"willingly I came to denmark" hamlet: i, ii

So, I’m writing this on the flight to Iceland, where we’ll spend our last few days abroad. Our time in Copenhagen was a lot of fun and as an added bonus, we have a friend from college, Søren, who is from there and was able to meet up with us for a couple hours each day. It was great catching up with him, and also a treat to have a local with us who could give us the lowdown on what we were seeing.

The day we arrived, Søren came and picked us up and took us North to Elsinore, also known as the setting of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. There is a castle there, quite beautiful, but what is funny is that they have to take very careful pains to indicate that there was no such man as Hamlet; the play is what we call “fiction.” Apparently they have a problem with people thinking he was real, which to me would be the same as thinking that just because a book is set in a real place, say, London, that the characters must be real too, like, say, Harry Potter.



At any rate, they do have an exhibit that talks about the story of Hamlet, its origins, and its literary impact, which I enjoyed. With that out of the way, they are able to move on to real history, which is abundant in this place. We climbed up to the roof of the tower and had a nice long look around the shoreline. It was a beautiful, if windy, place. According Søren, constant wind is basically a characteristic feature of Denmark.

After the castle, we hopped in the car and took a nice leisurely drive back to town.

Oh, did I mention that Søren has, uh, the SWEETEST ride in all of Copenhagen??



We stopped for a bite to eat in the town of Elsinore, where V. surprised Søren by being the first non-Danish person he’d met who enjoyed red herring smørrebroød (an open faced sandwich). Then we made our way back into town. V. and I took a nice stroll through the Copenhagen city center and got a feel for the place, had a little ice cream (there is an ice cream stand on every block in Copenhagen) and then called it a night.

Yesterday, we got up early, hopped on a train to the north end of town and made our way back across the city on foot. We started out up by the Little Mermaid sculpture, which is pretty and all, but it’s also pretty small, and pretty crowded with tourists. About 30 seconds there was enough time to snap a picture and to decide I’d had my fill of Texans.



From there we headed down through the city fortifications, past St. Alban’s church, and down to the Queen’s palace.


(Image courtesy V.’s excellent photography skilz. Click on image to make larger.)

Down through some smaller streets, and then we climbed up the Round Tower, which is the only tower of its kind in Europe. It’s got a spiral ramp instead of stairs, and at the top there’s a great view of the city.



A little more strolling through the city led us to a pretty good Turkish restaurant for some lunch. Afterwards, we headed down to the docks for a canal tour. The tour took us through many of the small canals that run through various neighborhoods, out into the harbor to see a number of new buildings. They brought us around to see the Little Mermaid, and at that point you get to see the absurd crowds gathered around taking pictures of this sculpture.



Dinner that night with Søren at an Asian place called Wagamami. Very delicious food, and Søren explained to us that if we leave tips in Denmark, we’re getting taken for a ride. We had a nice stroll over the bridge into Christianshavn. By the way, pretty much everything in Copenhagen was invented by King Christian IV and therefore everything is named after him. Christianshavn is not to be confused with Christiana, a totally different part of town.

After we parted ways with Søren, V. and I popped into the very well lit “Erotic Museum.” Seriously, its huge neon sign can be seen from 7 blocks away. It was kind of fun and some of the history of erotic literature and legend in Copenhagen was interesting, but somehow I felt like it was lacking. I guess I just expect a lot out of erotic museums…

That rounded out the Copenhagen portion of our trip.

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The rest of this entry is written after landing in Reykjavik, after my computer’s battery died on the plane. Reykjavik is a really, really interesting city. In a way it feels very European, but in another sense, it’s kind of the opposite, because everything here is so new. Nearly all the buildings sprang up in the last century, and many of them in the latter half of it.

One of the things Reykjavik has a lot of is public pools. We headed over to one near us after arriving today, and boy was it great! They use geothermal heat to keep the pools temperate. Also, there are these “hot pots” which are like Jacuzzis, sort of, except without jets and, again, geothermally heated. And they are so clean!! They tell people they have to shower before getting into the pool, and everyone does it. As a result, they don’t use so much chlorine in the pool as they do in the US, and it’s so nice to come out not smelling like chemicals.

Right now it is midnight and it is still dusk. I don’t think it’s going to get much darker than this. Very, very strange. I’m pretty sure I won’t have any trouble sleeping tonight, though.

"the play's the thing" hamlet: ii, ii

Here's a catalog of some of the interactions I've had in the last couple of days. They will appear, in an homage to my favorite person, V., in the form of short plays.

1. The Watchtower

Scene: The Kennedy Plaza outdoor bus terminal. Monday morning; commuters are starting to line up at their various boarding areas. A thirtyish woman dressed in chef's pants and a tshirt, Nicky, stands slightly apart from the other waiting people in her boarding area. She is on her cell phone to her mother, speaking quietly about something that seems important and emotional. Her words cannot be heard by those around her, but she is clearly on the phone.

