As a self-proclaimed introvert, it's a myth that introverts do *not* need friends. We get lonely too, and if I had to stay in Copenhagen for four months without anyone to confide in, I am pretty sure that I would be driven to a depression. This would be especially true during the tail-end of October, where the skies on most days would be covered in the signature Copenhagen gray.
If I had to do this experience all over again, I would definitely schedule my activities so that all the outdoor ones such as park visits and excursions outside of Copenhagen proper would be situated in August to September, where it wasn't impossible to work up a sweat in the afternoon. There was, however, a silver lining (or a golden lining, if you will) to all of this. Thankfully, with the coming of fall, it would be my first chance to experience the season itself--and boy it did not disappoint. I observed the tree outside of my house where I parked my bike grow from a vibrant green color to a melancholic orange in less than two weeks after the end of September. The lush sights and smells of Frederiksberg Garden took on an entirely different vibe and encouraged sentimentality and slowness. The days growing shorter only made the brilliant colors of twilight more noticeable in the evenings as I saw the dull sunlight peak through empty alleyways and the quiet streets where I lived. The grand promenade of Assistens Cemetery was wonderfully bathed in a new orange light; any photographer would be delighted to spend hours simply capturing the city during the golden hour. The sights were wonderful of course, but I think the cherry on top were the friends I made in the first two months of being here. I took enjoyment in the simple things, strolling and stopping by random points of interest as our small group commuted our way around the city whenever we weren't busy. We scouted and discovered locations like restaurants, venues, parks, and other landmarks, ate and cooked at each others places (an activity that is pretty much the pinnacle of hygge), and just enjoyed each others company and time. The weather seemed perfect for that, and now that we had gotten used to living here in Copenhagen, I think my group of friends spanning from South East Asia to South America could feel that too. I remember watching the World Cup at an Irish pub with three Brazilians, a Japanese person, and a guy from Wisconsin. As we cozied up eating fries and throwing out foreign curses that we just learned, I could hardly remember the gray weather. My Singaporean friend Hui ate at Ramen To Biiru, a restaurant that I would surprisingly rate as one of my favorites because of its authenticity and the overall atmosphere of the place which paid respect to all things Japanese from its vending machines, to its display figurines, to its Japanese inspired beer. I did things that I never would have imagined doing by myself, like watching a classical music concert or going to multiple art museums. One of my favorite places to hang out with my friends during the fall and winter time was the meatpacking district, a industrial looking section of the city that had ethnic restaurants and unique venues. One of those venues was a place called "Kaf & Console," a small apartment sized cafe/bar whose main selling point was the fact that they had all you can play game consoles from the Nintendo Switch to the Nintendo Game Cube; hell they even had Guitar Hero 3 on the PS2, a favorite of mine from my childhood. But all in all, I think what I cherished the most from all of this weren't the places themselves. I'm pretty sure I would have been happy doing the same thing in some other part of the planet. Rather, I realized that what made this whole adventure worth it was just the company I was with. I realized this would be a lesson I would carry for the rest of my life, no matter where I was.
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As a self-proclaimed introvert, it's a myth that introverts do *not* need friends. We get lonely too, and if I had to stay in Copenhagen for four months without anyone to confide in, I am pretty sure that I would be driven to a depression. This would be especially true during the tail-end of October, where the skies on most days would be covered in the signature Copenhagen gray.
