Tuesday, September 16, 2008

A long one. Maybe pretend it's two posts? :)

Hi everyone!

I've just returned from my European Politics and Society study tour to Jutland and Northern Germany, so I have a lot to talk about (and think about)! I'll write another post about my experiences soon, but today I wanted to catch up on an interesting part of last week.

One of the really nice things about DIS, my program, is that it incorporates field studies as a regular part of each course. There are no classes on Wednesdays, when these field studies take place. Tomorrow, I'm visiting the Danish Red Cross, which is responsible for housing and acclimating new immigrants to Denmark during the very first stages of their arrival, with my Migrants, Minorities, and Multiculturalism class. I've also, uh, gone with my entire Health Care in Scandinavia class to a pub to study Danish smoking habits (and enjoy some nice, free Danish beer).

But the most enlightening visit so far, with my Danish class, has been to... a gymnasium.

I've been asked many times by friends back in the States about how Danes feel about the American elections, specifically the McCain/Palin ticket. The answer I've been giving is that nearly all follow it intently; US policies have no small impact on the lives of people around the world, and this is a nation with 87% voter turnout in the first place. Most are completely befuddled about Sarah Palin. ("What? Why? How?") After talking to a few Danes, I've come to realize that it's the American identity politics that are the confusing part. Denmark is going through some interesting times right now with immigration (mainly from Muslim countries) and nationalism/xenophobia, which warrants another post later, but the electorate (93% ethnically Danish) and politicians are mostly homogeneous, and the socialized systems contribute to a sense of a classless society. (I'm not one to evaluate the truthfulness of this, but I've heard it said many a time during my three weeks here.)

Our walk to the gymnasium took us through the neighborhood of Hellerup. Hellerup is the setting of the TV show "2900 Happiness," the Danish equivalent of "Beverly Hills 90210," because it is a "well-off" part of town. But no manicured lawns here - to be honest, it looks pretty much just like any other quiet residential neighborhood I've seen in Copenhagen, except for maybe a few houses having three stories instead of two.

The gymnasium our class was visiting was actually not a fitness center, but a high school - that's what they're called here in Denmark. Gymnasium roughly encompasses ages 16-19, although many take a year or two off in the middle, and the schooling runs partway through what we'd consider college. ("University" here is a combined bachelor's and master's program.) There are many differences between the American and Danish school systems, but when our class walked through the doors of Øregård Gymnasium, we all felt instantly like we were back in high school. Dozens of gorgeous and well-dressed (and mostly blond) people were staring unsmiling down at us, and we felt totally out of place... until we actually met them. They were SO nice! Sophie and Josephine (who showed me and Dean around) told us that "Danish boys are just shy" and that they weren't trying to isolate us. It was just all of our assumptions doing that to ourselves! Aww, studying abroad...

Anyway, the Danish students asked us about high school life in America ("Is it anything like Mean Girls?"), and wondered what American teenagers do after school. "Well... many stay after school for a few hours at sports practice, and the others are rehearsing performances or planning events or working on projects, often until late at night... things they enjoy, but many do it so they can get into college."

The students were shocked: "Don't they have to prepare exercises for classes?" (Danes join sports leagues and clubs unaffiliated with their schools, and when they apply to university, they submit only their GPA.)

"Yes, that comes afterwards, and then you sleep for five or six hours."

"That sounds awful!"

Which led to a discussion of all the other things that affect getting into college: "Well, you have to go to good schools, but the funding is configured in such a way that poor neighborhoods have poor schools, which is a big reason the class structure is so rigid... Then, it helps if your parents went to that college too, or especially if they gave it lots of money... Then there's the cost itself... And even if you go on a scholarship, you're still going to be at a big disadvantage if you're a person of color or your parents didn't go through the same educational system."

Their response: "But... that's not FAIR!"

"Nope. Not really."

How stereotypical is it for some kid to go study abroad in a European welfare state and come back all high-minded and idealistic about US domestic policy? I feel like a lot of us here are trying to check ourselves from being that kid. I can't count the number of times I've been in a class that's discussing some successful Scandinavian policy and someone's been like, "That's great, it works really well here, but it wouldn't work in the US because... it's too big." Or, "The national culture is different there." "People aren't ready for it." This always makes me feel a little conflicted, because I don't want to be that kid, either, but at the same time, being here has really brought home how astounding the income inequality (as a manifestation of everything else, including health and education systems) is in the US. And it's hard not to make comparisons that end up favorably for the happiest place on Earth. Denmark is far from utopian, but some things just work better here, and I wish they worked better at home, too. Is that just unstudied idealism?

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

The vs. The

Tonight at dinner, Dean's host parents, Ole and Solveig, were telling us about how Danish teachers of English spend several lessons on the difference between "the" and "the." No seriously - apparently, we English speakers are supposed to say "thee" before a word beginning with a vowel and "thuh" before a word beginning with a consonant. I thought about it and realized that I did indeed do this (and have never given it a thought in my life.) Dean, however, doesn't think he follows this rule. (Which I've also never noticed.)

Do you do this? Do you notice when other people do or don't? Are English teachers here wasting tons of their students' time? (That's what we told Ole and Solveig.) As an added complication, most English teachers in Denmark teach British English. Maybe it matters more there? Insight??

Sunday, September 7, 2008

“Danish is not a language. It’s a throat disease.”

