Copenhagen, Denmark- August, 2008

        After landing in Arhus airport and taking a short bus to the train station, I discovered yet again that what Ryan Air deems close proximity to a destination and what I think is close proximity vary greatly. However, my trip would definitely not have been the same without the 3 hour train journey from Arhus to the country's capital Copenhagen.  
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       When I approached the ticket desk and asked for a one way journey to Copenhagen, a rather sour-faced woman shook her head and said, "The train is full." Having been on several train journeys in various countries before that had "fully booked" on my ticket and having to stand for part of my journey, I politely insisted that she sell me a single fare and reassured her that I didn't mind standing. As the train pulled in, I realized that "fully booked" in Denmark was much more literal than its other European counterparts.
      
       Sitting on the stairs with another woman's dog for part of the journey, shuffling and moving this way and that to clear a path for departing passengers I eventually ended up in the baggage closet sitting on my small carry-on bracing other peoples bags to keep them from toppling over on me. The journey was more what I would have expected from trans-Asian travel than what I had experienced previously trans-European travel.
        Thankfully, when we arrived in Copenhagen I easily found my hostel and decided to have a tasty beverage at the hostel before exploring the city with a former classmate. Hostels are amazing places that connect like-minded explorers but Hostels that serve beer are somehow even more amazing.      
     After one or two beers I set out exploring. My good friend Jonas, a Danish native who knew the city well, directed me to Nyhaven and fellow hosteler said I had to visit the "hippie island" of Christiana. When I reached the large anchor and colored buildings at Nyhaven I bought a tickets for a boat tour. Although I do like meandering and discovering things on my own, I find that organized tours are a god-send when your legs are tired but you still want to see the city and learn about its history.

       The other great thing that tours do is help you become more familiar with the city and for those with no internal compass like me, that's an invaluable service. I also would not have known that the staircase to the gold spiral of Our Saviour's Church was closed or have ventured to the location of the Little Mermaid statue if it weren't for that tour.
        There is only so much touring that one can do in a day so I saved the Carlsberg factory, Christiana and Elsinor Castle for the following days.
        Honestly, I wasn't that excited about doing the Carlsberg Tour because having lived in Dublin and done the Guinness tour a few times, I figured if you'd seen one brewery you'd seen them all, but as my two fellow hostelers and I approached the factory we were greeted by large stone elephants and a surprising history of the famous Dutch brewing family after which the lager is named.

        Apparently, one of the Carlsbergs was infatuated with Asian culture and decorated his factory with the religious symbol Sbastik or what we more commonly refer to as the Swastika. According to a plaque in the brewery, Carlsberg's use of the symbol pre-dated World War II and ceased when it became affiliated with Nazi Germany.
        The Carlsberg factory tour also included a rather expansive collection of world beers. In that collection, there were a few bottles with nude female models on the labels; like a two birds, one stone answer to Jeff Foxworthy's request for a beer and to see something naked.
        Christiana, on the other hand, was kind of disappointing. Although I loved the idea of the protesters-turned hippie island, the reality was much less appealing. There were "NO CAMERA" signs greeting tourists upon our arrival to the settlement and shortly after snapping my second shot, I decided that I would rather obey the signs than find out what the punishment was for ignoring them. In one of the make-shift bars the smell of marijuana wafted through the air didn't bother me, but the angry thug-looking men exhaling the smoke did. Unfortunately, the concept of lawless culture is appealing to more than those who believe in peace and free love. I could see the reason behind the Danish government's trying to re-claim the space as driven by more than pure economic gain.

       On my final day in Copenhagen I took an organized bus tour to Kronborg castle in Ellsinore, the castle Shakespeare's Hamlet supposedly hailed from. It was quite possibly the most impressive castle I've seen to date; it merged the function of fortress and elegant state home seamlessly. Kronborg had everything from ornate architecture, to fountains and a line of cannons jutting out from one of the hills, which the tour guide said are permanently poised facing the perfectly visible Swedish coast across the Baltic Sea.

