COPENHAGEN – NOT EXCITING, BUT DEFINITELY APPEALING

Bill Bryson, in his book ‘Neither Here Nor There; travels in Europe’ (a hilarious read. Definately recommended), calls Copenhagen ‘not exciting but appealing’. And I think he might just be right. It never seemed that there was a whole lot to do in Copenhagen and yet I was there for four months and had something to do almost every weekend. If you like museums and galleries and palaces then Copenhagen is the place for you. I really enjoyed living in Copenhagen. It’s a friendly city, everybody spoke English (even the homeless people, bus drivers, waitresses etc!), it was safe and clean and small enough to be manageable but large enough that it was a real city. Admittedly, the university system is a bit weird and the apartments are small but I loved it. And I’ve left now.

One of the highlights of Copenhagen for me was Wednesday night dinners. Pretty early on a group of about 8 of us started to meet for dinner on a Wednesday night (surprisingly enough). We rotated where we had it and who cooked and split the cost between us. I wasn’t allowed to cook. A couple of people witnessed my pavalova disaster at the cabin trip (did I tell you about that? My next attempt was even worse) and decided that it was better if Lisa cooked at my apartment. It was a fair enough call. But we would just sit around a table for a couple of hours and talk and eat and drink and laugh and it was good times all round. I got to meet some pretty fantastic people while I was in Copenhagen. Within the Politics international students we were the only really mixed-nationality group. Mostly Germans hung out with Germans and French hung out with French and Americans hung out with Americans. You get the picture. But we had Austrians, a Ukranian-American, a Canadian-Australian, a Finn, an Indian-American, Germans and, of course, a Northern Irish-Kiwi. So we were pretty varied. And to me, that’s the point of doing an exchange; spending time with people you normally don’t get to. I can hang out with New Zealanders at home. Why would I want to do it in Denmark (admittedly, there weren’t too many Kiwis about)? I didn’t actually get to meet many Danes, which I was a little disappointed about. My classes were all in English and everybody I meet was non-Danish. I guess that’s the problem of coming through an international programme. But my non-Danish, non-Kiwi friends were great. We learnt so many useful things; revolutionaries can’t be fat, don’t inject spiders or chew colourful frogs.

My last few weeks in Copenhagen were actually madly crazy. The problem with the Danish university system is that there is no incentive to work during the semester, so for three months all I did was go to class and occasionally did some reading. Then, all of a sudden, I had two 15-page papers to write. I actually couldn’t have started to do them any earlier because you have to have done a good chunk of the course to decide what your topic will be. So for three weeks I read until my eyes hurt and pulled more all-nighters than I probably should have. Not only did I have to do all this work, I also had to attempt to plan my trip around Europe, organize some of dissertation research, pack up my apartment, and say all my goodbyes. My last Wednesday night dinner was so strange because I knew that this was it. I would never again sit around a table with all these people. But it was so hard to believe. This felt like my real life. This is what I did, where I went, and who I spent time with. So walking away from all of that so soon was an incredibly strange feeling.

I had my apartment to myself for the last two weeks. My flatmate did some traveling around Europe before going home. So it was just me on my lonesome. But I enjoyed it! As I’m sure my former flatmates and family will attest to, a common Amy catchphrase is ‘I’m bored!’ But now I am able to entertain myself, to spend time by myself and enjoy it. I knew exchange was useful!

ITALY – LAND OF THE ESPRESSO (God bless them!)

So it has taken quite some time to get this bit of the blog out. I was in Italy at the end of November and its now the beginning of January. It’s almost 2am and I’m sitting in München Hobahnhof (have I spelt that wrong?). For those of us who don’t speak German, that’s Munich train station, but I’ll get to that later.

I took a week out from real life (or as real as living in Copenhagen can be) and betook myself to Italy, spending three days in Rome and three days in Venice. Basically I wanted to get away from Copenhagen autumn, which means rain and leaves not changing colour. At the airport you could tell who the Italians were; they were better dressed than the rest of us. But then I got to Rome and it seems that their immaculate grooming does not follow on to their cities. But that was ok. It was part of the charm.

