Month: May 2017

A Matter of Perspective

May 1, also known as Labour Day or International Workers’ Day, is celebrated around the world. Growing up in China, I remember the excitement of getting an extended weekend. But other than a day off, I do not recall anything particularly exciting about International Workers’ Day.

It Denmark, International Workers’ Day is quite a different scene than the one of my childhood – there are demonstrations, celebrations and speeches. One of the most prominent events is held at Fælledparken each year. According to the two Danish families I had dinner with, the event at Fælledparken is simply a large celebration, with rowdy crowds and partying involved. It begins during the day, but will usually continue on into the night. Both families said it was a very “Danish experience.” One family had highly recommended that we go to experience the festivities; while the other family asked whether or not we had joined the fun. From their perspective, the Labour Day celebration is a part of life here. While the phrases “fighting for workers’ rights” and “stems from historical left-wing traditions” were mentioned, the demonstration and political aspect were not heavily emphasized by the Danish families.

After hearing about the crowds at Fælledparken, I thought it would be interesting to go take a look. Unfortunately, our project work on Monday took more time than we thought. By the time we were finished, I was simply too tired to go anywhere. Yet, if I had not heard about the Danish celebration of International Workers’ Day, walking around the streets would not have given me any indication of the festivities, demonstrations and speeches that were taking place. It appeared that the events were contained to the Fælledparken area.

Interestingly, a few days before May 1, the US Embassy in Copenhagen sent emails warning visitors about the events hosted by the trade union at Fælledparken. Instead of the positive tone used by the host families, this email had a serious tone and urged people to exercise extra caution and avoid the demonstrations in the case that they turn violent. The email was similarly, but less severe in tone, to the one that was sent today about the exercising caution due to continued threats of terrorism in Europe.

With increased tensions between countries, groups and people in recent year, exercising extra caution is always advised. This is especially true when travelling. I firmly believe that it is important for us to be aware of the risks we can potentially expose ourselves to and always inform ourselves. However, I did think it was interesting how differently the events regarding International Workers’ Day were framed by our Danish host families compared to the US Embassy in Copenhagen.

Trials and Tribulations

I’ve never considered myself particularly unlucky. If anything, I’m usually surprised by how well things tend to work out. For whatever reason, though, the past couple of weeks have been a series of face palms. Again and again I have reprimanded myself for allowing misfortune to befall me -abroad no less. Perhaps it would be helpful if I started from the beginning…
I lost my credit card. I know, I know. One of the first rules of international travel is to do everything you can not to lose that precious piece of plastic. It truly is your lifeline. And this particular lifeline got airline points and had no international fees. My mom had gotten it for me last month because she “supposed I was responsible enough to have it, which [I] clearly was not.” A mother’s shaming knows no bounds — it can be felt across oceans. Trust me. Not to worry though, I came equipped with two cards, so I am now guarding this one with my life. So far, so good.

The next misfortune started out in a Mexican restaurant. We had intended on going out as a group for dinner but decided on splitting up since it was difficult to find a place that could seat eight people, especially on a weekend. The owner had just brought me a very large, very delicious-looking burrito, and I was so excited about it. But ah, this is not a happy story………… I was only able to finish about half of it before dumping the whole thing in my lap/on my shoes. My dark-wash jeans were stained with guacamole and salsa, and my shoelaces looked as though they would never recover from the monstrous onslaught of ground beef. Indeed, they did not.

I, of course, tried to make the best of this unfortunate situation by optimistically purchasing a pair of those black flat sneakers that everyone wears here, but alas, those brought me pain as well — in the form of incredibly large blisters. Each day I hoped they would get better, but each day they multiplied and grew progressively worse. So much worse, in fact, that by the time we got to Spain this weekend, I had resorted to padding my shoes with napkins to keep the blisters (or open wounds, really) from causing me to do something rash, such as insisting that someone chop off my feet.

