Explørdag – Volume III – Nørrebro

It’s Explørdag once again. We’re staying local and I have the distinct pleasure of introducing you to our neighbor, Nørrebro. One of the 10 districts (burroughs, ‘hoods, areas) that comprise Copenhagen’s capitol region. This Saturday it was an Explørebro. The Danglish continues to evolve. Forgive me.

Harken back, if you will, to medieval times – Copenhagen an emerging trading port in the Baltic has become the center of Scandinavia. Historically speaking, a city’s evolution into grandeur is rarely without challenge. A walled edifice, traditional throughout Europe, was erected to protect this growing economic base on the Øresund. From what I have learned, there were four original “gates” (unfortunately all dismantled in the mid-nineteenth century) that offered access to the growing Copenhagen centret. As for these historic ports, their impact remains solely in name and geographic location to the center city – Vesterbro to the west, Nørrebro to the north and Østerbro to the east. (Amager to the south). Literally translated in our modern languages they mean west bridge, north bridge and east bridge respectively. A little etymology again; call me a word nerd and bear with me. But there was no actual bridge at these points and rather the titles evolved from the Old Norse word brolagt meaning paved. These were the original paved entrances to the main city.

We live in Østerbro – the eastern bro. Standing in the historical old center of Copenhagen – we are the furthest ‘hood to the right, in geography alone – I can not attest to political leanings at this date, although it is definitely more family-oriented and ostensibly more conservative. In stark contrast, nearby, radiating from the city center to our left is Nørrebro. You can ride, walk, shuffle, skip, bus, dance down the man-made lakes that separate the old town from the “bro’s” and find yourself in Nørrebro. The northern bro is the wild one. Exotic and gritty. Complex and crazy. Graffiti and grunge and good food and young people.

The Northern bro - Nørrebro
The Northern bro – Nørrebro
Nørrebro-fiti
Nørrebro-fiti

Colors are different here. Smells are different here. Sounds are different here. I like it. Many of the city’s immigrants have pooled together in Nørrebro, which is part of the reason it feels different from other neighborhoods. Traditional Danish culture comingles on a daily basis with a diversity of cultures from many of earth’s corners here. It’s spicy, colorful, flavorful and exciting.

One of the most flavorful coffee purveyors in Copenhagen hails from Nørrebro. Myself migrating from Portland, Oregon where coffee micro-batch roasters, coffee houses and baristas with skilz were second only in popularity, diversity and unique flavors to our world-famous craft brews and microbreweries – I will admit that I may have moved here dragging a suitcase full of coffee snobbery. Insert The Coffee Collective. Mid-way down on Jægersborggade, an underwhelming (on first impression) street above the Assistens Kirkegård (Cemetary) in the middle of Nørrebro. (An aside – a veritable who’s who of Danish super-peeps are buried or memorialized there… heard of Hans Christian Andersen? Søren Kierkegaard? Lots more.) But I’m not seeing dead people today, I’m here for the coffee. And it is delicious. A tiny step down into the – dare I say “garden-level” – original shop collects a LINE every time we’ve visited. It’s not quick, but worthy. And they have converted me from my normal latté of yore. In Copenhagen – my order is a cortado. Less milk, more rich espresso. Short, beautiful, luxe. I’m in love.

Cortado luxe from The Coffee Collective on Jæegersborggade
Cortado luxe from The Coffee Collective on Jæegersborggade

Caffeinated and happy, I’ll share my next love in Nørrebro – can you guess? It might have something to do with Kunst. Art. Korrekt! Slicing through several northern bro blocks is a fantabulous public art space known as Superkilen Urban Park. We met Superkilen by surprise when dropping our eldest off for practice with the Copenhagen Lacrosse Team (of which he is the youngest player – lacrosse is not big here – more on that in another post.) They were practicing at the amazing sports facility Nørrebrohallen, the entrance of which is on Red Square – one beautiful and interesting segment of Superkilen.

Spicy colors of Nørrebro
Spicy colors of Nørrebro
Red Square of Superkilen
Red Square of Superkilen

Swings, kids, skate ramps, a boxing ring and workout equipment set in an open pinkish red plaza with nod to Russian iconography. Hunh? It works. Warm and inviting and fun and piquing and entertaining and interesting all at once. There are several other sections to Superkilen that will have to be adventured on another Explørdag. For now – enjoy the warm tones and exciting colors of Nørrebro. It’s Saturday night – I’m going out! Skål!