It took quite some time to find my way to my hostel. I found out quickly that Italians don’t explain things very well (at least, they don’t in English and as it’s not their first language that’s probably alright). I managed to figure my way into the centre of the city but then got off at the wrong stop on the metro system. I found a man who spoke English and to begin with he didn’t really understand what I meant because I thought I was somewhere different and he was actually being quite helpful. He had just figured out what I was talking about when a younger guy, who had been listening into our conversation, came over and told me that this guy didn’t know what he was talking about, that he spoke really good English (which was a bit of an exaggeration but it was miles better than my Italian which is limited to ‘grazi’ and ‘espresso’), that he was going the same way as me and he would show me a better way. I’m not very good at saying no to people who are trying to help but this guy took me on the wildest goose chase ever (or wildest to that point actually). After I had already been on a bus, a train and a metro he took me on another metro, a train, 2 buses and then I had to walk a bit. I was ready some dinner and my bed.

Thankfully, my hostel (which was really a campsite) had a restaurant on-site. I was looking forward to some real Italian cuisine! Now, I had been warned that as a young, single female I would get some attention in Italy but I was not prepared for what happened when I walked into that restaurant. There must have been a work party or something staying because the entire restaurant was full of men. Some of them even turned their chairs to get a better look! If it wasn’t a little freaky I would have been quite flattered.

My hostel was about 45 minutes outside of the city so getting there was a bit of a mission but it wasn’t so bad. My first day took me to the Vatican. Before I go any further I must add a disclaimer: I had had only two little bread rolls for breakfast. When you have low blood sugar and a border line caffeine addiction, things were never going to be pretty. Now I can say… I hated the Vatican! Well, actually that’s maybe a little strong. But I did not enjoy myself. Lets start with the tourists. Oh my goodness! About 500 people leave on a Vatican tour every five minutes, starting at 8.30am. I got there at 11am so just imagine how many people were in there. And the corridors aren’t wide. When one of these groups stops they block the entire way. And there are more than one groups! When I rule the world, Americans and Asians will not be allowed to travel in groups of more than 5 (apologies if you are Asian or American). And when I rule the Vatican (which will be when they elect the first female, non-Catholic Pope, so any day now), there will be no more than 300 people allowed in at any time. The worst bit is that all of these tourists, with their cameras and tripods and guide books and big hats, are all pushing just to get to the Sistine Chapel (which is stupid because you can’t even take pictures when you do manage to make it there). The only time that I was by myself in the Vatican, actually just me-and-the-guard by myself, was when I was in the Modern Religious Art exhibition. So I was standing there by myself looking at some amazing pieces of art by some of the most amazing artists, like Van Gogh and Gaugin. Stupid tourists (I can say that as I am a traveler, not a tourist).

The Sistine Chapel has some of the most incredible artwork in the world. But you are packed in there so tightly that moving isn’t an option. You see what is directly in front of you, above you and a little to either side. Too bad if you end up just looking at clouds. I had to get out there. I decided that if I was going to punch someone then the Vatican probably wasn’t the best place to do it. The Catholic Church is reasonably powerful (it’s one of the two richest organizations in the world. The other is Harvard University); best not to get on their bad side. So I made my way to the cafeteria. At least there was light in that dark tunnel; espresso.

The thing that I think annoyed me the most about the Vatican (although the tourists come in an incredibly close second) was the fact there were gift shops every 5 metres but not once did I see anything that presented the gospel. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking very hard but it certainly wasn’t obvious if it was there (unlike the ubiquitous gift shops). I took a photo of a gift shop in the big courtyard thing (I’m not sure what it’s called) because I thought it was funny that there was a gift shop in the Vatican. Then I got inside! If you want to find some souvenir rosary beads, a postcard of the Pope or a Vatican jigsaw puzzle then you’re in luck. If you want to find the truth, you’ll be hard pushed. So many people pass through the Vatican every day. There is such an opportunity. But it seemed to me that it was about the glory of the church rather than the glory of God. Of course, that’s just my opinion and I’ve already put a disclaimer on it.

Actually, all of Rome seemed about the glory of Rome. That used to be the Roman empire and now it’s the Catholic Church. And nothing displays that glory and grandeur better than St.
Peter’s Basilica. It’s the largest church in the world (in the smallest country in the world, ironically) and it is magnificent! It’s huge and ornate and spectacular. I walked up the cupola (or the dome) and the view from the top was stunning. Looking down into the church you can see just how much detail there actually is. From down below it looks as if it has been painted but a lot of it is mosaic. And the view of the city is amazing. I love looking down over cities. You can get a real feel for them. Rome has the craziest lay out and everything seems to be about the same height. There’s no obvious ‘downtown’ area and it looks as if people just live everywhere; there are so many apartment blocks. Actually, flying into Rome it looked like everything was made out of lego. I went into the prayer room in St. Peter’s and it was so amazing to see so many people of different nationalities, different ages and, I presume, different denominations praying to the one God.