If I had to do this experience all over again, I would definitely schedule my activities so that all the outdoor ones such as park visits and excursions outside of Copenhagen proper would be situated in August to September, where it wasn't impossible to work up a sweat in the afternoon. There was, however, a silver lining (or a golden lining, if you will) to all of this. Thankfully, with the coming of fall, it would be my first chance to experience the season itself--and boy it did not disappoint. I observed the tree outside of my house where I parked my bike grow from a vibrant green color to a melancholic orange in less than two weeks after the end of September. The lush sights and smells of Frederiksberg Garden took on an entirely different vibe and encouraged sentimentality and slowness. The days growing shorter only made the brilliant colors of twilight more noticeable in the evenings as I saw the dull sunlight peak through empty alleyways and the quiet streets where I lived. The grand promenade of Assistens Cemetery was wonderfully bathed in a new orange light; any photographer would be delighted to spend hours simply capturing the city during the golden hour. The sights were wonderful of course, but I think the cherry on top were the friends I made in the first two months of being here. I took enjoyment in the simple things, strolling and stopping by random points of interest as our small group commuted our way around the city whenever we weren't busy. We scouted and discovered locations like restaurants, venues, parks, and other landmarks, ate and cooked at each others places (an activity that is pretty much the pinnacle of hygge), and just enjoyed each others company and time. The weather seemed perfect for that, and now that we had gotten used to living here in Copenhagen, I think my group of friends spanning from South East Asia to South America could feel that too. I remember watching the World Cup at an Irish pub with three Brazilians, a Japanese person, and a guy from Wisconsin. As we cozied up eating fries and throwing out foreign curses that we just learned, I could hardly remember the gray weather. My Singaporean friend Hui ate at Ramen To Biiru, a restaurant that I would surprisingly rate as one of my favorites because of its authenticity and the overall atmosphere of the place which paid respect to all things Japanese from its vending machines, to its display figurines, to its Japanese inspired beer. I did things that I never would have imagined doing by myself, like watching a classical music concert or going to multiple art museums. One of my favorite places to hang out with my friends during the fall and winter time was the meatpacking district, a industrial looking section of the city that had ethnic restaurants and unique venues. One of those venues was a place called "Kaf & Console," a small apartment sized cafe/bar whose main selling point was the fact that they had all you can play game consoles from the Nintendo Switch to the Nintendo Game Cube; hell they even had Guitar Hero 3 on the PS2, a favorite of mine from my childhood. But all in all, I think what I cherished the most from all of this weren't the places themselves. I'm pretty sure I would have been happy doing the same thing in some other part of the planet. Rather, I realized that what made this whole adventure worth it was just the company I was with. I realized this would be a lesson I would carry for the rest of my life, no matter where I was Hui and I had one goal when we booked our flight to Sweden: go husky sledding. In fact, before we even expressed an interest in traveling to Switzerland together, Hui mentioned that one of the top things in her bucket list was to go husky sledding. It took us a few stressful nights to find an open husky sledding tour that was actually available in between our times of arrival and departure, and besides our usual planning, we also had to map out the routes to our appropriate train lines as well.
Eventually, we honed in on a morning tour run by "Husky Tours Lulea," which of course happened to be in the small town of Lulea on the northern part of Sweden. Before our 3:00AM train to the town itself, we were lucky enough to have time to visit Stockholm, and more specifically, its old town of Gamla Stan. I couldn't help but make comparisons between Copenhagen's architecture and way of living compared to Sweden's while we were walking around the cobblestone-paved streets there, and honestly, there wasn't much differences we could find. We simply enjoyed our time people-watching around the square. The two of us also visited a few landmarks like the Stockholm Royal Palace, and the "Alley of Marten Trotzig," a small alley only 36 centimeters wide (making a pretty cute and unique photo op!) The time eventually did come to take our train to Lulea, however, and I think the two of us could feel the excitement we had for this once in a lifetime experience. We paid a pretty penny for this, and we were hoping that everything would turn out fine seeing as this was our last excursion outside of Copenhagen. Even though I thought I had prepared for this, I was NOT prepared for the cold. The two of us packed a heavy coat, tights, and gloves, but when we arrived in Lulea, even a simple grocery trip to buy breakfast would leave us aching to go back inside as quick as possible. It was made worse by the fact that my friend had acquired a pretty nasty blister because her boots did not break in yet. Waking up at four in the morning the next day was also a pretty arduous task as we had to wait nearly half an hour in the freezing cold for our first bus transfer (then a subsequent three-hour train trip!) to the actual sledding location. In the beginning, the both of us were somewhat shy to ask for guidance about things like tickets and direction--especially with the internet on our sides--but by the end of this trip, we did not hesitate. We were driven in a van by the tour guide to the Husky farm, and as soon as we saw those dogs, the two of us knew we were in for one memorable ride. I could feel all of my worry fade away when I played with the huskies, but the hour-long sledding tour itself was one of the most unique moments of my life. The two of us took turns driving the huskies as we followed a small procession of other sleds manned by tour guides and tourists alike. As we travelled through the lush and sometimes bumpy terrain of the snowy steppes of Sweden, I was amazed at how blue everything was. The exhilaration and adrenaline of driving the sled seemed small compared to the wonder the both of us felt at frozen lake we passed by. The both of us expressed surprised at how quiet everything was as well. For me, it was the most rural location I've ever been in my life. The sight of the sun rising to meet our faces marked the end of the tour, and as we sipped on our hot coffee to warm ourselves up, I knew that we participated in something truly special. France is for food. Both Hui and I came to that conclusion not longer after we arrived in the city. No, seriously, France has the best food out of all of the countries that I visited, and yes, while I did indulge in a few memorable food experiences back in Denmark, I think that this short 4-day visit confirmed the fact that this place is a foodie's paradise.
