unstuck in the world

Yeah, I'm still alive

2010-04-15T22:45:00.003+02:00

Those of you who are reading this on facebook already know how the whole Sicily story ended. I have an epic post about the rest of the trip hanging out on my phone's notepad. Figured I'd save it for when I finally go through all the pics and post them. In the meantime, here's the best damn fiddle video on youtube (or so say the comments).

Day 4 - 75? Km from Catania

2010-03-05T20:57:00.001+01:00

This morning we managed to get out of Letojanni where we've been stuck for a day and a half. Beautiful town, but being stranded was making us both a bit stir crazy. Paddled down the coast to Nizza where we met up with Antonello.

Antonello brought us to his mother's place for a truly amazing lunch. Homemade wine, homemade sausage, pasta with zucchini and pistachio pesto, these amazing cauliflower fritters, octopus he caught himself... Just lovely.

Our boats were definitely sitting lower in the water after lunch than before, but maybe that was the dinner Antonello's mother made us to take with. (And despite swearing we wouldn't be able to eat another bite today, we managed to put a pretty good dent in it after setting up camp.)
If all Sicilian mothers cook like Serena's and Antonello's, Sicilians are lucky indeed. :)

The kindness and generosity of the people we've met has been truly astounding. No matter how beautiful the scenery is here (and it is beautiful), the people are even better.

After lunch, Antonello joined us for an hour of paddling. Conditions were lovely all day despite a forcast that promised rain. We rounded a point and made camp on the beach at a little town I don't know the name of, but it seems to be across from the toe of the boot.

Chores and dinner over, I decided to take a walk into town. Walking through the dark of the deserted beach, all of the sudden I hear footsteps to the side of me. I shine my light. Nothing. I keep walking. Then hear them again. Then all of the sudden it feels like a cloud of butterflies is trying to grab my arm. I scream and turn around and rush back to camp. It felt like someone else was there. René thinks I am crazy, but I am sure it was a ghost. I think it may be a couple days before I take a dark walk down a beach alone again.

Tomorrow we'll get through the strait and head along the northern coast. It's been a slower journey than we'd planned, but I have faith we'll make it up.

2010-03-03T14:26:00.004+01:00

Day two - 50 km from Catania

Our first morning was lovely, with an excellent cannoli send-off from Catania. The boat Giuseppe at Overline was kind enough to lend me was excellent, but I am too inexperienced a packer to get all my crap into it. Giancarlo was generous to offer me the use of his own boat, another Overline Aretusa, the same one René is paddling. I love it. Great boat. We got to tour the factory where they handmake them. Pictures will be posted on our team blog - sicily2010.wordpress.com - at some point.

The weather got a bit rough at the end of day one. My first big wave experience. Got worked a bit on the rough surf landing, but we made it in. This morning started out lovely, but we headed in earlier than planned because of some high winds. Looks like tomorrow is going to be very bad, so we may get stuck for a couple days. Too much getting stuck and it might get tricky to finish by April 1, but I'm more into staying safe than finishing on time, to be honest. We'll get a dawn start as soon as we can get out and haul ass to see if we can make up some time. In the meantime, we're in Sicily paddling. Life is pretty good.

Venice

2010-02-26T11:50:00.006+01:00

(OK, that's an old pic, but I am too lazy to upload a pic right now.)

Sitting in René's kitchen watching the rain drizzle on the neighbors' ceramic rooftops. It's good to be back in Venice. Easy to forget what a beautiful city it is.

Today is all about last minute preparations, and there is much to keep us occupied. This afternoon my computer goes into a security deposit box, and I am already getting separation anxiety. After that, I will just be down to an iPhone - the inessentials of my life now relegated to various storage facilities. There is something incredibly purifying about reducing your life into what can fit into an expedition kayak. Tomorrow night we catch a train for Sicily.

0 days in, 900km to go.

The Sicily Kayak Expedition blog

2010-02-23T10:45:00.009+01:00

Three months in the planning. (Not enough)

Two or three team members. (Third undecided as yet.)

One month to circumnavigate one very large island.

Welcome to the Sicily Kayak Expedition.

When we started discussing circumnavigating Sicily by kayak some months ago, we envisioned it having its own fancy website or at least a pretty slick blog with the sponsors listed out nicely and lots of glossy pics and whatnot. Between then and now, I've spent copious amounts of time traveling back and forth from the Middle East and other locales, gone into rehab for a bum shoulder, redone my portfolio site, packed up my house and put it in storage, left a job, started looking for a new one, trained and went on an insane gear shopping spree that spanned multiple continents, customs confiscations and one international incident. Basically, anything and everything but creating the nice glitzy site this expedition deserves. So I'm afraid you will have to make do with this one. From here on out, this blog will be my personal record of our attempt to circumnavigate Sicily.

As I write this, I wait in a hotel at the airport for the luggage shipping service to get back in touch. I had a sudden realization that, just because the European rail service will allow a 125 pound woman to bring two 65 pound suitcases, a fully loaded gear bag with paddles, a backpack full of computer gear and a tent on board doesn't mean that it is a particularly bright idea for said woman to do so.

Tomorrow I leave for Venice to meet René, the other confirmed team member. We're guessing we will head down to Sicily on Friday or Saturday. I don't know how often I will be able to keep this updated, but I will try to do my best. As I am getting a late start, I'll have to fill in back stories as I go. If you're curious about anything, feel free to ask in the comments, and I will do my best to answer.

0 days in, 900km to go.
Yee ha.

there is nothing so lost it can't be found: cycling to Hamlet's castle

2009-08-09T17:07:00.031+02:00

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth.

Due to a string of unfortunate events, I was feeling out of sorts a couple weeks ago. Rather than wallowing, I decided to cycle up the coast to Helsingor. For those that like that sort of thing, it's roughly about 46 km from Copenhagen and is rather a lovely ride. Just keep in view of the sea, and you'll arrive eventually.

Here are some of the things you'll see on the way:

Just outside Copenhagen, you come to a large earthworks remnant of the old defense system. It is remarkably similar to the one inside Copenhagen, only somewhat less attractive and full of hippies due to the campground that exists on the right. It also possesses a rather unattractive beach. This beach is also full of hippies. In other words, if you like hippies, this is probably your dream spot.

If you can resist the lure of the drum circle, you are rewarded by views like this.

There are a lot of very nice marinas along the way, which are perfect for providing some shelter from Denmark's omnipresent rain.

There are cafes by the sea.

And a really beautiful cemetery if you are tall enough to see it.

Did I mention the really nice marinas?

And lots and lots of wildflowers

But the journey is worth it, just for this place I found at one of the marinas

And here's why

I have often wondered why, being on an island and an island with lots of fishermen, it is so difficult to find good seafood here. Where does it all go? Apparently, the answer is the north coast.

In any case, after a whole lot more scenery, you will come to Helsingor.

A city that has made its reputation on having a castle that was the model for the castle in Hamlet is unlikely to let you forget it. Ophelia gone wild graces the train station next to a Hamlet who, is it just me or does he look a little light in the loafers in this statue? (Not that there is anything wrong with gay Hamlet. Well, other than those bloomers which seem to be a bit overdoing things.)

It's quite a cute little town

And, of course, there's the castle

It has a moat

And looks, unsurprisingly, very castle-y

It has the ability to blow things up, which might come in handy as there are rather a lot of tourists around when the cruise ships come in.

It has a nice view

It has naked gods

And did I mention?

Though perhaps my favorite bit of statuary was the zombie nymphs that you can see on the walk to town.

If you're particularly enterprising, you can bike home. If not, you can always hop a train back to Copenhagen with your bike from Helsingor station. If you do go the train route, you will be rewarded with more advice for the proper care and treatment of your schnauzer.

Seriously, can anyone explain to me why the trains are so obsessed with schnauzers? Are rampant hordes of commuters trying to board with yapping schnauzers that must be accommodated and shushed at every opportunity?