I spent the rest of that day just wandering. I took a walk along the banks of the river and it was astounding how clear the reflections were. I got to the Roman Forum just as it was closing up for the day, as was the Colosseum, but that was ok because there was always tomorrow. I was informed that the Trevi fountain was best viewed at night so I went to take a look. I kept walking until I found a little pizzeria and the Pantheon (which was also closing and sadly, there was no tomorrow for that). I saw the Spanish Steps too, but they just looked like steps to me, with lots of people sitting on them. Anyone know what the deal is with those? Post a comment.

Next day was a step back into classical history. I started at the Roman Forum. First stop, however, was breakfast. My little guidebook (which was more of a brochure really) told me that a typical Italian breakfast consisted of an espresso and a little pastry called a cornetto. Well, when in Rome… I even ordered in Italian. I was most impressed with myself. I ate it as I wandered around the Forum. Since beginning my travels I have come to the conclusion that I’m not overly bright. I’m not sure why, but I honestly thought that the Roman Forum was still in tact, that I could go to the Temple of Jupiter and the Curia etc etc. Sadly, no. It’s a bunch of rocks and rubble. At this point I wished that my guide book was more than a guide brochure, that it had detailed pictures and explanations. As I’ve already mentioned, the Italians aren’t very good at explaining things so it actually was just a pile of rocks. But I did not study Latin for 5 years for nothing, so I had at least a little idea about had gone on, even if I didn’t know which piece of rubble used to be what. It was all quite interesting (although next time I go to Rome I will make sure that I bring enough money to pay a qualified guide).

That guide will also come in handy for the Colosseum. It is massive! I’ve seen pictures and heard that it can hold around 300,000 people (I think) but I was surprised by its size. It took a full ten minutes just to walk around the perimeter. Again, my Latin came in handy, otherwise I wouldn’t really have had a clue what was going on (here’s a piece of advice if you are thinking of going to Rome; do your research and buy a guide). The Colosseum has big chunks of its walls taken off, not through decay or the ‘ravages of time’ but because over the years people have mined it! It’s actually quite shocking that it is so well preserved.

My biggest disappointment with Rome was the Circus Maximus (although I now prefer the Italian version: Circo Massimo). It’s just a field. People jog in it. If I had brought my running shoes, I also would have gone jogging in it. I saw it when I was on the Palatine. Rome is surrounded by seven hills and the Palatine was the hill on which the emperor had his palace. There are still foundations and outlines and stuff left up there. But again, no explanations.

That was pretty much my time in Rome but I have some final thoughts. We all know the phrase “When in Rome do as the Romans do.” I’ve already applied it to breakfasting but I’m not entirely sure what it is that the Romans do that the rest of us don’t. Use toilets with no seat, maybe? View coffee as a perfunctory exercise rather than an enjoyable experience (coffee is drunk in shots. A short, sharp boost of caffeine)? Charge double the menu price in service charges (if you want to sit and drink a coffee you pay around $5. If you stand at the bar and drink it you pay $1.50)? Drive like lunatics? Live in houses built on top of ancient ruins? What it is that Romans do they have a method to their madness. They’ve been surviving well for thousands of years.

By the end of my time in Rome I was ready to go home. Not just back to Copenhagen, but home (wherever that actually is)! Next time I go to Rome I’ll not go by myself. There’ll be me, a buddy and a guide (so if anyone wants to go to Rome let me know). I had to spend the night at Rome Ciampino airport. My flight was at 6.45am, which means that I had to be there before 6am. Shuttle buses to the airport finish at 11.30pm and don’t start again until 8am, which meant I was at the airport from 11.45pm. At midnight, a guard came along and told us that this terminal was closing and we had to go to arrivals. There were exactly three seats in the arrivals area (that may be an exaggeration but there were only three people on these seats). The rest of us were on the floor. It was cold and uncomfortable and pretty miserable actually. It most certainly did not improve my mood.