Shock and Awe

I have mentioned before how hardy the Danes are. Many of them, anyway. My son hates gross overgeneralizations – reminding me that my initial perfunctory characterization that ALL Danes are blond, is in fact completely incorrect. Which is true. I stand corrected. Today my estimation of a certain segment of the Danish population ticked up a few notches.Charlottenlund Søbad

Color me shocked. Drawn to the rich, but muted winter tones of this beautiful building on the water in Charlottenlund, I pulled right on over and set outside to capture it for my Scandi palette collection. What I did NOT expect to capture was the pale flesh tones of stark naked bathers dipping into the freezing cold Øresund. It was 0°C outside when I took this photo. I do not even want to know what the temperature of the water could have been.That is KOLDT!

A wee bit taken aback, I instantly took down my long-range lens feeling very much more than slightly stalkery. I did a quick look about to make sure I hadn’t been witnessed “spying” like a common paparazzi and then snapped this quick pic with my iPhone, which is where I edit all my photos anyway. Not so unhurriedly, I scuttled back to my car and continued up the road to my original destination – Bellevue Strand in Klampenborg (Bellevue Beach.)

A popular swim beach (I’m told it gets PACKED) in the summer months, Bellevue Strand is quiet and peaceful in January. Could have sat and listened to the lap, lap, swell, lap, whoosh, lap of the waves on the shore for a long time. Caught ‘gramming (again) by a woman and her 20-something daughter moving out to the pier where I had concentrated, they smiled and I got up to move on down the beach to the next pier. As soon as I stepped onto the sand, the daughter gracefully removed every stitch of her clothing and went into the water. Need I remind you? IT IS KOLDT HERE! There is no warm sauna or steam room or hot tub with which to warm up into immediately following this Baltic dip. It doesn’t last long and soon she is dressed again and on her way with her mother. No way. Doesn’t compute.

Farging KOLDT.

I put my hand in to reach for a shell washing in and out with the soft tide. Mere seconds are required to freeze my skin to a perfectly painful and prickly state. I can not even process a full body dunk. The shock to your system must be intense. Apparently this is normal regular everyday behavior for a certain segment of Danes. Wow, color me impressed. I will say it again. These Danes are HARDY. I am in awe. Enjoy the photo gallery from Bellevue Strand and have a happy Fredag!

A Winter’s Expatriation

Today the temperature wavered between 0 and 2°C. That’s hovering at freezing for those who don’t automatically correlate to the metric system employed here in Denmark. Employed pretty much everywhere else in the world save for the United States and four other small mostly Caribbean nations (all of which I have been too weirdly – ‘cept not Palau.) Here in Denmark, the temperature is the only thing that I have not used an app, device, Google function, etc. to convert. I regularly convert prices in shops from Danish Kroner (DKK) to U.S. Dollars ($$$) to try and keep a healthy perspective on what feels like (and usually is) ridiculously high price tags for nominal goods and services. I convert street signs, parking signs, shop signs, directions, washing machine instructions, food labels, recipes, ingredient lists, menus, bank notices, post office announcements, furniture advertisements – basically everything… from Danish to English. But I don’t convert the weather. Why?

It is what it is. I cannot control the weather anymore than I can control the unwavering and inexplicable popularity of black licorice here in Denmark. Seriously – they put it in, on and with EVERYTHING. Licorice candies come in more shapes than you can imagine. There is chocolate licorice. Licorice ice cream. Licorice gum. Alcoholic licorice. Cocktails with licorice candies in them (I did not try that, but witnessed many being ordered.) Licorice cakes. Chili-spiced sour licorice gummies. Um, eww (those were on sale by the way, maybe I wasn’t the only one who thought as such.) I digress. Out of my control.

