Saturday, April 19, 2008
How are you Copin', Hagen?
I'm hagen in there. I like Copenhagen. I feel like I'm in Austin. But I'm in Copenhagen.
And I'm not just saying that to say that. Of all the cities we've passed through on the tour so far, I'd love to go back and spend a month in Rome, a week on the beach in Gaeta, Italy, a weekend in Trier, Germany, and another afternoon in Switzerland. But I could actually consider living in Copenhagen.
The city was strumming my pain with its fingers, singing my life with its words, killing me softly with its song. During our 38-hour stay, we saw a load of live music. Every other person we met was introduced as, "Hey, this is my friend so-and-so. They're a singer songwriter," followed by, "Hey, you're a harpist? Come to Copenhagen; there'd be a lot of opportunities for you here."
But I loved it not just because of the (tempting) music scene. Not just because of the crazy language or the lack of ugly people. Not for the unique, "just right" architecture. Not because guys greet each other with a kiss on the lips, nor because the people seem pretty happy and down to earth. It's because there's something in the air there that put a welcomed kick to my stride. Like the air in Austin.
I had a perfectly happy 38 hours there. I remembered this list of "life goals" I made a long while ago. One of them was that I wanted to play my harp with a band in a rowdy, cramped pub in Ireland with people singing and having a good time and forgetting that life sucks sometimes. Well, we weren't in Ireland, but I'm going to put a very content check mark next to that one anyway.
Someone once believed: "Better is one day in God's courts than a thousand days in [Copenhagen]." (Psalm 86:10) Hm. Those must be some courts.
Question of the day in the van: "When (or how many countries ago) was your last proper shower?" The winner is going to remain anonymous, going on day 5 and 4 countries (due to lack of hot water, time, and/or.)