For the first two days, the two of us decided to get an Airbnb at a small apartment which was about a 20 minute commute away from the center of the city. It was there that we learned to read the fine print when booking our lodgings; while it was cheap, we discovered that our rooms didn't come with heating. With fall transitioning to winter in the middle of November, the cold in the mornings and nights were absolutely brutal. Besides that, the two of us followed the maxim: "When in Paris, do as the Parisians do." Of course, on the very first day of our chilly stay, we HAD to try out their pastry. And what better way to start than your classic croissant? Personally, I was wary of romanticizing Paris because I knew better than to believe all the idealistic portrayals of the city that I saw on the internet and in movies. Nobody wants to live out a caricature. But there is one thing that they did get right: Paris is bread heaven. For less than $2.00, both Hui and I had the best croissant that we tasted in our lives. And it didn't stop there--we had macarons, and eclairs, and pain au chocolats, and... well you get the point. While eating out, especially near the center, was expensive, literally everything that we ate was excellent. Paris itself is a wonderful place to visit if you're a tourist; drifting on the canal at night, gazing at the lights of the Eiffel Tower is simply mesmerizing. On a Friday night, the streets of Paris were rife with people window-shopping, dining, or simply strolling. Because our budget was limited (we wanted to save most of our money for the food), we stuck to walking landmarks like the Basilica of the Sacred Heart or the Arc de Triomphe. We even accidentally stumbled upon places like the Little Prince Shop, a cute little store which sold memorabilia of a children's book we both loved, or the location of the filming of Amelie--one of the most famous French films of all time. After two days in Paris, the both of us took a train to Nice, and thankfully, our lodging there was much more comfortable. It was warmer as well, which only made sense because it was next to a beach and was more south than Paris. The colorful and charming buildings of Nice felt like the complete opposite to the oriental and bougie feel of Paris. Of course, we took a picture at the famous # Nice monuments, but the most memorable moments for us were browsing the fresh produce and flowers at the Old Town market on a Sunday morning and viewing the Promenade des Anglais from an overhead view. With the tropical feel of the French Riviera, I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of longing for my home in Hawaii. On our last day, I had perhaps the best meal of my life, all thanks to a middle-aged French woman who was apparently meeting up with a friend for the evening; we were looking for a place to eat for dinner, and the original location we had decided on in the morning was closed because of personal reasons. We met this woman talking to the shop owner, and they both happened to speak very good English. To our surprise, when we asked them if there were any good restaurants that were reasonably priced for our budget, the woman offered to take us to a place where she personally liked to eat out a lot; we accepted, and it was the best decision we made. For less than $25.00 (our most expensive meal of this entire trip), I had the most filling, most savory and delicious risotto I had eaten in my life. At a first glance, it looked like a regular risotto, but the portion size was huge. I recall it being extremely creamy, but at the same time had a kind of wholesome heartiness that I could not place my finger on. It reminded me of my Mom's cooking in the best way. Yup, France is for the food. I was way out of my depth when I started planning this trip with my Singaporean friend Hui. While I had some help figuring out the logistics of the initial trip to Denmark such as a basic budget, where to get housing, etc., I would be totally on my own when it came to planning my own trips outside of the country. One of the reasons why I chose Denmark in the first place is because of its central location in Europe, and so when my friend showed interest in planning a trip together, I was nervous but eager to get started.
