during the event they will be discussing, the house's birthday on November 2.
My travel plans, the flights at least, have finally been finalized. I may still end up sleeping on the streets of some random European city, but so it goes. I wish I could make some sort of interactive map showing where I'm going, but since I have not been graced with such talents, an explanatory paragraph will have to do.
On October 14th, I leave for my study tour of Berlin and Prague. I don't know the itinerary yet, but I will be back in Copenhagen on the morning of October 20th. Bright and early the next morning, this Bergen County girl flies to Bergen, Norway, to spend a day and a night before seeing the fjords and the mountains by rail on my way to Oslo. I'll have about 24 hours to experience Oslo before I take off for Madrid, to visit my Carleton roommate Ann and my friend Miguel. I'll be there until the 26th, when I'll fly to Cologne, where I'll spend the night and then take the train to Oberwesel, Germany, to attend a European Unitarian Universalist retreat with Christopher. After the weekend retreat, I'll spend another night in Cologne, before flying to Athens on October 30 to meet up with my friend Dan. We'll spend two nights in Athens before traveling north to Bucharest, Romania, where we'll spend another two nights before moving on to Bratislava, Slovakia. Finally, after taking advantage of the cheap prices of Eastern Europe, we'll return to Copenhagen on the morning of November 5th, full of energy and ready to go back to classes the next day.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
topsy-turvy
While in America, a teacher was suspended because some kid told his parents he saw nude art on a class field trip to a mainstream museum (Museum Field Trip Deemed Too Revealing), parents, students, teachers, & pedagogues took to the streets in Copenhagen today to protest budget cuts in childcare and other welfare programs (Protests paralyse nation's schools and day care centres). There are times when it's hard to notice the differences between Denmark and America, but reading the news today, it's almost disgustingly obvious. In the US, there are places where one crazy parent can complain that her child was exposed to some art and a qualified teacher is out of a job. In Denmark, people who already pay up to 60% of their income in taxes are more than happy (in principle and in reality) to pay even more if that means that their children can attend better schools and childcare and the elderly can live in better nursing homes. Denmark is far from a perfect country, but America...sometimes America just sucks.
Monday, October 02, 2006
domestications and destinations
Now that I actually have some pictures on my family and house, I suppose I'll introduce them to you.
This is the living room and dining room of the house, as seen from the kitchen. Besides this, there are three small bedrooms and a bathroom. It's small, even by Danish standards, but very hygge.
This is me with Eva, my host mother, and Siv, my host sister. I don't have any pictures yet of Mikkel, my older brother, because he lives on his own and only comes around occasionally.
Everyone in Denmark has a summer house (practically—and it would have been harder to save the Jews if they didn't), so on Friday night Eva and I took to Askø, a little island north of Lolland, which is south of Sjaelland. If possible, the islands of southern Denmark are even flatter than the rest of the state. There are dykes and tall trees along the coast of Askø so that everything doesn't wash away when the water is high. It's quiet and peaceful, but unless you're one of the handful of farmers who lives there year round, there really is nothing to do. There are lots of orchards on the island, both on the farms and in the summerhouse yards. 
Mostly apples and pears, but we found some plum trees and wild blackberries grow everywhere. There's no beach, just a platform jutting out into the water where you can swim or fish or sunbathe. The water is incredibly calm and clear. It made me realize that there aren't enough seas in America. There are rivers and there are bays and there are harbors. And there are plenty of inland lakes and such. But anywhere there's ocean water it's usually deep and cold and moving. Out here, all the salt water is calm and shallow and warm, at least everywhere I've been. Even at Skagen on a windy day, the waves were pretty insignificant.
Being that there's not much to do on Askø and the adjoining island Lilleø (ø is Danish for island), we left early Saturday afternoon. Saturday night I met up with my friend Dan, intending to go to the International Party at Studenterhuset. The party turned out to be pretty lame, so we decided to wander around and barhop. We ended up
going to the Happy Pig, where I lightly bumped into someone on my way to the bar. He started saying something to me in Danish, so I told him I only spoke English. Turns out he's South African, though has been living in Denmark for 9 years. Dan and I started talking to this guy, who later introduced us to his Danish friend and his Norweigan friend. We talked a lot of politics with them; they were very happy to hear that we weren't Republicans. I also learned a very sad fact, that New Jersey's bad rep isn't limited to the states. In fact, the state's image might be even worse in Europe, because people are less likely to have the firsthand knowledge that it's not all the trash it's talked up to be. Despite the fact that I'm from New Jersey, these three guys were very nice and friendly, and when they left the Happy Pig they invited Dan and I to come with them to Cafe Sommersko. The event at Cafe Sommersko was a birthday party, and although we felt awkward because we knew no one at this private party, there was plenty of free wine and cake to enjoy. Eventually all the partigoers started leaving, so Dan and I did too, and walked around the city for a while, heading home around 3 am. Copenhagen is actually more awake at 3 am than it is at 11 pm. It's a crazy city.
