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The Danish Can't Leave Cantilevers Alone

As mentioned in my first post from this trip, Danish modern architecture is obsessed with cantilevers. Particularly on campus here, they abound, both indoors and out. The ones inside the ITU building are cool because some of them have these little light show things on the side of them. It’s also funny to see all these little windowed, cantilevered meeting rooms hanging out into the atrium. Here is a collection of Danish cantilevers for your enjoyment.

 

 

The also seem to like really massive arches, like this: 

The Bicycle Freeway and More Awesome Bikes (blogged from a train)

I'm finally mastering the "Bicycle Freeway," although I do have the occasional stumble from time to time. Biking the last week has been a bit unpleasant due to the cold and rain, but I am "weathering" it so to speak. 

Traffic on the Bicycle Freeway.

 

Clipping along.

 

Besides the wonders of the Bicycle Freeway, I’m also totally smitten with the gorgeous European city bikes. Anyone who has seen my main commuter vehicle in Atlanta knows I favor a city bike over a racing-style bike (mine is magenta, btw). But here they have these really classic city bikes, which are actually what my bike, a US-made Elektra Townie, is modeled after. Most of the cycling nuts I know go for the racing bikes, but again, I feel like I have died and gone to city cyclists heaven. Not only do they have cool bikes in a wide variety of colors (I have seen many purple bikes), but they also have these crazy baby rickshaw things. Now I’m not a parent or anything, but I think it would be super cool to shuttle your kids around on a pizza delivery style bicycle gizmo. It must be fun for the kids too.

 

Second Danish Word

A couple of days ago I lost my beloved map on my way home from an outing. It’s a paper map, which I have highlighted with all sorts of vital locales, such as restaurants. I can’t get Google maps here so I’m very dependent on this paper map. Anyway, I lost it while cycling around the center of town. By an odd streak of luck, however, the day before, I had learned the proper pronunciation of the neighborhood adjacent to school from someone who lives there.

The neighborhood is spelled like this: Amager. Imagine by surprise to discover that the entire second half of the word is NOT pronounced. If you want to find this part of Copenhagen, you have to say “How do I get to Ama?” Everyone speaks English of course, but they won’t understand what you mean if you say a Danish word incorrectly. So, thankfully, armed with my second correctly pronounced Danish word, and with the help of the kind Danish people, I was able to find my way home to Ama.

(f)e-mail from a Brød

Brød is Danish for bread. The mystifying pronunciation of this deceptively short little word is a source of endless mockery among non-Danish speakers. B is the only letter that is recognizable to an English-speaker. To the untrained ear, the Ø sounds roughly equivalent to the double O in “book,” but most Danes will not recognize it if you try to say it that way. The Danish D has different pronunciations depending on where it is in the word; when at the end, it is pronounced like a cross between D and L, a sound that foreigners can only approximate by sticking their tongues out while trying to pronounce L. Even Norwegians and Swedes cannot master it. You might be able to approximate the word brød by swallowing the I in the word “broil” and sticking your tongue out at the end, but I would not suggest it as you might injure yourself in the process.

Brød, as seen in a Bageri.

 

Danish bread is distinctly unlike what we call bread in America, even so-called French or Italian bread, and comes in a much wider variety of genres, none of which are white. The general characteristics of brød is that it’s usually, to varying degrees: moist, dark, dense and uneven in texture, sometimes unleavened, and can include seeds, nuts, unground grain kernels, and dried fruit. It is the polar opposite in every way of the white, fluffy, smooth, stuff Americans think of as bread. I have only seen Wonder bread being consumed here once, and that was by ducks.

I haven’t fully learned all the nuances of brød. I can say that all the various genres are much more flavorful than any other type of bread I’ve eaten. Jewish rye and pumpernickel, and Russian wheat bread pale in comparison. The silly little poppy or carroway seeds atop these breads are no match for the pumpkin and sunflower seeds on brød. Grinding grains is for sissies. Brød is made from wheat has just stripped its chaff and jumped directly into the oven. Some brød is leavened, but the classic brød we associate with Denmark, the kind used to make the classic open-faced sandwich “smørrebrod,” is a very dark, very compact, very moist, unleavened affair served in miniature, squared off loaves. This form of brød is usually about 4x4 inches square (How much is that in centimeters? Who knows!) and cut in thin slices. It’s a fuel-efficient bread that can be consumed in much smaller quantities than air-infused American bread, for the same effect.