Over the course of a week, we hashed out the details including how we were going to get around, locations we wanted to visit, and of course, the budget. Research was the easiest part, but thinking about finances was a necessary evil. Thankfully, she was taking her degree in Finance, and so whenever I did my part of the math, I trusted that she would be able to find any errors once we reviewed them. And so, we booked our flight for the beginning of October and landed in Zürich. The flight itself wasn't too bad, but our main worry was our first lodging, which was in a small house about half an hour away from the airport. We both had never been in an Airbnb before, but everything went smoother than we thought. In fact, in went more than smooth; the rooms were very lived-in in a positive way, and all the amenities were provided. The owner even provided us a Swiss breakfast, including fresh bacon, eggs, toast, orange juice, and even a sampling of three different types of Swiss cheese that she had apparently made herself from her own cows. After that pleasant first night, we were in for some very, very long train trips, our first destination being Zermatt. I couldn't help but wonder at the scenery we were passing by; it was completely different than Hawaii's nature. Everything seemed so much expansive and completely opposite our normal city environment. As we came closer and closer to our location, the snowy peaks of Switzerland's famous Matterhorn mountains came into view. The reason we came to Zermatt? We wanted to have a taste of being on top of a mountain, and so by trolley, we went to Jungfraujoch, the highest accessible point in Europe. It was simply breathtaking, both literally and in a metaphorical sense, seeing the mountain ranges below us. It would also be the first time I saw and touched snow with my own eyes. Despite the cold, we stayed up at the summit for nearly three hours, just taking in the views and took the last trolley down before sunset. Our next destination was the Rhine Falls--the largest plain waterfall in Europe, and while that wasn't as stunning compared to Jungfraujoch, it was definitely a memorable experience because it was situated near a medieval castle. Of course, my very mediocre photographing skills became very apparent to my friend, and so throughout our trips together during the semester, she gave me some much needed pointers. Our final destination was the city of Lucerne, a cute looking resort town situated near a massive lake, followed by a trip to Geneva for our flight back to Copenhagen. While the first half of our trip was exciting, the calmer second half was much needed because our lack of sleep was very noticeable between the two of us. Honestly, the best thing about this trip was just getting to know each other, as well as learning how to deal with the unexpected when it came to traveling. By the end, we were sure that we would have more treks together in Central Europe. Me, personally? I couldn't have asked for a better excursion. For me, the first two months passed by in a flash, but all throughout my adventures in Europe, there was always one thing that was a consistent companion: coffee. Yes, I have dedicated an entire entry to (mostly) coffee because I love it so much. You could call me a coffee snob and you wouldn't be wrong at all. With my knowledge of biking reinforced again, it was only natural for me to rent one (which I got from Swapfiets) and explore the city. Of course, along the way, I encountered many a coffee shops.
To explain, during the COVID-19 lockdown, I got into specialty coffee as a hobby; hell, I even got myself a pourover dripper, an Aeropress (basically a fancier version of a french press), a coffee scale, and a fairly fancy hand grinder. The thing is, Hawaii isn't exactly known for specialty coffee, save for a few cafes (shoutout to The Curb in Kaimuki), and with the state of COVID-19 at that time, I pretty much had no one to talk to about my growing interest. With Copenhagen, however, coffee culture was everywhere. In fact Danes, are the fourth largest coffee consumers in the world, and I loved them for it. I could finally obsess about the "acidity" or "body" of a certain coffee and compare different origins and processes with others, but I doubt anybody wants to hear about the jargon. Instead, I want to talk about a few encounters I had scouring the city for good coffee. My first encounter with a specialty cafe in Copenhagen occurred not too long after I landed; there was a coffee shop named "Impact Roasters," which was merely a 5 minute walk from where I lived in Flintholm. When I found out that CBS was hosting a coffee tasting event for less than $5.00 USD, I jumped at the chance, both to meet new people and to taste coffee. I was surprised to discover that the owner of this chain was a previous CBS student, who had come to Denmark from Ethiopia and wanted to share his coffee drinking culture with the rest of the world. Not only did I see a live coffee roasting machine and saw how it actually worked, I also participated in the traditional way of drinking coffee in Ethiopia--that is--with a side of popcorn. After a short little lesson on how to taste coffee, our small group were finally treated to