An older woman, Serena, approaches. She is carrying leaflets and magazines.

SERENA (to Nicky): Would you like a copy of The Watchtower, dear?
NICKY (into her phone): Excuse me just a sec, Mom. (To Serena) I'm sorry, not now, I'm on the phone.

Nicky returns to her call. Serena's face, which has until now been a mask of pleasantness, twists into an ugly grimace.

SERENA (brandishing the magazine, agressively): Take it!!
NICKY (just as agressively): No, I don't want it!
SERENA (shaking the magazine at Nicky so that it hits her hand): TAKE IT!!
NICKY: NO! Not now! (moving away from Serena, who wanders off down the street, her face rearranged back to the pleasant expression) JESUS fucking CHRIST!! Fucking Jehovahs!!

BLACKOUT

2. Once You Pop ...

Scene: The bus into downtown Providence. Nicky, a thirtyish woman wearing chef's pants and a tshirt, sits along a rear bench seat. She has a few grocery bags with her; she's picked up a few things for supper after her long day at work, as well as a snack of potato chips.

The bus stops. A young man, Jeffrey, boards the bus and sits on the opposite side of the bench Nicky is on. He sprawls out and stretches his arm across the back of the seat; he is not, strictly speaking, encroaching on Nicky's personal space, but he's treading a fine line, considering he is a perfect stranger to her.

Nicky reaches into her shopping bag and pulls out her partially consumed potato chips, and pops a few into her mouth.

Jeffrey reaches over and taps Nicky on the shoulder; it's easy for him to do so since his hand is already up on her seat back.

JEFFREY (to Nicky): Yo, could I get some of those?
NICKY (taken aback): I-I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: Could I get some of those? (indicates the chips)
NICKY: Wwellll, there's not very much left .... (she trails off at this point, meaning to indicate that since there is not very much left, she doesn't intend to share any of it with seemingly well-nourished boys.)
JEFFREY: Oh, that's aiight; I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (taken even more aback): I'm sorry??
JEFFREY: I'll just take the rest.
NICKY: (near spluttering in disbelief): Well, actually, no, I don't think you'll just take the rest because this is my snack and I'm hungry and I'm going to eat the rest!!

Mercifully, the bus pulls up to the stop at this point. The passengers all stand and begin to de-bus, Nicky among them, although she is still one stop away from her destination. She exits the bus, not looking behind her once.

BLACKOUT


3. Strangers in the Night

SCENE: The Mall. Friday night; the place is loaded with adolescents. They're loud, boistrous, obnoxious -- all the things that make a childless 30-year-old-woman sigh a breath of relief.

A thirtyish woman, Nicky, wearing a tank top and jeans, approaches the escalator. It can be admitted that she looks cute, but no cuter than usual. She just threw this outfit on quickly before leaving the house for a brief errand or two, which included the decidedly unglamorous tasks of buying running shorts and toilet paper.

As Nicky boards the escalator, a young man, Chris, probably no more than 20, boards behind her. They ride in silence for a moment.

CHRIS: (quietly) How YOU doin'?

He speaks so quietly, in fact, that Nicky assumes she is not the one being spoken to, and continues staring ahead.

CHRIS: (a little louder) I like your glasses, those are nice.

Nicky knows now that it is her he is speaking to, as she is wearing a pair of glasses that she regularly gets complimented on. However, she thinks it best not to encourage this young man, and continues to ignore him.

CHIRS: (definitely louder now) And your butt. I like that, too.

Enough is enough. Nicky turns to face Chris.

NICKY: (incredulously) Are you talking to ME??
CHIRS: (grinning sheepishly) Yeah!
NICKY: (even more incredulously) Do I KNOW you???
CHRIS: Yeah!
NICKY: No. You don't. You don't know me. That's not an appropriate way to speak to someone you don't know.
CHRIS: (backpedalling, in a slightly regretful tone) I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make friends.
NICKY: ...?....
CHRIS: ......
NICKY: Yeah, I don't think that's what you're trying to do.

Nicky turns back around and walks the rest of the way down the escalator, shaking her head in extreme disbelief.

BLACKOUT

"by'r lady, thirty years." romeo and juliet: i, v

Well I'll be damned if it isn't my 30th birthday in about an hour and a half.


What a strange (and usually wonderful) ride it's been so far.



....
Not, as you can see, a lot of blogging went on over the summer. It hasn't been a particularly interesting summer. There have been a few things I've wanted to write about but haven't yet ... I may yet still do so. School starts up in a couple weeks and no doubt I will want to procrastinate.

Tonight I was riding the bus with V. and there was a lady passed out drunk across from us. She was rather rotund and very well endowed in the chest, so that as she fell forward with the motion of the bus her face was flopping down right into her cleavage. HOT. I was seriously concerned that she was going to suffocate in her own boobs.