 

Rugbrød in its native habitat.

The regional delicacy smørrebrød is more or less the Danish national food. Smør, by the way, is Danish for butter, so literally translated it means “butter bread.” Smørrebrød consists of a half a slice of the appropriate type of flat, moist, dark unleavened bread, also called rugbrød, buried under a pile of stuff, which can range from amazing cold cuts, to cheese, to egg salad, to pickled herring, to “laks” (Salmon), similar to the Jewish lox, usually with a dollop of some kind of cream and a spring of fresh herb, or a garnish of olive or pickle, or whatever is lying around. Underneath the pile is a schmear of smør, by which I mean, a layer of butter almost as thick as the bread itself. They are delightful little things packed with ummy cholesterol (although the bread itself is apparently very low in fat), that are eaten with a knife and fork in about 3-4 bites. You can eat maybe 2 or 3 of them before running out of room since they are so dense. They are totally delicious and one of my favorite things on earth.

 

I've been on a quest to find smørrebrød since arriving here, and the first time was somewhat unsatisfying. Although the “laks” were delicious, it was not on the right kind of bread. In the meantime, I made my own attempt at approximating smørrebrod from available ingredients at the ITU canteen:

My approximation of smørrebrød.

 

But then on Saturday JOY! I stopped by this restaurant I'd been wanting to try, Under Elmen, and they had it on the menu! It was PERFECT. Not only that, but I was told this was a particularly Danish variation: Bacon and potatoes! YAY!

The perfect smørrebrød, accompanied by our old friend hyldeblomst.

"Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder" - Danish Arts & Culture 1

[NOTE: Font Change for the Hard of Seeing]

Last weekend, Yvonne (the woman whose apartment I’ve been staying in) took me to Louisiana, this super cool modern art museum on the outskirts of Copenhagen, abutting the ocean and surrounded by lush trees. When we were eating breakfast in the morning before going, I made a comment about the fact that there was a picture of a man in a suit with a naked woman on the cover of the newspaper, and she mentioned that this newspaper seemed to find any excuse it could to show pictures of naked women. Later, when I was browsing through the same paper, I noticed several other pictures of naked women. You’ll see why this is important later in the post.

When we arrived at Louisiana, we split up and I went through the permanent collection, which was really fabulous. I was especially excited to see a Nam Jun Paik piece that featured a small TV screen inside an old 1920’s style radio. Brilliant. He is one of my faves. Many of the pieces in the permanent collection were from American artists; they had a whole selection of Louise Nevelson pieces, who I love, and also the David Hockney Grand Canyon painting, which is really wonderful it is so big you have to stand back to see look at it.

But as I was walking through the exhibit, perhaps due in part to our conversation over breakfast, I could not help but notice how many naked women were portrayed in the exhibit. Even some of the more abstract paintings were of naked women.  Fortunately, there was the odd female or gay artist (Nevelson, Warhol, Hockney) who have no interest in naked women, to break things up a bit. They also had a sculpture garden and later Yvonne and I had a discussion about the sculpture below, which I immediately (especially after all the naked ladies) assumed were breasts. It turned out the piece was called "Eyes," so I guess it's some kind of rorschach test.

Breasts or eyes? In the eye of the beholder?

 

As I was weaving through the permanent collection I saw a kind of side route, and, always one to go off on a tangent if one is presented to me, I investigated. It turned out to be the children’s wing it was awesome. There were a bunch of families making airplanes out of toilet paper rolls and cardboard, and then down some stairs there were other craft activities, but the thing that totally blew me away was the Lego room. You have to understand that Lego is the “national toy” of Denmark, and anywhere you find kids—airports, hotels, rumpus rooms, of which there are many—you always find Lego. But the cool thing about this room was that it was only yellow Lego. I thought this was a great way to make this more than just another Lego room but a Lego room with a really strong aesthetic. My favorite thing was this wall where people had sculpted their names in Lego.