Today was also adventure filled, as I went with DIS to a football game. FCK v. Brøndby, the two biggest Copenhagen teams. It was pretty crazy. Louder than I expected, but also more in order than I expected. There were no fights between fans, as far as I saw, though some Brøndby fans, upset by their defeat, did tear apart their stadium chairs and throw pieces at the field. The players themselves were pretty agressive as well. We had the lyrics to the FCK song and had been taught them by our Danish teachers, but when they played it there was too much overall loudness to understand anything. Because there were so many DIS students, I think we kind of missed out on some of the cultural experience because we weren't sitting next to regular rabid fans. However, on the train to DIS hours before the game and on the walk to the train station after the game we certainly got a sense of it. Everyone was screaming, whether their team won or lost. There was definitely some tension between the fans, but what I saw never seemed on the point of eruption. The stadium is in a really nice upscale neighborhood, quite the contrast from most major American sports stadiums, I think. It was an interesting juxtaposition of the loud, drunk fans and the ritzy restaurants and apartments. This is a country of interesting juxtapositions.
This is the living room and dining room of the house, as seen from the kitchen. Besides this, there are three small bedrooms and a bathroom. It's small, even by Danish standards, but very hygge.
This is me with Eva, my host mother, and Siv, my host sister. I don't have any pictures yet of Mikkel, my older brother, because he lives on his own and only comes around occasionally.
Everyone in Denmark has a summer house (practically—and it would have been harder to save the Jews if they didn't), so on Friday night Eva and I took to Askø, a little island north of Lolland, which is south of Sjaelland. If possible, the islands of southern Denmark are even flatter than the rest of the state. There are dykes and tall trees along the coast of Askø so that everything doesn't wash away when the water is high. It's quiet and peaceful, but unless you're one of the handful of farmers who lives there year round, there really is nothing to do. There are lots of orchards on the island, both on the farms and in the summerhouse yards. 
Mostly apples and pears, but we found some plum trees and wild blackberries grow everywhere. There's no beach, just a platform jutting out into the water where you can swim or fish or sunbathe. The water is incredibly calm and clear. It made me realize that there aren't enough seas in America. There are rivers and there are bays and there are harbors. And there are plenty of inland lakes and such. But anywhere there's ocean water it's usually deep and cold and moving. Out here, all the salt water is calm and shallow and warm, at least everywhere I've been. Even at Skagen on a windy day, the waves were pretty insignificant.Being that there's not much to do on Askø and the adjoining island Lilleø (ø is Danish for island), we left early Saturday afternoon. Saturday night I met up with my friend Dan, intending to go to the International Party at Studenterhuset. The party turned out to be pretty lame, so we decided to wander around and barhop. We ended up
going to the Happy Pig, where I lightly bumped into someone on my way to the bar. He started saying something to me in Danish, so I told him I only spoke English. Turns out he's South African, though has been living in Denmark for 9 years. Dan and I started talking to this guy, who later introduced us to his Danish friend and his Norweigan friend. We talked a lot of politics with them; they were very happy to hear that we weren't Republicans. I also learned a very sad fact, that New Jersey's bad rep isn't limited to the states. In fact, the state's image might be even worse in Europe, because people are less likely to have the firsthand knowledge that it's not all the trash it's talked up to be. Despite the fact that I'm from New Jersey, these three guys were very nice and friendly, and when they left the Happy Pig they invited Dan and I to come with them to Cafe Sommersko. The event at Cafe Sommersko was a birthday party, and although we felt awkward because we knew no one at this private party, there was plenty of free wine and cake to enjoy. Eventually all the partigoers started leaving, so Dan and I did too, and walked around the city for a while, heading home around 3 am. Copenhagen is actually more awake at 3 am than it is at 11 pm. It's a crazy city.
Today was also adventure filled, as I went with DIS to a football game. FCK v. Brøndby, the two biggest Copenhagen teams. It was pretty crazy. Louder than I expected, but also more in order than I expected. There were no fights between fans, as far as I saw, though some Brøndby fans, upset by their defeat, did tear apart their stadium chairs and throw pieces at the field. The players themselves were pretty agressive as well. We had the lyrics to the FCK song and had been taught them by our Danish teachers, but when they played it there was too much overall loudness to understand anything. Because there were so many DIS students, I think we kind of missed out on some of the cultural experience because we weren't sitting next to regular rabid fans. However, on the train to DIS hours before the game and on the walk to the train station after the game we certainly got a sense of it. Everyone was screaming, whether their team won or lost. There was definitely some tension between the fans, but what I saw never seemed on the point of eruption. The stadium is in a really nice upscale neighborhood, quite the contrast from most major American sports stadiums, I think. It was an interesting juxtaposition of the loud, drunk fans and the ritzy restaurants and apartments. This is a country of interesting juxtapositions.
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