J-Day, and the weekend I spent 70 dollars on cab fare:

Welp, it's a Monday night, which can only mean one thing: at this time yesterday, it was Sunday night. That means that another weekend met its untimely demise -- and oh what a weekend it was.

I'll start on Friday afternoon. My architecture class had a field study on Friday, and the plan was to bike around Copenhagen, scope out the site for our new project, see some architecture, and who knows what else. One intriguing aspect of the trip was that we were asked to bring a bathing suit and towel. By the time Friday rolled along, swimming was the last thing we wanted to do, as the day was dark, cold, and windy -- as well as raining -- the way most days seem to be here in Copenhagen. Anyways, we set out on a wet bike ride towards Amager, the large island just south of Copenhagen. There we checked out our site (nothing special to report), before riding down to the beach. Now, I had obviously known that there were beaches around Copenhagen, as pretty much everywhere in Denmark is close to the water, but I wish I had known some specifics earlier. The beach on Amager was recently developed, and despite the bad weather, I could tell how perfect it would be to lounge around on in a nicer season (say, August, just after I arrived). Even on a rainy day, there were people kiteboarding in the lagoon and jogging on the boardwalk (something I took the liberty of doing myself today, 30 minute bus ride be damned). The beach is dotted with a couple of neat pavilions, as well as some swimming areas that jut out into the ocean. The most impressive of these is one I had heard of before, and is pictured below (and here).


Unfortunately, this particular harbor bath was not the one we ended up swimming at (I had really wanted to jump from the highest spot), so we took our bikes back down the boardwalk to another one, which was somewhat less spectacular. It didn't matter, as progressive architecture was the last thing on our minds by that time; when one is changing into a bathing suit in the open air on a rainy, windy November day in Copenhagen, the only real concern is why you're getting ready to go swimming in the first place. So yes, we went swimming, and yes, it was cold. There was a surprisingly good showing, too. After all, I have a long history of doing stupid things, but it was nice to see so many of my classmates (and teachers) jump right in too. It was a fun time all around, and it was capped by a round of shots of that awful Danish liquor they feel compelled to subject us to on all occasions of this sort. I think that Friday's particular batch was made with extra feces. So, gag reflexes aside, it was a memorable experience, and there are a couple pictures floating around that well-document the event -- and that I was so cold my nipples could cut diamonds. We ended the day over chocolate cake and hot cocoa at a nearby restaurant, just in time to see it get dark outside (4:30, or thereabouts).

When I say we ended the day, I mean merely that we ended the Friday afternoon portion of the day, as there was still lots to come. After all, Friday was J-Day. "What's J-Day?" you ask? Well, hold your horses, because I'm about to tell you.

J-Day is one of two quasi-holidays in Denmark that revolve exclusively around beer. The J stands for "Jul," which is the word for Christmas in Danish. The day itself marks the annual release of Tuborg's Christmas beer, a slightly more alcoholic brew that is released every year at 8:59 PM on the first Friday of November (the other holiday is in the spring, when the Easter beer is released). Danes look forward to J-Day for weeks, and people start getting in the Christmas spirit early. I think that since Danes don't have Thanksgiving -- and only sort of have Halloween -- there is no holiday to stand in the way of Christmas season. Which explains why I found myself singing "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" in Danish in class on Friday.

On Friday I went into town with some friends just after 9:00, hoping to get in on the J-Day festivities. We were not disappointed. Downtown Copenhagen was packed, which is unusual at 9:00, considering most Danes don't go out until at least 11:00. There were huge groups of people drinking in the streets (it's going to be a rude awakening when I'm back in the states and that's illegal again), and all the bars were overflowing. A couple of Tuborg trucks were making the rounds of all the bars on the main pedestrian street, shooting fake snow into the air as it passed. We followed the truck for a while, and whenever it would stop, a couple of dressed up "Tuborg elves" (an alcoholic version of the Wiiings Team, the girls who drive the Red Bull Mini Coopers around) would pour out, carrying cases of free beer into the nearest establishment. Once inside, either everyone would start singing Christmas carols or the band would break into their version of some Christmas favorite while everyone cheered and beers were passed around. Every bar was standing-room only, and when the free beer came in it was gone in seconds. A serious feeding frenzy.