Paper airplane's in the kids' room.

 

The Lego name wall in the kids' space.

 

After lunch we took a detour back to the road via lush, overgrown, forest path. As we walked into the gate, brimming with autumn-colored leaves, Yvonne told me it was a graveyard. You would never have guessed this from the outside. All the tombstones were sort of embedded and buried in the foliage, and the graves were small since she said it was for ashes. There were a few that were groupings, sweet little family grave gardens, where everyone could be together. When we got to the bottom of the path there was a little yacht harbor full of boats, most of which had English names, and some of them were quite funny. It was nice to see the ocean.

Family grave garden.

The sea!

 

After that we walked back up and took the train home. I really liked the station at the stop there. It was very “old school.” Trains are another awesome thing I love about Denmark.

Train station to Louisiana.

First Danish Word!

I have learned to pronounce my first Danish word! The word is "hyldeblomst," and it is a type of lightly carbonated beverage made with elderflowers. It’s very similar to Amé. Simply stated, it’s a flower soda. I’m very proud of myself. I said it to a waitress in a restaurant and she actually understood! This is the first time I’ve spoken Danish that a Danish person has known what the hell I was talking about. I should add the caveat: I’m actually not sure if I’m pronouncing it correct, but the extremely low bar I’ve set for myself is being understood by a Danish person.

My favorite Danish soda, Hyldeblomst.

I Have Seen the Future, and It's Full of Bikes!

Being in Denmark is kind of like you died and went to bicycle heaven. In my last post I mentioned I feel like I have landed in a past vision of what 2010 was supposed to be like…the only thing that the past futurists could not have anticipated: the future is FULL OF BIKES! It’s so awesome. I mentioned the underground bicycle garage at school…it’s magnificent! Since crime is not a big problem here (although someone did steal two bungee chords out of my bike basket that I bought on sale at a hardware store), no-one locks their bikes to anything, and most everyone uses this “bracelet” bike lock, as I call it, which merely locks the tire. (The bracelet lock is not dissimilar to the Japanese bike locks I wrote about here during the 2007 Tokyo trip.) But the Danes also have a second sidewalk for bikes. And now that I have had a chance to ride it, I must say it’s a brilliant invention; it completely (well mostly completely) removes the problem of cars driving into the bike lane, since there is a double curb and the first one is between the cars and the bike lane. The bike lane is at least as wide as the sidewalk, sometimes wider, with plenty of room for passing.

 

The bicycle garage at ITU.

 

It’s a funny and inverted experience. In both Atlanta and LA bicyclists are actually at the bottom of the street traffic pecking order. Pedestrians are second to last, and cars are of course first. Here it is the opposite. Bikes seem to be first. In fact, if you are walking and you stop at a zebra crossing (British style crosswalk) here, the cars will stop for you but the bikes won’t. They just whiz right by. I love this bike lane, but I have to say that I’m having a bit of trouble getting used to it. The bikes go pretty fast, and you can’t just stop in the middle of the lane or you will get instantly mowed down by other cyclists. If I am sight seeing and want to stop, I have to pull the bike onto the pedestrian sidewalk. Your reflexes have to be really fast to pull this off.

Above-ground bicycle parking at the apartment building.

 

One of the other visitors here, though, pointed out to me today the downsides of the bike road. First, he said as a cyclist he likes to make up his own routes to get places, and I must say that part of the fun in riding in bicycle-unfriendly places is playing the game of figuring out where all the ramps are between home and a building on campus, or whatnot. The other byproduct of this is that you have to follow the rules. But then he pointed out something else I hadn’t thought of: the bike path creates bicycle traffic! When I got back on it later that day, I realized that it’s really a bicycle freeway. And when looked at in that way, it took on a whole different meaning. I started thinking about merging into traffic and such. Although I can see that a bicycle freeway is sort of a not-so-great way to look at it, at the same time, the metaphor helped me do a better job of navigating. C'mon I'm from LA! I know how to deal with freeways!