When I got to Venice I found out that my directions were, again, rubbish! I thought getting to the hostel in Rome was bad; it took 3 hours. It took 5 hours in Venice!!. I got on the right bus and, got off at the wrong stop. So I had to wait half an hour for the next bus. I tried to buy a ticket when I got on the bus but the driver said no, so I thought ‘Sweet, free transport’. Then an inspector got on the bus to check tickets and I had to sneak off. I eventually managed to find someone who spoke English who explained to me how and where to get tickets. So I got on the next bus, and got off at the wrong stop. Again! In sheer frustration and desperation, I went right back to the very start and after some trial and error (dinging the ‘stop’ bell at every stop that looked like it might be mine) I found, at long last, my hostel. It was a campsite again and I was left, with some more bad directions, to find my room. I was led to where the pod people live! I found row upon row (or maybe about 12) of these large, round, plastic pods. They had no windows, were about 2.5m wide and I was terrified that they expected me to sleep in one of these, let alone enter one. Regardless of the fact that I had already paid, I was ready to turn tail and run. Instead I decided to keep walking. And thank God and all the angels in heaven, I was staying in a caravan-type thing. It was nice and the bathroom was large and clean and there were windows and no plastic in sight. And I had it all to myself (I had had to share a room with a Polish couple in Rome. Every time I said anything the girl said “I am Monica.”)

The moment I found myself in Venice I not only didn’t want to go home right then, I didn’t want to go home at all! It was eye-candy! And I’m not just talking about the Italians (although they definitely had a role to play). The whole town is stunningly beautiful. I got there just as the sun was getting about ready to set and I sat at a little table on the side of a canal drinking coffee and watching the sun go down among all of these crazy little streets and waterways. I was so gutted that my camera had a flat battery at that moment. As I walked through the streets all I could see was this pink glowing water and the reflection of these narrow streets all tinged in beautiful light. I got hideously lost but I eventually found my way back out so it was all good.

The next day I discovered that if you follow signs for the Piazza San Marco or the Rialto bridge you will get where you want to be on your way in and you follow the signs for Piazza Roma to get out again. I swear, I went a different way every time I tried to get anywhere, but I always ended up where I wanted to be. The second day in Venice was the sight-seeing day. First stop; Basilica San Marco. This may be the most amazing church I have ever seen. The entire ceiling is covered in gold mosaic so the whole place gleams. It’s on the edge of the biggest piazza in Venice, also called San Marco, and there are pigeons galore here. I have never seen so many birds in my entire life (maybe even put together). You can buy little packets of bird feed and they will actually come and sit on you to eat. So there people covered top to toe in birds. Why you would want that I don’t know. The piazza leads out to the gondola stop so it’s where all the rich people are. Very upmarket. Out of my league. But someday (probably when I rule the world or the Vatican) I will come to Venice and stay in one of these hotels and eat at these restaurants and spend entire days on a gondola. Dreams are free, even if hotels, restaurants and gondolas aren’t.

Right next to the Basilica is the Doge’s Palace. The Doge was the head of the Venetian Republic, which I really knew nothing about (and I know precious little more now). But it was interesting to see how things were run in the 17- and 1800s. As a republic it did very well; very democratic and sea-faring.

What I loved most about Venice was the walking around looking at all the masks. This is pretty much how I spent my second day. Venetian masks, which we have all seen as they are the type that we wear to masquerade balls, are worn at Venetian carnivals and in Venetian theatre. They start off quite basic but some are absolutely stunning. They’re huge and ornate and spectacular (kind of like St. Peter’s Basilica). They are covered with Swarovski crystal and all hand made and hand painted. I wanted them all but sadly, the vast majority were well outside of my meager budget (and would never fit in my suitcase). Again, when I rule the world… But I could have spent my whole time in Venice just walking. It is amazingly beautiful. The streets are so narrow and either really windy or really short. They have laundry hanging between windows and some of them are just like little dark alleys that I would be nervous about walking down by myself at night. I got lost so many times and then would come across a mask workshop that I had a strange feeling of déjà vu about until I would realize that I had actually been there before and knew where I was going.

What I discovered while in Italy is that, to me, every foreign language sounds like Italian but spoken with different accents. The Danish, for example, speak Italian with a Northern Irish accent (I did tell you that I wasn’t very bright).