the first step

I made it. In one piece. With bruises, scrapes, a limp, horrible hair, itchy contacts, smelly clothes, little food, very little sleep, and very big bags under my eyes. I look great. But I'm here. In Denmark. In Europe.

I can't pretend that the flight over here was easy, fun, and full of excitement. It wasn't. My first flight from SFO to Chicago gave me bruises on my leg from a tiny girl kicking me in her sleep. I had to awkwardly straddle the other girl next to me to get out and pee cuz she didn't wake up to my tiny pokes and timid "hello? Are you awake?" I lugged around two bags which must have weighed about 30 or 40 pounds all across Chicago Airport to the International Terminal. I had to carry two jackets because they didnt fit in my luggage. I had to leave my coffee grinder at home, and now I am left with whole bean coffee. I arrived in Denmark to find that it was warm, not cold, and to discover that my shirt did not match my shoes so I could not take my sweatshirt off. Then I lugged my two carryons, my two jackets, and my two 50 pound bags across the Copenhagen arport, onto a bus, off the bus, into a random luggage storage place, out of the luggage storage place, onto the bus, then up 4 floors to my room.

Needless to say, I was pretty exhausted when I got to my room. And culture shocked. I can't say that I love Denmark right now. It's different. Strange. Green and empty. The tallest building is 24 stories. But I think I'll soon find my place in this easy-going, liberal, agricultural country that I just don't know yet.

But don't worry about me. I've found that it's easy to make friends when you are all thrown into a crazy experience you've never been on before. I've already learned to love the sound of Danish and seek it out as often as I can. And even if my room is shabbier than most others, I count my blessings that I am in a place overflowing with tall Danish men (just kidding Mom!)