Speaking of being from LA, it’s a little chilly here, but still moderate enough to ride, but everyone rides everywhere even when it's raining. In spite of the fantastic underground garage, there are still piles of bikes in front of the ITU building and the dorm building across the canal.  By the way, did I mention there is bike parking in the basement of the apartment building I’m staying in AND outdoor bike parking areas? I’m sure there will be more to report on this phenomenon! It’s one of my favorite things about this place! 

[Stay tuned for more bike postings and pictures of the bicycle freeway!]

(No caption necessary.)

 

Discovering “Danish”

I arrived in Denmark on Wednesday morning. Denmark is the only country I travel two where the line to the passport desk consists entirely of white people. I’ve written before how coming into Los Angeles, one rarely hears English spoken in the passport line. The same is true in New York, London and Amsterdam. Here, there was only one non-white person in the line. Everyone was speaking Danish.

Conversely to the immigration line, ITU itself is quite international. Most of the people I have encountered so far are not in fact Danish. One comment I’ve heard repeatedly has to do with the hours kept by the staff here: apparently they all leave at 1:00 or 1:30 in the afternoon. The common remark I’ve heard, even from Danish people is, “well you know, the Danish, they all leave early.” It was later explained to me that one of the reasons for this is the Danish system allows parents in two-income families to leave early to pick up the kids at childcare, so many administrative departments close early to accommodate this. 

The ITU dorm buiding: Dig those crazy cantilevers!

 

The first few days have been a bit surreal. It’s Fall recess so the campus has been totally empty and quiet. ITU is sort of on this island of modernity, comprised primarily of university buildings and campus housing, and with all the modern glass buildings and the speedy elevators and cantilevers, I feel a bit like I’m in a scifi movie. Weirdly, there is no Internet in the apartment I am staying in (across a small canal from the ITU building), but otherwise it feels a bit like going 10 or 20 years into the future, or perhaps more aptly, going into some past idea of what 2010 would be like.

Danish children chasing swirling autumn leaves in the ITU courtyard.

 

I came into work Friday morning to find a bouquet of purple flowers left on my desk; apparently this is “from the department,” but was masterminded by Marjanne, the very nice lady at the front desk who is helping me with, well, everything, and Rosalda, the Ph.D. student who got me acclimated my first day since everyone else was “on holiday.” I had never met either of them before Wednesday, but for some reason they got the idea that I liked purple. ;)

Purple flowers on my desk.

 

Yvonne, whose apartment I am staying in, got home from India yesterday and has been acclimating me to the ins and outs of Danish appliances: how to use the stove, the washing machine, etc. She also loaned me an extra bike she has, and I discovered the amazing underground world of bicycle garages. Both the apartment and the ITU building have vast basements filled with bicycles, and ramps leading down to them for easy access.

Denmark is a very bicycle-centric city. Bikes are everywhere. There is even a “second sidewalk” for bicycling that is a tad lower than the pedestrian sidewalk, but also has a curb to the street. When I first came here, it took me a while to get used to this, as I would occasionally wander into the bike lane, which can be dangerous since it’s usually pretty busy.

And everywhere you go are parked bicycles. Dozens of them can be seen in neat rows on the sidewalks, in front of apartment buildings, and so forth. The Danish idea of a bicycle lock causes a shudder to anyone who is accustomed to biking in big American cities. In New York, for instance, you budget to replace your bike once or twice a year, because no matter how macho a lock you get, it will inevitably get stolen. Here, the locks are a small hook about the size of a bracelet, and latch onto the front wheel. Nobody tethers their bikes to poles or anything else. From what I gather, bicycle theft is rare. I’ve also been ogling the European city bikes here and pondering buying one just because they are so cool. At home in Atlanta I have an Electra, which is the closest thing you can get to a European City bike made by a US company.  This afternoon will be my inaugural bicycle excursion so I’ll have more to report on cycling after that.

Crazy Danish bike lock (And no, this is not the bike I'm using here, but it does bear a striking resemblance to my bike at home.)