In any case, these and other important questions so occupied me on the journey home that I failed to notice that my mirth wasn't lost after all. I'd only just misplaced it for a while.

Love, love, love

2009-03-11T07:50:00.002+01:00

The work of Frank Plant. Awesome stuff.

What things do we miss in our everyday lives?

2009-02-26T11:29:00.003+01:00

A world-famous musician plays some of the most respected works in classical music in a New York metro station. What do you think happens?

My new favourite artist - Liz Hickok

2009-01-16T15:57:00.003+01:00

San Francisco recreated in jello. Oddly fascinating.

Best quote ever

2009-01-16T12:49:00.003+01:00

Posted anonymously in regards to the wannabe viral for microsoft songsmith:

"I don't think I could eat the amount of food this ad makes me want to vomit."

Brilliant.

Oh yeah, in other news, I realize I haven't done a proper posting in a long time. A lot has happened. I went Milan, Amsterdam and back to Edinburgh. Holidays happened. Parents came to visit. Seasons changed. What can I say? Just haven't been feeling it.

I expect that may change soon. We shall see.

sweet campaign from WK

2009-01-15T14:22:00.006+01:00

http://www.coolhunting.com/archives/2009/01/coraline.php

http://www.notcot.com/archives/2009/01/coraline_box_21.php#more

so true

2009-01-09T11:49:00.002+01:00

Tonight on the way home, I saw...

2008-12-18T22:30:00.002+01:00

A drunk guy in a track suit trying to run on the running path and only managing a half stumble.

An Arabic man who I think might have Turret's Syndrome who yelled at me that I was a whore and he spits on me and some other not very nice stuff.

Apparently cycling by in jeans, hiking boots, a leather coat, scarf, mittens and hat is the height of sultry temptation these days. I feel so naughty.

Denmark can sometimes be a very odd place.

Print your own fabric

2008-11-14T11:00:00.000+01:00

How cool is that?

http://www.spoonflower.com/welcome

interesting use of youtube video

2008-11-13T17:43:00.002+01:00

Video almost as website with interlinking stories. Cool stuff.

Coolness

2008-10-10T11:34:00.001+02:00

Some very cool paper cutting work done in England.

In other news, yeah, I know. Not many posts lately. Been at work 24/7 and haven't had much time to play. That is, however, about to change so expect some real posts soon.

Proving you are never too old for sport

2008-10-08T12:41:00.000+02:00

totally sick

2008-09-29T14:18:00.001+02:00

Adam Kimmel presents: Claremont HD from adam kimmel on Vimeo.

Holy crap

2008-09-29T10:14:00.002+02:00

My bank just failed:

http://www.usatoday.com/money/perfi/basics/2008-09-28-wamu-jpmorgan-chase_N.htm

It's weird living in Europe - you get kind of out of touch. I also thought that I could hide out in happy Copenhagen, untouched by the recession. Looks like I was wrong.

second shooting in Norrebro

2008-09-16T23:19:00.003+02:00

http://politiken.dk/newsinenglish/article567508.ece

This is literally a couple blocks from my house. The mean streets of Copenhagen indeed.

Interestingly enough, the first one was a drive-by on a scooter. Yeah, you heard right. Drive-by on scooter. Hard to take that one seriously.

A trip to the Viking market

2008-09-16T21:23:00.006+02:00

Last weekend we went to the Viking market.

There were singing vikings.

And angry vikings.

There were mini vikings.

And victorious vikings.

There was a spice merchant.

And somewhere a company that was missing its entire IT department.

It's true - everything is better with more cowbell.

2008-09-11T10:43:00.006+02:00

OK, for some reason the picture doesn't want to be a link today, so go here if you are curious:

http://www.morecowbell.dj/

Early senility and a motorcycle trip to Sweden

2008-09-07T21:41:00.006+02:00

So I spent a long weekend touring the Swedish coast on the back of Brian's Aprilla (Italian sport bike). Picture lots of rolling fields, amazing sea views, a glass of port in the library of a castle, pine forests... It was as lovely as it probably sounds except for two small problems:

1.) I spaced packing my camera and the scenery truly was amazing, so I was kicking myself all weekend - although we did take some bad camera phone pics that I will try to post at some point.

2.) Italian racing bikes have no place for baggage, meaning our entire long weekend's worth of clothes and gear ended up on the back of yours truly. (I am really going to be hating myself for buying 10 bottles of hair products tomorrow.)

In other news, I really like Sweden. It's got forest, it's got coast, it's super pretty and the people don't suck. Plus, on the coast, you can actually buy seafood. Good seafood. From real fishermen. (Take that, Fyn.) And everyone has cool singsong accents, so it actually sounds like you are in another country. (Unlike Denmark where everyone just sounds like they are from the States.) Although the Swedish chef accent that most Americans remember from childhood actually sounds more like Norwegians, who definitely win hands down in the cool Scandinavian accent contest.

Even more surprising, after a year in Scandinavia, Nordic food is growing on me. I sometimes kind of like pickled herring, and I absolutely love smoked eel. Don't get me wrong. The choice between French and either Swedish or Danish food will never be much of a contest. And our really nice little hotel had something they labeled caviar that tasted something like bile favored with honey that almost made a bulimic out of me. However, for the most part, Danish and Swedish food doesn't make me run screaming in abject terror anymore. And I think that is progress.

All great things come to an end

2008-09-04T16:36:00.004+02:00

Goodbye

Today is my last day at Hello. Well, actually last Friday was my last day, but I've been finishing up some projects this week so I've been back in the office quite a bit. I know a lot of people come across this blog who are looking for a job at Hello, so let me just say that my leaving has nothing to do with the agency. It's a great agency, and it was really hard to leave. I was just ready to do something else.

In any case, have spent the last few weeks tying up loose ends, so not had a chance to check in. One good consequence of my leaving is that this blog can go back into stealth mode. It got a bit sanitized once I realized clients were checking it - it's hard not to self-edit when that happens.

I think I will keep my new workplace to myself for that reason for a while. Suffice it to say, few writers are lucky enough to work on a client they are truly passionate about. Now, I am one of them.

A-kayaking we did go

2008-08-14T12:46:00.005+02:00

I've been wanting to get into longer kayaking trips for a while. I think sea kayaking gets kind of a bad rap, but like most things, you can do it easy, or you can do it intensely. A couple years ago, I went to Belize for about 5 days kayaking island-to-island off the coast. While fun, I realized I was definitely ready for a bigger challenge.

I found it in Greece. Nine days of 4-6 hours of intense kayaking a day through ridiculously beautiful scenery. Amazing.

I lucked out in a kayak partner as well. One of the guys from work is also very into kayaking and came along for the ride. I found a company that rented us all the equipment we needed so all we had to bring was a sleeping bag. They also gave us printed maps to work with, and we were off.

To be honest, I've always prided myself on my athletic ability - particularly when it comes to water sports. However, this trip definitely taught me some humility. While I've sea kayaked with guys before, they were never as good as me technically and usually not in as good of shape. Søren was the first time I'd sea kayaked with someone who was as good technically (if not better) and better than me athletically.

As we were on our own, we had the freedom to set our own pace. For us, this meant all out. We beat the estimated times by about 2 hours a day, and he was barely breaking a sweat. To some people, this would probably be a total nightmare. For me, it was heaven. We got to visit almost every island in the Greek isles, saw a lot of things most people don't get to see and actually ended up in better shape after our vacation than we were when starting it.

If you're me, it doesn't get any better than that.

Doing the Roskilde thing (delayed post)

2008-08-14T12:28:00.005+02:00

Oh dear. It has been a while, and a whole lot has happened.