It must be obvious, then, why I caved and bought white flip flops out of a display case at our hostel in Barcelona. Although this probably does warrant some scoffing, they were only 8 euros and include a small but stylish Brazilian flag on the straps. (I didn’t ask why. They could have had pigeons on them, and I still would have begrudgingly whipped out my credit card. Anything to ease the pain.) Plus, they’re not that bad for a hostel purchase. Especially since my feet appear to be moving into an early stage of recovery…

This brings me to my final major misfortune. I admit that I brought it on myself, but I still could not help but wonder if the universe was pitted against me when I left the check-in desk at the Barcelona airport, having just been informed that I had chosen the wrong return date for my flight back to Denmark. Instead of booking the 10:20 am flight on Sunday, I had mistakenly chosen the 10:20 am flight…. the next Friday.

What ensued were two of the most anxiety-inducing minutes of my life. I practically ran across the check-in area until I found the smaller booth labeled “Ticketing,” and I prayed like I’ve never prayed before that the lady behind the partition spoke English well enough to understand how badly I had messed up (and how badly I needed to be on the flight boarding in a little over two hours.) She was one of those people who looks perpetually on edge, which I’m sure caused my blood pressure and heart rate to skyrocket.

I won’t describe the whole encounter, but I will say that she found me a seat on that flight, and with some crazy stroke of luck, I ended up being assigned the one next to Kathryn and Cassidy.

Maybe my luck is changing.

The Treatment of Workers in the Service Industry

Last Thursday evening, the hostel Wi-Fi stopped working. Now, I am not addicting to social media, my phone, or Netflix, so normally I would not have even been phased. However, there was some project work that I needed to get done and in order to access the information, I needed access to the internet. It was not a pressing subject, but I was just curious as to when the hostel expects the Wi-Fi to be back up and running. Therefore, I sauntered down to the lobby and casually approached the woman at the front desk.

I asked the woman if the Wi-Fi was down, and if so, when she might expect it to be back up? Right off the bat, she looked terrified. Her eyes widened and she sat up extremely stiff. She replied that she is terribly sorry and she is not positive when it will be working again. I tell her “no worries!”, but do inquire whether it will be by next week (simply because if not, I would make sure to complete all of my work at DIS). Once again, her reaction was one of fear. She quickly stammered that she hopes it is back up by tonight, and once she finds out for sure she will let me know. Keep in mind, during this entire interaction, I kept repeating the phrases, “no worries” and “it’s all good”, yet she still looked as if she expected me to become furious at the lack of internet and her “lack” of answers.

As I rode the elevator back up to my room, I was dumbfounded. Even though I approached the woman with a smile, conducted the conversation in a respectful and kind manner, along with constantly reassuring her it was no big deal, she still seemed anxious as to when I would turn mean and nasty.

How sad is it, that when a customer or patron approaches a service woman or man, the first reaction of said service person is anxiety and fear? Fear of being yelled at, fear of losing their jobs because of a complaint over a situation the employee cannot control. I explicitly told the woman at the front desk that I understood she could not do anything to fix the Wi-Fi, and that seemed to ease a bit of her worry, but not much.

One of my jobs over the summer was working at a baseball concession stand. I noticed this phenomenon myself. Whenever a customer would approach me about something out of my control, I would become slightly frightened. I think there is something very messed up when people employed in the service industry are immediately anxious when a customer-no, a fellow human being-approaches them with a question or concern. How many times have you seen an airline employee being screamed at because a customer missed their flight? Was it the attendants fault? Maybe, but most likely no.

I think it is important for people to understand that often times, the first person “on the food chain” does not necessarily have the ability to change whatever it is that the customer wants changed. It starts by treating workers in the service industry with respect and kindness. I know it sounds silly, but we all need to remember to treat one another as people-not things to take our frustration out on or to place the blame on when something goes wrong. I know that sounds Miss USA like, but hey I believe it and so should you. Also, I just want world peace. Bair 2020.

Every Child Left Behind?