Last night I guess the kids were all back in town for college starting up, so there was all manner of nonsense going on downtown here. The nightclub next door was hopping with all the little striped-button-down-American-Eagle-shirt-and-frayed-bluejeans-wearing frat boys lining up, checking out the girls, who, at this point, are simply not putting on pants -- I can only assume for ease-of-access. I wish I was exaggerating, but I swear to you that I am not joking at all when I say I saw more than one girl wearing one of those stupid-looking tunic-style tank tops with no pants, just boy-short-style underwear, and wedge shoes. My soul shrunk a little.

So apparently I'm thirty and a cranky old person now. That's cool, at least I have an excuse for being cranky now.

"contemplation of my travels" as you like it: iv, i

If one makes one's final approach to Hell on a city bus, I think I know what that bus would be like, for I just stepped off of it.

I'll back up.

In Colonial days, there were two major port cities in what is now Rhode Island: Providence and Newport (though they were probably like "Providenfe" and "Newporte"). If I'm not mistaken, Newport was the primary one, but then Providence built up and became the main port for the colony. Newport and Providence now remain as sort of sister cities in this smallest of the states. Newport is a big summer city, but in the winter, not much is going on there. So in the winter, young folks who attend one of the schools in Newport might find themselves wanting to come into Providence for some Friday night revelry, and they might find themselves on the 10:00 bus from Newport to Providence in order to do so.

And in fact, so did I find myself on this bus on this very evening. I picked it up about halfway between Newport and Providence in the town where my parents live, not really thinking that there would be many people on the bus because there usually aren't at night. But tonight this was not the case.

First of all, I knew things weren't going to go well before I even got on the bus. I'm standing in the rain at the bus stop, which was clearly marked and well lit, and I see the bus approaching. Fast. Like, really fast - like, easily 50mph. Too fast to stop for me with any amount of safety awareness. So I put up my hand and wave it to indicate "I'm here and would like to board your bus, please," and I don't see the bus slowing down any, so my hand waving becomes more and more animated until the point where I am waving my arm fully extended back and forth very rapidly in a "Hey! Hey!! HEYYY!!" kind of way. As the bus breezes past me, I see the brake lights finally go on, and fully a block past me, the bus rolls to a screeching halt. I jog the block down the road and board the bus, and before I can say "good evening" to the beleaguered driver, I am greeted by a wall of sound. The bus is packed -- packed -- with kids. I say "kids" -- they may have been 21 or so, since they were all clearly headed out to the bars; however, since I turned 29 maybe 21 is starting to look like 19. What? Why would I even type that out??

Anyway, the bus is packed, and there is one lone seat all the way at the back of the bus, on the bench that crosses the whole back wall of the bus. So I pick my way over all the feet that are sprawled out in the aisle and before I can reach my seat, the bus lurches forward again and I trip over someone's feet and up the aisle. Lemme tell ya, it felt like the middle school school bus all over again. Could I be any more uncool?

I finally make it back to my seat, nestled amongst a group of boys who are all wearing the college sophomore guy uniform: American Eagle striped button down shirt with a wife-beater underneath, revealed by the shirt being buttoned only 2/3 of the way; some kind of neck accessory (hemp necklace, fashion crucifix, dog tags); spiked hair (but not in the cute way); ratty-ass faded blue jeans; and pristine Nike shoes. These guys all also have the fashion accessory that marks them as underage: the Poland Spring water bottle filled with a liquid that is clearly not water. I have my iPod in, so I can't hear their whole conversation, but they get particularly animated at one point and I hear this exchange about being picky eaters (apparently they all are): First guy says "Dude, that's why I cook at home. I watch that Rachel Ray shit and cook all my shit at home." (The other guys look at him in silence for a minute.) Second guy goes "all I know is, I've never eaten an olive, and I've never eaten a mushroom, and I'm not going to."

There was another group of young men whose fashion choices I simply could not fathom: two of the young men seemed to be very conscious of hip-hop style in all their clothing items except that they were wearing these jackets that had these child-like cartoon drawings of woodland creatures on them. One of them had a white background and the other had a royal blue background but other than that they matched. These two guys also had matching do rags except in opposite colors. It was adorable, like they called each other as they were getting dressed.

Also, in watching each individual group of people, I noticed that every one of them at some point seemed to have a conversation about their shoe choices, as I saw them all looking at each other's shoes and pointing and comparing.

Meanwhile I think the bus is about to careen off the road; the driver is either trashed or just so keen to unload this rowdy group that he couldn't keep his foot off the pedal.

