Yarn Bombing: Copenhagen

Danish weather can be pretty grim in the fall and winter. Leave it to one conscientious Copenhagener (or perhaps a visitor) to start preparing the the harbor for the dark and cold nights ahead. 

Mooring rings need to keep warm too.

This added a nice little punch of color to the harbor-front near the Black Diamond. Here's hoping more of these cute little sweaters start popping up throughout the city.

Hygge i havnen.

Vi Ses, Not Hej Hej

A journey is best measured in friends rather than miles. – Tom Cahill

I can measure my journeys of the past year and a half by either of these standards. I’ve certainly covered a lot of ground, as my frequent flyer’s miles and passport stamps can attest. And I've made an enormous amount of wonderful, and very special friends.
I moved to Denmark for adventure, and I certainly found more than my fair share of it, both there and on my travels. I've gained knowledge, experience, and another place that a part of me will always think of as home.

When I first started out, I had no idea the impact my stint in Copenhagen was going to have on me. I planned to get in, do my one year, and get back out; either back to the States, or on to somewhere else. If offered an extension, I had no intention of taking it. What I never expected was to fall in love with the country, the people, the work and one very special gentleman (you know who you are). Now, 18 months later, I've scoured the job market, and searched for any loopholes to stay in Denmark, or at least to return. 

The problem I've discovered with spending a long time in places is that you leave a bit of yourself behind. The size of the piece can vary or course, but, big or small, it takes its toll. Leaving Copenhagen was harder than I ever imagined it would be.

In conclusion of this chapter:
Thanks to DIS for giving me a chance.
Thanks to the Americans for being a family away from home.
Thanks to the Danes, for shattering the stereotype of the cold, unwelcoming Danish. 
Thanks to everyone for accepting and appreciating my particular brand of weirdness. 

Denmark, I will be back.

Scotland, Aye.

I've always heard depressing things about the weather in Scotland. So when I arrived, I was expecting a rather dreary (only weather-wise) weekend of damp and gray. And I was, at least initially, not disappointed. I stepped off the bus in St. Andrews into a very damp night and my boots promptly absorbed at least three times their weight in water.

But that was all. By the next morning it was brisk and clear, and remained that way until my departure. Apparently an entirely sunny weekend, particularly in mid-November, is almost unheard of there, so I feel quite lucky. I also had an excellent tour guide, namely my dashing and very knowledgeable brother, who was so kind as to show me the sights in St. Andrews and Edinburgh.

Some of the ruins of St. Andrews cathedral, which
used to be the largest in Scotland.

More ruins, in dazzling sunlight.

A view of the small fishing harbor from the long pier.

St. Salvator's Quad, and the site of the infamous Raisin. 

The old course at St. Andrews.

Few people have ever accused me of being
mature. I hear, not surprisingly, that this is the
most photographed street sign in St. Andrews.

The next day we ventured south to Edinburgh, and wandered along the Royal Mile. Once again, the weather was on our side, and we had a lovely and not at all damp saunter through the old town, culminating with an authentic pub meal on the Grassmarket. The old town is a really cool place with lots of winding streets and alleys. Definitely worth more exploration than we had time to do.

Edinburgh Castle.

A view over the old town.