Koninginnedag (Queen's Day) Utrecht, Netherlands- April 2007

     Frequently (and inaccurately) referred to as it's two westernmost counties of Northern and Southern 'Holland,' the Dutch play host to some amazing architecture, artwork, food and some very amusing customs that have to be experienced to be truly appreciated; Queen's Day or Koninginnedag is one of them.
  
     It wasn't my intention or goal to visit the city of Utrecht on April 30th, it was my goal to visit my friend Maaike six days after her birthday and hope that my trip sufficed as a worthwhile belated birthday present.

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     Walking around both Utrecht and Amsterdam, the architecture was exactly like what I had seen painted on porcelain in blue ink on The Antiques Roadshow. Curly wave-topped houses with odd lumber posts jutting out from their fronts lined winding canals as if they were paved roads. After venturing up a very narrow staircase at a sixty degree incline in one of those houses to eat Pannenkoek, I understood exactly why those posts and pulley's were necessary prior to the invention of IKEA flat-pack furniture.

      As the sun set that evening, my hostess pointed out the strange patchwork pattern that lined the streets, where people had staked out space for the evening festivities. Slowly the streets began to fill with vendors and party-goers of every age. Bands began to play and the vibrant color of orange was everywhere in several formats- as flowered leis, tee shirts, and even Elvis-style wigs complete with sideburns.

      One of the traditions of Queen's Day is to turn the country into one great big flea market selling everything from the usual kitchenware and books to the more unique sale of compliments and lies. For 25 cents, a willing vendor in a ruffle collar shirt who curled his lip like 'the King' as he delivered a birthday compliment to Maaike.

      After the compliment was paid for and received, we continued to walk through the city with beer in hand. There were cover bands, DJs and windows open with music pouring out, everywhere was a party and there were party-goers everywhere.  Although I did see the occasional police officer, I never once saw anyone being arrested or even talked to by the authorities.

       We had to make one more stop on our way back to her apartment; Maaike insisted that we had to get post-party food. She walked up to a fast food place and completely by-passed the counter and the queue and removed a few Euro coins from her purse and began depositing them in the wall. As I turned the corner to see that the entire wall was one giant vending machine, Maaike reached in and pulled out what looked like a mozzarella stick on steroids. She handed the first one to me and repeated the process and retrieved one for herself. To my surprise, the 'koquette' as she called it was not full of cheese but full of creamed meat and was to be eaten with mustard.

        Finally tucking ourselves into bed at some random time in the wee small hours of the morning, I was delighted that my first trip to the Netherlands successfully avoided the stereotypical sites and experiences of tourists and got a glimpse of Dutch life that is only visible on that one day each year.
 

Glasgow, Scotland April-2002

     The fact that there were no hostels with rooms available in Edinburgh forced me to add Glasgow to my travel plans during Easter break of 2002. The addition turned out to be rather serendipitous, when I took out my travel guide, I read that my all time favorite painting (Christ of St John of the Cross by Salvador Dali) was housed in the St Mungo Museum of Religious Art in Glasgow.

     My delay in booking accommodation had now provided me with good reason to spend the extra money to travel back and forth from Edinburgh for that one night.

     By the time I arrived in Glasgow it was early evening and the light was fading but the people were among the warmest and friendliest that I had met in Europe. As I meandered down the high street, no less than five people stopped me to ask if I was lost or needed help or directions.

     I noted some interesting things that I thought I would have to check out the next day-the Renie McIntosh Lighthouse for one and the building with the metal peacock on it as well, but my first order of business was to find some lunch.
    
     A pub named Droothy Neebors looked like a pretty friendly place with its colorful windows and funky lettering. I decided to give it a try. The interior was pretty standard, dark wood, a few smoking punters bellied up to the bar and a curly blonde multi-tasking cleaning and talking to the customers. I grabbed a stool a few down from a bald gentleman and his half full pint of Stella Artois and ordered a pint and some mushroom stroganoff.