Hello Roskilde:

What can I say? Four days of mayhem. I've posted the pics to my facebook account, so I won't bother to repost them here. We were spoiled with VIP status (thanks to Hello), so we had showers and could escape to the press area when the general scene got to be too much. Our protected campsite meant that I did not experience anyone peeing on my tent - which is apparently a common occurrence in the regular camping. Plus, it meant that none of us got too smelly, which is always good.

Didn't drink as much as I feared - afraid my system doesn't really do the hardcore partying thing anymore, but saw some amazing bands. Cocorosie was my personal favorite.

Also, one final note about peeing - I have never seen so many people peeing in public in one place. I am serious. Women squatting down barely on the edge or sometimes even in the middle of the crowd, men against every wall and every tree. Have to admit I was super thankful that it didn't rain like last year, which made it easy to avoid all the wet spots.

Diesel ran this human car wash, where dirty people could get hosed down by hot women in bikinis. (As showers were few and far between in general camping - it's a pretty good draw). I thought that was an interesting bit of marketing. They even had a window where you could watch as it happened. As you can see, this was often as crowded as the wash itself.

All work and all play means no blogging

2008-07-16T15:01:00.003+02:00

I had intended to post some shots of Roskilde, but then got sidetracked by going away parties and drinks and the family in town, and it all went downhill from there. The days have been a blur of good wine and even better food. In a few days, I leave for two weeks kayaking in Greece.

It's a tough existence, mine.

Updates, photos and various other things when I return in August.

And a cheer went up from all Americans living abroad

2008-06-26T12:37:00.004+02:00

There are a few things you'll hear time and again while living abroad. Our president is evil, our foreign policy sucks and Americans are first in fleshiness.

Well, our president is still evil and our foreign policy may still suck, but in a move that will warm the cockles of every expat heart, the U.S. just went down a point in the fattest nation in the world contest. Or Australia went up. No matter.

Now when someone says to you in a bar that Americans are all fat, you can reply, whatever, Australians are worse.

Proof that you don't need to be original to win a gold at Cannes

2008-06-19T13:37:00.004+02:00

Some of you will remember Brian Dettmer's book autopsies from an earlier post. Looks like FHM channeled his work for their Cannes winning campaign. I hope they had the decency to throw him some cash for it.

Hello brings you a poker tournament - a story told in pictures

2008-06-16T13:15:00.019+02:00

So I've heard over the past few months that quite a few people who come across this blog do so because they want to learn more about Hello (the agency where I work). Last Friday was the Hello poker tournament, which seems a perfect way to introduce the curious to the odd universe that is Hello.

When we do things, we don't really go for half measures. So for this poker night, we brought in professional dealers and regulation tables. To kick us off, Event Poker talked us through the rules of Texas Hold 'Em.

There were prizes.

And suspense.

And, of course, the key ingredient for any successful Hello night.

There was laughter.

And tattoos.

And did I mention?

There were winners.

And those that were not so fortunate.

In the end, it all came down to one table.

One by one they went down.

And then there were two.

The pressure was on.

But in the end, there can be only one.

Guess who that was?

(You'll notice I didn't choose to post about Hello Race Day a few weeks ago where I came in 24th out of 28. Hey, it's my blog. I'll sugar-coat if I feel like it.)

ah, the golden days of advertising

2008-06-16T13:12:00.003+02:00

When you could dress a guy up in a ridiculous costume, have him shout some inane catch-phrase and call it a day.

OK, I admit it. I am developing a serious kool-aid fetish. This was getting passed around the agency this morning, and I felt I had to share.

2008-06-13T16:18:00.002+02:00

Jutland street fashion?

2008-06-11T00:18:00.002+02:00

One of the things I love abut Copenhagen is the street fashion. Most people seem pretty put together here. However it seems that this keen sense of style has yet to penetrate to the rest of the country.

file under "yep, that's my country"

2008-06-06T10:39:00.001+02:00

"Clinton is not seeking the vice presidency, and no one speaks for her but her,'' spokesman Howard Wolfson said...

the most honest country in the world

2008-05-30T10:49:00.006+02:00

So about a month ago, I got a new camera from my family as a delayed birthday present. (The one is used to take the pictures in the last post.) Today, my roommate was biking into work with it when it dropped out of his pocket. In the case was also my Danish bank card.

After a small heart attack, I headed over to the bank to order a new card. This was all of an hour after he told me. So there I am, sitting in the chair, waiting for a teller when my phone rings. It's my branch of Danske bank. Turns out, someone put my new camera with the bank card through the overnight slot. Camera, card, everything.

Needless to say, if this had happened in the States, that camera would have been long gone. It's days like these that make me really love this country.

So whoever you are anonymous camera returner, thanks for making my day.

a couple random pictures

2008-05-27T13:54:00.002+02:00

These didn't really fit into the post below, but they seem worth sharing.

Fyn, Jutland and the start of Danish classes. Oh what a few weeks it's been.

2008-05-27T13:26:00.008+02:00

Summer has come and life has gotten busy. You know how it goes. Over the recent months I have visited the Danish island of Fyn, went to a 40th birthday party in Jutland where almost no one spoke English, tromped around ruins, trespassed in an abandoned factory and managed to not get thrown off the back of an Italian racing bike. Not to mention the start of Danish classes, the typical summer Friday bars and other agency booze-ups and the general time demands of a career in advertising.

In short, I've been a tad busy.

Things I have noticed in this time:

The Danes do not seem to have any clams. Mussels, yes. Lobster, yes. Clams, no.
(Of course, this means that I have been having clam cravings something fierce.)

The closer you get to the sea in Denmark, the less seafood you seem to be able to order.

No matter how insistent people are about speaking Danish to you and how intensely you try to listen, you are not going to understand them.

You are never too old to get a chuckle out of a sign that says "fart kontrol"

French ice cream is way better than Danish ice cream.

Sweet advertising idea

2008-05-20T11:10:00.000+02:00

love the way this was shot

2008-05-16T16:14:00.001+02:00

Home again, home again. Jiggety Jig.

2008-05-09T12:30:00.005+02:00

So it only took me 48 hours to get back to Denmark and another airline on my sh*tlist. American, you charged me extra to strand me in New York overnight on the way back and didn't even pick up the hotel.

I'd go into more detail, but it's a beautiful day, and I can't be bothered devoting more blog space to them. Suffice it to say, second worst airline experience ever. (The first was American as well. Much despised baggage-losing SAS only rates a distant third, to give you some idea.)

In brighter news, it's a seriously glorious day here in lovely Copenhagen. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and tonight is Friday bar at the agency. If it stays like this, I may never leave Copenhagen again.

As I hate being too negative about anything, here is a list of airlines that have always been a pleasure to fly on:

British Airways
United
Air France
Lufthansa

Live from a New York hotel room

2008-04-29T04:25:00.002+02:00

Jet lag has a texture. It's soft and fuzzy and remote as a spring peach in the dead of winter. But jet lag or not, it's good to be home. I didn't fully appreciate how homesick I've been lately until I saw the skyscrapers out the cab window. I can't ever seem to stay put here, but I do miss it like heck when I am gone. Crazy mad beautiful home.

I'd say more, but sleep is calling.

Pig urine plastic utensils

2008-04-23T10:54:00.001+02:00

Another to file under "those crazy Danes":

http://gizmodo.com/382734/pig-urine-plasticware-could-add-some-flavor-to-your-meals-cigarettes

When Wednesday feels like a Monday

2008-04-23T10:32:00.001+02:00

OK, at some point I will have some time to tell you about the fabulously life I am leading here in lovely Copenhagen. Until then...

what many Europeans think of when they think of Americans

2008-04-17T13:16:00.004+02:00

music for a Thursday

2008-04-17T00:16:00.001+02:00

The Chinatown that really isn't

2008-04-15T12:37:00.005+02:00

I have something of a fetish for cooking with odd ingredients. One of the side effects of this is a fascination with ethnic markets of any stripe, but I have a particular soft spot for Asian food stores. While I've found a few small Asian markets scattered around the city, I'd yet to find some of the more unusual foods that I'd been able to easily source elsewhere. Sunday I decided to do something about this. I'd been hearing rumors of a Copenhagen Chinatown somewhere near the train station, but had yet to come across anything like this in the few times I'd been there.