Weather is something you have to feel. Does it feel cold? What temperature is that? 2°C? 8°C? It’s all relative right? A Southern Californian comes north and wears her sweater on a summer eve in Oregon when we might be rocking our sundresses and sandals. Michiganders don’t stop when the temps dip into negative Fahrenheit parameters. Nor Minnesotans, or Kansans, or North Dakotans or anyone else who lives in those states where Polar Vortexes exhibit icy wintery tentacles of horribly long winter-ness. Nor Danes apparently for that matter. Upon initial assessment, I will admit that they are a pretty darn hardy bunch – biking in all sorts of weather. Although I have yet to see it get REALLY upper Midwest cold here yet. But, I may have just jinxed myself.

Vinter Swans don't mind the koldt.
Vinter Swans don’t mind the koldt.

My point is – how will you get to KNOW what a Celsius temperature is, if not by feel. So converting it all the time actually defeats the learning process. This is what 2°C feels like. This is what 20°C feels like (although I don’t know that feel yet – I’ll have to get back to you.) Does that make sense? Sure. So why all this about the weather? About as interesting as my dear Grandma’s annual birthday cards dutifully describing the latest in south-eastern Kansas weather along with my anniversary wishes. I can’t control the weather.

It’s vinter. Winter in Denmark. I know I keep saying that – but it is. It’s dark. Getting lighter everyday though – we can all feel it’s incremental progression like pebbles being dropped into the bucket. It’s cold. I don’t care where you are from and what is relative to you, but 0°C is cold. I know – it can be colder, wind chill, lake effect, tree-boring insect killing vortexes and such, etc. etc. yada yada… Bottom line, 0°C is cold. And it’s precipitous. At least today it was. Rain turning into snain turning into fluffy white puffs gently falling and all is quiet for a few minutes – BEEEEEP, repeat cycle. Rain into snain into fluffy white puffs. All day. Nothing sticks, but those few minutes of fluffy puffy are lovely. But koldt.

It's koldt!
It’s koldt!

Winter is a difficult time to expatriate. There is a reason bears hibernate in the winter. It’s cold. (Please just give me the simplicity of this example for sake of theorizing here.) Back home in Oregon (plus years spent at college and beyond in Seattle) we know winter has its propensity towards impacting one with a certain Seasonal Affective Disorder. It’s truth ink. It’s called S.A.D. People have their own ways of combatting winter blues. Some use light therapy (I think that is big here too.) Some use drug therapy. Some use pre-planned vacations to warm tropical destinations as therapy. Myself – I always have allowed winter to be a down time. Keep schedules to a minimum, plans light. Consciously saying that it is ok to hibernate to an extent. It is ok to succumb to the down cycle. Knowing the up is coming, it is a veritable emotional hibernation of sorts. A recharging and recouping and renewing hibernation.

"Uuaah, the cold! Come in and get warm!"
“Uuaah, the cold! Come in and get warm!”

Why then – wouldn’t I do the same here in Denmark? Aha moment. Actual Edison light bulb went on yesterday near a lake near a palace alone with the birds. I have been feeling a self-imposed pressure to connect, to “get out there”, to recreate the social networks and circles I miss from home. I should be doing x. I should be doing more y. I should. I should. There is a lot of pressure in SHOULD. Yesterday, I gave myself an out. I will allow myself the space to internalize right now. Circle the wagons. Bring it on in to family-ville. Cozy up on the couch with Master Chef Australia and Cake Boss. Emotionally hibernate. This doesn’t mean putting all emotions on hold by any means – we are as a family definitely still all feeling BIG emotions. FULL of BIG emotions. Every day. Even on Lørdags. But what it does mean… is that it is saying it is ok to take this expatriation slowly. Adjust. Learn on our own terms. Experiences, social circles and networks will evolve. They always do.

Speaking of social, I’m no recluse, not in my nature. In fact – I had coffee with my one Danish friend today. It was needed, entertaining and delightful. While recanting my “aha” moment – she nodded and enlightened me to a lovely Danish saying. I wish you could hear her say it – because it rhymes. “Burde er lig med byrde.” It means Should = Burden. Exactly what I was feeling. What a validation and heavy sigh of relief. Now I SHOULD go to bed. 😉IMG_0018

I have a friend named Fran

Lost in Translations

WHEN a foreign language makes even simple tasks difficult

I have a friend named Fran. Fran and I have not been getting along lately. She is helpful, but only on her terms. She blurts out and interrupts me all the time and in an extremely whiny annoying voice. She will start a job and then stop right in the middle. I tolerate Fran because she is the only one who can help me with one specific task.