a coffee "cupping" session, in which we were challenged to correctly identify the roast levels from dark roast to light roast, from three different coffees. The winners would receive a free bag of coffee. Out of our group of around 25, only four of us got all three. Thankfully, I was one of them because I definitely would have gone through a mini-existential crisis if I didn't. With that, experience, I think my coffee journey officially began. Another coffee chain which is nostalgic to me now is "Coffee Collective," probably the most well-known specialty coffee brand in Denmark. I remember spending many afternoons and mornings studying and socializing with my friends at these shops which were scattered across the city. For me, Coffee Collective was pretty much the quintessential cafe experience. The shops were quiet, but not too quiet. They all had sleek, modern looking interiors, but were cozy enough to relax in. They each had varied menu for the coffee enthusiast, but it was approachable enough so that your friends wouldn't get freaked out. And most importantly for me, they always had new beans available every few weeks which I eagerly bought once I ran out of a bag. From Ethiopian coffees, to Kenyan coffees, to Columbian coffees, to Guatemalan coffees, it was an absolute utopia for me. They were perfect for the cold fall and winter days. My most memorable coffee trip actually occurred near the tail end of my stay in Copenhagen, on the second to last week. I decided to visit April Coffee, which was a coffee shop that's been on my radar since I got into the hobby because of their coffee brewing videos and guides. I wanted to get a bag of beans and their pourover dripper to bring back home, but I also wanted to try out their handpoured coffee. It was was definitely the priciest coffee shop I've been too, thus, the fact that I kept it for last. Funnily enough, the reason why this visit was so memorable was because while I was waiting for my coffee to be finished, I noticed another person who asked the barista for three different coffees. "And don't tell me which one is which. I want to try to figure it out myself!" To my surprise, I decided to strike up a conversation with this man, who introduced himself as Evan. And to my even greater surprise, we had a conversation that lasted nearly two hours discussing everything from how we got into coffee as a hobby, to where we came from and what we were doing in Copenhagen. He said that he was born in Israel, but mostly worked in his home state of California. He also told me that he found out about April Coffee from YouTube videos, just like me! It really was one of the most interesting conversations I had with a stranger while abroad. Needless to say, my overpriced coffee wasn't the highlight of that visit at all. Throughout my semester, I wanted to summarize what I learned into a short entry in my journal, and I think that these encounters got me closer to what I was looking for. A theme started to emerge. Besides coffee (a hobby that I will be talking about in the next entry), long distance running was an activity that I vowed I would continue even after I landed in the city. My goal? Run the Copenhagen Half-Marathon. This project was in the works since the beginning of January 2022. Once I got the go ahead by my study abroad advisor to start working on the paperwork and applications for the MIX program, I decided to get serious with running again. I ran more miles than I've ever ran before up until the start of my actual half-marathon program. The last of week of May signaled not only the end of the semester, but also the beginning of >10 mile long runs and leg-wrecking speed workouts--all in preparation for this one goal. I promised to myself that I would never skip a training run; the plan is the plan, so stick to it.
Of course, things are never that simple. When I arrived at my apartment on the first day, I immediately recognized the reality of the situation. My mind was a mess, I had so much worries about what to do, who I could meet up with, where my future classes were, how I was even going to travel around the town--I didn't even think to account mental stress into my training program. The first two weeks went by without a single run because of the lack of sleep; I used to wake up at 4:00 in the morning to get my runs in back in Hawaii, and now I would rather much sleep in instead. By the end of August, I realized that I needed to get back to it. I had three weeks of good training left before the race on September 15th, and I was NOT going to let it go to waste. Endurance running is a special kind of sport; there is a reason why the phrase, "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner" exists. I think that is a bit of a misnomer. Running through the wet streets of Copenhagen, I did not feel lonely at all, and that was partially because of my newfound friends. I found that the hours on my feet were a good time to process the emotions of arriving in a completely new environment while at the same time exploring said environment. In a way, the running routes that I chose foreshadowed the rest of the weeks as I passed through the second oldest amusement park, Tivoli, as I passed through the satellite