Following my trip to Budapest I returned to Denmark to continue my unemployment streak. Around this time, I first dipped my toes into the waters of cryptocurrency investment. This was also around that time that I would take my second shot at New Zealand. Above all else, the end of the year would mark my return to Canada for a short family visit in December. I would soon get my first taste of a Canadian winter.
How did we get to cryptocurrencies?
It might seem like this came out of nowhere, but this moment was one of those fateful events in life that would have long term ramifications for me.
I had known about cryptocurrencies for years before 2018. I had seen the crazy surge of bitcoin in the past years and wished I could have gotten in at a good time. However I never had money to throw away on such a gambit. I also didn’t know of a safe and easy way for Eastern European citizens to tap into this young new market. If you remember those days, buying crypto meant wiring money to shady exchange websites — many of which, like BTC-e, ended up scamming their clients’ funds.
Or get scammed or hacked later… depending on your luck
By 2018, however, the winds were shifting, and this once-marginal asset class was gradually gaining acceptance worldwide. More secure exchanges with easy fiat on-ramps were springing up left and right, like Bitpanda in the EU. In this steadily growing pro-crypto climate, I found myself hanging out with a couple of friends when the topic of cryptocurrencies came up. After a few drinks and a shared blunt, I allowed myself to be convinced that this was the perfect time to get in on the action. The market had corrected for the most part of the year and enthusiasm for a multi-year bull-run was creeping back.
The next day I registered on a crypto exchange and deposited my first 50 euros with great financial hopes and dreams for the future.
Hopes and dreams…
Speaking of hopes and dreams, November arrived—bringing with it the one day each year when New Zealand immigration opened its working holiday visa portal to the world.
Strumming along and dreaming of sunny new horizons
I had made a list with my personal details for me and a few of my friends that were going to help me apply. The challenge was to fill out the immigration web-forms as soon as fast as humanly possible in hopes of getting me my coveted visa. The moment the portal went live, the website crashed. Like every year before, millions of candidates from across the world flooded New Zealand immigration servers.
Try as I might, I could never get passed the first page without it freezing or crashing, and having to reload the thing. One of my friends managed to advance to the next pages, but once again the website crashed and sent him back to the start. It was a complete shit show. Five minutes later the portal was closed and a disappointing message filled the screen—the yearly quota had been filled.
This second gut-punch would be my final attempt to move to the dreamy lands of Middle Earth. All hopes and dreams I had for New Zealand were now shattered for good.
Questioning my career path
More than a year had passed since I successfully defended my Master’s thesis, yet my job prospects remained as bleak as ever. I was seriously questioning my career path at this point. Clearly, the number of geology graduates each year far exceeded the available jobs in not only Denmark but the entire European continent.
Aside from a handful of countries like Finland and Sweden that had a more robust mining industry, the remaining countries were very limited in opportunities. To make matters worse, my experience with New Zealand showed that looking outside of Europe presented a whole new array of challenges. Mainly due to visa restrictions.
Moody photo during one of my visits to Hillerød
Somehow, I found myself applying for the most unrelated job imaginable—a telemarketer position in Oslo. It was just another entry in the weekly swarm of applications I sent out, now stretching far beyond my field of specialization.
To my surprise, I got a call back from their headhunter—and somehow, my honesty and determination over the phone won him over. After an equally successful interview, I faced a final mock-call test. All this was happening while I was preparing to fly to Canada for a couple of weeks to visit my extended family.
Oh Canada…
So… Canada. To really tell this part of my story, I need to rewind a little. It all started with my older cousin on my mother’s side, who moved there with his family back in the ’90s. He went on to become a successful geologist in the oil and gas industry, and watching his journey was one of the sparks that inspired me to follow a similar path.
Before my final year of high school, he invited me to Canada for a month. It was my first real experience abroad—my first flight, my first time in the far west, and my first time casually speaking English with native speakers. For teenage me, it was an incredibly positive experience—one I left with tears in my eyes, having to return to my miserable life back in Romania.
My first time in Calgary during summer of 2006
After finishing university, I set my sights on Canadian residency. But things had changed drastically since the ’90s—immigration policies were overhauled, and I had no idea about the new point system. I spent a year navigating the application process, only to face the harsh reality after talking with an immigration lawyer: without work experience, I simply didn’t have enough points to qualify. It was a tough, deflating lesson in the challenges faced by an inexperienced young graduate hoping to take on the world—one of many more lessons yet to come.
Six years later in mid-December, I was boarding a plane to Canada for the second time in my life.
The family
My Canadian side of the family consists of my two cousins, their spouses and their children. All of them living in Calgary. A few years ago their mother, my aunt, had joined them and became a permanent resident and more recently a citizen.
The oldest of my two Romanian-Canadian cousins is Lucian, whom I’ve mentioned before. He was the geologist working in oil and gas for many years. His younger brother Bogdan was a professional athlete and swimming coach for the most part of his life. By 2018, he had chosen to get into the trucking business and was driving around in one of those massive North American semi trucks.
My younger cousins old semi-truck
During the winter holidays of 2018, the whole family got together for the first time in decades. My cousins with their families, their mom, my mom and myself.
The big Christmas family gathering
It was a nice gathering with the typical dose of family goofiness and some awkward moments. For the most part, everyone was smiling. Including myself as I was expecting to hear back from the Norwegian company I had applied to and picturing my future life in Oslo.
A Canadian winter
One of the highlights of my time there was seeing snow that lasted for more than just an evening. Denmark’s winters had been too mild for that, and the last time I experienced multi-week snowy winters was back in my teenage years in Romania—winters that had since grown significantly warmer as well.
A snowy winter day in Banff
Canada still had snow though. Not a lot in Calgary, but there was plenty in the mountains. On my birthday we went for a drive to Banff. Nestled within Banff National Park in Alberta, Banff is a picturesque mountain town surrounded by the rugged peaks of the Canadian Rockies. With the numerous hiking, skiing and biking opportunities, Banff is one of the top tourist destinations in Western Canada.
Got to have that group photo with the sign, otherwise you weren’t there
Lake Louise
Another favorite tourist destination in the area is Lake Louise. The lake sits beneath the towering Victoria Glacier and is surrounded by rugged mountain peaks. The water stays cold throughout the year and boasts a vibrant turquoise color, typical of glacial lakes.
A snow covered Lake Louise
As always, I was eager to do more than a 10 minute walk around Lake Louise. So Bogdan and I left the rest of the family to chill by the lake and castle hotel and we went for a hike to Lake Agnes further up the mountain.
On the trail to Lake Agnes
The trail is a steady 7 km hike up from Lake Louise with roughly 400 m elevation gain. I remembered doing this hike back in 2006 too, so it was really nice seeing it in the winter over 10 years later. Following switchbacks through the forest, the trail offers some spectacular panoramic views of the Rockies and ends at a small tea house on the shores of Lake Agnes.
I believe Lake Agnes was buried under the snow there somewhere
I recall Bogdan telling me at some point that this was his sanctuary. In his own words, his “palace”. He had many troubles and hardships ever since moving to Canada and the mountains were always his peaceful retreat. I could certainly see why.
Calgary
Most of my time there was spent around the Arbour Lake neighborhood in Calgary, where my older cousin lived. The seemingly copy paste residential houses of the endless suburban landscape had become familiar and a bit dull.
Arbour lake neighborhood, NW Calgary
Separated by the occasional shopping complex with vast parking lots, the city seemed more like an overstretched small town with a concentrated downtown core. Speaking of downtown, we did pay it a visit a couple of times.
