Yesterday was the day in Denmark I had been waiting for since I left the U.S. of A. I had my outfit planned weeks in advance. As I predicted, every American in my program had plans to skip class, buy a disposable grill, and drink really over-priced Miller Lite. In fact, even the Norwegians, Australians, and Germans had the same plans. Any excuse to party, right? Study abroad problems…
Our founding forefathers must have been watching over us, because yesterday was the most beautiful day in the history of Copenhagen (or at least in the last two weeks I have been here…). Not a cloud in the sky, high of 71, zero winds, strong sun. Fairy tale weather. Perfect for a day of celebrating ‘Merica.
My partner USA-ers, Caitlin and Morgan, met me at noon, where we stocked up on all the necessary beverages and snacks, and headed to the beach! Now…Denmark is no Spain or Italy. It’s kind of like visiting Venice beach. Yeah, you’d prefer Florida or the Caribbean…but hey. You take what you can get. And yesterday, I was more than happy with the sand and Baltic sea. Even if it was just a mile away from the airport.
About the first thing I noticed upon arriving to the beach: boobs. Amager Strand is by no means a nude beach, but I think Danish laws are pretty lax when it comes to nudity. Two particularly confident young ladies were very close to us. From the way they were rubbing sun screen on themselves, I am assuming they were lovers. But then again, Denmark is a really affectionate country. Then one proceeded to eat a burrito. Topless. If that’s not American, I don’t know what is.
Then we saw a 12 year old in a thong. And that is so not American. On SO many levels.
Soon Matt joined us after he got off work (since he has to be a responsible adult while in Copenhagen) and we did the next most American thing we could do: eat a hot dog. Hot dogs here are..…funny to say the least. I won’t go into too much detail, but I did manage to get ketchup all over my face. Matt only allowed me to walk around for the next hour having missed crucial parts during clean up. Worst. Wing. Woman. Ever.
Soon the beach was flooded with more Americans, playing football (yes football, not soccer) and all toasting to the great land in the West. Too many people told me that I was a fried lobster, and I figured that was my cue to get out of the sun. I retreated back to my dorm, where more Americans were assembling sliders. I spent the rest of the night eating an unnatural amount of meat and being euphoric drunk. No matter where you are in the world, you can always find pieces of home, and for this, I am unbelievably grateful.
It’s been two years now since I have celebrated the Fourth of July in America. But it’s not the place, it’s the people, right? Love me some crazy Americans in Copenhagen.