On a beautiful sunny day, we pulled up behind the train station. Shouldn't be so hard to find. So we parked the bikes and walked. And walked. And walked. Hmm. How could a large Asian neighborhood just disappear? After a quick phone call to Brian, my own incredibly patient human google map, we saw our first Asian store. Then a second and third. And then... nothing. Apparently Chinatown in Copenhagen consists of exactly three small markets, one of which is named, conveniently, Chinatown.

We did see some guys playing boules in a road median and got saluted by a random drunk, plus it was a beautiful sunny day, so one could hardly complain. Although if anyone out there knows some hidden massive asian market, complete with live geoducks and turtles and weird racks of hanging meat, please let me know.

work conversation topic of the day

2008-04-04T10:58:00.004+02:00

Masturbating stoned koalas.

Apparently when koalas eat eucalyptus leaves, they get high. When this happens, they like to go for a bit of self-help. The way they do this is by rubbing up against trees. So all those cute toys of koalas gripping trees? They're apparently showcasing drugged up creatures in the middle of giving themselves a little happy ending.

from the mean streets of Norway

2008-04-01T21:36:00.000+02:00

the verdict?

2008-04-01T11:04:00.003+02:00

I woke up this morning with a slight hangover, but otherwise feeling quite good.

Psychological?

OK, probably, but I'll take it. :)

Crazy Danish flu remedy: 1
Flu: 0

on entering the arena of the unwell and interesting Danish flu remedies

2008-03-31T15:14:00.003+02:00

Most people have the good sense to get sick when it's cold and miserable out. Not me. Today I biked home from work feeling flu-ridden through a picture-perfect sunny day. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and all I want to do is close the curtains on the world, curl up in bed and sleep until tomorrow morning.

The flu has been going around for a while here. Not sure if that's what I have, but to steal another Bruce Robinson quote, I feel strange and unusual. (The savvy will recognize the title of this post as well as the second quote from one of my all-time favorite movies - Withnail & I)

Interestingly enough, our CEO stopped by my desk before sending me home with flu remedy in hand - one bottle of wine, one bottle of rum, some lemon and an orange. Apparently you get the wine close to boiling, add in the rum, squeeze in some orange juice and add as much lemon as you can stand. He swears by this. Well, it can't really hurt, can it? (I know I mention this a lot, but I really do work with some of the best people on the planet.)

Remedy results tomorrow.

brilliant

2008-03-21T21:36:00.004+01:00

We've been spending a lot of time lately talking about the old kool-aid commercials at work. This is the best description of them ever.

this is becoming a habit

2008-03-21T21:17:00.003+01:00

So rather a lot has happened in recent weeks. Went skiing in Norway with my agency. We had a massive cabin up at Trysil. Fires were built, food made, songs sung, toasts drank and a whole lot of laughing and joking around. The snow was perfect, the weather was amazing and the company, as always, ideal. We really do have some of the nicest, most fun and generally coolest people I've met in the industry. And no one throws a better party than we do. There are blackmail pics about somewhere of me playing singstar. I can only hope they stay buried forever.

In other news, I got back into a flurry of work. Hence the lack of updates. It's now Easter here in Copenhagen and everything is shut (as usual). My camera is out of battery, so no pics for a while.

More as soon as I get my brain back.

sigh

2008-03-05T09:35:00.002+01:00

Sadly, I've had to turn on comment moderation as I've been getting some comment spam. Although if anyone needs any "party tools" from some dodgy place in Delhi, I can now tell you where to go.

the riot party that wasn't

2008-03-04T22:35:00.003+01:00

Last Saturday was the year anniversary of the storming of the anarchist house. We were warned that there were going to be major riots, complete with molotov cocktails, ripping up pavements and burning cars everywhere.

As these usually end up happening outside the window of my apartment, and, as I was moving the next day, we decided to do what any self-respecting people would do in a similar situation. Throw a riot watching party, of course.

T-shirts and logos were designed. Signature drinks created and food laid in against a possible forced overnighter. With the theme being rum riot and Ben, my art director partner, chipping in a top-of-the-line rum left over from his stint at an agency in Puerto Rico, we were as prepared as we could be.

Dinner was lovely, the variation on mojitos were tasty and the company was excellent. In the end, there was only one catch. No riots. Not even the normal Saturday night drunks randomly singing in the street. (My guess was this was due the particularly nasty gale-force winds that night.)

In fact, the closest thing to a ruckus was when a few of the guys took a bunch of broken up door frames left for the rubbish collectors and broke them up to feed the fireplace. The one time I was actually looking forward to the anarchists coming through and they completely failed to show. Ah well.

In other news, I have now moved into the new place. Sadly, everything I own is still haphazardly strewn about due to a rather crazy work schedule last week, but I've already gotten used to the blissful quiet. No demonstrators or drunks here on the unfashionable side of Norrebro.

I'm off to Norway skiing this weekend. L.A. already seems a lifetime ago. So many missed stories, but work has been hogging all my words lately and there's been precious little time for much else. Hopefully that is changing now, and I'll be able to resume my aimless rambling for those of you that actually enjoy that sort of thing.

Sunning in L.A., getting rescued by the bomb squad in Vegas and sex shops in the airport

2008-02-21T22:51:00.004+01:00

Ah yes, another trip to the homeland. But I don't have time to write anything about any of that at the moment. So here's a random video instead.

when guerilla marketing goes wrong

2008-02-07T15:41:00.000+01:00

So I've got this great idea that will help us afford new uniforms...

The article about it on creative match is even funnier.

Hello brings you a party, breakfast with the Americans and not watching the superbowl

2008-02-05T07:55:00.001+01:00

Yeah, it's been another lovely weekend. (OK, I'm a little behind.) Friday night was the Hello party. Grand total: 2 police visits, 80 bottles of hard liquor consumed and rivers of beer, standing room only with many, many drunken people, surprisingly no scandals and a good time had by all.

Honestly, It was absolutely lovely. Met some new amazing people, got to hang out with people I don't normally and fell in love with my agency all over again.

Saturday I pretty much chilled - watched some movies, detoxed. Sunday I went to an expat brunch. I'm usually not a big fan of traveling to another country and hanging out primarily with your own countrymen, but here sometimes it is absolutely necessary.

Denmark has a few things that drive pretty much every American I know (and many English) completely bonkers, and if you don't get it out by talking to another American, you find yourself ranting to some poor bewildered Dane about the lack of a return policy or the non-existent customer service, and no one wants that.

music for a Thursday

2008-01-31T10:06:00.000+01:00

Ravens and Chimes

Brooklyn band. Kind of reminds me of Conor Oberst. Good stuff.

January

Archways

This is where we are

found on Battle of the Midwestern Housewives

I know, I know. I'll get back to posting real entries soon.

stuck in my head all day

2008-01-28T23:40:00.000+01:00

And I can't seem to find a video that isn't a complete bandwith hog and stutters unmercifully. That also is about how my day has gone.

hmm

2008-01-18T07:40:00.000+01:00

All work and no play means no posts.

file under gross but fascinating

2008-01-08T12:54:00.001+01:00

OK, if this was with cute bunny rabbits, it would be cruel and horrifying. However, I hate bugs. Particularly spiders.

In this instance, I am ok with my own hypocrisy.

I've got a bright idea

2008-01-07T22:06:00.000+01:00

I think I am going to leave the frozen tundra that is Chicago.

Where oh where shall I go?

Tahiti? The south of France? Mallorca, perhaps?

No, I think I will move to the tropical climate of Denmark. Yeah, that's it. That's a brilliant idea.

