I can see my Grandma from my house! And other news from America.

I really can see my Grandmother from my driveway.
They live right next door.

My homecoming was preceded by my final week of legal drinking and adventure time in Denmark.
Free beer and entry at clubs and bars were taken full advantage of and my final baby bites and pastries were devoured.
I was also lucky enough to spend the day at Tivoli with my host family. [Tivoli is the H.C. Andersen theme park located in Copenhagen. American theme parks are dirty, ugly, and completely pointless for the elderly or easily nauseated people who can't enjoy the roller coasters, Tivoli is not this way. Tivoli is beautiful gardens and classy restaurants with tamer rides and better snacks. No, I'm not getting paid for this obvious endorsement. But I should be.] 
And I FINALLY made it to see the Little Mermaid and did a canal tour.
Those classic tourist moves only took me four months.

And then I was packing.
Which took a surprisingly short period of time, probably because there was little to no decision-making to be done, and was merely a matter of throwing the shit I brought with me and the little bit of shit I acquired into large suitcases and praying that they weren't overweight.
And by the grace of God, Allah, the TSA, or those magical little traveling gnomes, neither bag was overweight.
And once the security guard at the Copenhagen Airport meticulously checked my hipbones after I set off the metal detector, I was on my way home, and it was smooth sailing.
I landed in Michigan, full of airplane food (although, not nearly as full as the Dutch guy I flew next to who devoured every single crumb on his tiny, tiny tray of shitty food), and absolutely exhausted.

Landing was overwhelming.
Exhausted (I'd only slept two hours the night before and didn't sleep on the plane), happy(AMERICA), sad(leaving Copenhagen, and I SUCK at goodbyes. I may or may not be a bit emotionally stunted in that department), and a little bloated(from the above-mentioned airplane food), I wasn't sure what my reaction was going to be when I was retrieved at the airport.
So as I stood, staring at the revolving doors that would take me into the American air, pondering how to get all of my heavy, well-packed possessions out there...a woman came up behind me and politely asked me if I needed help with my bags.
That's when I screamed, tackled the woman, and started to cry.
And then I got arrested for assault but there were no charges pressed....
No no no, I kid.
The woman was my long-lost best friend, the beautiful and world-changing Grace.
And after our nine month separation, hers being the first face I saw in the land of the free was perfect.

And here I am, sitting on my sofa with my parents, the dog forcefully snuggled in the middle, watching television, and pondering the fate of my summer, wishing someone would pay me to blog, or pay me to eat, either one really.

But this people, is where this blog finds its resting place.
It's been a hellofa semester and blogging about it was an experience I would willingly repeat, and am considering repeating during my senior year in college.
A big thank you to those of you who read this blog, regularly or irregularly, out of obligation of familial relation or friendship.
And if there are any readers who I've never personally met, mad props if you've been reading this the whole way through.
And to everyone, HOOK A SISTA UP IF YOU'VE GOT ANY CONNECTIONS THAT WOULD LET ME DO THIS FOR A LIVING.
Or just some for some spare cash to pay for things like school books, etc.

And keep a lookout.
I'm kinda addicted to this blogging-thing.
So I won't be offline for sure, I'm sure.

For the final time, and with only one time zone...
10:00pm USA

4 days left. WHAT THE HELL?

And that's only if you include today.
And today I'm going to take an "exam."
So it hardly counts.

I'm not ready to leave.
And then I'm ready to go home.
And then I'm ready to just miss my flight and stay here for the summer.
And then I think of the things I've missed and I get excited about Amurricah.

My reaction to the end of the semester has gotten a little bipolar.
Obviously.

I mean, I'm going to miss this place.
The silent Danes on the train.
The long, rambling dinners.
That feeling of pride when someone asks me a a question in Danish and I semi-understand the answer.....and then say in a very small voice "I'm sorry I don't speak Danish."
Legally drinking.
The social-welfare system, governmentless wonder that is Christiania.
Seeing the ocean every day.
The 'hygge', candle-lighting, wine drinking, conversating lifestyle.
The massive amount eye candy that is walking the streets at any given moment. YUM.
And the pastries.
WHY DO I HAVE TO LEAVE THE PASTRIES.