Peace Bridge crossing the bow river to downtown Calgary
Shiny steel and glass skyscrapers rose above the Bow River, a gleaming testament to the wealth the oil and gas industry had poured into the city. Yet oddities like a major freight train slicing through the downtown core, and the striking absence of historic buildings, revealed the youthful, almost unfinished character of this rapidly growing city.
Strolling around downtown Calgary after dark
At night, the glittering lights of the downtown skyscrapers gave the illusion of a grand metropolis, echoing the likes of New York. Yet the relatively empty streets, largely devoid of pedestrians, and the muted residential neighborhoods stretching for dozens of miles in every direction, told a different story: one of a quiet, tame, and rather uneventful city.
Back to the drawing board
The week after Christmas I finally got an answer from the Norwegian company regarding the job in Oslo. They weren’t offering me the job. I guess I wasn’t cut out to be a telemarketer.
The sun sank behind the Rockies, just as it had on yet another plan that never came to fruition
Although in hindsight it’s good that I didn’t switch careers just yet, at the moment it was another one of many blows. My mood had been soured once again at the end of the year. As much as I used to look forward to the holiday season in December, I was developing quite the streak of shitty Decembers.
With New Year’s Eve approaching, I looked forward to returning to Denmark and gathering my thoughts once more. In turbulent times, I always sought solitude—time to myself, time to regroup.
A layover in Toronto later I was just an ocean away from home
Fortunately, I rang in the new year in the warm company of friends at a lively house party. Surrounded by positive spirits and a welcoming atmosphere, I didn’t yet realize that this night would plant the seed for a pivotal change in the year ahead—a change that would gradually lead to the next grand chapter of my life.
Following my late-summer adventures across Europe in 2018, I returned home to Denmark, to find out that my old friend and roommate, Cirpi had moved out and back to Romania. A few months back we had a falling out, but I felt like we were smoothing things out before my trip. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and our long-term friendship came to an end with my last message to him expressing my regret for the way things turned out for him, and wished him the best in his future endeavors. For me this moment marked the beginning of a soft reboot and a period of self-reflection.
Self-reflection
My past years in Denmark had been great overall, but ever since I had graduated, there was this steady slow decline. Most of it had to do with the fact that I had been looking for career opportunities for a year, with little to no success. It was clear by now that the job market for geologists in Denmark was extremely limited. However, without much hands-on experience, I couldn’t exactly land a job abroad either.
Nordhavn, Copenhagen, seen from Charlottenlund beach
Having lived outside of Copenhagen for over a year, my fond memories of my time there had begun to fade into the ever-receding past. I suppose the breakup of one of my closest friendships was the final bell—the quiet signal that it was time for a soft reboot. A reset that meant releasing the past, both the good and the bad, and surrendering to the current of life, wherever it might carry me.
Aided by the seasonal shift in colors, the overlap between the autumn breeze and my melancholic self-reflection felt almost poetic at the time.
A soft reboot
I was alone with my thoughts once more—and maybe it was better that way. I had always functioned best in solitude. Perhaps it was time to take another leap, as I had with Denmark years before, and simply move to another country. My mind kept circling back to an idealized vision of New Zealand. Spurred on by the stories of others, I decided to apply for a working holiday visa later that year and take my chances there.
Self-reflection by a lake in Dyrehaven
Of course, this wasn’t going to be as simple as it might sound. Romanians weren’t eligible for New Zealand’s working holiday visa. But as a Hungarian citizen—which I had become by then through my mother’s heritage—I had a narrow chance. The problem was that the number of visas available was extremely limited, and the application process had become a mad scramble. Each year, thousands raced to submit their forms within seconds, hoping to claim one of the coveted spots before the system crashed under the pressure.
Some of my friends in Denmark offered to help. I gave them all my personal details, and when the application window opened in November, we would all try at once—each of them applying in my name in the hopes that one of us might slip through the cracks. After all, I was up against the world, flooding New Zealand’s fragile servers in a chaotic race for a ticket into the unknown.
Statue of Count Gyula Andrássy and the Hungarian Parliament Building
With a new plan quietly taking shape, I soon set off for Budapest to spend a week with my mom, who was visiting family and old friends there.
Budapest – a distant home
I’d always felt a strange, distant sense of home when it came to Budapest. There had always been some extended family or family friends living there, which meant I had visited the city a few times before. I remember spending over a week there as a kid—fragmented memories of the Danube splitting the city in two, the lush, hilly side of Buda connected to the flat, bustling Pest by a series of intricate bridges, each carrying its own quiet story. Now I was back as an adult, ready to rediscover the capital of one of my two homelands.
Parliament Building from the Danube river
My visit began in the heart of the city, near the grand and meticulously ornate Parliament Building. Perched along the banks of the Danube, it stands as one of Europe’s largest and most striking legislative buildings—a towering neo-Gothic marvel with pointed spires, arched windows, and a glowing central dome that commands both reverence and curiosity.
Walking along the Parliament after nightfall
Completed in 1904 after nearly two decades of construction, it was built to commemorate Hungary’s millennium of statehood and has since remained a symbol of national pride and political gravity. Walking along the promenade, I took in its detailed façade—the countless statues, intricate carvings, and symmetrical perfection evoking the weight of history. At night, when the lights shimmer off the Danube’s surface, the building almost appears otherworldly, like something conjured from the pages of a forgotten kingdom.
The Danube river
Further down the riverbank, the mood shifts. There, quietly embedded into the stone, are rows of iron shoes—scattered, empty, and solemn. The Shoes on the Danube Bank memorial marks the site where, during World War II, Jewish men, women, and children were lined up, forced to remove their shoes, and shot into the river by the fascist Arrow Cross militia. The shoes remain as haunting symbols of absence—small and large, worn and work-like, elegant and delicate—each one telling a story cut short. A harsh reminder of a not-so-distant dark time across Europe.
Shoes on the Danube Bank memorial adorned with candles and flowers
Beyond its role as witness to tragedy, the river has long been a vital artery of life in Europe. Winding through ten countries, it connects cultures, capitals, and centuries of movement. Originating in Germany’s Black Forest and flowing more than 2,800 kilometers to the Black Sea on the Romanian coast, it carries with it the echoes of empires, migrations, and trade routes that have shaped the continent for centuries. It is both boundary and bridge—a silent companion to cities and civilizations along its path.
Liberty Bridge in the foreground, with Erzsébet Bridge and Széchenyi Chain Bridge in the background
One afternoon, we boarded a riverboat that glided steadily through the heart of the city. The ride offered sweeping views of Budapest’s most iconic landmarks—perfect for both quiet admiration and eager photo-taking. From the glinting spires of the Parliament Building to the imposing Buda Castle housing the History Museum, each structure seemed to rise with intention from the riverbank. Further along, the delicate arches of Fisherman’s Bastion crowned the hills above, and the city’s historic bridges spanned overhead like stone and metal ribbons.
Buda Castle and Its Surroundings
The next stop was Castle Hill on the Buda-side of the city. We began with a walk along the Fisherman’s Bastion, one of Budapest’s most picturesque landmarks. Built at the turn of the 20th century in a neo-Romanesque style, the Bastion resembles something out of a fairytale with its turrets, arches, and sweeping staircases.
The Fisherman’s Bastion with a large statue of St. István in the center
Despite its medieval appearance, it was actually constructed more as a decorative viewing terrace than a defensive fortification—named in honor of the guild of fishermen who defended this stretch of the city wall during the Middle Ages.