New Year's? It was amazing. The Danes are seriously unsane when it comes to flammable or ignitable materials. Every single person in the entire country outside lighting off fireworks as big as their houses with a blatant disregard for safety, sanity or the basic laws of gravity.

In fact, they are so addicted to them that they make special ones that you light at the dinner table, which hurl hard projectiles like whistles and noisemakers at unsuspecting guests while spewing metallic confetti into every nearby food dish and beverage glass. For some reason, Danish people find this highly amusing.

After enough drinks, you kind of have to agree with them.

An impressive set of brass bells

2007-12-25T10:05:00.000+01:00

I can't decide whether the bells are ringing more today or whether they always ring this much, but I am not normally home to hear them. I live across the street from a rather large church, so when the bells get going, they tend to be hard to ignore. Today it seems like they are being rung by a hyperactive monk with the memory of a goldfish. Crap, did I ring the bells? Better go ring them again. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ring the bells! Ring the bells!

So here we are, Christmas day in Copenhagen. I've been trying hard to get into the holiday spirit the last week, with rather limited success, I'm afraid. Although I have become a big fan of glögg - that is the traditional hot spiced red wine that Danes drink around Christmas. On Saturday, I went to the last day of the Nyhavn Christmas market. I perused the tat in the stalls, odd assemblies of random leather goods and animal skins, wool sweaters and viking regalia, not to mention the mystifying fairground-like collections of stuffed reindeer and santa clauses. Failing to find the inspiration I was looking for, I picked up a bag of roast chestnuts and went across the road to watch the ice skaters in Kongens Nytorv for a while.

For an atheist, I am, rather oddly, a big fan of Christmas. It's mostly because of the aesthetics - the scent of pine, the colors green and red, the association with sleighs and skates and snowball fights, a hint of vintage, a dash of goodwill towards fellow man, the feeling of tradition. Plus, no one ever pushes the whole religious aspect too hard, so it's easy to celebrate if you're a non-believer. It seems more akin to the worship of capitalism than any kind of omnipotent god, if we're honest. Which makes it the quintessential holiday for Americans, I suppose.

So yesterday I made my traditional Christmas roast duck, and today I'll do my just as traditional pierogi making from the leftovers. Perhaps it's impossible to truly feel the Christmas spirit when you are far away from everyone you love, but I am certainly going to give it my best try.

So merry Christmas, happy holidays, lovely Kwanza, joyous Ramadan, and a very happy Chanukkah (even though I think it's over).

the daily show does Denmark

2007-12-23T09:17:00.000+01:00

OK, this is old, but it's the first time I've seen it, and it's kinda funny. (If you only watch one, part two is funnier than part 1.)

the anarchists ride again

2007-12-13T20:37:00.000+01:00

So I was on my way home from work and ran across another young anarchists parade. Two flatbed trucks blasted bad punk ear-splittingly loud as an endless sea of early teens marched with torches and bonfires in wagons like the scene when the villagers storm the castle in Frankenstein. It was close to the center of town, and I remember being surprised as I'd never seen them there before. Frankly I was just glad they decided to go someplace other than outside my window. Of course, I spoke too soon. Turns out they were just taking a tour before heading back to their spiritual home - the square across the street.

They've apparently upgraded their sound system since last they were here. Plus they've found some sort of firework that bears a striking similarity to a sonic boom. And they are interspersing the music with speeches this evening. I can't decide which is more annoying. There will be no sleep for me tonight.

stuck on my itunes

2007-12-11T23:04:00.000+01:00

Vermillion Lies "No good for you"

Click the link above to download it free.
(Because I am too lazy to learn how to post music right now.)

Roadkill toys

2007-12-11T21:57:00.001+01:00

Limited edition - they come complete with bodybag and toe tag.

I confess. I want one. Does that make me sick?

(Spotted on Something Rotten - nice one Aaron)

too old for this crap

2007-12-09T08:58:00.000+01:00

Think it's time for another self-imposed Ruby's ban.

For those of you who don't know, Ruby's is the default agency bar. A night that starts at Ruby's usually ends up at this after-hours bar that I never remember the name of, which I think has some association to jazz and which closes well after the night before should have become the morning after. I always tell myself I won't end up there. I am always wrong.

Some people can carry off the hard-partying lifestyle well into their 30somethings (JB, this means you.) However, for others of us, this is not such a good idea. I am definitely in the second camp. For me, this means I will crawl into bed Saturday morning and stay there, reading and sleeping alternately until Sunday.

Lost weekend, indeed.

For those of you who can booze happily until the sun comes up, be sure to check out JB's DJ set Thursday nights at Liar's club next time you are in Chicago.

JB, it's up to you to carry the torch for the rest of us. I think I am turning mine in.

it's hard to look tough in a santa hat

2007-12-07T00:31:00.000+01:00

an unexamined life and such

2007-12-06T23:45:00.000+01:00

Tell someone rather vehemently they look great today.

One kind of person will smile and say thank you.

The other will wonder whether they looked like crap yesterday.

I am apparently the latter.

when jellyfish attack

2007-12-02T12:30:00.000+01:00

Dear lord, masses of jellyfish going on an inter-species killing rampage. Beware the rogue jellyfish.

http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/local-national/article3191664.ece

Hello Christmas

2007-12-02T11:37:00.001+01:00

Only three days after dragging myself back from a lovely week in Chicago, I was back at Copenhagen airport. Yes, it was the soon-to-be-infamous Hello Christmas party in Berlin. Things I've learned from the trip to Berlin:

If you go with the right people, everywhere you go in Berlin looks remarkably like Ruby's on a Friday night.

Champagne is the true breakfast of champions

Everything you've heard about Danish Christmas parties is true.

You can go a remarkably long time without sleeping, even if you probably shouldn't.

I love the people I work with - every single one of them. It's obvious we all deserve each other. If you're reading this, I love you guys.

(Dreadful picture of me on no sleep and too much champagne courtesy of Jorgen Juul)

crispy fried me

2007-11-26T17:38:00.000+01:00

Just got back in from a lovely week and a bit in my homeland of Chicago. I'd tell you all about it, but I've got that strange acid fogginess you get from visiting three airports in a 24 hour period and being too tired to do the time zone math to figure out when you slept last. You can stick a fork in me, because I am doooooone.

Yeah, I totally jinxed myself

2007-11-14T23:18:00.000+01:00

Yep, you guessed it. First bike crash. Was on my way to work, doing the bike thing in a skirt and heels and doing just fine, thanks very much. Anyway, I was in the left side of the bike lane and needed to get to the right because my turn off was coming up, but no one would let me in. If you know Copenhagen at all, you know the bike lanes can get pretty crowded of a morning, and Danes, while very nice people in general, can sometimes be a little weird when it comes to lines or rules of the road. Anyway, no one would let me over, tried passing people in front, tried slowing down, finally I saw an opening just big enough and I went for it and the women in front of me hit the brakes. Hit the back of her tire and wham - total wipeout. Grand total: one scraped and swollen knee, one ruined pair of tights (one hour before a big client meeting, no less) and one case of badly injured pride. Could have been worse, I suppose.

On being the ugly American

2007-11-14T00:24:00.001+01:00

So went for dinner to a friend of a friend's house to watch the election. The hosts were kind enough to give me a thorough rundown of the Danish political process, which was definitely very interesting. However, the number of parties and the niceties of percentages of seats is pretty much lost on the child of a two-party system.

Everyone wonders why Americans tend to be more inclined to view things in black or white. Perhaps it is our political system that is to blame. Heck, we can't even get a third party together, let alone 6. That's just too many shades of grey for us to comprehend. And everyone sharing power? Mmm, don't think so. Winner takes all and condemn the losers to four years of suffering. That's the American way.

