l u c k y .

It's snowed all day. Well, snow/rained/slushed/grossed all day.

In fact, it was so disgusting this morning, that my professor for my Danish History Class didn't make it. But he also works at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and with the given political situation, he very well might've had to have missed class to deal with some "situation." In anycase, I found myself in a cold classroom at 8:30 in the morning with no professor to enlighten me on the ins and outs of Danish history.

Now, I should claim that I am by no means an early bird; however, I don't always mind getting up in the morning. In fact, if I sleep much past 10, I feel like I've begun to waste a day of opportunity, which, by Grace, was afforded me. But this morning, I had no intention of setting one toe off my sleeper sofa. I was so determined not to get up that I reset my alarm. Twice. We all know what that means.

In any case, I found myself awake and professorless, so I bonded with my Danish history classmates, then did some work for my next class (and first session of the semester of this class)--Kierkegaard. Kierkegaard was a Danish religious philosopher in the mid-19th century, and quite a character. I think it will be a wonderfully interesting semester, but the class has the potential (at least right now) to be (1) boring and (2) killer.

After crashing for a short nap, I got up and had probably the single most awful afternoon I have had yet in Copenhagen. The weather was (and still is) wickedly horrible. I had nothing to do besides homework and felt completely alone.

To add to the situation, Per and Hans had to work late, so we didn't even start cooking dinner until 9pm which left us to begin to eat supper around 10. Needless to say, I was hungry and grouchy. While dinner was cooking, I had a revelation. I, at that moment was miserable. I was alone and tired and hungry and missing home desperately. I was miserable.

And after I thought about myself in a pit of woe, I remembered how lucky I was that there was this great couple here who was willing to come home after a long day at work and cook and take part in my life--and put up with me. I owe it to these two wonderful men to meet them half way.

After a wonderful dinner, I was cleaning the dishes while Per enjoyed his usual after dinner coffee (real coffee, he would comment, not the shit they serve in America) and we got to talking about the classic American movie musical. Now, nothing says "I care about you" like a Dane who explains to you each scene of Singing in the Rain (complete with acapella renditions of the songs). From there we sang everything from Judy Garland to Julie Andrews.

My life was suddenly wrenched into perspective. My disappointment with this afternoon was filled with humanity--worrying about ourselves, hoping to improve our situation. But in singing and cleaning, I realized that there is something much more vast than each of our individuals worlds.

I returned to my room to write about Judy and Julie and Per, and found this message from a dear friend at Elon.

#1. I miss you like crazy. CRAZY, I tell you.
#2. Can I send you mail? If so, where might I direct a piece of post?
#3. I miss you.
#4. I love you.


I'm so lucky.


blessings.
jon.