My mom, myself and half a trash can
From its balconies, we admired stunning panoramic views of the Pest side of the city. The Parliament Building gleamed in the sunlight, but another structure also stood out: the grand St. István’s Basilica, with its soaring dome dominating the skyline.
Széchenyi Chain Bridge and St. István’s Basilica towering in the background
Named after Hungary’s first king, the basilica is one of the most important religious buildings in the country, housing the mummified right hand of Saint István himself. From a distance, its balanced architecture and massive dome lent a sense of calm majesty to the cityscape, like a spiritual anchor amidst the urban sprawl.
The mythical Turul bird sculpture atop the Buda hill
As we continued walking along the crest of the hill, we passed a large bronze sculpture of the Turul bird, wings outstretched in mid-flight, perched atop a tall pedestal. The Turul is a mythical creature in Hungarian folklore—part falcon, part eagle—and is said to have guided the ancient Magyars into the Carpathian Basin, marking the symbolic beginning of the Hungarian nation.
Horseback riders dressed in traditional Hungarian Hussar attire in front of the History Museum
Eventually, we reached the Budapest History Museum, housed within the southern wing of the sprawling Buda Castle complex. Though its heavy stone walls and archways speak of centuries past, the museum inside holds the city’s evolving identity—from its Roman beginnings through medieval wars, Ottoman occupation, Habsburg rule, and modern reinvention.
Gellért Hill and the Citadel
One of ourWe decided to climb the hill on foot, following a zig-zagging trail that wound its way upward through leafy paths and scenic overlooks. final stops in Budapest was Gellért Hill, a prominent landmark rising steeply on the Buda side of the Danube. The hill is named after St. Gerard (Gellért), a missionary who, according to legend, was thrown to his death from the cliffs during a pagan uprising in the 11th century.
Statue of St. Gellért on the way up the hill
Today, the area is more peaceful—though still full of energy—known not only for its panoramic city views but also for its famed thermal springs. The Gellért Baths, located at the base of the hill and inside the famous Art Nouveau Hotel Gellért, are among Budapest’s most iconic spa complexes, tapping into the same geothermal waters that made the city renowned for its bathing culture.
Erzsébet Bridge and the Pest-side of the city from Gellért Hill
We decided to climb the hill on foot, following a zig-zagging trail that wound its way upward through leafy paths and scenic overlooks. My mom was not thrilled by the high amount of steps to climb, but she soldiered through regardless. The top of Gellért Hill stands at around 235 meters above sea level, offering a commanding vantage point over the entire city, especially the illuminated bridges and riverside Parliament below. It was a proper leg workout, but the reward at the summit made every step worth it.
The end of this short journey
At the very top stands the Szabadság-szobor—the Liberty Statue—a towering female figure holding a palm leaf high into the sky. Originally erected in 1947 to commemorate Soviet “liberation” after World War II, it was later recontextualized after the fall of communism to honor all who sacrificed their lives for Hungary’s freedom and independence. Lit beautifully at night, the statue takes on an almost guardian-like presence, watching over the city as it sleeps.
The Liberty Statue atop Gellért Hill
On our way back, we had a bit of an adventure as we got on the wrong bus. Either it was the wrong bus, or we had to change buses at some point and completely missed the stop. My mom and I probably ended up talking too much as we usually do and forgot to get off. Once we realized, I suggested we just ride it out and wait for the bus to do its usual turn-around. At least we’d get a tour of regular ol’ northern Budapest. However, the bus never turned around. It just went all the way to it’s last stop at the outskirts of the city and parked in the terminal for the night. After explaining my stupidity to the driver he amusingly pointed to another bus we’d have to take all the way back.
Until next time, Budapest! Whenever that may be…
Thus, with a touch of goofiness and adventure, my brief Budapest journey drew to an end, and I was bound for home—back to Denmark.
After experiencing the worlds biggest heavy metal festival in Wacken, Germany, I was on my way to EUGEN in Austria. this was going to be a personal return to EUGEN after years away. However, getting from a small obscure place in northwestern Germany to a small obscure place in south Austria proved to be challenging.
EUGEN Austria
Just to briefly recap, EUGEN is an annual European geoscience event held in different European countries each year. For the most part it’s a one week camping party with various activities and events attended by a bunch of geology students and enthusiasts from across the continent. You can read more about it on my previous post on EUGEN.
Somewhere in Carinthia on a 2018’s hot summer day
The last EUGEN I went to was back in 2009 in the Netherlands. A whole 9 years later, I was once more getting ready for the big geo-party of the summer; but this time, in Austria. The camp location was near Sittersdorf in Carinthia, not far from the Slovenian border.
Travel logistics
When I was planning my Wacken-EUGEN summer holiday, I quickly realized the logistic nightmare of getting from one place to another. The solution I found unfortunately involved cutting my last day at Wacken short. A low blow, considering that one of my all time favorite bands was playing that night. However, I had no choice if I wanted to make it to EUGEN in time.
Somewhere on my way to EUGEN Austria
With a sad sigh, I left Wacken on the last night of the festival, en route to Hamburg. From Hamburg I had a late night flight to Geneva, where I would have to spend the night. As a good frugal traveler, I chose to sleep in the airport.
From someone that has slept in various airports, I can tell you that Geneva airport is the worst one I had to spend a night in. Small, limited and very uncomfortable. I recall having to sleep on the hard floor because their benches were not at all suited for lying down.
Waiting in Sittersdorf train station
After a tortured night with limited poor quality sleep, I took my next flight to Austria. My memory’s pretty hazy about this part, probably due to sleep depravation at the time, but I think I had a direct flight from Geneva to Klagenfurt. There’s a slim chance I may have had to stop in Vienna too, but I’m not sure. Probably not, though. I do remember a train ride following my flight. Likely from Klagenfurt to Sittersdorf, where I got picked up from by the organizers.
Campsite
The campsite was a beautiful green field near Sonegger lake, surrounded by forests. There were only a handful of tents up by the time I arrived. I was there pretty early in the morning. I immediately set up my tent and crashed.
The green pastures around our campsite
Several hours of much needed sleep later, it was time to mingle. I joined the group of German-speakers by the main tent. They were all shocked when I told them I had been to EUGEN a decade ago. It was great to see a couple of familiar faces from Switzerland 2018. I recognized Jumbo, one of the original founders of EUGEN, and Gaudenz, one of the organizers of EUGEN Switzerland.
The annual pro Kubb-league with master thrower Gaudenz
Soon enough the drinks were flowing and I was making new friends. This is where I met Moritz. Well, one of the Moritzs. The crazy fun German one. An avid traveler and explore, like yours truly; and a good friend to date.
I also met fellow metalhead David from Spain, Sophie from Austria, Jolanta and Julius from Lithuania, Valentina, Jernej and Teja from Slovenia, and many others. As the day passed on, more people arrived. By nightfall the party was raging!
The tranquil Sonegger lake next to out campsite
The next morning I woke up surrounded by tents. I had been annexed by the Slovenians.
Limestone quarry
♫ On the first day of EUGEN my true love gave to me—a field trip to a limestone qua-rry! ♫
Sorry, I just had to get that out of my head. Indeed, a limestone quarry. I don’t remember where, or what, and I couldn’t find any archived information on it. But I have the photos to prove it! Maybe one of my EUGEN readers can point out the name and location in the comments.