Open-faced, rye bread sandwiches are not on this list though.
Or having to ride a night bus home for an hour and a half leaving your bladder desperate enough to pee in a strange Dane's yard. Twice.
Or having the same conversation with every single Dane when they realize that I'm American. "WhatareyoudoinginCopenhagen?Studying.Wheredoyoustudy?DIS.Howlongareyouhere?Forthesemester.Doyoulikeithere?OhIjustloveithere.Cheers!Schol!"
And licorice-flavored anything should just get tossed in the ocean like the shiny new Americans did with their overtaxed tea.
And having to pay for water and NOT getting free refills?
Not gonna miss that, cuz lawdy people, sometimes a girl just wants a large, a LARGE cup a coke with ice that she can refill repeatedly, without shame.
And the prices! Hoo doggy have I spent a small fortune in this country because my cheapest purchase was a 5kroner lighter. LIGHTERS FOR ALL MY FRIENDS. [just kidding. I'm first world poor here people. I can scrounge money for snacks and going out, but can't afford souvenirs.]

And when I'm back in the land of the free water and home of the Bell [Taco Bell, that is.], there are some things that just have to happen.
Taco Bell.
Frozen cokes.
I gots to get ma hurrs cut.
Barbeque chicken pizza AND breadsticks from the local places in ma tiny hometown.
Snuggles. Major snuggles.
And my parent's cooking.
So much for my food and drink detox when I get home I s'pose....

3 more full days here.
ACKK.

4:00pm Denmark
8:00am USA
There will be only be a time difference for a little while longer...

Screw you May Day, I'm going to Sweden this weekend.

May Day.
How do I sum up May Day?
We got to the park at 3, the sun was shining, and the blindingly white legs of Danes were everywhere.
Because everyone Dane between the ages of 12 and 50 who felt the urge to soak up some of that rare sun and day drink all head to the same park. [a Danish word that I can't remember and will not look up for you.] 
And once we had sat down, the drinking began.
And did. Not. Stop.
We drank until we left the park.
We picked up a bottle of wine to drink with our dinner. [We were eating McDonald's, in case you were wondering what kind of foods we were pairing our select choice of cheapest-wine-available with.]
We went to Kulør Bar- where entry was free.
And so was the beer.
But hey, I MADE IT HOME ON THE NIGHT BUS.
The night bus that stops right outside my house, takes me an hour and a half to get home on, and I had an alarm going off in my ears every 20 minutes to try to keep me awake WHICH IT DID.
So it was all smiles and pride and happiness and then...it wasn't.
Because then it was Wednesday morning.
And tiny, tiny gnomes had snuck into my head to kick at my eyeballs all day long and my stomach decided to temporarily become bipolar, both demanding and rejecting food at the same time.
I would do it all over again...
...in a year or so.

My 'struggle bus Wednesday' pretty much set the tone for my last academic day of the week and my three day weekend.
I wanted to relish in nothing-doing.
And what glorious nothing-doing it was.

Friday you could find me pretending to be academic and snacking on the sofa of my host family while they were at a confirmation party the whole day.
And Saturday morning [at 10am, much to my very-drunk-the-evening-before host dad's credit], we left for the farm house in Sweden!
It was right out of a story book- the quiet woods, the spring flowers, and the old red farm house [with new indoor plumbing and modern accoutrements. duh.].
But of course, my role as as a storybook princess was short lived when during our lunch outside I spilled my entire coke over the table. And the lettuce.
And then during my nap from which only true love's kiss could wake me I actually woke myself up choking on my own snores.
COME AT ME, PRINCE CHARMING.
Our walk through the woods restored me a bit to my imaginative princess-state [and made me miss Bois Blanc Island. It's in Michigan, on Lake Huron. Never heard of it? Look it up.] 
I went from princess to homemaker when I, yes I, helped get dinner ready.
There were three kinds of grilled pig on the table, salad, bread, asparagus...man, I got my NOM on.
Yea, this may have another place where I lost princess-points.
I shoveled food into my mouth like a starving inmate in prison.
AGAIN, COME AT ME, PRINCE CHARMING.
I was in bed by 10pm.
Awoken at 10am for breakfast, slept the whole car ride home until the ferry ride, where my wonderful host mother bought me a coffee because she knows I have actual academic work to accomplish today.

Some of which has gotten done, some of which has not.
Oh well.

8:53pm Denmark
2:53pm USA