Copenhagen: Three Months Back.

Recently, I have been waking up with the creeping suspicion that time is fleeting. It’s not really a pervading thought, just a soft awareness that the time I once had in Copenhagen is no more. Then I look at my Calendar. 4 weeks. Wait, hold on. How did 4 months become 4 weeks?

One of the most remarkable things I’ve learned about Denmark, Copenhagen, and the Danes is that they all have the ability to be supremely redeemable. Take, for instance, the 3 month long winter we just experienced. “It will surely be spring by the time you get back!” That’s what my peers and I heard from every direction before we left on our three week long study tour break. Spring was coming! Get excited. I came back. Spring, apparently, didn’t come with me. Maybe it didn’t get the memo to show up in Copenhagen right around April 19.

But just when you have that day that you think, in the words of my friend Montana “weather be damned, the Birkenstocks are coming out!”and you suffer through a day of wet and cold and windy (the triple blow) without substantial footwear, and you go to bed thinking ‘what have I done? Is there such a thing as spring in Denmark?,’ you wake up to a warm morning. Well, at least warmer. And as the day progresses, you find yourself sitting by the lakes in central Copenhagen writing about Spring. And you think, “God, I love this place.”

Upon closer examination, it does seem like spring is certainly on its way. Trees, if you get close enough, are flooded with buds bursting to bloom (like that alliteration?). The Jon Quills are all out as are Daisies (which are surprisingly more vibrant in sunshine). People are soaking up the relief of spring—sitting on benches, running, walking, and just being…outside. At long last the winter spent in a series of connected buildings, bus rides, and train stations has given way to spring.

I’m not sure that I’ve ever been so glad to see this particular season in my life. Ever. I’m sure I was always excited for its beauty. But at home, in Georgia, it meant not only were flowers in bloom, but also pine trees. Everything turns a putrid neon green. And I mean everything. If you are outside long enough, you come inside looking like you have an eerily green jaundice. No lie…OK, well maybe exaggeration (but, hey, I come by that honestly—just talk to my parents).

But as I watch people (my favorite hobby at present), all I see is happiness. Smiles and contentment—each one glad to be relieved of their heavy winter coat (even if that coat is only to be replaced with another “spring” coat). But all the same, the heavy is gone. Swans are sprinkled along the lakes, white tales high in the air like wedges of Swiss cheese (complete with holes—sorry…I had to) as they search for food.

And sunshine. There is sunshine, and, believe it or not, this is the best kind of sunshine. It’s the sunshine that doesn’t allow itself to be beaten by wind, nor does it make you too hot—just warm and perfect.

Now, three months back, had you told me that this day would come, I probably would’ve believed you. Two months ago, I might have believed you with all I had in my heart to believe with. A month ago, I would have found me resigned to the lackluster winter (and just excited to be turning 21). If you had told me a week and a half ago that Spring was on its way, I would have looked at you, scoffed (at least in my head) and labeled you a wacko (again, at least in my head).

But as Gurney would say (a life-long neighbor in Fairburn who makes delightfully good cakes), “Well, I’ll be…” Sure enough spring came. And with it, Spring brought redemption to Denmark. As well as a whole bunch of pasty white legs in running shorts.

Spring also is a reminder that I will soon be departing. The day will come, in the near future, where I will have to say goodbye to all the friends I’ve made that have practically become family. To the two men who have wonderfully functioned and transitioned from substitute parents to real ones and told me that the tattoo WASN’T going to happen. (Actually, Per said “Jon, it’ll be hot now, but what will you look like when you’re fifty? Stupid, you’ll look stupid. And saggy.”—that was more than enough convincing for me). I also have to say goodbye to this place which welcomed me with open arms, even when my arms were closed to it.

Whenever you get sad about something ending, some chirpy little brat always pipes up and exclaims, with great conviction “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Yeah, check. I always want to slap that person. I’m not sure I won’t be able to be sad to leave. But this is for certain, I will be smiling—primarily because it happened. What an amazing three months I’ve had here. And what a work filled, but exciting month I have left.

Here’s to the experience of a lifetime and realizing just how lucky I am to have had it.

blessings.
jon.