Limestone with the remains of ancient little sea-critters
I recall attending a presentation in the morning where most of us were struggling to stay awake due to the long night of dancin’ and drinkin’. I also remember asking one of the gentleman there if they were hiring any geos. Me and my constant desperate search for work…
First time I saw one of these big monsters
Actually, now that I mention that, I do believe one of my main motives for attending EUGEN in 2018 was to expand my professional network in hopes that it would lead me to a job opportunity in the future. Absolutely fascinating to think back to this considering the way thing’s turned out. Keep this in mind for future reference!
The unknown quarry we visited on my first day
After some schmoozing and snacks, we got a tour of the quarry. From the heights of the “lookout tower” to the depths of the pit. Ok, we didn’t actually go deep into the pit, but we did go up the tower.
Lindwurmbrunnen in Neuer Platz, Klagenfurt
Later that day we stopped by Klagenfurt for some urban sightseeing.
Karavanke Geopark and The Dobratsch
On another day, we had a multi-stop field trip in the Karavanke UNESCO Global Geopark. From our first stop in Bad Eisenkappel, we headed to the Trögerner gorge and the forest reserve Potok. Following a shallow river up the gorge, inching closer to Slovenia, we reached a fault zone with red colored Slovenian rocks migrating down the river into Austria.
Hiking up the Trögerner gorge
The next stop was the 54 m high Wildenstein waterfall, one of the highest in Europe. Considering the heatwave we were experiencing some of our EUGENeers decided to take a cold shower under the waterfall.
Wildenstein waterfall in the Karavanke Geopark
Seems like the hot weather had followed me from Wacken and was there to stay. Even if I didn’t partake in the thermic shock of a waterfall shower, I looked forward to a nice plunge in the lake when back at camp.
Touring Jakomini Quarry
On the final fieldtrip day, we toured around the Dobratsch Nature Park, visiting the site of a large, historic rockslide. After another stop at Rosstratte Viewpoint to admire the scenery, we visited the active Jakomini Quarry, where we got a guided tour.
The Geolympics and nightly parties
As always, one of the days was dedicated to the Geolympics. A series of competitive, crazy, outdoor group activities. From drinking and athletic competitions, to finding cones in a lake, we spent the entire day sweating and laughing in the summer heat.
Uh-oh! Looks like I lost a competition. Perhaps it was a game of Kubb
After, and in between events, we would relax with a glass of beer or spritz, and play a game or ten of Kubb. Occasionally we would hitch a ride with the orga-team into town to grab a few supplies and snacks.
Everyone’s just chilling in camp
The evenings would always consist of raging parties late into the night. Considering that before EUGEN I had already spent a few days and nights at a huge festival, by my second day in camp, I was already exhausted. Perhaps combining two wild events with long nights of drinking and screaming wasn’t the smartest idea… It was great fun though! Well, at least until I got a sore throat that stuck with me until the end.
Just a normal night at EUGEN with Moritz
As was tradition, on the night of the group presentations, we got to vote for our favorites and find out who would organize next year’s EUGEN. With applause and cheers the Lithuanian group took up the responsibility.
Long nights of endless glasses of beer and spritz while blasting a loud obnoxious Lithuanian song on repeat
With a promise to see each other again in Lithuania the following year, my big summer 2018 adventure had come to a close. It was an amazing experience where I got to meet and befriend a tone of new people from across the continent. With a wicked smirk and a bag full of great memories, I flew back home to Denmark and some much needed rest.
For those of you that don’t know me well enough, I’m a metalhead. No, I don’t have a head of metal, but I listen to a lot of heavy metal music. These day’s my music taste has expanded well beyond just metal, but for over a decade various sub-genres of metal have always been my go to style of music. That being said, in 2018, I had the chance to attend Wacken Open Air, the world biggest heavy metal festival, and this post is all about my journey there, to the promised land.
Where it all began
My journey into the world of heavy guitar riffs, blast-beats and various forms of intense vocalizations begins during my teens. Funnily enough it wasn’t during the eight years I attended music school, but just after, when I got into high school.
I remember the first metal song that really caught my ear and made me headbang was Feuer Frei by Rammstein. That, because it was played in the intro for the first Triple X movie—an action packed, over the top spy movie with Vin Diesel and a badass soundtrack.
Around the same time, I gained access to a friend’s hard drive that had a bunch of Rammstein songs, as well as some other metal bands like Nightwish. These two bands kicked off my love and interest for this genre of music, and ever since, I never stopped listening and exploring for new bands.
Attending Symphony X concerts—my nr.1 favorite band to date—Denmark 2016 and 2019
A couple of years into my metalhead journey I stumbled upon a YouTube recap video about Wacken 2005—a metal festival in Germany with a badass lineup. I absolutely fell in love with the songs and presentation. I kept replaying it multiple times and showing it to my likeminded friends. For me, it became the pinnacle of “metalhood” to one day be able to attend such a glorious event.
Autumn 2017
Fast forward more than a decade, I had just graduated from my Masters program at the University of Copenhagen. While chatting with one of my friends and colleagues, Christian, the subject of Wacken came up. Christian was also a big metalhead and he had attended the festival before. More importantly, he was planning to go the next year.
Christian and I practicing our angry faces
This was my chance! I’d finally have the funds to do it, a friend to go with and I’d be closer than ever if I were to stay in Denmark in 2018. Now normally the tickets for this festival sell out within the first days, or weeks of announcement. We were already past one month, but somehow, through some miracle there were still tickets available.
I immediately locked in my ticket. Soon enough I received my complementary Wacken 2018 T-shirt and was ready to start the count down to the big date!
Summer 2018
It was now 2018 and there were only a few months left until the start of Wacken Open Air in August. Around the beginning of summer I had a crazy idea to further enhance my holiday plans for the summer. I don’t know if it was nostalgia or what that lead me to it, but I looked up the location and website for EUGEN, which was going to be held in Austria. So I thought, why not turn this into a double whammy and attend both Wacken and Eugen in the same holiday.
Around the same time Christian told me that he couldn’t go to Wacken after all because of a wedding he had to attend. This was a big bummer as now I had nobody to go with. He did however put me in contact through a Facebook group with a bunch of his friends attending the festival. These guys and gals were regular Wacken veterans that would go each year. Most of them Danish, but also some from the UK. Fast forward through the summer and it was time to depart for Germany.
Waiting for the train to Germany in Kolding
Without a car, getting to the festival was not exactly straightforward. The cheapest option I had was to take a series of trains across Denmark and northwestern Germany. Thus I traveled across the Nordic country, from Copenhagen to Kolding and then south to the German town of Itzehoe.
Arrival
Each time I swapped trains, inching ever closer to my destination, I saw more and more black-shirted long-haired men and women with big backpacks. That was one way to tell I was on the right path. On one of the trains, I made friends with a Brazilian couple that were also heading to the festival. We were soon making plans to meet up and hang out in the following days.
The last leg of the journey was a bus ride from Itzehoe train station to the festival grounds, located on a farmland next to the village of Wacken, 12 km from Itzehoe.
The last leg of the journey: The Wacken-Bus
On arrival, the hilly landscape hides the true extent of the festival. I followed the line of attendees to registry booths excitedly taking in my new surroundings. The lines were huge, but the organizers were pretty efficient, so the waiting wasn’t too bad. They handed me my ticket, goodie bag and map of the festival grounds.
When I was finished, I climbed the last hill and finally laid my eyes on the holy grounds. It was massive!