What was seriously insane was hearing that something like 80% of the people vote here. Think it's around 40% at home. This might be a symptom of the widespread apathy about politics in general that seems to affect the American consciousness. I'd tell you more about the issues at stake, but I was too busy critiquing the hair and outfit choices to pay much attention. (What was up with that leopard print the Prime Minister's wife was wearing?)

life's little victories

2007-11-11T21:52:00.000+01:00

I bike rode home today. It was snowing. I was in heels. And, no, I didn't kill myself.

I may be getting the hang of this city after all.

the Sprinkle Brigade

2007-11-10T10:18:00.001+01:00

This is so New York.

overdosing on quaintness in Hillerod

2007-11-08T22:13:00.000+01:00

Decided it was high time I did something that didn't involve working, drinking or going to the gym. So on a Sunday the week before last, I set out with Rico, the master of all things cultural at my agency, to check out Frederiksborg castle.

To be honest, Copenhagen isn't always the quaintest of European cities. Don't get me wrong, it definitely has its moments, but in terms of mainland Europe, you get the feeling that the Danes were too busy raping and pillaging to really put their hearts into interior and exterior decoration. Well, someone seriously let loose their inner metrosexuals when it came to Frederiksborg. Yet even in their wildest bits of architectural abandon, there is a masculinity to it. You would probably never dare use the word confection to describe Danish decor, even at its most ornate. Much like Scotland, you rather feel you'd get a swift kick somewhere unpleasant if you even tried.

Heck, even the naked guy on the top of the fountain, surrounded by cherubs and precious water jets looks like he's strutting around in the middle of a mosh pit. This can be kind of refreshing if you've ever spent significant bits of time in France. I've always kind of dug that hunting lodge look, and this place seriously ups the ante. It's supposed to be an art museum, but the art is passable at best and seriously awful at worst, so good thing the surroundings amaze. They had a self-portrait by Lars von Trier that makes one rather glad that he went into directing instead. I'd torture you with it here, but I rather think I do him a favor by not posting it. Better you always remember him as you know him now.

Luckily, the older pieces fare a bit better. This ship was made by a prisoner out of his dinner bones. Apparently, this was common practice among prisoners who made ornate ships and then sold them in order to get the money to buy things. Perhaps better meals with bigger bones to build more ships to buy better meals with bigger bones? Maybe Lars should have taken up carving instead.

the bag saga is officially over

2007-11-08T21:51:00.000+01:00

So it looks as if I will have to find something else to get all cranky about. Out of the blue a few days ago, after their lawyer telling me they would not issue a refund without receipts for all my possessions past, present and future, as well as the blood of ten virgins and a good quality stake to drive through their cold, dead, corporate heart, I got a crisp check in the mail from my good friends at SAS. While it only covers about 1/5 of what was actually in the bag, I am just glad to have it all over.
Three words: Never, ever again. Enough said.

Not only does SAS still suck, their planes are death traps

2007-10-28T21:21:00.000+01:00

I was overdue for an update on the bag situation. In short terms, SAS is still screwing me around. To date, I have no bag and no settlement. Their limitations don't even come close to covering what was in it, and now they want receipts for everything in the bag to even give me that.

So, I was getting ready to write a long rant about this, when a friend happened to mention they have crashed four planes in the last couple months. Well, to find sources for this, I did a quick google search on SAS crash. If you are even remotely thinking about getting on an SAS flight, I suggest you do this first. And then take a real airline.

You can find information about their recent crashes here and here.

So now I can say, for both your safety and your sanity, don't fly Scandinavian Airlines.

While I am posting animation, here's another one I love

2007-10-27T12:40:00.001+02:00

Seedy Gonzalez

2007-10-27T12:37:00.001+02:00

Those kooky Japanese

2007-10-27T11:28:00.000+02:00

photo courtesy of the New York Times.

Not sure about how effective it would be against muggers, but it might make a useful Halloween costume. Click here for details.

strange dreams and more drunken anarchists

2007-10-27T09:51:00.000+02:00

Last week was a good week. I was in Sweden to see a periodontist. It was an appointment I'd been dreading. Just before I left the States I was told by my dentist I was going to need major dental surgery, pretty much immediately. He scared the living heck out of me, so it was with a heavy heart and fear in the depths of my soul that I took that little journey. My Swedish specialist is a kind but slightly nervous man, which seems a pretty common personality type for the dental types - I wonder why. Anyway, after an examination with many verbal notes to the transcribing nurse (in Swedish, of course), he looks at me. "So your dentist, he told you you need this?"

"Mmm, yes, rather vehemently."

"You are fine. There is nothing not normal here.", he said, looking at me like I might be slightly off my rocker.

I won't go into details, but the last few months I've had a surgery hanging over my head that makes me shudder to think about. It's not an uncommon thing, but it is an intensely painful one, and knowing that I don't need it makes every day a whole lot easier to get through.

A few nights later, for some reason, I dreamed about a woman I'd known in grade school, who'd apparently become a dentist, and who was doing something really terrible to me with dental instruments. I awoke to the anarchists, who, from the sound of it, had erected a complete club with a professional sound system in the park outside my window. In most countries, police with batons and clubs and all sorts of implements would have been on them within a few minutes. Here, they let it burn itself out. You've got to admire the fortitude of these kids. They managed to keep it up until about 7am. The last 6 or 7 songs became a group sing-along that would have sounded kind of good, were it not 6:30 am on a Saturday, I suppose. Wow, have I become a curmudgeon or what?

3 hours in Sweden

2007-10-24T01:16:00.000+02:00

Today I went to Sweden. I left from Copenhagen station.

The train was nice enough, but it's the attention-to-detail that made it perfect. After all, how many times have you gotten on the train and wondered where to put your schnauzer? Thankfully for the rest of the world, the Swedes have some helpful advice.

Oh. That's where that schnauzer goes.

currently on repeat on my itunes

2007-10-22T11:23:00.000+02:00

"stepping out in front of cars" by Morning Bride.

Download it free here:

http://www.morningbride.co.uk/music/

Those kooky kids

2007-10-17T22:38:00.000+02:00

Last Saturday, or maybe it was Wednesday, the anarchists decided to have an impromptu music festival in the square across from my house. They had a stage that was rolling through Copenhagen with a live band playing and ear-shatteringly loud speakers. It was kind of like a parade, if you took all the color out, replaced all the baton twirlers with drunk 14 to 16 year olds in black hoodies and changed the happy parade music to death metal. Anyway, since I didn't get any pics myself of the riots, thought I'd take one of this, so you can all get a taste of Norrebro on a Saturday night (for those of you who don't live here).

Lance Armstrong congratulated me today

2007-10-10T23:41:00.000+02:00

One of the results of SAS's complete incompetence in terms of baggage handling was that I lost all my workout gear - shoes included. As all running shoes are equally insanely expensive here in DK, I was finally able to justify buying into the whole nike + ipod thing. (Particularly since I already had the nano - a gift from an old client that was lying around unused.) I've never been much of a street runner - generally preferring to get my cardio on the much-easier-on-the-knees cross-trainer while enjoying the climate controlled comforts of the gym. I have to say though, with the nike + ipod, I am rapidly getting addicted. The lakes where I run are quite beautiful as the sun comes up. And there's something innately satisfying about uploading the details of your morning run to a site online where you can compare it with other mornings. Sure, the system doesn't give me any information I couldn't get on cardio equipment at the gym. In fact, because it doesn't work with a heart rate monitor, it's missing a piece of what I normally consider vital information. However, it adds a whole different dimension getting that information from real world training. And today, when Lance Armstrong piped up to congratulate me on hitting a personal best mile time, the cynic in me played it off with a "how hokey". But deep down, I admit it, I was as giddy as a little girl in her first princess dress.

I took some pictures of this morning's run, just to bring some color and life back into this blog. I've been slacking seriously in the photo department lately, I am well aware. I was going to use them too, but then I saw this image by Flemming Bo Jensen:

That is a lot more like my morning run looks than the crappy blurry shots I took while trying to keep up to pace. (Multi-tasking and photos don't mix strangely enough.)