Fran is what I have named my clothes dryer. Meet Fran. Fran – these are my friends, friends – this is Fran.

Meet Fran
Meet Fran

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

So Fran works hard enough. I am grateful for Fran – don’t get me wrong. There are many apartments in Copenhagen that don’t have a Fran. They hang their clothes to dry both inside and outside their apartments. I can even say there is a charm in watching neighbors from the adjacent building’s courtyard shake out their sheets carefully placing them on the communal drying racks. If I had to air dry my clothes – I would love one of these beautiful functional racks. (I am adoring Scandinavian design.)

Dryp from Skagerak
Dryp from Skagerak

But that’s Dryp, not Fran. Upon our initial arrival, we made use of several airbnb temporary apartments. Most had no Fran. Their towels were scratchy and almost hard from air-drying. If you are used to this, it’s not a big deal. I guess we’re wimps when it comes to our towels. Or just used to a softer fluff. It is what it is. When we moved in to our own place, I was quite pleased to meet Fran. Initially. There she was. New, shiny, clean and mine. Our towels would be soft. Isk (that’s Danish for “ish”).

Three children exude much laundry. I use Fran often. She is difficult to understand. Maybe because she is German. She is Bosch. Bosch is a popular brand here. There are many great neon signs that decorate the Copenhagen skyline attesting to this.

Bosch neon lights up Copenhagen night sky
Bosch neon lights up Copenhagen night sky

I know this is a German company. But I know what German looks like and Fran’s words are not German. So when I set Fran to what seems a middle-isk setting and she calls to me with an insistent BEEEP, I assume that she has completed her task. And my clothes should be dry. That is her task. WRONG. What? What are you BEEEP’ing for? Lint? No. Cleared that. Oh. In these washing machines – you have to empty the water. Did you know that? Luckily one of the former airbnb hosts showed this to me. Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetOk Fran. Water emptied. Start. Again. 5 minutes in. BEEEEP. WHY Fran WHY? I don’t know. In attempt to move forward in my relationship with Fran, I call in help. Google Translate. Moving abroad? Engelsk is not the primary language? Google Translate. Life saver. Don’t know what the parking sign says? Google Translate. Don’t know what that meat is at the grocery store? Google Translate. Don’t know which is the mens room or the womens room? Google Translate. Get it immediately. So I bring G.T. in to assist with Fran.

The app is very user friendly – just type in the Dansk word and it translates for you to Engelsk. Only this is what G.T. tells me.

My own private translator in my pocket - meet G.T.
My own private translator in my pocket – meet G.T.

Hunh. So syntet was probably the only word that I could have figured out myself. Yep. Thanks. What the heck is “synthetic mycket torrt?” Meanwhile. BEEEEP. Dryer stopped again. Clothes not yet dry. Fait no accompli. Boo. Come on Fran. I have other things to do. Like visit a slot or a museet or a kunst galleri. (art gallery.) Many days go by. BEEEEP. Check. Restart. BEEEEP. Check. Restart. Feeling like I am being hung out to dry. Pun intended.

IMG_0644
Unknown foreign word in bold, below English translation. Hunh?

So G.T. has another function that had yet to make itself aware to me. Detect language. Why would I need to detect language? I’m in Denmark. Isn’t it in Danish? No, as a matter of fact. Fran is not Danish at all. Born to German and SWEDISH parents. Fran speaks SWEDISH! Is this what you have been trying to tell me Fran? Its been a misunderstanding the entire time! BEEEEEP. Clothes dry. Mama is happy. BEEEEP. Sigh. Restart. At least she isn’t as mean as my oven who calls me names.

Being called out by your oven is so not cool.
Being called out by your oven is so not cool.

It’s Fredag, Fredag – gotta get down on Fredag

It’s been a long week with a wee lass home sick until today. Freedom! Freedom! You got to give what you take. Wow – soundtrack to a blog today. Haven’t had much space to myself, but the sun has come out and I’ll bet my bottom dollar that tomorrow – there’ll be rain. So going to go explore a castle or a slot or a museum BY MYSELF. (Oh, that’s a good thing.) I will leave you with a few pics. Everybody is working for the weekend – and TGIFredag. (My Danglish is progressing.) Cheers from Copenhagen!

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