There was a sea of thousands of tents and motorhomes stretching as far as the eyes could see. Somewhere far away I could see the stage area. I was shocked and awed at the sheer size of it. It was exhilarating! However, it dawned on me that finding my group in this maze would prove very challenging. To make matters worse, my phone’s battery had just died.
Walking through the festival grounds
My only option was to navigate to the commercial stalls in the center of the labyrinth, where the map said I would find power outlets.
Navigating the maze
While walking around, trying to find my way to the center, I kept thinking of how on earth I would find a group that I’ve never even met in that sea of people. Amid the vast crowds, there would usually be a country’s flag, flying above a group of tents. That was one thing I could look out for… One of many Danish flags. Worst case scenario I thought, if I couldn’t find my guys by nightfall I would just walk up to a group I spotted with a Hungarian flag and try to befriend them.
The main boulevard with merch shops and food stalls
After around 20 minutes of walking, I got to the central part, filled with bars, food stalls, merch-shops and more. I franticly searched and asked around for power outlets and WiFi connection. They were much harder to find than I thought. In my frustration, I ended up chatting to a guy, Lukas, who was using a storage locker. Turns out the lockers had power outlets in them. However, the line for renting one was huge!
Friendly metalheads
Lukas was kind enough to let me use his outlet to charge my phone and invited me to have a beer with him and his dad in the meantime. Turned out he was a German game developer living in Finland and working on Cities: Skylines a famous video game I had played. Such a small world… We hung out for half an hour exchanging stories and contact information so we could meet up again.
As the sun began to set, I bid farewell to Lukas and his dad and reached out to my Danish group. I got one of them on the phone and explained where I was. With a raspy drunken voice he gave me a bunch of directions to follow to reach them.
Nightfall at Wacken Open Air
Darkness was setting in and finding my way became very difficult. After another 30 minutes of stumbling around, I see this long haired blonde guy on the phone waving franticly at me. I wave back and rush to him and we hug like we’ve been friends for life. I had found my group!
Wacken Open Air
Stretching across 240 hectares, with around 85,000 attendees and 200 bands and another 5,000 staff members, Wacken Open Air felt more like a city then a festival. There was the central area I mentioned with all the stores, stalls and entertainment venues and next to it were the stage areas. A total of ten stages, with two humongous ones and several medium to smaller ones. All of this surrounded by vast camping grounds.
First morning, waking up and ready to head out!
Beyond the music, Wacken Open Air offers themed areas such as the Wackinger Village, featuring medieval markets and performances, and the Wasteland, inspired by post-apocalyptic themes. The festival also emphasizes sustainability through initiatives like the Green Wacken program, which includes the use of electric vehicles and encourages eco-friendly practices among attendees.
Lemmy the Legend, forever immortalized
There was so much to do and see on the festival grounds that I was literally overwhelmed. I remember I had one particular day with a lot of must see bands lined up. I spent most of that day out in the stage areas, only taking half an hour break to go eat or drink something. After a whole day of walking, standing, jumping, singing and drinking in the sun, I was absolutely shot. Come midnight and my last concert, I was so exhausted I could have easily collapsed and fell asleep at the concert.
The daily crowds congregating around the main stages
Speaking of drinking, a fun little fact is that the festival has a dedicated beer pipeline capable of delivering 10,000 liters per hour directly to the main bar areas in the Infield. Total beer consumption during the entire festival is estimated to exceed 400,000 liters over the 3-4 days of the event.
Weather and organization
The weather at Wacken can range from a stormy, wet, muddy mess to a scorching hot dessert climate. During the rainy years, the holy ground turns into a literal mud pit with mud fights and a lot of headaches for attendees with vehicles. Yet, this doesn’t stop anyone from thoroughly enjoying the festival and having a blast, in big part thanks to the preparedness and quick reactions from the organizers.
Behemoth concert in the scorching late afternoon heat
In 2018 we got the complete opposite. A whole week of hot sunny summer weather. The nights and mornings were nice and cool, but the days could become unbearably hot with temperatures exceeding 30° C. With the high temperatures came the risk of heatstroke, yet once more the organizers were well prepared with plenty of public showers, drinkable water fountains and shaded areas. They would even have groups of staff hosing down walkers during the scorching afternoon hours.
I don’t even know what this was but it looked cool
Another issue with a hot and dry festival ground was the dust. While the campgrounds were covered in grass, the central part where crowds gathered was just dirt. So with the swarm of people walking around all day, it created a constant dust cloud encompassing the core of the festival grounds. Glasses were a must and a lot of people wore bandanas and hats too. In any case, by the end of each day I had dust flowing out of every orifice. It felt like metalheads invading the wild wild west.
The mood and the people
To put it simply, the mood at Wacken was nothing short of EPIC. The friendliness and camaraderie were incredible. As with my example meeting Lukas, it was so easy to just start a conversation with anyone and end up befriending them. Speaking of Lukas, I met up with him later during the festival to check out the Wackinger Village and drink some mead.
Hanging out with my group of crazies
I also met and hung out a lot with a Norwegian guy, Knut, that we adopted into our camping group. Him and I had a lot of similar tastes in music so we attended quite a few concerts together. Then there was the day that Knut disappeared. Apparently wandering off into the magical plains of northwestern Germany after smoking some strong stuff. He teleported back into his tent somehow the next day.
Then there was my group of crazy Danish guys. I’ve never seen human beings drink as much as they had in such a short time span. They had pretty much brought with them an entire liquor store’s worth of booze. They also had this weird bong-like plastic pipe thingamajig called “Shafty”, that the hardcore ones would drink from and get totaled.
Laughing and drinking all day and night
One of the guys, Mark, was quite the Wacken celebrity too. He had a recurring act of dressing up in a Santa Claus outfit during certain concerts and he even got shout outs from bands like Alestorm. It was a wild, wild bunch. Crazy fun guys!
Drinking, Eating and Chilling
Whenever not at the stages, we’d either be chilling with a drink in our hand, or on our snack-break. The options for both were plentiful on the festival grounds. There was a great variety of food stalls to go around and while not cheap, the prices were not terribly high. There were also other options outside of the festival grounds. The nearby village of Wacken had plenty of restaurants and diners for a much needed hardy breakfast after a night of heavy drinking.
A great place for a hardy egg and sausage breakfast, with beer of course
For those extra hot days, there was also a public swimming pool not far from the festival grounds. One of the unbearably hot afternoons we drove over there to cool off. The place was packed to the brim. I just blindly followed my group all the way atop the main pool’s trampoline. However, once I got up there I remembered I’m really not a fan of heights.
The Wacken flame shines bright into the night
I had to wait for the person below to clear the area while my brain was kicking into panic mode. Not wanting to give it a second more, I rushed to the edge and jumped like an awkward gimp and landed like a sack of potatoes. It must’ve looked ridiculous, but boy did it feel good.
Final thoughts
Wacken Open Air was an unforgettable experience. It was everything I hoped for and more. Aside from the impressive lineup of bands and the various activities to keep myself constantly entertained, it was the feeling of brotherhood that really stuck with me. The feeling that even though we are nearly a hundred thousand strangers from all over the world gathering in this one spot, united by our love for music, we were all part of this one huge family of metalheads.
A proud member of the greater global metalhead family
Honestly, my only regret about Wacken was that due to my plan to travel to Austria for the yearly EUGEN event, I had to shorten my stay and missed out on the last epic night of the festival. Unfortunate as it was, I was convinced that this was not my last Wacken. I would surely come back again.