Anyway, that's how I spend my mornings. Guess life could be worse.

Danish trivia

2007-10-09T22:18:00.000+02:00

A while ago, I posted on my complete inability to name any famous Danish people. I would love to say that in the past three weeks, I've studied up on Danish history and have come up with the following list based on hard work and diligence. Instead, I frittered away my time getting boozed up, working too much and going shopping. Good thing I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. So, courtesy of the always awesome (and fabulously Danish) Cristina, the following list should get you out of trouble if you are ever at a party and get asked the dreaded "name some famous Danish people" question:

Niels Bohr
Hans Christian Andersen
Karen Blixen
Soren Kierkegaard
Hamlet (he counts!)
Minna Gaarn-Larsen (OK that is my mom, but she IS well-received)
Brigitte Nielsen
Helena Christensen
Arne Jacobsen
Vicktor Borge
Tycho Brahe
and of course
Canute

In the future, I solemnly promise to mend my wicked ways, visit some museums and generally stop being such a ne'er-do-well. Which reminds me. Next update will be on last weekend's drunken insanity.

In other news, Scandinavian Airlines still sucks

2007-10-09T21:59:00.000+02:00

Some of you have asked me how the bag thing ended up. It didn't. Still no bag. Still no compensation. And no response to my e-mails for the past week and a half. Think they are hoping I'll forget about it. (Haha. Very little chance of that happening.)

In fact, I am happily transferring unnecessarily and paying a pile extra just so I can fly Air France when I go back for Thanksgiving. (Plus skipping out on United air miles, to which I am addicted.) That's how much I hate SAS.

If you had ever been in their lost luggage room, you would probably never fly them again either.

What's there to do in my neighborhood? Riot, apparently.

2007-10-07T11:37:00.000+02:00

(photo courtesy of Reuters)

"Where are you living?"

"Norrebro"

"Oh yeah, where all the riots are."

That's generally what you'll hear when you mention my neighborhood in conversation. Why there are riots here are pretty simple. The police tore down a vacant building the local anarchists were using as a community center. They've been rioting and trying to take over other buildings ever since. What's particularly amusing to me is that they publish a web page with the exact location of the building they are going to take over a month in advance. I find this a bit mystifying. Of course, the police, who apparently also have internet access (surprise, surprise), are ready for them and a big riot ensues. Anyway, there was one here last night. I didn't hear much other than a few sirens from paddy wagons and 100 people drinking and singing and breaking bottles in the park across the street, but from some news reports, it's sounding like it was a big one:

http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/10/06/europe/EU-GEN-Denmark-Street-Clashes.php

random acts of loveliness

2007-10-02T20:52:00.000+02:00

So I decided to make another attempt at grocery shopping this evening. This is much more difficult than it sounds. Trying to figure out what things are when you don't speak the language can be a bit of a challenge, and even things you feel you should recognize are completely incomprehensible. The "what is that large hunk of meat" game is considerably less exciting when you eventually have to try to cook and eat the thing in question.

On my second to last attempt, it took ages to fill a basket with something that I could vaguely be expected to make dinner from, only to reach the register (after a queue of soviet era proportions) and find out they don't take non-Danish credit cards. And then (after another wait in a queue that made the first queue look non-existent in comparison) the atm machine across the street decided to freak out and go out of service with my atm card still in it.

Tonight I wanted to make a salad. I had bought anchovies and dressing at the heaven-on-earth grocery store a few days before - all I needed were vegetables. SImple, right? Well, not quite. I went to three stores without finding the vegetables I need in the sort of shape that I'd purchase them. So I am getting increasingly frustrated and it is getting later and I was feeling a bit raw anyway for no good reason and all this is making it worse when I end up at this one mom and pop market. They have the best veg I've seen yet, so I load up a cart. I get to the counter and the guy asks me if I would like to try some of what his friends and family were having. It's Ramadan and they have a big meal going. He ends up loading me up with Lebanese food. I get back home, put all the veg in the fridge for tomorrow and had some of the best food I've had since I got here. Amazing how one random act of kindness can make your whole week. (Plus he sells kick-ass vegetables too, so I know where I am going next time. I think I may bake him some banana bread to return the favor.)

art discovery of the day

2007-10-02T12:54:00.000+02:00

Ed Kienholz

http://www.artchive.com/artchive/K/kienholz.html#images

My odd odd life

2007-10-01T21:32:00.000+02:00

So I moved into the new apartment today. Well, the new temporary apartment anyway. I also found a grocery store that not only has lots of different kinds of meat, it even has pheasant, boar, deer and antelope, so things are definitely looking up in the personal happiness department. Anyway, this evening I decided to reflect on my life since leaving Chicago, and what I found surprised me a little. It's been just under three months since I left the States. In that time, I've been in three different countries, have mauled four different languages and have found a job that was just what I wanted. That's pretty amazing, when I think about it that way. I get so caught up in the little hassles sometimes that I forget to see things in perspective. I can't deny that this was absolutely the best decision for me to have made. Sometimes you just have to take the risk.

Beer!

2007-09-29T12:56:00.000+02:00

http://www.rathergood.com/beer/

Another bit of loveliness from Joel Vietch.

At some point in the future, I am sure this will all be very hysterical.

2007-09-20T22:17:00.000+02:00

However, today is not that day.

But I’ll get to that bit in a second. So, when last you heard from me, I was in Paris preparing to embrace my new future. Let’s begin there.

After a fitting Parisian goodbye consisting of a long drawn out meal, a whole bunch of wine, a walk along the Seine and martinis until who knows when, I woke up in just enough time to stuff the last of my possessions haphazardly into my already overstuffed suitcase and do the usual mad dash to CDG, my lateness compounded by the vagaries of the French rail system, then further compounded by a personal search that would have rivaled the migration of icebergs in leisurely pace. This culminated in the security woman’s decision that the climbing caribiner that held my keys was a decidedly deadly threat and must be confiscated with maximum theatrics. Her acid-tinged glance told me she didn’t think too highly of me either. In short, after the usual Herculean effort it seems to take for me to board a plane at CDG, I arrived just in time. Unfortunately, as I found out on arrival, my bag was not as lucky.

I decided to try and look on this as a positive thing. After all, now someone else would have to drag it to the hotel. Then I arrived at the hotel to find out that someone had canceled my reservations. How interesting. I jumped online to see if I had any messages to indicate to me the plan had changed. Nope. Nothing. Luckily, the hotel had space, so no problem at all. Reservation reactivated. So here I was in Copenhagen on a lovely Sunday afternoon. Might as well enjoy it. Off I went for a walk and to do a little scouting for dinner places.

It was a beautiful day. I passed a picturesque canal where fishing boats bobbed at anchor. The water smelled of the sea, and people lounged on the patios of neighboring restaurants, enjoying a leisurely drink on a Sunday afternoon. I walked down to this large circle, sort of a park where many roads met. Turns out there was a street exhibition taking place. Clear plastic spheres were scattered throughout. Each one featured an award-winning design concept created to make the world a better place – shelters for refugees, computers cheap enough to give away in the third world, biodegradable packaging – that sort of thing. Very cool stuff. An ornate theater on an adjoining street was apparently at intermission for their Sunday matinee performance. Well-dressed people lounged on the second floor balcony overlooking the circle, sipping wine and champagne. Opera, design, architecture, water - I think I might like it here. After a decent dinner and a couple glasses of wine, I retired to the hotel to get some reading done for a meeting the next day feeling pretty positive about life.

One decent night’s rest later, I was ready for the first day of work. Coffee was the first order of the day. Copenhagen has tons of coffee houses, shouldn’t be a problem, right? Mmm, wrong. No one gets coffee on the way to work here. A million coffee houses in this city, and couldn’t find one that opens before 9:30. While it is refreshing not to have a Starbuck’s on every corner, I would have given my eyeteeth to see that little green awning that particular morning. Eventually I was able to get a sandwich counter to take pity on me and give me my black beetle fix.

