Random, Unfinished Post About Copenhagen

As I’m sitting on the floor of the Hamburg Hauptbahnhof railway station leaning against the departure sign by the 5b platform with my backpack at my side, I hear an unintelligible German garble of words announcing something regarding Koebenhaven. Confused, I turn to the three teenage boys sitting next to me and ask them, “Entschudigung. Sprechen Sie English? Yeah? Are you going to Copenhagen? Did you hear what the speaker said? I think it changed platforms.”
They were going to Copenhagen but weren’t paying attention, and because our train was scheduled to leave in about four minutes, one of them runs down the platform and up the stairs to check the updated departures billboard. He comes running back and yells in what I later found out was Dutch and they start booking it to platform 6b. I follow and we finally make it to the next platform and cram into the overcrowded train. There are no seats so we pop a squat in the hallway next to the bathroom. I find a spot up against the trash/recycling cans. You get used to the smell.
After a stop, two Brits, a young blonde haired man and portly short haired girl sit next to me in the hallway. The conductor walks by checking tickets, squints at them, and asks, “Did you just get on or get on at the last stop?”
“Yes! We got on at Hamburg!” they respond.
“Alright,” he says and walks on.
A few minutes later I find out that they did not in fact get on at Hamburg and did not in fact pay for a ticket. Why? Theyre with the British Armed Forces doing an exercise. They were told to go as many miles away from their base and back as they could without paying any money. They get a point for each mile, 150 for each monument, 50 for each good deed, and 200 for each mode of transportation. They were pretty cool. They taught me a game called Shithead. Those two, the three Danish boys, and a Canadian couple were all hanging out in the hallway spilling into first class having a powwow. It was great. We were playing guitar and singing songs up until some older lady from who knows where starts telling the Canadian playing the guitar that she wants quiet. Damn.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of Couchsurfing.com. It’s a social network of travelers who both host and surf for free anywhere a couch is available. I’ve been a member for over a year and up until now it was only a dream of mine to utilize it. Of course when you’re traveling alone the idea of staying at some strangers home for free is a bit sketch, but in Copenhagen I decided I would finally try it out. I found three profiles that looked ok and sent out my messages. Two of them declined, but one of them named Nickolaj accepted my request. He is a school teacher who teaches history, English, and geography. Perfect.
Up til now I've been adjusting to the whole everything around me being in German thing, and when I arrived in the central station at Copenhagen (in Denmark) and got off the train, I felt completely disoriented. Danish is apparently closer to English than German is, but to me it makes no sense whatsoever. I’m supposed to take the bus to Nickolaj’s house, so I wander around the station looking for the right bus to take. I find the bus, get on it, and get off at the Forum station. I call Nick, and wait. While standing against a building next to the bus station, I proceed to have a very private freak out. To an outsider, it merely looked like I was sorting out my Euros from my Kroners, but on the inside... you don’t even know.
“What am I doing here? Why am I staying at some stranger’s house??? What the fuck?”
Freeeeeak out.
Nick arrives and I hastily shove my coins into my pocket, shake his hand, and we’re off to his apartment.
He nonchalantly walks down the street explaining the situation at his place. “My wife and daughter are in Canada, so you’ll be staying in my daughter’s room with the Russian girl. I’m expecting some Brazilians in a couple of hours, so they’ll be taking the other one…”
“What is this?” I think, and of course terrible, worst case scenario thoughts race through my head, most of which involved the sex trade. Oh, God. Oh, God.
But we get to his place, and it’s fine. He actually turned out to be a really cool dude. The nachste day, he gave Olga (my Russian roommate) and me a quick tour of the city. And by quick I mean, he’s a freakin fast one. Practically running to keep up with the bugger as we weave through the most popular tourist walkway.

Hold on… I’m on the wrong train… Apparently there are two trains stuck together going to two separate places, and I’m on the one to Nyang-something….
Ok. On my way to Hamburg.

We see the sights. Up the tower, through the palace, by the cathedrals. Ooooo ahh. All the while, Nick is giving us the Danish lowdown of what we see.
While we were on the tower, he made a brief comment: “aaaand THAT there is Sweden. That is the last time we talk about Sweden. Don’t get me started on that place. Coming over to Copenhagen and getting wasted. They have a saying here. ‘Keep the city clean, follow a Swede to the ferry.’ God. Stupid Swedes.”
Maybe it was the whole Sweden kicking Denmark’s ass when Denmark was practically ruling the world that made him so bitter. Hmmf. Yeah.
While I’m here, he, and the national museum, really paint a picture of how this country is full of Viking badasses. “Inside every Dane is a Viking screaming to get out,” he says. Blonde is the norm, and there are bikes everywhere. Nick also tells me his view on European mentality.
“History isn’t history here. History is very much in the present.”
“There has been fighting here since the beginning of time, and while there may be a “European Union” bringing us together, in the end, it’s all about your own country and your own interests. Old tensions and rivalries are never going to die.”
“Goddamn Swedes. Don’t talk to me about the Swedes.”