In fact, as I am writing this, the nostalgia is so strong that I can’t help but start planning a return to the holy grounds of metal the next year!
The first half of 2018 was rather uneventful. I was unemployed and spent most of my time searching for jobs. I was also busy with an internship during this period and it wasn’t until early summer that I took some time to go out on a few travels and adventures. That’s not to say that the spring was completely dull.
GEUS
As mentioned in my previous post I had managed to secure an internship at GEUS (The Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland), which I hoped would lead into a temporary work contract. Unfortunately, due to budget constraints it never did, but my time there was well spent.
I learned about fluid inclusions in minerals and eventually wrote a protocol for them on the subject. I also got to travel to Aarhus for a day trip to network and learn from one of Denmark’s foremost experts. On top of that, I got to collaborate with and befriend one of the coolest researchers I had met, the head of the LA-ICP-MS lab and my boss at GEUS, Tonny Thomsen.
A gloomy day of March in Aarhus, Denmark (2018)
Whenever I met someone new in my field of work, I would inquire about potential job opportunities. Despite my efforts, nothing materialized. Not that people weren’t interested in working with me, but there was always a timing, or money issue.
It seemed like I was stuck being unemployed for now. Nonetheless, I carried on with my search. Broadening my horizons outside of Denmark. I began applying for research projects in Germany, Belgium, the UK and sometimes the occasional project outside of Europe.
Off the coast of Zealand, Denmark
As the weather improved late in the spring, it brought back good memories of long cycling trips from the year before. I yearned to take a break and go out and explore again, so I convinced my flat-mate to join me on a day’s cycling trip to the chalky cliffs of Stevns Klint.
Stevns Klint
On a mid-May’s sunny day, we took the S-train to Køge, south of Copenhagen, and then hopped on our bikes for the rest of the 1.5 hour journey. Less memorable than the coastal road to Helsingør, the route to Stevns Kilnt took us across endless farmlands and a couple of small villages. Even if the trip there was rather dull, the destination more than made up for it.
Arriving at Højerup, a small town nearest to Stevns Klint
Located on the eastern coast of Zealand, Stevns Klint is a stunning 15-kilometer-long white chalk cliff that doesn’t just offer breathtaking views, but holds a story that changed the history of life on Earth. Recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, this cliff is one of the most scientifically important locations in the world for understanding the mass extinction that wiped out the dinosaurs.
Where dinosaurs met their end
What makes Stevns Klint so unique is a thin, dark layer of clay found within its layers of chalk and limestone. Known as the “fish clay”, this band is rich in iridium, a rare element more commonly found in asteroids than on Earth. This thin layer marks the Cretaceous-Paleogene (K-Pg) boundary, about 66 million years ago, and provides compelling evidence that a giant asteroid struck Earth – the same event believed to have triggered the extinction of nearly 75% of all species, including the non-avian dinosaurs.
The chalky cliffs at Stevns Klint
As you can imagine, the cliff is a paradise for geologists and paleontologists. My flat-mate, also a geologist was ecstatic. Before moving to Denmark he worked as a paleontologist on a research project in Romania. This was right up his alley.
The fish clay-extinction band running along the side of the cliff
Fossils preserved in the chalk layers above and below the iridium-rich boundary reveal a vivid picture of life before and after the impact. Tiny marine organisms like foraminifera show a sharp decline right at the boundary, offering one of the clearest extinction markers in the world. Scientists continue to study Stevns Klint to understand not only how life vanished but also how it rebounded in the aftermath.
Bonus modern attractions
Surprisingly enough, Stevns Klint isn’t just about ancient history. The geological features of the cliff weren’t news to me, but as we discovered the area also had stories from more recent times. Perched dramatically at the cliff’s edge is Højerup Church, a medieval church built around 1250. At the time located safely inland, but over the centuries inching ever closer to the edge due to relentless erosion of the cliff.
Højerup Church
For generations, the local legend warned that the cliff was retreating, inch by inch. In fact, there’s a Danish saying: “The church moves one cock-step closer to the sea every Christmas Eve.” While poetic, that warning became very real on March 16, 1928, when a large section of the cliff collapsed, taking the entire eastern part of the structure with it. Immediately decommissioned for religious services, the locals rallied to preserve what remained of the church.
The back of Højerup Church inching towards the sea
Beneath the cliffs, hidden in the limestone, is another surprise attraction. Namely the Stevnsfort Cold War Museum, a once-secret fortress built to withstand nuclear attacks during the Cold War.
Stevnsfort
Built in 1953, at the height of Cold War tensions, Stevnsfort was part of NATO’s front line defense. Its strategic location on the coast of Zealand gave it a commanding view over the Øresund Strait, a crucial naval passage between the Baltic Sea and the North Sea. The fortress was designed to help detect and, if necessary, halt Soviet warships attempting to reach Western Europe.
Rocket artillery pieces on display in the museum courtyard
For decades, the site was fully operational and highly classified. It wasn’t until the early 2000’s that the base was officially decommissioned and turned into a museum. Even as a museum it’s so hidden from sight that we didn’t notice it until we were leaving Stevns Klint. Only then did the huge tank and rocket artillery on display in the courtyard catch my eye, spurring me to investigate.
Nothing like posing with the Centurion MBT in your cycling gear…
Unfortunately though, it was fairly late in the afternoon and we wouldn’t have had time for a proper visit before closing time. That’s one attraction I regret never taking the time to go back to while still living in Denmark.
Day trip to Sweden
A couple of months later, my friends and I were preparing for another excursion. I don’t recall how and why we decided on this, but we were basically going to visit Malmö in Sweden for half a day.
Located just across the Øresund strait from Copenhagen, Malmö is the third largest city on Sweden and the largest city in the southernmost province of Skåne. The two cities are linked by one of Europe’s most impressive feats of engineering, the Øresund bridge.
The Øresund bridge on a muggy morning, seen from the Danish side
Opened in 2000, this impressive structure not only connected the two Nordic cities, but also formed a vital artery between Scandinavia and the rest of Europe. Spanning approximately 16 kilometers in total, the crossing combines a 7.8 km cable-stayed bridge with a 4 km underwater tunnel, joined in the middle by an artificial island named Peberholm. Accommodating both a 4-lane motorway and a dual-track railway, the bridge has become a cultural icon, famously featured in Nordic noir television and admired for its sleek design and ambitious scale.
The Øresundståg train, was the most convenient option for us. You can board it at several stations on the Danish side, including Copenhagen Central, Nørreport, Østerport stations, as well as Kastrup at Copenhagen Airport. The ride lasted about 40 minutes from downtown Copenhagen. Before we knew it we were already in Sweden.
Malmö
Once an industrial port town, Malmö has undergone a drastic transformation into a modern, eco-conscious city. So much so that it has taken the top on the list of Europe’s greenest cities.
Walking around Malmö
One of the most striking symbols of Malmö’s reinvention is the Turning Torso, a twisting skyscraper designed by Santiago Calatrava, which towers over the city’s redeveloped Western Harbour (Västra Hamnen). This area, once a shipyard, is now a model for sustainable urban living, featuring energy-efficient buildings, green spaces, and a popular seaside promenade.
The Turning Torso skyscraper in Malmö
Close encounter of the green kind
Malmö is also known for its strong tradition of activism and social engagement. It has long been a politically progressive city, often leaning left in Sweden’s political spectrum. It has a history of grassroots organizing and is home to numerous NGOs, cultural centers, and activist groups advocating for equality, justice, and environmental sustainability. I bring this up because even during our short visit we ran across activists engaging with people on the streets.