The above quote is from one of my political science professors. And my throat definitely has been suffering endless contortions ever since the night of August 22, the whole of which was spent sitting on the floor of Sea-Tac Airport after our direct flight to Copenhagen was canceled because of mechanical problems. (We ended up flying out the next day… through Atlanta.) When a few of us DIS kids called our host families to change our pickup plans, we told them to meet us at the Amager campus of DIS, which we pronounced like it rhymed with “manager.” We noticed that one of the Danes sitting nearby was laughing at us. “Amah,” he said. “Not a-ma-ger.” He then patiently fielded all our questions about how to pronounce the names of where we lived and the people in our host families. (This saved us a LOT of embarrassment later!)

Last night my host family served rødgrød med fløde, a thick berry syrup with cream, for dessert. This phrase is supposed to be the ultimate test of foreigners’ Danish pronunciation, as, like most Danish words, it sounds ABSOLUTELY NOTHING like it looks. I just thought for a minute about how I might “transliterate” it, but I just can’t. The last word sounds something like “fleuuge,” but that’s all I got. (It was delicious, by the way.)

Danish, apparently, is the third-hardest language in the world for English natives to speak – after Chinese and Arabic. The biggest problem, besides the 9 vowels (a, e, i, o, u, y, æ, ø, å) that are pronounced in 32 different ways depending on their proximity to other letters, is the haphazard and mysterious dropping of consonants. Pronouncing the first consonant in a word and then slurring together all the vowels thereafter is quite often nearly correct. For example, the town where I live, Roskilde, is pronounced “ROHS-kil,” with the L very soft and the R guttural, like in Hebrew. Good thing I didn’t have to take a cab from the airport!

Anyway, this update needs a picture. Today I went on a DIS-sponsored tour of Frederiksborg Castle, built in the 14th and 15th centuries by the royal family (almost all Danish kings are named either Frederik or Christian, by the way. No Hamlets). The royal family no longer lives there, but coronations and weddings are still held there, and the “Order of the Elephant” (kind of like a knighthood?) is bestowed in the chapel (Bill Clinton received this when he visited). Pretty architecture is all well and good, but the highlight of Frederiksborg is definitely the adjoining baroque gardens:

Thursday, September 4, 2008

First week (plus)

Wow! I definitely should have started writing this a week ago. Where to begin?

Well, I am living in a small, bucolic, suburban town called Roskilde that is about ten miles west of Copenhagen. (Fords – sound familiar?) Except Roskilde is actually way older than Copenhagen itself; Absalon, the bishop of Roskilde in the 12th century, actually chartered the small fishing village of Havn himself!

Every morning, I commute about a mile by bike to the train station, then a 30-minute ride on the “regionaltog,” and finally another half-mile walking. The bike culture here is amazing! Cars (taxed 105% on the first $10,000, and much more if it exceeds certain amounts) are prohibitively expensive, not to mention gas (11 kroners per liter, roughly $8 per gallon). My Danish host family doesn’t even own a car – how many suburban American families do you know who can say that?

As Thomas Friedman and many others have glowingly observed, this is a culture that has unselfconsciously practiced for years the eco-friendly habits that are just now becoming a self-righteous vogue for Americans. (Yes, the thing about the two-speed toilets is true!) Walking through the streets of Copenhagen, you’ll notice that most commuter bicyclists have half-flat tires and no gearshifts, not to mention performancewear or a gazillion reflective things (Dad, I can’t wait until you see this). Instead of driving the kids in a minivan, Mom or Dad puts them in a sort of cart attached to the front of the bike. Once they reach seven or so, they ride their own bikes unaccompanied to school. Fortunately, most bike-riding does not take place in streets with cars (far too dangerous). In the city, all arterials have a bike lane, and I don’t mean those lame “sharrows,” which privileged drivers to dangerously cut me off several times this summer on my way to work. No, they have a lane all their own, separated from the car lanes by – you guessed it – bike parking. And on smaller streets, they have their own “second sidewalk!” See below, in Roskilde:



The most interesting thing, by far, has been experiencing a decidedly advanced nation that, in many (refreshing) ways, lacks the "convenience culture" of the United States. For example, Danish grocery stores are open for limited hours on Sundays, but in a stripped-down way: no fresh produce, understocked shelves. This has something to do with the nationally mandated 37-hour workweek. But also: who needs to buy their produce specifically on Sunday? Why not just another day, and prevent the trucks from having to ship it out fresh on what should be the drivers’ day off? Also, most buildings in downtown CPH are built in the neoclassical style, meaning they are all mostly four stories high, and you bet there are no elevators in buildings only four stories high. Take the stairs!

As a student of the European Politics and Society program here at DIS, most of my classes inevitably have much to do with the European Union – specifically, its core issue of sacrificing sovereignty for collaboration and economic benefit. Although I know it’s a bit of a stretch, I’m starting to look at Danish culture through this lens, too. Denmark is well-known as one of the original welfare states; its citizens see 50 to 70 percent of their income taxed away in return for universal health care – excuse me, I think I meant “quality, affordable access for all” ☺ – as well as unbeatable workers’ benefits and infrastructure. (And much more). Obviously, this wouldn’t even begin to fly in today’s US political culture, so why does it work here? How are people trusting enough of their government’s policies that they’re willing to pay prices that are made up mostly of taxes for things such as gas? The only somewhat satisfactory answer I’ve heard so far is that in a nation of only five million people, there’s no such thing as lobbying or pork – all benefits are spread pretty much evenly throughout this close-knit “tribe.” Plus, the Danish parliamentary system ensures that leaders never have too much power for too long. But that can’t be all. Obviously, I have a lot of learning to do.

I miss everyone! Please keep me updated on your lives!!

Love,
Becca

P.S. More pictures coming soon! Ok, here is one. This is me and my friend Steph, this one time we entered a storybook. (At Kastellet, Copenhagen's star-shaped fortress. The windmill was very heavily guarded. It seemed important.)