I Don’t Believe in the Sun

In my experiences so far in Copenhagen, there are two things about the general atmosphere of the place that I do not like. One of them is the REALLY high costs of living here. While the dollar enjoys a favorable exchange rate to the kroner, about 6 DKK (Danish kroner, because each Scandinavian country has its own) to the dollar, the Danes have the last laugh because just about everything costs a whole heap of kroner. For example, a cup of coffee from a decent cafe is about 20 DKK. That’s between $3 and $4 dollars. And I’m not talking about a fancy Starbucksesque concoction, I’m talking about a cup of black coffee.

This has led to an amusing information network reeking of opportunism and desperation that cycles among my peers. Deals and steals are bandied about like trade secrets, and any store that offers an affordable alternative usually finds itself swamped with American students, buying their wares in broken Danish. Case in point: St. Peter’s Bakery, which is astoundingly good, offers a different pastry as a 12 kroner special each day of the week. St. Peter’s is well-known and well-appreciated among Danes, but it is a Mecca of affordability to the Americans. This, combined with the fact that it is about three blocks away from DIS, means that I see at least three or four people I recognize each time I go in to the place. I’ll probably write them a thank-you letter when my time here comes to a close.

The other thing I don’t like is the weather, which is, to be perfectly blunt, dismal. They tell us that Copenhagen’s climate is very similar to Seattle’s, meaning a lot of rain and a lot of cold, but not necessarily bitter cold, weather. Unfortunately, the fact that Copenhagen is on the coastline near the Baltic Sea means that it gets a lot of wind. And the narrow streets of Copenhagen can often create an urban canyon, which funnels the wind into a tight blast that somehow knows exactly how to slip in between the three or four layers that you’re wearing and make you shiver. Frankly, it’s never the cold that gets to me–for the most part, the temperature has never been low enough to make walking outside actually unappealing. It’s always the wind that makes us huddle together and look for the nearest place to hide in.

The most difficult part to deal with, however, is the persistently gray skies, covered almost in their entirety by an even sheet of clouds. My friend Eric, who knows a thing or two about photography, says that these gray skies can make for better pictures, since you don’t have to deal with changing light levels. I, for one, like light and shadow in my pictures, I think they make it more dynamic. But the gray skies can really hang over you and drag you down, especially when they are so consistent. For the first two or three weeks we were here, I think we had two days that you could call partly cloudy? It’s made most of us very excited about sun, whenever it arrives. I was very amused to check facebook on those days (rather than, you know, being outside…) and see a friend’s status reading: “John is REALLY happy to see the sun.” In some cases, people even drop proper grammar in favor of unbridled joy: “Mary is OH DEAR GOD SUN”

The first truly sunny day took me by surprise–it had been snowing that morning (and my host father thought it would be a good idea for us to walk by a frozen lake to get some fresh air. I don’t understand outdoorsy types), but when I returned to my room I found sunlight pouring in through my window. I acted fast and actually took a picture of my shadow on my bedroom wall (and again, I’d put up the picture but my computer is being difficult). It was the last time I saw the sun for about two weeks, and in the mean time I, along with many, many others, grumbled about the dishwater-colored sky as we walked our various paths with shoulders hunched against the wind.

But I’m glad to say that the unpleasant weather does not blunt the Danish spirits. Here in Denmark, there is a historical/cultural concept (taken from a poem! Yay poetry!) of “outside losses, inside gains”. It technically refers to a change in foreign policy in the 19th century, but I think it also describes the way Danes approach the weather. Since it’s so bitter outside, just about every place you go into puts a real effort into being warm and cozy, immediately making up for whatever hellish weather you had been facing moments before. Whether you go into a bar, a cafe, a shop, or even a school, it’s very common to be greeted by lit candles in the windows and tealights on the tables. It is a wonderful thing to go from the cold and wind to the quiet warmth of a candle at your table. It brings people closer together around the table and quickly dispels the gloom. Oftentimes, these candles are the primary source of light for the room, which makes every individual table feel a bit more separated from the larger world. But I don’t think this is a negative isolation, like you’re not supposed to step outside of the circle, but rather draws your attention more fully to the people you came with or the moment you are immediately. I see it as a way of shutting out distractions. My host family keeps candles in just about every room, simply to have going whenever we’re in there together. They even gave me two little lanterns for my room, which made me feel quite welcome. I think if I were to invest my money here in Denmark, I’d invest it in a tealight company. Or maybe a green energy start-up OKAY THERE I SAID IT NOW LEAVE ME ALONE, NEW YORK TIMES EDITORIAL BOARD.

And on the plus side, as I write and complain about things, I’m thrilled to announce that my sentiments are rapidly becoming outdated. It has actually started getting nice here! It hasn’t necessarily gotten that much warmer, but there is more sun these days. In fact, last Tuesday was the first day that hinted at spring’s approaching arrival. It was a clear sky, and just warm enough that if you stood still and let the sun fall on you, you’d feel a warmth combating your cold extremities. And the really nice thing was that everyone in the city seemed to get the memo. I went for a good long walk along the Stroget (walking street, pronounced like “strohl” because Danish is a mean-spirited language), and as I walked past cafes I saw people sitting outside with their coffee, still wearing hats and scarves but clearly happy to be outside. It was magnificent. I cannot wait for the days when I will shed the two coats that I wear, put away my hat and gloves, and sit down with good friends at a sidewalk cafe to watch the world and the shadows it shall cast. I found out from a friend that there’s a beach in Copenhagen about ten minutes away from the downtown along the canals, and that it is perfect, needing only the weather to set the stage for a good day there. They tell me these days are coming soon.

P.S. The post title is a song from The Magnetic Fields’ “69 Love Songs”, which is one of the greatest albums I’ve ever heard. It’s a three-volumn album that touches just about every emotion that love can make you feel, and does so with wit and honesty. The songs are often absurd, but somehow most of them manage to touch just the right heartstring. Some fall flat, but I figure that happens with every album. I never thought that driving with someone would be an expression of love for them until I heard “Luckiest Guy On the Lower-East Side”, which features, among other things, a keyboard playing sounds that a friend once described as the sounds your boots make when you’re out splashing in puddles.  If you just want an emotional tour of yourself, see what makes you feel like what, put the album on from start to finish and pay close attention.