center where I was supposed to pass through VISA processing, as I passed through the CBS campus, as I ran through parks both lush and urban, and as I passed countless coffee shops and bars where I would meet up with my friends. I remember going on my last long run a week before the race--a 2 and a half hour trek in the rain that had me soaked from my head to my toes by the end of it. The lowest it ever got was 56 degrees, and with a simple tank top and shorts, I was NOT dressed for it, and yet, everything seemed right. I was "in the zone." And what I discovered was that I was not as alone as I thought; I had told the people I had met at the orientation, and all of them were excited to see me run it. I had also told my closest friends back home--and they sent me their well-wishes before the race with images and videos of support 7000 miles away. All that was left was the goal ahead of me, and the training left to do. In my worries and excitement over being in a new country, I realized that I had forgotten what I came here to do: finish what I started. What pushed me to continue was the fact that I had friends and family supporting me, and I think that mindset really helped me out, even after the race ended. September 15th came on a Saturday. And it was hard. And rewarding. And my legs were dying by the end. My first official race ended with me nearly falling over from the final sprint at the last half kilometer. But hey, at least I got a shiny medal, a free beer, and an absolutely crushable 8-inch pizza (which, of course, I devoured whole). Most importantly, I got the hint that I still had a long way to go before my time in Europe ended, and I intended to make the most of it before I got on the flight back home. During my brief semester in one of the biggest bicycling countries in Europe, I was terrified of biking. Well, that's actually an exaggeration; I've ridden a bike before, but that was in 3rd grade during Bike Ed classes, and I haven't ridden one yet. Seeing all of the bikes rush past me on the sidewalk during the first two weeks of studying abroad constantly reminded me that I was missing something key to the Danish experience. And so, I threw myself out of the comfort zone once again and called up the two closest friends I had made so far in the city, thanks to the orientation: a Brazilian named Ed and a Singaporean named Hui. It so happened that they were in the same situation as me, and I was fortunate enough to find a Red Cross training program for new bicyclists which ran every Saturday afternoon. It was intimidating at first, but I found other people just like me, sometimes older and sometimes younger, who were also practicing. Many of them came to Denmark for work and were still trying to get their visa. Some brought their children, and others were university students. In fact, I met one who was taking a masters program in business administration at the University of Copenhagen.
For me, learning how to properly bike again was embarrassing at first, but I did not feel judged at all! This was around the third week of my arrival. After, the three of us decided to go to Reffen, one of the most famous street food markets in the city, seeing as we had nothing to do for that evening. The commute was fairly long, maybe about thirty minutes each way by metro and bus, but it was one of my most memorable days in Copenhagen. Before we arrived at Reffen, we also came across the Happiness Museum, a museum dedicated to sharing thought experiments and interesting facts about measures of happiness in the world; I remember entering a room filled with thousands of handwritten sticky notes, all of which contained notes of thanks and well wishes from anonymous visitors. I could see why Danes ranked one of the happiest people in the world, and I felt a sense of peace overcome me. To be honest, it felt like a dream; the sky was finally clear, the air was comfortably brisk, and when we arrived at Reffen, we were surprised to see that it was already bustling with people at 4:00pm. We each got ourselves ristet pølse, or Danish hotdogs--each of which included a mini Danish flag on top which we kept as souvenirs. I also decided to get myself a stout beer at a local brewery called Mikkeller for the true Danish experience. The marketplace was located near a dock, and there so happened to be public foldable chairs that overlooked the Nyhavn river. Everything was quiet but distant chatter of the other patrons and the lapping of the water right next to us. As we sat there chatting about our experiences so far in Denmark for a solid three hours, it felt like the golden hour lasted for a third of that time until we watched the sun set. For the first time, I felt like I belonged. For the first time, I truly felt like I could get used to this whole study abroad thing. The following blog entries are a digital summary from the physical journal I kept and wrote in during my stay in Copenhagen, Denmark. They contain the thoughts and moods I wanted to remember during each day of my experience. I hope that my writings will inspire you to explore the world and get out of your comfort zone, as I have, during my study abroad semester at Copenhagen Business School (CBS) in the Fall/Winter of 2022.
