Yarn-Bombing: Germany

Leave it to the Deutschers to pull off the most impressive yarn-bombing I've seen to date. This was some sort of pipe spanning one of the streets near the stretch of water that runs through the middle of Königsalle in Düsseldorf. The fleißig Germans managed to cover the whole thing in an orderly patchwork of knitted squares. It certainly jazzed up an otherwise very gloomy and frustrating day. So, thank you, knitters of Düsseldorf. 

Notice the policeman, appearing totally unimpressed.

Life During Strike Time

The list of things I did not expect when I started out for what I assumed was going to be a weekend of epic gnar shreddage in the Swiss Alps included a fancy hotel, a ghastly buffet dinner, a sauna and being trapped in Düsseldorf with essentially no way out. I mean, technically there are ways out, but I'm too poor to pay for a train or rent a car, and not quite desperate enough to hitchhike... Yet. If I was musically inclined there's probably a song in this somewhere. But I digress.

Now, call me ill-prepared, but airport workers' strikes are not something I regularly check for when booking a trip. Not that checking would have done me much good in this case, as the strike is apparently a 'surprise' one. And just to add to the fun, it appears to be taking place at all German airports, essentially paralyzing air travel in the country. Germany is all well and good, but id prefer to visit the country on my own terms.

One thing I do have to give people credit for though is the orderliness and calmness with which they are reacting to this state of affairs. There is a line for check-in over 200m long, but it is a very orderly and unhysterical line. Only one man, that I've seen, has freaked out at the ticket counter, and he appeared to be a drunk hobo. So that doesn't really count.

Another thing I'm totally impressed with is the quality of service provided by AirBerlin. Seriously, they're fantastic. They've been very nice and incredibly helpful and hard-working, providing hotels and even partnering with DB to get people a step closer to where they need to go.
At this point I've given up on Switzerlandand am focusing my energy on getting home. But even with the help of trains, it seems Copenhagen is an extremely difficult place to get to if not by air. How long I shall fester in Düsseldorf is unknown. At least I certainly can't accuse this trip of being uninteresting.

Pictured, order.

By far the most civilized line I've ever waited in.

Early to Rise

Being awake and making moves at or before 4:00 provides a very different experience of the world than that most people are used to. This is particularly true in Copenhagen, a city which unashamedly parties hard. Walk to Nørreport in the wee hours of the morning and you're guaranteed to pass more people lurching their way home from the bars and clubs than you are people going about their daily business. Unless of course their daily business includes stumbling through their front doors at 5:00am. Which is entirely possible.

But whenever I'm airport-bound before sunrise (aka every time I travel), I'm somewhat of a novelty, carrying a backpack, with my nose pointed towards city center instead of away. Though I will admit, I've been on the other side of the equation too; time seems to lose its meaning on a night out in Copenhagen, and it's not unusual to glance at your phone and find that it's 3:30 when you could have sworn it was only midnight.

The metro to the airport at this time of morning is always, well, interesting as well. Once again, travelers like myself are in the minority. Not nearly as much as we are in the city streets though. But the Nørreport metro platform can be a crazy place. It's not uncommon for the person next to you to be swaying unsteadily or even take a digger on to you. And rushes for the door of the train can get a bit physical. I usually tend to get to the station one train early so I can watch the chaos and strategically place myself at the head of the queue forming in its wake. But by all means, enter the fray. If that's what you're into.

Walking on Sunshine

A clear, sunny day is a rare and beautiful thing in Copenhagen, and today was particularly nice. Cold, crisp air, sun sparkling off the ice on the lakes, and a nice dusting of snow just to top things off. And in such weather, Danes seem to come out in droves to enjoy the light. The days are already getting noticeably longer, but a Copenhagen winter is still nothing to sneeze at, and a full day of sunshine was a very welcome treat.

Dear Diary, today I wore sunglasses.

The sunlight here is unbearably picturesque.

Some cool ice.

The skyline along the lakes.

And a typical Danish couple, being Danish and beautiful.

And as a special bonus, I also discovered a new yarn bombing while moseying around the lakes. I enjoy it. 

It looks a bit surprised.

On Airports

In honor of my forthcoming flight back to the homeland, I'd like to share some musings I had in Gatwick airport while struggling to stay awake long enough to catch my egregiously early flight back to Copenhagen.