As I got off the bus at my stop, the lone other passenger who clearly wasn't affiliated with this group of late-night party-goers got up behind me, crashed into me as the bus screeched to a halt so that I nearly fell down the steps, and asked the driver "Is this the airport?" I left the bus before I could hear the bus driver's response, though I am sure it was something along the lines of "You've got a long way to go to the airport; you're not even on the right bus."

"told by an idiot, full of sound and fury" macbeth: v, v

My alma mater is adorable! They think I actually give a crap if they have some kind of emergency that they want to notify me about by email.

I just received in my junk mail inbox the following message:

In our continuing efforts to ensure our ability to provide emergency notifications from the [Nonspecific College] campus when necessary, we are testing our email capability.

Please reply back " Received " in the body of the email . Thank you.

Now, in case the fact that an email from my college went directly into my junk email box hasn't given you a clear picture of things, I'll just go ahead and let you know that I'm not really on speaking terms with the school right now. Don't get me wrong, my education was just fine and dandy and I met some of the greatest people - students, staff, and faculty alike - that I know there. However, the school and I don't speak because I'm not really pleased with the direction the school is headed in (they recently bragged that entering freshmen SAT scores were now averaging something like 1099) ...

So given my unwillingness to talk to these guys for like, you know, normal stuff, why on earth would I reply to a creepy email about emergency notifications? What possible emergencies would I, an alumna now for 7 or so years, need to be aprised of? "Alumni Emergency Alert! We need to know what color balloons you want to have at your reunion! Please reply immediately!" No way.

***

In other news, gas prices being what they are, I took the bus to and from work today, and was delighted to be approached by Nutty O'Nutahan while at the bus stop (if by "delighted" I mean "displeased"). A woman about my age, she marched up to the bus stop where about 6 people were waiting and agressively demanded the time. My mistake was being the person who answered. She parked herself next to me and started gabbing - despite no encouragement from me - about why women and senior citizens are such crappy drivers and described a recent instance where she had been driving and been cut off by an older woman and so she "flipped her the bird" as she said. Much to my relief, the bus arrived at that point and I allowed a couple of people to board between us. Noting where she sat, I moved to the opposite end of the bus and sat down and put my headphones on.

As soon as the bus started moving, this gal stood up, looked around, saw me, and - despite my lack of eye contact - moved back and parked herself next to me again. I ignored her (cause, you know - headphones) as she began to launch into another speech, until she saw that I had headphones in and tugged on my jacket sleeve until I turned to look at her and listen!"There was another incident where I was at an intersection and ...." After that point, it actually wasn't too bad; I simply nodded every couple seconds, not really listening to what she said. At one point I realized she had asked me a question and had to respond, but for the most part, I was able to just tune her out. Even still, her voice wasn't as relaxing as simply putting my head back and listening to music. I guess that's the price you pay for public transportation. Plus, you know ... the fare.

"i will resist such entertainment" the tempest: i, ii

I try not to be too high and mighty about this, but I've given up television. We don't have one at our house, and I rarely watch it anywhere else. Yes, I will watch it if it's on at someone else's house or if I'm housesitting or something. But my life no longer revolves around shows. At first it was a little strange, but I've gotten to the point now where I rarely miss it. Once in a while I'm bummed if I'm missing a Pats game, but I have class all day Sundays anyway now, so at this point I really don't miss it. All in all, getting rid of tv has freed me up not just in the sense that I'm not sitting in front of the tube, tied to a schedule there, but also in the sense that I have a lot more brainpower to devote to other things now (such, in my case, as they are).

I found this article disconcerting: TV for the Time-Pressed. Basically it's "if you only watch one show per night, these are the ones to hit." Again, I don't want to come off like I'm on a high horse, even though I know it probably will, but it just seems sad to me, the idea that even if you're time-pressed, one might feel as though at least a show must be watched. I mean, if you're short on time, wouldn't watching tv be a good thing to discard from the schedule? You could instead take a little "me-time," to think, or read, or just be, without stuff being fed into your brain. Maybe my attitude about this is similar to a phenomenon some former smokers have mentioned to me, where, after they quit smoking and were out of the first couple weeks, they got to a point where watching anyone else smoking made them mad. Anyway, I'm not trying to convert anyone, not really ... but I will say that I feel my mind working much more clearly now than it did when I was at my peak of tv-watching hours.

On another note, here's a little interchange I witnessed yesterday. I was boarding a bus from my school's campus that was heading downtown. There was a large group of undergrads all around me, waiting for their buses as well. As I was boarding, a young woman leaned up the stairs behind me and addressed the crotchety old angry bus driver:

Woman: (somewhat confrontationally) Does this go down to the Hospitality Campus?
Driver: (short-temperedly) What does the sign up there say? Huh?
Woman: (scornfully) Pssh! I don't know, I guess I can't read.
Driver: (with equal contempt) You're real smart, guess that's why you got to college.
Woman: (back turned, leaving) Pssshh!

and ... scene