--- Nothing can ever prepare you for the sinking feeling you get after leaving home for the first time. I arrived in Copenhagen International Airport on a sunny afternoon, accompanied by no one, surrounded by people who look nothing like me, in a place I did not know at all. Although I had "lived alone" before, in a dorm, this was completely different. There were an endless amount of bikes whizzing by on the flat streets, and despite Copenhagen itself being relatively small compared to other European cities, I didn't even feel like an ant in an ants nest. No, I felt like a single *molecule* of H2O in an ocean of people. I remember arriving at my student apartment for the first time, stressed out from having to unpack everything and at the same time feeling too exhausted to do so. I am pretty sure I spent at least half an hour simply staring at the ceiling, taking in the unreality of it all. It was technically summer still, and so the sun set later than I was used to. Because my room did not have curtains, at 9:00pm I watched the shadows move from one end to my room to another as I lay in bed, attempting to get some shut-eye to no avail. The first week of my stay was essentially all logistics; getting my Rejsekort (metro/bus/train pass), registering my CPR number, and learning where I could get my basic necessities met (groceries, laundry, etc.). Each day felt like a struggle because unlike my first time in a dorm at UH, this felt like I was *truly* independent. During the first week, CBS also set up on-boarding and social events for the international students, which I forced myself to go to. It was nerve wracking--and optional. Worst of all, the main activity there would be a brief introduction of traditional Danish dancing. I *hated* dancing, especially in public. But, I steeled myself and attended anyways, remembering the advice of my upperclassmen who had given GAWS on their respective study abroad countries. Safe to say, it turned out to be the best thing decision I would make during my trip. In Denmark, there is a word named: "hygge," (hoo-guh) which loosely translates to a feeling of "contentment" or "coziness." The key part of this definition is that hygge is associated with spending time with friends and/or family. In a place unknown to me, with all my familiar friends out of close contact, I think the greatest thing I ever did for my experience was simply that first resolve to make new friends. In a word, I had inadvertently forced myself to experience and create my own "hygge." What do Danes, Swedes, Wisconsinites, Brazilians, Hong Kongers, Chinese, and Singaporeans have in common? These next few entries might get me closer to an answer. The first time I stepped into Copenhagen Business School's (CBS) campus during my first week of orientation, I would be wrong to say that I didn't feel at least a bit of hesitation. Unlike UH Manoa's campus, the lecture rooms and main halls of CBS were much less crammed--more cold, more... professional. My second observation was that it was hard to tell who was a lecturer and who was a student. I had come over thousands of miles, and being greeted by a gray environment that seemed more like an office than the familiar, warm lecture rooms of Hawaii, was not reassuring. This feeling of alienation was multiplied by the long distances between the three campuses around Frederiksberg: 1) Dalgas Have, the location nearest to my student apartment, 2) Porcelænshaven, where most of my study abroad friends dormed at, and 3) Frederiksberg, the main campus. Each location was about a 5 to 10 minute bike ride, but on foot, it could take up to 20 to 30 minutes.
During my stay, I had four classes, three of which were related to my majors of Marketing and International Business and one being an elective. Their titles were the following: 1) International Business Environment, 2) Doing Business in China & Asia Pacific, 3) Retail Marketing, and 4) Fashion Entrepreneurship and Business Development. Like most subjects, the blurbs written on them on the school's website weren't exactly riveting material, and instead of 1 hour lectures, CBS's classes were often two to three hours in length with a small ten minute break in the middle. However, when I actually met the lecturers and experienced the class environment myself, I found myself becoming increasingly more endeared with how the subject matter was being taught. Yes, we had PowerPoints, but one distinct difference was that all of my professors encouraged class discussion above all. To sum it up, it seemed the lecturers were more concerned about self-development and learning rather than preparing the class to pass the test at the end of the quarter. Instead of a 'professor-student' dynamic, each lecture was structured more like a discussion, with both the students and the lecturers trading information and expounding on each others ideas based on the personal anecdote or the reading material assigned as homework. And speaking of homework, we were not graded on whether we read the recommended reading. In fact, rarely would we ever ever get graded on anything except for the rare midterm group project and the final exams. After a few weeks of this, I realized the main difference: Learning in Denmark, and perhaps all the Nordic countries, was encouraged not only because it was easier to get a better paying job with good benefits after you graduated, but because learning itself was prioritized by the government and by many working people as a core value; during conversations with Danish students, I discovered that they were actually being *paid* to go to school. Hearing that made me do a double take on my priorities and core values. They weren't there simply because they or their parents paid or took loans out for some arbitrary chance that in the future, they might get a better job. Rather, for a lot of the students at CBS, it's because they found the subjects they were studying interesting and wanted to learn more about them on a deeper level. Instead of a culture driven by extrinsic motivations, I found a culture driven by intrinsic ones, values based on a desire to learn, improve oneself by collaborating with others. It was a totally different point of view, one that I did not expect to discover. While I know that the mindset would not totally work here in the U.S. just because of sheer number of differences (not including the cost of healthcare, cost of education, cost of...everything really), it made me do some serious self-reflection upon my return to Hawaii. |
Matthew Calulot
Aloha! I am a fourth-year Marketing and International Business student currently studying at Copenhagen Business School in Denmark. I have never been to Europe before, which is exactly why I wanted to study abroad as a student from Hawai'i. Archives
January 2023
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