There are many things that I respect about the Danish way of life. I love wearing all black, riding my bike all over the city, and admiring the mix of ancient and modern architecture that makes Copenhagen so unique. There are only two Danish habits that I’ve come across that utterly confuse me. The first is silly, but I just cannot stomach herring. I don’t care if you bake it, pickle it, or cover it in mayonnaise, I learned my lesson last year and I won’t go near that fish again. The second thing is a bit more serious and, in my opinion, more concerning. I cannot fathom what would provoke a parent to leave their child outside without them. Maybe that’s unfair of me, and perhaps it’s a custom that is perfectly reasonable here, but I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

When you walk around the city, even if the weather that day is cold and dreary, you will pass multiple strollers outside café windows. Strollers that are not accompanied by any adults. The first time you see one, you may assume that the parents simply carried the child inside without the cumbersome baby carriage. If so, you likely would be incorrect. The child is left outside while their parents grab a bite to eat or a cup of tea or whatever they choose.

I grew up in a very calm, quiet, tiny town in Texas, but even so, I have never seen someone intentionally leave a child alone outside. To be fair, it’s harder to be in a safer society than Denmark, especially as far as child abduction is concerned. From what I’ve read, there have been fewer than five child abduction cases in the last three decades. According to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, nearly eight hundred thousand children are reported missing each year in the United States. This number is skewed because of parent abductions, but child abduction by a stranger is still obviously far more prevalent in the USA than it is in Denmark.

Though it may be safe to leave a child outside a cafe in Denmark, I certainly would not recommend a similar action in the United States. My inability to fully understand the common practice of leaving your child alone with strangers passing by them constantly probably arises because of this extreme difference in the child’s safety.

Smiling my Way Through Europe

When it comes to European travel, I have experienced very little and all of it has been very recent. Vienna, the city where Daniel and I spent the weekend, marks only the third city I have visited in Europe. Three different cities have made for three very different cultural, architectural, and social experiences. What I have struggled with in both Paris and Copenhagen, is the fact that I smile at almost anyone I make eye contact with on the streets, in restaurants, bars, etc. Maybe it just feels like a courtesy, or the fact that at least a minor acknowledgement is expected in Lexington, or that I am generally a happy person, but I struggle to control the nicety. Where Vienna differed from both Paris and Copenhagen, is that I felt comfortable smiling at people, did not receive blank stares, and often received at least a smirk in response. Relative to Copenhagen, both the weather and the people were warmer, at least this weekend.

Morten Jørgensen, the host of our Danish family dinner, spoke more to this point and had an interesting perspective on why the Danes were less likely to acknowledge my uncontrollable grinning. Given that Denmark is supposedly the happiest country on earth, I imagined a bunch of people skipping down the streets of Copenhagen, greeting one another and smiling just as hard as I have been. Happiness to the Danes means more about contentment and there is a strong need to take care of each other. Unity among the Danish people and the socialist system that provides so many services and reduces the amount of uncertainty which individuals have to face. This safety net allows many Danish people to live in the moment and enjoy life as it happens and worry less about stressful issues like healthcare and housing, which are essential and as they view it, rights. Having spoken to several European pictures about being reserved and less expressive, it seems that many think the American way of reacting emphatically to almost everything is excessive and not genuine. Reacting in a cavalier manner does seem to be selfish and in-genuine when one thinks about the scale of a lot of problems and how we tend to cry over spilled milk. On the other hand, we are easily excitable about small things, which can be a good thing but can also provide a fleeting sense of satisfaction. Discussing this topic with a Dane and how their very different way of viewing the world was refreshing and helped to put my life into better perspective.

When it came to my smiles, his wife Anetta said I should not try and change myself and this habit. She even said I could be famous for being the red-headed American smiling at everyone throughout Copenhagen. Morten agreed that one should be true to themselves and not change my habits simply because the reactions are not what I hoped they would be. Given this news, I was reinvigorated and given all the discussion we had that night, practically skipped my way back to Danhostel. Although I have fallen in love with Copenhagen quickly, Vienna and its people were certainly more inviting. And I shall not be disheartened. By the end of my stay in Copenhagen, I will get a native to smile back at me. 🙂