Dude just casually kite surfing the canals in Malmö
In our case, it was a vocal group advocating for veganism to combat animal cruelty and industrial farming through reduction of meat consumption. As much as we sympathized with the cause, we were not really the right target audience for their campaign, as at least at the time, we were all uncompromising meat-eaters. This lead to a few snarky remarks and “troll-face” exchanges, which the activists were not pleased with.
We weren’t there to please them, of course, just to explore and have a bit of fun, even if it meant rolling our eyes at a few preachy, virtue-signaling activists parading their self-fed moral superiority for all to admire.
Old town
Despite its modernity, Malmö still honors its historical roots. The medieval Stortorget and Lilla Torg squares are nestled among charming cobblestone streets in the old town, while landmarks like St. Peter’s Church offer a glimpse into the city’s rich past.
Statue of Karl X Gustav in Stortorget
The architecture in this area showcases the city’s rich history, with a blend of Renaissance, Baroque, and Neo-Gothic styles, similar to Copenhagen’s historic center. The nearby Malmöhus Castle, a Renaissance fortress now housing museums and exhibitions, stands as a testament to centuries of regional history.
Ready to go home after a day of exploring Malmö
After walking around the harbor and central areas for a few hours, we plopped down in the city’s main square and soaked in the afternoon sun. With a pleasant day of city-exploring behind us, we were ready to head back to the train station and Copenhagen.
During late November, 2017, while I was routinely scrolling through my Facebook feed, a random ad post caught my eye. It was from DFDS, a Danish international shipping and logistics company, and read something like “The cheapest ferry ride ever”, roundtrip from Copenhagen to Oslo.
With a raised eyebrow, and high skepticism I decided to check it out on their website and, it was indeed legit. Copenhagen to Oslo, round trip on selected dates within the next couple of weeks for 2 DKK… I repeat, TWO KRONER… That’s less than a dollar!
Full moon spontaneity
This was one of those rare opportunities for a spontaneous adventure that I couldn’t pass up. However, I hoped to get at least one of my friends on board to go with. This wasn’t the easiest thing to do as most of my friends were working at the time and couldn’t, or wouldn’t just want to suddenly take time off. Having recently graduated, I had the “luxury” of still being unemployed. Luckily, there was at least one other person I could think of in a similar boat.
None other than Eddy, my Nigerian colleague and close friend from KU who had also recently graduated and was job-searching. I quickly reached out to him with a proposal to take a break from the mundane and to join me on the cheapest ferry ride ever.
Setting sail
Within a week or so, Eddy and I were ready to embark on our dirt cheap journey to Norway. The ferry departs daily at 16:40 from Copenhagen and arrives in Oslo the next morning at around 10:00. It stays in port until around the same time in the afternoon before returning to Copenhagen. To keep to the theme of cheapest trip ever, both of us made sure to pack enough sandwiches to last us through the outbound journey.
Nordhavn, Copenhagen, before departure
Once on board, we left our things in our cabin in the bowels of the ship and rushed up and out onto the deck to enjoy the view; and what a view it was… Since it was around early December, it was already nightfall by the time we were supposed to leave. Copenhagen’s lights glimmered and shined against the fading hues of the late sunset, their reflections dancing over the dark, rippling waters.
Not long after, the ship began to slowly drift away from the shore. As we floated away, the bay of Nordhavn offered some excellent photo opportunities that I couldn’t pass up. The downside was that the chilly wind and ship’s movements made it hard to get a clean shot since my camera didn’t have stabilizer.
Eddy and I, ready to set sail
After leaving Copenhagen behind, we returned to our rooms to warm up and rest. This was my first time traveling on a big ship and I was curious if and how the rocking motion would affect me. For the first hours of the trip we could barely feel any movement. Eddy fell asleep and I sat in my bed reading and doom-scrolling through my phone.
The Kattegat sea
A couple of hours into our trip, the rocking had begun. It was very subtle at first, especially while laying in bed, but I noticed that I’d constantly have to reposition myself as I kept sliding off the bed. The novelty of this excited me and I immediately got up to go topside.
Old photos of ferry ships of the DFDS fleet on display
We had now left the calm waters of the Øresund strait and were sailing into the much more turbulent Kattegat sea. As I walked towards the deck, the rocking was way more prevalent. It wasn’t bad by any means, but it felt and looked as if everyone on the ship was a bit drunk. Once I got out, I was instantly hit by rushing cold winds and water droplets from the waves smashing into the side of the hull.
It felt bad enough that I didn’t want to get anywhere near the handrails. Instead, I kept close to the walls and enjoyed the raw elements battering our ship in the night from a safe distance. I was also pleasantly relieved that I didn’t feel any motion sickness. In fact the entire night trip was quite pleasant and I think all that rocking even helped put me to sleep faster.
Arriving in Oslo
When we got up the next morning, we finished our sandwiches and rushed back up onto the deck to be greeted by the sights of the Oslofjord.
Sailing through the Oslofjord
Sailing past residential and industrial buildings scattered across the surrounding hills, our ship slowly but surely made its way along the fjord and into the port of Oslo. As we turned to dock, one building in particular stuck out with its bold, modern, angular shape. Namely the Oslo Opera House, situated in Oslo harbor.
Oslo Opera House looking like an iceberg
After disembarking, Eddy and I wandered off into the busy streets of the city for a day of sightseeing.
Oslo
Arriving in Oslo feels like stepping into a city that balances its rich past with a crisp, modern energy. The Norwegian capital, founded over a thousand years ago during the Viking Age, has grown from a medieval trading post into a vibrant waterfront city. Walking along the harbor at Aker Brygge, you can see sleek new buildings standing beside old wooden piers, where merchant ships once unloaded goods from across Europe.
Oslo harbor from the ship’s deck
Heading inland, we followed the wide, clean streets past the striking Oslo City Hall, a huge red-brick building famous for hosting the Nobel Peace Prize ceremony. Its twin towers loom above the harbor, decorated with murals and carvings that tell stories of Norway’s seafaring and working-class roots. From there, the city begins to open up.
Oslo City Hall (Rådhus)
Crossing into the city center, we passed through the People’s Theater (Folketeateret), an art deco building that once hosted grand operas and plays, and today holds concerts and modern performances under its stately old signage.
Folketeatret, also home to a weird sculpture of Kate Moss in a yoga position, among other things
As we continued along some of the side streets, we came across this amusing giraffe mural on one of the buildings, its long neck and goofy-looking face resembling ET the extraterrestrial.
ET the giraffe
After about an hour of strolling through the streets, we arrived at the The Royal Palace (Det kongelige slott), located at the end of Karl Johans gate, the main boulevard of the city. Built between 1824 and 1848, the palace is the official residence of the Norwegian monarch.
Ain’t nothing like being back in Norway!
Standing as a historic landmark, the royal residence was originally built for King Charles III John, the first king of Norway after the country gained independence from Denmark.
Jul i Vinterland
Heading back from The Royal Palace, we passed by the central part of the University of Oslo’s historic campus and the Norwegian parliament building. It was around noon, so we were on the lookout for a cheap place to grab a bite. Not something easy to find in the center of Oslo.
