MacGyver

At some point every day I think, "What the hell is going on? This is not real life." In this case, today was a momentous "Did that really just happen?"
With the closest look you'll get into anything happening in my personal life, I'm going to let the e-mail I sent my boyfriend Chris tell the story.

I just bought an ipod wall charger. It cost $50. Remember when you insisted on me buying one because you were sure it would cost $10 and I laughed and told you you don't know what it's like here, but I would buy one anyway so we could talk when I'm traveling? True story.  

Oh. And good story, because I don't know whether to laugh or cry about what just happened. I went to go get my Europe sim card for when I'm traveling. It took me two tries to get there, which I found out the second time was because the place I had to go is in the basement (a lot of shops are in basements here. You have to go down some stairs to get there), but this one was different because there was no sign, and the door was like the size of me. 

I look around. Absolutely no sign of human life. This is the sketchiest door. I look for blood stains on the stairs. Non-existent, thankfully. 

I went next door to the juice bar to ask where I even am, and the second the guy at the counter saw me he said, "You need to find the City Box. Next door, down the stairs. I can't even tell you how many times I day I have to tell someone. Like 10. Now 11. Congratulations."  

So I return to the door and go down the stairs. I walk into basically a closet. The walls are stained with yellow splotches, there's piles of garbage EVERYWHERE. I had to stand in the stairwell because there was nowhere to stand. The guy who is manning the shop is high as hell, chain-smoking cigarettes, eating tomatoes and watching MacGyver. There are three cartons of eggs, a dead plant, 12 packs of cigarettes and piiiiiles of garbage on his desk.  

The first thing I thought was, "Oh god, I'm never getting out of here. Any minute someone is going to run through the door, shove me on the floor and lock me in the bathroom in the back. And then I'm going to die from lung cancer." 

The guy apologized, "Sorry about the mess. I just got mugged." 

Perfect. I love going into stores that are a compromise to my safety.

Luckily, though, I saw through his lie because no windows were broken and neither was the door. And then a white dog came into the room and lied down on the mattress on the floor. Yep, there was a mattress on the floor. Next to the push cart with a coat hanging on it, three (dead) potted plants and a book called "DIY Meth Lab." There's a good possibility I was kidding about the last part, but I can't be entirely sure. 

So I'm standing there with the door open because I can't breathe. I even said, "I need to keep the door open because I can't breathe." 

And he said, "I'm sorry about that." 

I politely said, "It's fine." 

He said, "No, it's not fine. I'm not supposed to be smoking in here." 

And I thought, "You IDIOT, what are you doing smoking 12 packs of cigarettes a day in a room with ZERO ventilation!?"  

Then of course my order hadn't come through (though I received an e-mail saying it had... that's why I went there...) so I had to wait for a half hour in the stairwell while he facebook chatted Piccell. Can't make this stuff up. Then he tested my sim card and tried to get it out of his phone (Of course, I'd chosen the day I wandered into an ax-murderer's workshop to forget my phone at home. Before I left, I'd said to Kylie, "Now, I'm going to go get this thing. If I'm not back by 2:30, call the cops. If you think I'm kidding right now, I'm not.") by banging it on the desk. I said, "For god's sake, let me do it."

On my way out he told me to leave the door open. I did, but I think you should forward this to the København politi so they can issue a public service announcement to keep any other unsuspecting children from wandering down there.

If I don't make it to Rome, it's because I'm in the hospital getting a tumor surgically removed from my throat.

Love you! 

Ashley

Good thing this isn't a race

This weekend my program took a study tour through the boondocks of Jutland, Denmark's largest island. It's a well known fact that there are five pigs per person in Denmark, and this weekend proved it. We also spent a really good amount of time learning about confidential Danish Navy military Somali-pirate-catching strategies and then were bussed out to the woods and forced to test our newfound military knowledge.
Now I know for sure that I'll never enlist. But we'll get to that.

The weekend started with a bus-ride contest about who grew up in the smallest town. Ana actually won. Not because her town was smaller than mine (which I don't believe is physically possible), but just more "homegrown," we'll call it.
"In my town we go road hunting," I explained, "The guys put their guns in the back of the truck and then after school--" "Wait, you can just bring your guns to school?" -- "Yeah, as long as it's in a case and unloaded and you leave it the back of your truck. OK. Continuing ... so they leave school and shoot things they see on the side of the road."
My classmates, all from Connecticut or Hoboken, New Jersey, grimmaced.
Here's how Ana won the contest: "Yeah, but do you know what frog spearing is?"

The rest of the tour was filled with Naval base visits in Korsor, Arhus and Brabrand. I feel like it would be an infringement on Danish security to tell you what I learned, but then again, I'm not sure what constitutes an infringement because we never once went through security. Just drove the bus right through the gates and walked on in. Socialism must play a part in that-- if the Danes are paying 60% of their income toward taxes, they better have full access to everything, including confidential pirate-catching missions.

That's also part of my Danish sarcasm. If you're having a hard time telling if I'm serious, then you'd have a really hard time here.
Digression: I've accomplished a great blank stare and weak smile to hide my confusion over Danish sarcasm.
Example:

Benedicte: I'm so glad you're leaving for the weekend! When you're gone, I'm going to eat all your candy.

Me: Blank stare. Actually, I'd be really mad if you did. You know I can't get Lemonheads here.

Benedicte: Laughs. Too bad for you!

Me: Weak smile. No, but actually.  

Back on subject: But good thing for us, our newfound knowledge didn't go to waste. Yesterday we went to an oxymoron museum. The Trapholt museum of modern art. Specializes in modern Danish designer furniture, specifically chairs. To paraphrase the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, "Chairs, chairs, everywhere, nor any place to sit." I'll never think of chairs the same way again.

Last night we went bowling and I bowled a 37, 40, 41 and 50, respectively. Practice makes perfect.

Today (and yes, I did just gloss over the last three days of travel and emit most of the activities and information) we did a super fun activity called "monkey trail." The name implies exactly what it is, but for some reason I thought it would be happy campy activities including: "OK everyone, let's all stand in a circle and hold hands and try to undo the knot!" or "Here's a log! Let's hand it over this other log and through the tire with teamwork! Go team!"

But no.

We get on the bus, which takes us to the edge of a field which leads into the forest. Our teacher, on the intercom, says, "Now, class, would be a good time to introduce you to human trafficking." We laugh politely, but on the inside we're not sure about the actual level of seriousness here. As I mentioned before, you never really know.

We trek through the woods and find what we've actually been brought to: an obstacle course in the trees, suspended by zip-lines, in the sky.

We are dazed, confused and looking around for a bathroom. Our Danish monkey trail instructor says, "So we're just going to give you these harnesses and you can go climb around for an hour or so."

Again, confusion on the seriousness of this statement.

So we did go climb around for an hour or so. Most of the time the Danish instructors walked around underneath us with ropes that they threw to us when we got stuck in the middle of the zip-line or climbed up ladders really fast when someone got hooked to a tree and had started yelling. But mostly they walked around a lot shaking their heads and thinking, "Idiots."

Caitlin said it best: "I don't think we're cut out for this. I think they should have just given us books and asked us to play chess against each other."