After some time spent following the truck and dispatching a couple Christmas beers myself, I headed to a friend's apartment to meet up with a group. There, we had a few more Christmas beers and then hit the town. We went to Nørrebro -- the neighborhood that I live in -- which I had always heard was cool but had yet to see myself. It lived up to expectations, and we hit a bunch of nice bars, got some late-night kebabs, and headed home around 4:00 AM. I took the night bus back into the center of the city, hoping to hop a bus back out that would take me closer to my kollegium. I had to wait a while, and in the meantime I helped myself to a sausage from a pølser stand (I had forgotten about my kebabs from only a few hours before). Eventually, the bus came, and I got on it.

I was pretty tired, it being 4:30 AM and me having not slept much in the past week, and that all soon became apparent, because a while later I found myself being woken up by the bus driver at the end of the line. There were a couple of other random Danes who had fallen asleep too, and we all spilled out into the night and tried to find our respective ways home. I took a look at the map at the bus stop, and discovered that I was a good distance northwest of the city. Checking the map again, I started walking. At the next bus stop, hoping to check my progress, I took a look at the map and discovered that I had been walking in the wrong direction. So, as I often do when I want to get home after a long night of drinking, I started running. I passed the first bus stop, and at the next one I decided to have another check of my progress to see roughly how far away I was. I had moved less than an inch. Rather than run a marathon and find myself finally in bed sometime around sunrise, I hailed a cab and reluctantly paid the $30 it cost to get me back. Moral of the story: falling asleep is a bad financial decision.

Saturday night was another notable one, as it was the end of the year party for ØKF, the Danish soccer club I played for over here. The party was set to run from 6:00 to midnight, which is a long time when you drink the way Danish soccer players do (they are players second, drinkers first). The details of the party aren't very important, except that there were mandatory funnels for everyone who won an award, gave a speech, or happened to excuse themself for the restroom at the wrong moment. For a while I was spared, trying not to make any sudden movements, but eventually my time came too, and I had to hit the funnel as 40 guys (and only a couple girls from the women's team) chanted loudly. The funnel itself was somewhat improvised and was actually just a plastic gas can with the bottom sawed off. It was ghetto, but practical (Remember in middle school when everyone used to say "ghetto" all the time? Yeah, so do I, unfortunately).

Anyways, the night went on and I ate, drank, and chanted with the rest of 'em. Through six hours, I think I can say with complete honesty and accuracy that this may have been the most beer I have ever drank at one time. It makes me feel like an idiot frat boy to say it, but I think I was nearly into my third decade, if you'll believe it. At midnight the party shifted to a nearby kollegium, and as soon as I got there, I realized that I was on borrowed time. Inside, the alcohol portion of my biological clock was winding down, and I knew that within a short period of time I would either a) pass out, b) vomit, or c) both. So I headed out into the night determined to get home quickly. I thought about trying to take a bus, but after the previous night's problems, I decided that a bus was not where I wanted to be in my present state. Again, reluctantly, I hailed a cab, and had to check to make sure I would have enough money to get home. I did, and a couple minutes and about $40 later, I was safely in bed at my kollegium. Other moral of the story: drinking a lot is a bad financial decision.

So, an eventful weekend, overall. One for the books. J-Day might be my new favorite holiday, and I think we should try to have something like it in the states. St. Patrick's day is just about the only holiday we have that is directly related to drinking, and while it is indeed awesome, I think we can do better. Even if Budweiser or the next closest thing to a national brewery doesn't start releasing seasonal brews to great fanfare, I'm sure my friends and I can find a way. We just need some elves.