English as a Second Language: Day 1 in Uxbridge

Mary and I converged at the Pret a Manger in Terminal 3 at Heathrow yesterday morning around 8:30am, which is perfect because it’s my usual breakfast haunt when I’m here. This time we’re staying at Alwyn Lodge, which is more like staying at someone’s house than a B&B. Yesterday was a Bank Holiday, and it was all anyone could talk about. Each and every person we encountered reminded us of this fact, and when we got to the University to register I was teasing our British colleagues—What, five weeks of vacation a year isn’t enough for you? Mary was asking what exactly it meant, Bank Holiday? Was there one for each bank? And I pointed out that if that were the case in the U.S., we’d only have three.

 

Departing from our usual habit of taking public transportation, we decided to take a taxi. The one we picked up at the airport was apparently a replica of the common taxi model of the 1920s and 30s.

 

Uxbridge is, as far as we can tell, a suburb, but it definitely has a country feel. As we were walking up Church Street to go to lunch, we noticed a funky old house with a sign in front of it that said “Surgery.” We were relieved to know that if anything went wrong during our stay, we could stop by to have an appendix or gallstone taken out. I’m reticent to post this only because it might provide more fuel for the “UK medicine sucks” argument, but on the other hand, it might be a good way to let people know they have choices here: See, at least you can go to a private doctor if you’re really desperate!

 

In less than 24 hours we’ve already been to two pubs. In the UK pubs are the most common eating establishment. In an earlier post I pointed out that they are often used as landmarks when giving directions, e.g., “turn left at the first pub and go down the road until you get to the second pub…”. They have evocative names usually involving some combination of royalty or pigs and body parts, such as “The King’s Head,” “The Queen’s Arms,” “The Pig’s Feet” or what have you. In Uxbridge apparently, grains of some sort are the thing. For lunch we went to “The Malt Shovel,” which was a charming riverside establishment. The weather, which started somewhat gloomy when we got here, cleared up and it got quite sunny and even warm, so sitting by the river and watching the boats go by. One was the “Ozzie,” and another one was parked by us, whose name I didn’t catch which had a Buddha on top and an eye on the side. 

After lunch we decided to walk over to the University to register (which is where the conversation above transpired), and were invited to join those present for dinner at another pub, “The Load of Hay.” Needless to say we got a bit confused by the name when we were walking there later. Was it the Hay Load? The Bail of Hay? We had lovely evening catching up with our European colleagues; apparently our field is expanding, we now have people from warm-weather climes, such as Italy and Portugal. I encouraged our Portuguese friend to apply to host the next DiGRA: Really, all the Scandinavians would love it!

 

This morning is bright and sunny, in sharp contrast to the usual overcast and soggy weather here, and counter to the weather report I read before leaving. Apparently “70% chance of rain” is the default setting for the UK, but so far it’s actually been warm, nice and relatively dry. We’ll see how that pans out during the week. We’ve only been here one day after all!

Lost in Translation Part 2: More Marvels of Japanese Design

Garage Elevators
These exist in various configurations; they typically have some kind of roundabout platform, which is mainly for taking the car out at the end. When you enter, you pull onto the round plate. The parking attendant then pulls your car into the elevator. The most interesting one was this circular conveyor, which I was able to capture in action.

Locking Umbrella Stand
Sorry the picture is so blurry. All of these are taken with my @#$%* cel phone camera. Anyway, if you look closely you can make out the key mechanism. You can place your umbrella in this and assure that it is secure from umbrella pilferers.

Bike Locks in the Land that Crime Forgot
The first time I ever saw these was in Denmark. Having had about a bike a year stolen in New York, the only place in the United States where the Kriptonite U-lock warantee is void, I was stunned that something so minimal could keep a bike from being filched. Apparently, the Japanese have a similar low bike-crime rate, although bike-riding is hugely popular here. By the way, in case you can't see it, the lock is that tiny, black brake-like looking thing embracing the back fender. All it does is lock the wheel to keep it from turning. It doesn't even attach the bike to anything!

Omni-Directional Crosswalks
There is much to be said about traffic flow in Tokyo, maybe another entire post on the subject. I have seen the barnstorming type crosswalks where all the cars are halted and people walk through four crosswalks at once. This is an even more complex and mind-boggling scheme:

More Toilet Technology
An entirely digital toilet console (left) and an odor abatement device (right.)