University of Oslo building in the city center
As we strolled along Karl Johans gate, we came across “Jul i Vinterland”, Oslo’s largest and most iconic Christmas market. Located in Spikersuppa, a city square between the National Theatre and the Royal Palace, the enchanting market transforms the heart of the city into a festive wonderland each winter.
Oslo’s Christmas market
At the center of the market was an open-air ice skating rink, free for all to enjoy. Surrounded by twinkling lights and festive music, it provided a perfect setting for skating enthusiasts and families alike. Various amusement rides dotted the square, including a 40-meter-high Ferris wheel providing panoramic views of the city.
Food and drink stalls at Jul i Vinterland
All across the square bustling stalls offered a variety of gifts, clothing, toys, and culinary delights. We couldn’t pass up the chance to enjoy a cup of gløgg (mulled wine) while we were there.
Nothing like a cup of gløgg on a cold December day
As we stood there in the cool outdoors enjoying our hot beverage, the first snowflakes of the season started coming down, marking the start of winter. Even if it barely lasted a few minutes, it was just such a perfectly hygge moment… Being back in Norway and enjoying a hot drink in a festive atmosphere with one of my dearest friends while witnessing the first snowfall of the end of 2017.
Oslo harbor and heading back home
After leaving the market, we found a reasonably priced place to have a quick lunch and then made our way back to the harbor. We strolled around there for another hour, or two until it was time to head back to the ferry.
The Diver (Dykkaren) located along the harbor promenade
This was now my third time visiting Norway and thus far each of my visits had these memorable “feel good” moments that I will never forget. Be it the peaceful solitude of the lonely mountain high above the fjords in Borgund, the vivid sunset reddening the sky in Jostedalsbreen National Park, or the first snowfall at Oslo’s cozy Christmas market.
There was definitely something special about this country for me. Something that kept calling me back. Whether this would lead to a more permanent move there in the future was anyone’s guess. For the moment, it was time to head back home to Denmark.
Adios Oslo. Until next time!
That night on the ferry, Eddy and I decided to dine out on the ship. Even if a bit pricey, after this incredibly cheap little holiday we felt we deserved a little indulging. Plus, this was my way poor-man’s way of paying back DFDS for this awesome opportunity that basically cost nothing.
A delicious steak and beer dinner on the ferry
While enjoying our steaks and fancy beers, I kept thinking of if and when will the day come that an experience like dining out on a ship won’t feel like indulging in a once in a lifetime financial expense. Will there ever be a time when I can just enjoy things without constantly looking at the costs? Maybe… Hopefully.
Hoisting up the Danish flag. We’re coming home!
The next morning, while we were back sailing in the calm Øresund strait towards Copenhagen, I was out on the deck looking out at the horizon, wondering what the future holds. Even with all the ups and downs of life, and constant financial difficulties, as long as the good stories and adventures kept flowing, life was pretty darn good and worthwhile.
The summer of 2017 was passing by fast and I was nearing the September deadline for submitting my Masters thesis. There was always the option to request an extension like most other students were doing, but I wanted to make a point of finishing mine in time. Another one of those little prideful quirks of mine. So the pressure was on.
I had no more time for fun cycling trips, or friendly night outs. I had also quit my Danish language classes earlier in the year and my part-time job early summer. This was the moment to fully devote my attention to my research and future.
I was in full crunch mode. By that point in my work, I had processed all the data that I gathered from my Icelandic rocks and I had a fairly solid narrative in mind to present my interpretations. Without going into details, I can say that some of the data was aligning with the existing narrative well, but a few oddball data points were sticking out and I made it my mission to try and find a good hypothesis to address them.
Long nights in the lab with my “precious” electron microprobe. Unlocking the geochemical secrets of my primitive olivines
After weeks of brain storming, now well into my thesis writing period, I had a “Eureka” moment to explain the outliers in my dataset. It was of course a very rough around the edges idea, but with help from my supervisors, I managed to stitch together a cohesive and plausible explanation.
Why am I writing about all this? Well, just to point out that amidst the long and hard working days in the summer of 2017, I was highly excited and was thoroughly enjoying my research work. So much so, that I began seriously pondering continuing down the academic path after my Masters.
I had discovered the true face of primitive olivines! Perhaps it was time to get off the probe and go for a walk
The call back to Iceland
During the later months of the summer I kept thinking back to the years of career stagnation after graduating in Romania. I was not about to let that happen again. So while working on the final parts of my thesis, I tentatively began to search for a PhD project. Mainly in the Nordic countries. In a surprisingly short time, I found a perfect PhD opportunity for myself at the University of Iceland. Why perfect? Because it was literally the continuation of my current research. Same specialization, same area, and focus-wise it was the next logical step with regards to the work I had done. I immediately applied.
Soon enough I got a positive reply and they invited me to an online interview and opportunity to present my Masters work. After the smooth presentation, I got one of the best reactions you could get. They asked me if I was doing a Masters there, or a PhD, since the workload was so vast. Suffice to say, they were very impressed, and I was extremely excited. It felt like a beautiful next step of my story… From Romania to Denmark, to Iceland, and beyond!
When the ship’s about to sail and you’re not on it, what can you do, but play along to the bittersweet tune of fate
Unfortunately, that was not to be my story. As eager as they were to hire me on the spot, there was a little problem. They needed me to have already graduated from my Masters and they couldn’t wait until after September. I even told them that I could try rushing my thesis out in the hopes of graduating sooner, but it was still not enough. They needed someone to start within the next few weeks.
It was such a blow to be so close, just to see the opportunity of a lifetime slip away… However, the experience had given me an unbelievable confidence boost. If I got this close to getting a PhD while I wasn’t even finished with my Masters, afterwards was going to be a cakewalk, surely, I thought.
Judgment day
On a beautiful sunny day at the end of summer 2017, in the dark depths of the students office at KU, a grand Master thesis was born. Forged in the fires of Iceland and molded in the underground labs of the Geocenter, this unholy manuscript of geological power was ready to be submitted for review, and unleashed upon the world at large.
Behold my GLORIOUS manuscript “New constraints of the source components for Icelandic magmas from primitive olivine and rocks“. Doesn’t that title just roll off the tongue?
I think I had about two weeks before my thesis defense. It was nice to relax and take a breath for a change. On some days I’d cycle around Copenhagen daydreaming about where fate would take me after this.
Iceland? Norway? Sweden? Switzerland? something more exotic like New Zealand perhaps? or would I just remain in Denmark and embrace the hygge for the rest of my life? If before I felt I could see my path laid out before me with relative certainty, now things were unclear… Hidden by a fog of uncertainty. But it was exciting!
Nothing is impossible, but how far are you willing to go?
In no time, the day of my thesis defense was upon me. I held my presentation in front of a small room of colleagues, friends and professors. When in previous years I had presentation anxiety, this time I was as solid as a rock. Pun intended. But seriously, after the months I had spent meticulously combing through my data, reading literature and writing my thesis, I could easily talk about my work in my sleep.
After the presentation, I remained in the examination room with just my supervisors and an external examiner. It was “grilling” time. The three of them fired a plethora of questions at me. We sat and discussed various interesting points of my work. Some critiques, but for the most part, a lot of positive feedback. After a sweat-inducing two and a half hours of grilling, I came out of the room… medium-rare!
The verdict
After a few minutes of deliberating, they called me back in to give me their final thoughts and verdict. There could have been a few improvements made here and there, but overall it was a very good manuscript and considering all the work I put into it over the past year, they gave me the top mark! I almost fell out of my seat! I was hoping for a high mark, but this?? