Mostly content to be sedentary

Wandering is on hold for now. I'm solidly in Golden, diving deep into the graduate school universe. Hearing about the adventures of my friends abroad makes me want to travel, and now I have a wife to take along with me! Since my last post came the day I left Denmark (June 24, '09), I must elaborate on that previous exclamatory sentence: I got married in September. Most of you who read this blog know that fact already, so its inclusion here is merely for completeness' sake.

But yes, I have a friend riding his bike around CO, rafting, skiing and snowboarding (instructing). I have another in Switzerland, working on his masters in renewable energy, a third in the Netherlands attending grad school, a fourth mulling tough decisions for future work in Australia, and a fifth in Germany, somewhere, doing something. Oh, and my parents are going to Kenya in December to teach English and medical skills to kids.

My consolation is my wife and I will be heading down to New Zealand in December (one month away!) for our second honeymoon. We'll be tramping all over the south island, visiting wineries, kayaking rivers, watching whales, and sailing through the majestic sounds of the southwestern coast. More than consolation, it's downright awesome!

For now, I'm enjoying lazy weekend mornings in bed, grading papers for a class I've never taken, crunching literature, writing reports, watching football games, eating pomegranates by the armload, and FINALLY getting back to this blog. Dear Reader, I've kept you in drought too long. Enjoy, as I am.

Day 0: Homeward Bound

Goodbye Denmark! I am off to the airport with big bags packed and a tumult of emotions in my heart. I want to go home and I want to stay. There have been so many amazing opportunities here and I've learned so much. But, I miss the mountains, the family, the friends, the actual darkness (never gets really dark here at night), and cheap groceries! Here I'll miss the bicycle-obsessed culture, the ultra-clean tap water, good public transport, and the taste of Carlsberg (much better mass-produced beer than Coors, Miller, Bud, etc...).

I've been saying goodbye for the last few days. I gave cake to my coworkers on Tuesday, bought a round for friends at a local microbrewery last night, and generally haven't slept so I could maximize my farewell festivities.

I'm leaving new friends, an amazingly good laboratory, and a flat land of boldly blunt Scandinavians. I can't wait to see my beloved CO again, but I also look forward to my return trip (guaranteed so far by my advisors) in 15ish months.

For those who have followed my sparse blog trail these last 5.5 months, I've left out pages and pages of stories, but maybe I'll get around to telling them someday. To you Dear Reader, I dedicate my final blogpost from København. See some of you soon and all of you eventually!

30 Days Till Denver, Kubb

One month from today I will be on a plane bound for Denver International, after bouncing through Frankfurt. The feeling of 'bigness' that precedes and proceeds a significant change in my life has begun to creep into my mind. 30 days remain and I've never been busier in my life. My blog trail has sputtered considerably, but I may catch up some of the stories one day.

Before I stop procrastinating, I do have a short tale to relate that I cannot pass up: the Scandinavian lawn game 'Kubb.' It reminds me of bocce (Italian lawn bowling) and has been likened to a combination of horseshoes, chess, and bowling (see Wikipedia article). Two sides (1-6 players ea.) face each other with a field of wooden blocks in between. Five blocks (~3x3x6 in.) standing on end, spaced about 18 in. apart, mark the 'line' of one side, while a complementary row, placed 20 or so feet away, delineates the other. In the middle of the field, a taller, thicker block, the 'king,' stands. There are six wooden sticks, broom handle-width, cut to ~10 in., that the players on one side toss and attempt to knock over the other side's five blocks. The sticks must be thrown with their ends pointing at the blocks (no 'log-roll' style), which makes for great target practise. Once a player knocks over a block, the offended side must toss it into the middle (without knocking over the 'king'). When the shooting sticks change sides, the player(s) must hit the stranded block from their own line before attempting any of the other side's pieces. When all the blocks are knocked down on one side, the attacking team waits a turn and then tries to knock down the king piece. Once the mighty wooden monarch falls, the victor is declared. It's a really fun game that can get quite heated, especially when your shooting stick bounces just around the opponent's block for the eighth straight time (during my first game). Amazing what entertainment 21 pieces of wood (add 4 boundary stakes) can provide.

I played this game last weekend with an American student friend on my time and against 2 German friends. The USA lost 5-0. Embarrassing (but what fun!).

Happy Memorial Day, people of the States!

On Bicycles...

Today I became the 2907th person to ride my bicycle past an electronic sign keeping track of this statistic. I love this city (and country) for its deep and dedicated bike culture. In my habitual romantic outlook on life, I see a societal undercurrent of cycling being the 'purer' breed of transportation. Bike racks abound, shops do booming business, and there are more bike paths than roads, since every road has its own bike-only lane.

The affection for two-wheel (or sometimes three-wheel) mobility is more subtly apparent in the relationship between motorists and cyclists. In my own adventures on the streets of America, car drivers frequently harangue and even molest the bicycle-bound. There's mutual fault, since I've seen plenty of cyclists arrogantly filling up half or more of the vehicle lane. Yet, no clear idea of "who started it" is ever offered; only insults and too-often gory accidents echo the question. Blame is counterproductive anyway, but this dangerous reality makes the disparity between the U.S. and e.g. Copenhagen clearer to see.

Here, bicyclists are given incredible leeway. There are times when auto drivers honk, rev their engines, or narrowly miss clobbering the offending rider, but the majority of cases favor the cyclist. It helps that nearly everyone has a bike, and that brings to the fore the greatest reason for this cultural difference. Due in part to the sprawling urbaniverses (and suburbaniverses) that make up our continental geography, we Americans love our cars. Furthermore, the last five or so generations (guessing?) have, on average, made the automobile part of their personal identities. These factors (and others I don't want to cogitate about because I'm hungry and haven't blogged in forever so I want to write some of these thoughts down) have set up today's American car-centered lives. Of course there are exceptions, but I write in generalities to stave off a repetative stress disorder.

Maybe someday we will ride more bikes. I would love to see that day. I think I will abandon my efforts to institute a public bike share program on my college campus (for entirely different reasons I won't elaborate on at this time), but continue to promote the healthy, efficient, and fun habit of bicycling. Before I sign off, here's a picture of the bike I've been riding all over eastern Sjælland (Copenhagen, Lynby, Roskilde, etc...):

I bought this bike about two weeks into my stay here. It cost 600 DKK (~$100).

When I get back to Golden, I think I may try to build my own "errand bike," inspired by the picture below:

A large wooden crate or box can sit on the platform. I could haul around my groceries, books, camping gear, guitar, and a fair amount of any junk (even people!).

Income Tax: A Story from Heiko

I heard an interesting story. These last couple months, nearly all my interesting stories have come from Heiko Schlueter, the German-descended, American-sounding, cell phone-loating artist extraordinaire, who calls St. Croix home, and who probably wouldn't like all the hyphenates I just applied to him. Heiko loves to tell his stories, and I love to listen. This one is about income tax. To forewarn you Dear Reader, I haven't substantiated any of it.

Income tax originated in taxes placed on boats. Whoever first thought to tax any and all manner of cargo vessels transporting various goods to and from here and there laid the foundation for a rather strange idea. Sometime ago, 'so-n-so' thought: How can I justify taxing the good people of this land? Well, ships are taxed as they leave their docks in port. Aha! I have a brilliant analogy! As a ship rides out of its 'berth' into the wide water, so are all human beings 'birthed' from their mother's wombs. Therefore, we shall now say because you are like a little ship, coming into the world, you shall be taxed on all your earnings from now until you die! What solid logic!

And so, we have income tax.

Nice story.