     About 6 hours later the bald guy next to me was my new best friend after helping me get out of what I think was an attempt by a local to "chat me up". A man who literally only talked out of the right side of his mouth began speaking at me in an accent I could not understand and being the polite midwestern girl that I am I just nodded and smiled, whereas I guess the local girls would have just told him to "piss off" in their equally thick local accents.

     The bald man and I bought each other pints back and forth and he told me great stories about being a tour bus driver and his run-ins with celebrity personalities. By far the best was when he said a member of the Eagles got his number of an ancestry website and asked to meet to go over family tree stuff. That just doesn't happen when you're an ethnic mutt from the USA!

      Five more American girls on break came in and asked my bald bus driver what he thought of Rob Roy... "Bloody Irishman filmed in England" he said. "Braveheart?" she asked. "Aussie filmed in Ireland!" he sneered. "Shrek?" she asked with a very small voice. "Bloody Brilliant!" he beamed. It was about at that point at which I had to retreat to my hostel because I had been drinking for 6 hours at a seasoned Scotsman's pace.

      After waking up with a mild hang over I ventured up to St Mungos using a coupon the bus driver had given me for his tour company and there it was. The most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The paint glowed and although you could see the restoration lines from when the painting was attacked with turpentine, it didn't detract too much from the amazing piece of art.

       Walking out the back door of the museum was a grave-filled hill with all kinds of ornate and beautiful headstones and sculptures. I took several photos and felt so incredibly happy that Glasgow had made it into my travel plans even if I hadn't originally intended to venture that way.

Costa Rica-March 2009-Packing Appropriately

     Unlike most of my travels, I went to Costa Rica as part of an organized trip to write for Minnesota State University Moorhead's online magazine Horizonlines. The 10 days I spent roaming all over that amazing countryside epitomized both sides of the argument for and against traveling with a group versus traveling on your own.
     Our first and less than exotic adventure after arriving in San Jose was trying to fit all of the student's luggage on the top of the hotel's minivan. After several years of traveling various distances by various means, I cannot stress my first travel tip enough- pack appropriately and as lightly as possible. This doesn't mean leave out nice clothes or high heels either, it means prioritizing and folding or rolling what you need and making it fit in a manageable sized suitcase.
     During one episode of MTV's house of style, I happened to catch the part where Daisy Fuentes instructed travelers to roll rather than fold items that you wished to keep as wrinkle free as possible. I've actually found that rolling also saves space and creates better cushioning for breakable souvenirs.
     The second part of packing appropriately is to limit wastage. Since we were doing stories focusing on sustainability and ecologically friendly practices it was kind of amusing how much what people packed said about how attached people in the U.S. are to both our looks and quantity. Don't get me wrong, keeping up appearances when you're trying to do professional interviews is one thing but some of the girls had brought straighteners, full bottles of product and razors.
      The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) stipulates that all of that product and razors had to go into stored luggage. Bringing travel-sized bottles and wax strips could have saved on space as well as weight. It's also worth mentioning that most of that product and primping materials didn't do much good; in the end, we all ended up sweaty, with humidity-ridden hair, sunburn and various scrapes and blisters.
      If for no other reason when packing for a trip of any length or distance remember that you and not necessarily the bus driver have to carry the baggage- literally if the rollers or extending handle breaks.

Nationhood vs Statehood

It's only appropriate to start a blog about travel with an explanation of why I picked the "Every Nation Project" as my title as opposed to cities or countries or some other geo-cultural indicator.

Perhaps it is my background in political science or my experience from traveling to different regions of various countries (including the United States) that has clearly established for me that one anthem, language or flag may unite people but that unity is not homogeneous.

This is also the reason that several countries appear on my blog more than once, because going to Amsterdam is not representative of Holland; it's a representation of the Netherlands and there are others. Just like London is a representation of England and Bavaria is a representation of Germany, they aren't definitive and usually just feed the stereotypes shown in movies.

From the Black British street preacher shouting sermons to the masses of shoppers outside of the Bullring shopping center in Birmingham to the tattooed naked man with gray dreadlocks in Barcelona I want to show what the places I've gone to have really been like rather than the caricatures.