This has been a good city to prepare myself for coming home. The weather is just like Seattle now: 55 F and overcast, occasionally drizzling, freezing after Barcelona. Came across some good sights and humorous homonyms - too bad I’ve no camera to capture them. To cope, I walked myself tired, translating bitter Russian song lyrics in my head. Once the sun set, the city acquired an air of northern mystery: brick buildings looming into the deep darkening sky, still river reflecting streetlights, brisk air. Returned to the hostel hoping for a shower the first night, and discovered (the hard way) that there’s no hot water.

Surprisingly, this improved my mood: I decided to take the city as a challenge, and enjoy it despite the setbacks. So my second day here was even better: I walked all over, sampled the local “polser” hot dogs and pastries (excellent on both counts!), saw some Hans Christian Andersen monuments (they call him Jose here because H.C. is pronounced that way), practiced some of my Danish, explored the hippie commune of Christiania - more interesting for its imaginatively painted houses than for its typical granola-rasta street market, and later went out to a club called Stengade 30 (close to the hostel and apparently hip) with eight Australian girls from the same hostel. The club impressed me: good music, especially for a Tuesday, a fun crowd, and the space was cleverly set up to seat people facing the stage and each other at once. Naturally, Tuborg on tap.

Still, now I’m at the airport for my flight to Seattle, and my blistered feet tell me it’s good to be going home. Hope to see many of you soon!