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.

Yarn Bombing: Copenhagen Edition

Denmark is notoriously cold, gray, and damp at this time of year. Sweaters are absolutely vital. And since Danes are very attached to their bikes, so it comes as no surprise that they would try to make them comfortable too. This jaunty bike was clearly out for a bit of Christmas shopping when I stumbled upon it.

Much more colorfully attired than most Danes.

Norge: Round II, Part III

After a disgracefully long time, I'm finally wrapping up the six part epic of my travels in Norway. Sick days are a great time to catch up on back-logged work.
On our final day in Flåm, we headed up to a traditional Norwegian farm in the hills called Otternes. It was run by an adorable woman who taught us to make traditional brunost (brown cheese). Despite being wary at first, I have to admit it was surprisingly delicious. It has a hint of caramel to it.

Some huts original to the old farm.

More huts. In fairness, there were quite a lot of them.

Doing the final stirring of the cheese.

After assisting with the cheese and exploring the ground of the farm, we were served a huge and scrumptious traditional lunch, made entirely from local products. We even got to help set the table and assemble the food. Quite good fun.

This is what a traditional table in an old Norwegian hut looks like.

That evening we enjoyed a beer and aquavit tasting at the Ægir Bryggeri. Awarded "Beer of the Year" in 2012, their beers are quite good, and the atmosphere of the place is wonderful- super hyggeligt.
The next morning, bright and early, we headed back up the Flåmsbana. After a long and uneventful layover in Myrdal, we continued on across one of the high plateaus to Bergen, via Voss. We had a few hours to kill in Bergen before our flight, so we took a quick look around the place.

We went up a funicular to the top of Mt. Fløien.

The view was spectacular.

I even had time to walk around the harbor a bit.

Some students, enjoying the park.

Norge: Round II, Part II

On the morning of our third day in Flåm, we picked up our bikes (shout out to Roald!) and disbanded to pursue our individual adventures for the day. Three intrepid students and I decided to attempt the ride up to the Stegastein Overlook, which you may remember from my previous foray into the northland. This entailed a vigorous 32km ride, 8km of which was very steep switchbacks up a mountain.

Even after only a modest elevation gain, the views were spectacular.

We were on a pretty tight schedule, so breaks were kept to a minimum, meaning maximum sweating. Definitely an attractive sight. 

But the ever improving vistas more than made our effort worth while.

The sign announcing there was only half a kilometer remaining was one of the most welcome I've seen in my entire life. By the time we got there, our legs had turned to shaking, highly unstable towers of flesh-colored jello (appetizing analogy, yeah?), but there was no time to recover, as there were fjords to be marveled at.

Victory.

After a very short recovery and picture taking break, it was time to return from whence we'd come. The ride back was significantly faster. Roughly a third the time. Which was good, as it got us back to Flåm in time for our fjord safari (another shout out, to Jon). 

We got to wear really cool outfits.

Whipping around the fjords in a RIB boat, looking for wildlife and hearing stories about the area's history was great, extremely cold, fun. Word to the wise: RIB boats are way faster than the ferry. So if you need to get from Flåm to Gudvangen in a hurry, I'd suggest trying to hop on one.

We got up close and personal with the water.

And the seals.

Once again, the weather gods smiled on us.

Norge: Round II, Part I

At the end of September I made my triumphant return to Norway, this time leading a pack of students. For four days, we were based in Flåm, exploring the fjords and surrounding mountains.

This is Flåm. As previously mentioned, it's tiny.

After a horrifically early start (arriving at CPH Lufthavn at the shockingly early hour of 5.30am), we luckily got to ease into the trip with a nice long bus ride through many, many tunnels. This was followed up by a chilly yet leisurely ferry ride from Flåm to Gudvangen, which lies at the end of the Nærøyfjord, which, as you may remember, means "narrow fjord". 

Mmmmmfjords.

Is it possible to see too many fjords? Personal experience says "nej".

Day two started with a ride up the ever popular, ever lovely Flåmbana to Myrdal. Once again, we got incredibly lucky with weather. It seems the weather gods of Norway really like me.

Behold; Myrdal.

From Myrdal, it's a 21km walk back down the Rallarvegen back to Flåm. The top of the trail is quite steep, and we were shocked to be passed by people driving cars up the ridiculously steep switchbacks. Clearly Norwegians are a hearty lot.

Picturesque cabins everywhere.

Outrageously lovely scenery has become a norm in my life.

Ah look, another waterfall.

And the river it feeds.

It was a very long walk down, and my knee was always not particularly pleased about it, but the views more than made it worthwhile. And there is a certain amount of satisfaction you get from completing a longish hike.

More cabins.

The water was an amazing shade of turquoise.

Overall, good times, and very worth the stiffness.