Study Abroad Stories
Cycling Through Denmark
LUCY MARCIL, Davidson College
Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens... hm heh huh hm heh huh warm woolen mittens... these are a few of my favorite things.
"Rain drops may be nice on roses, but I sure don't like them running down my legs!" I thought, cycling precariously along, left hand on the handlebars, right hand thrusting a bright blue umbrella in front of me like a shield. Less than ideal visibility, but it had been dark since 4:30 anyway.
Everything was so quiet, peaceful - just me and the rain. But wait! Why couldn't I hear the rain anymore? Pulled out of my reverie, I realized it was snowing fat heavy flakes that were melting into my shield. How excellent! It would never be doing this in South Carolina.
...Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes, silver white winters that melt into springs, these are a few of my favorite things.
Whizzing down the hill by the forest, I couldn't have been more pleased. And then - a slushy spot, some wet leaves - I was skidding straight for that mud pile! My shoes skimmed across the cement as I tried to regain control; my shield turned into a distress flag as my arm flailed for balance. UMPH.
Ahh, the smell of fresh mud. Too upset to move, I wallowed in the muck for a moment. "I want my mother," I whined to myself. "Awful Danish mud... why is it snowing and freezing and DARK?!! Stupid country... All right. Snap out of it". Knees throbbing, I slowly extracted myself from the bicycle-mud combo and painstakingly collected the bike light and basket, my school bag, my sopping glove, and finally, the mangled umbrella.
Denmark. Copenhagen. When I imagined my semester here, never did I think that I would be gaining a whole new appreciation for the outdoors. After all, I was going to be in a city, right? But I failed to take into account the Danish propensity for bicycling. It's one of the things that hits you the first day, at the train station - the rows and rows and rows of bicycles. They have seats for carrying their kids in back and in front, attachable carts that fit the groceries or a Christmas tree, red and yellow lights for night riding, a bike lane along every road, and rain suits for inclement weather. Bicycling is a transportation mode first and a leisure activity second.
I was lucky enough to get to experience this aspect of Danish culture. Twice a day for fifteen minutes, I rode my bike between my host family's house and the nearest train station. The rusty gray blue frame with a dented mesh basket on back, a cushy black seat, and a crossbar low enough to swing my leg through became my most reliable companion. With only a single gear, it would groan up the hills, but over the crest, I would sail down like Mary Poppins. Through my daily toil, my respect for the Danes increased as I realized the stoicism and determination necessary to ride through the rain - and not complain at the end. But I also came to realize the serenity and pleasure that come during better weather and from an increased closeness to the natural world.
Like a slide show, the memories scroll through my mind. The sunset was fantastic as it lit the whole sky ablaze with pink and rose and red. But it was hiding something even more amazing. Looking over the metal roofs, I suddenly noticed a rainbow in an almost perfect arch. A sunset and a rainbow?! It's almost too much, like a meal with two desserts. And what about learning to ride on ice? Skidding around the corner, the air sharp in my lungs, I loved watching the stillness of the white forest and hearing the crunch of snow crystals under my tires. The forest was beautiful enough on its own. It progressed from a dense August green to slowly swirling yellows to stark angular wood, and each stage achieved its own perfection.
But I cannot forget the morning I rode home in the wee hours, after missing the last night bus and waiting with aching feet for the first train. By the time I reached my station all I wanted was my soft warm bed, but as I rode up the hill my tiredness dissipated. A heavy mist was slowly rising up through the trees as a pale pink sunrise seeped across the sky. Hauntingly beautiful. A reminder of the night sky, the moon hung just above the treetops. Somehow those long nights make the sky seem darker than ever and when the cloud cover fades, the stars shine so brilliantly. How many times have I ridden down that road with my head tilted up in awe as I forget my purpose and become acutely aware of Denmark's closeness to home on a universal scale?
I recovered from my fall that day. It was nothing a hot shower, some good sleep, and the dry cleaners couldn't fix. In a way, I think it's reflective of life in a new country. Whizzing down the hill happily to lying in the mud, from high to low so quickly, it's surprising you don't get whiplash. The challenges are much greater but so are the successes. Perhaps in the end though it's the everyday moments, the rides without a sunset or a fall that become the most meaningful. They accumulate little by little until they add up to an experience, a life and change who you are and will become.
"At vove er at miste fodfæstet for en stund - ikke at vove er at miste sig selv." Søren Kierkegaard
"To dare is to loose your footing for a while - not to dare is to loose yourself."