___________________

 

Douglas Adams told us years ago that "it's no coincidence that no culture has coined the phrase 'pretty as an airport'". I'm not sure I agree. For one thing, architecturally speaking, many airports these days are making great strides. They all have their individual atmospheres. The Copenhagen airport is clean-cut, simple, elegant and not entirely unfriendly, much like the people of the city. The airport in Vilnius is clearly the product of a small and somewhat old fashioned culture.
But whatever your personal feelings on the physical attractiveness of airports is, there is no denying that they're interesting places. Airports hold a wide variety of human emotions: excitement, trepidation, sadness, irritation, boredom, happiness, panic. The range is as wide as the human capacity to feel. It's always interesting to be a player in this scaled down rendition of the human drama.
I usually find my feelings when in airports to be firmly on the positive end of the spectrum. Unless there are slow walkers in front of me; then I seethe. But it's invigorating to know you're about to step into a tube and be fired off to a place completely different from where you began, in culture, geography, and history. It's like a drive-thru banking delivery syste, but for people. And on the other end of your journey there could be almost anything waiting for you: family, old friends, people you've never met who are about to become your best friends, if only for the night, ridiculous adventures or uneventful excursions. The best part is the uncertainty inherent in traveling. Airports hold the promise of new experiences, and for that reason, I think they're quite beautiful indeed. For once, as far as I'm concerned, Douglas Adams was wrong.

8 Things No One Tells You About Winter Biking in København

When you move to København, you're generally pretty aware of the strong biking culture the city has. And if not you pick up on it quickly, when you realize not having a bike is almost as much of a disability as not having one of your feet. And biking is awesome- it's by far the easiest and most convenient way to get most places. But when the snow starts falling, the whole game changes.

For starters, you get the unmitigated joy of digging your bike out, both of snow, and hundreds of other bikes.

1. Bike lanes don't get plowed, and even if they do, it's poorly done, and you lose about half a meter from the width of the lane. This allows you to get stuck behind slow people. Bike traffic jams are the best.
2. If you think people in New Jersey turn into terrible drivers when it snows, don't even attempt to bike in København in the snow. People instantly go into weeble mode. (A reference that maybe three people reading this will get. Basically they go into super-slow, super-cautious mode.)
3. Snow and bike tires do not go together. Zero traction.
4. Bike baskets are very useful and wonderful things, but a heavily laden one in snowy conditions can dangerously unbalance your bike. Skid city.
5. Unless you like arriving places with with mascara smeared all over your face, looking like you just went through the worst break up of all times and are seconds away from shovling down a pint and a half of Ben & Jerry's, eye makeup should be avoided.
6. It's cold; much colder than skiing, because ski pants would be darkly frowned upon by the fashion-concisous Danes.
7. Long coats are vital. Not only do they look good, but they insulate your legs.
8. Bike locks freeze. Be prepared to give them mouth-to-mouth. In the street. People will find this strange. Deal with it.

The majestic beast, just returned from a harrowing expedition to the grocery store.

 

Lübeck

Last Saturday I was fortunate enough to get to go on one final trip of the semester; a day trip to the Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas market) in Lübeck, northern Germany. Things I love about living in Copenhagen include the fact that cool places like Germany and Sweden are but a casual drive away. It was really nice to be back in a country where I could communicate with the locals. It's impressive how fast a language comes back to you when you're surrounded by it, and I really enjoyed spreching ein bißchen Deutsch.

Look at all those happy Germans with their wursts and glühwein.

A giant spinning candle thingy. I know there must be a proper name for it, but I don't know what it is.

 

The famous gate of Lübeck. And Lukas' back.

Lübeck is another old Hanseatic state, so it's got a lot in common with many of the eastern European cities, especially Tallinn and Riga. The gates are some of the biggest giveaways of this.

The gates once again. Majestic.

The thing I love about Germany, other than the food, the beer and pretty much everything, is how surprised and happy Germans are when they find out you speak their language. And you really benefit from this. Thanks to a delightful gentleman named Klaus that we ran into in a bar, we ended up eating at the oldest restaurant in Lübeck: Schiffergesselschaft. And mother of pearl was it delicious. There's just something wonderful about eating slabs of pork in a 500 year old beer hall.