My first day of work was fantastic. The people I work with are smart, passionate and full of ideas. It’s a great environment to be in. I consider myself very lucky. It’s exactly what I wanted to be doing. I couldn’t have picked a better agency. It would have been a perfect day except for one little thing.

The dubiously-rated “four star” hotel I was staying in inexplicably decided I’d checked out, removing the few things I had in my room and putting them into a clear plastic bag in the lobby. This bag was then unceremoniously handed to me by an unbelievably rude hotel employee in front of a long line of American business travelers like I was some homeless person asking for handouts. In addition, my bag had arrived from the airport, but they’d sent it back. Luckily, my work had already booked me in somewhere else, so I went back to collect the two bags that I had thankfully sent ahead through FedEx (ah FedEx, how I love you) and went to my new home.

Two days later, after receiving no response to the countless e-mails, and a “we’re busy, go away” message every time I tried to phone the SAS baggage people, I headed back to the airport. After waiting about an hour for my number to be called, a friendly looking guy called me up to the counter. The confused look on his face did not bode well. Neither did the “that’s strange” that burst from his lips. It seems my bag was in electronic limbo. As far as the system knew, the last time it had been spotted was the super evil Phoenix hotel. Together we looked through the hall of lost luggage with increasing desperation. My sad little overstuffed bag has been swallowed by the valise Bermuda triangle. Vanished without a trace. This has never happened before, he assured me. For some reason it didn’t feel like much of a comfort.

So, I have a confession to make. I’ve been kind of wallowing in self-pity the last few days, feeling like life was peeing on me repeatedly and being rather disgruntled about it. Then tonight I was reminded of the fact that the clothes, shoes, skin care, make-up – they’re just that - stuff. They can be replaced. I have a job I love in a city I am growing fonder of ever day. Everything else is unimportant. So, while I am not quite to the point I can laugh about it, I am at least over letting it get me down. Anyway, I now have the perfect excuse to go on a serious shopping trip. I guess there are worse things in life.

Although if any of you should feel like going on a few review sites and helping me take down the Phoenix hotel in Copenhagen’s user rating…

Brian Dettmer's book autopsies

2007-09-19T12:32:00.000+02:00

See more here: http://centripetalnotion.com/2007/09/13/13:26:26/#more-550

Quote of the day

2007-09-18T16:40:00.000+02:00

If there are no stupid questions, then what kind of questions do stupid people ask? Do they get smart just in time to ask questions?

Scott Adams
(taken from longorshortcapital.com)

I see dead people

2007-09-15T15:35:00.002+02:00

I’d been feeling a bit out of sorts lately what with the impending move and leaving people I’d just started to get close to and a place I’m rather happy. So, I decided to do something to cheer myself up.

Shopping?
No room in my bags, so that was out.

Hair appointment?
Just didn’t have the energy to have to chat to stylist and a colorist for hours on end in my crappy French.

Visit to the catacombs to meditate on the brevity of existence?
Perfect.

This translates to "Stop. This is the empire of death." in case you're curious. I'm thinking of putting it on a welcome mat. I'd never be troubled by religious wackos or avon ladies ever again.

The catacombs are actually a pretty good place to go to pull oneself out of a mental funk. They are full of all sorts of interesting opinions and observations:

(Sorry for the blur - long exposure. Anyway, it translates to "Happy are those who always have the hour of their deaths in front of their eyes and who ready themselves each day to die." Hmm. Not sure I agree with that one.)

They are a definite reminder that, no matter what minor little thing is causing you unease, life can always get worse - much worse. The whole thing would have been quite peaceful were it not for one small thing. The living. From heavy-footed Germans to frat partying American college students, the catacombs are one crowded place. Who would have thought death would be such a big draw? No matter how much I hung back, getting more than a few minutes to think was proving a tactical impossibility. And I thought the Louvre was bad.

But in the few minutes I was able to snatch here and there, I got a sense of what it must be like to be down here when everyone is gone. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoes through the caverns. The air is that clammy chill you always get when you’re deep underground. And even without the homilies spaced throughout, the bones are eloquent in their silence. Each one of the skeletons here had a life like mine once - fell in love, worried about their livelihoods, hoped for the future. But in the end, we’re all reduced to this. (Well, hopefully not all stacked in a vault being gawked at by tourists, but you know what I mean.) This idea of “as I am so you shall one day be” was a big thing in the Medieval period, and I’ve always been a bit fascinated by it. Because, morbid as it sounds, it is a comforting thought. It all gets resolved in the end.

So, feeling a bit better, I picked up the pace a little. An American college student struck up a conversation with me on the way out, and we talked a little bit about philosophy and a little bit about home. As we approached the exit, the guard asked us to open our backpacks. It took me a second to come up with a reason why. People don’t try to actually steal the bones in here, do they? For an answer, he pointed to a table with a few skulls in a neat pile. Good thing I don’t have much faith in humanity, because if I did it would be in tatters right now. Ah well, as I am you will one day be. And with that thought in my head, I headed out of the darkness into a perfectly sunny day.

In the land of pickled herring and sex shops

2007-09-11T23:12:00.000+02:00

I was allowed two drinks to limber up before the dreaded question surfaced. “So, how many Danish celebrities can you name?” Hmm. Who would have thought the toughest part of a job interview would be the drinks session afterward? Feeling rather proud of myself, I immediately responded “Lars von Trier”.

“OK, and?”

(Insert slightly uncomfortable pause here.)

There is more than one? Now I was in trouble.

I have to admit, I’d never really thought about Denmark. While I’ve met a few Danish people in the course of my meandering existence, they really didn’t speak about their country much. Now here I was racking my brain for Scandinavian pop culture icons and coming up empty. Good thing the Danes have a sense of humor.

Danish people are friendly. Really friendly. They smile at you in the street and say hello. After Paris, this is a bit unnerving. And this general goodwill is particularly amazing considering they pay some of the highest taxes in Europe, a whopping 65%, all while living in one of the world’s most expensive cities. And yet, while graffiti is absolutely everywhere, even the most expensive bikes lean up against buildings with nary a lock in sight. And Danish people are bikers. And joggers and walkers and boat rowers. This is one fit city. Almost everyone you see sports a healthy glow and a killer sense of fashion. In short, Copenhagen is cool. One might even say idyllic.

So idyllic in fact, that it even features a semi-autonomous free state in its environs. Christiania is an independent collective that was started in the late 70s. Basically, it’s a commune that decided to secede from the EU in the late ‘70s and has rather remarkably gotten away with it ever since. Well, to a certain extent anyway.

And Copenhagen is unique. People wait for the light for the most part to cross the road, but there's a red light district that rivals even Paris's, although it's not as flashy. Even the public statuary is rather unusual. Take these two things I found while walking one day:

I spent at least 5 minutes trying to figure out what on earth this cow was doing. If you have any theories, please, I'd love to hear them.

I didn't even want to begin to think about what these guys were doing. Note where he seems to be hiding his sword... Perhaps the rather large paragraph underneath will tell us.

Oh yes, of course, it's in DANISH. Never mind.

Weird to be in a country where you can't read the food labels, road signs, maps or even explanations attached to bizarre statuary.

You will be hearing more about Copenhagen in the near future as I did, despite my complete failure at the Danish pop culture quiz, get the job. I move on Sunday. Am I sad to leave Paris? You have no idea. I’ve loved my time here. I don’t know how I will manage to cope without snails and quail and rabbit and duck readily available at every street corner butcher. (I walked into the grocery store the day after the interview and I almost cried.) And I love the grey and the grumpiness of Paris, the skeletal thinness of its inhabitants, the fact that I can trot out my atrocious French anytime I want to torture someone – or get a good laugh. If my French is still this sub-par after years of study, how am I going to cope with Danish?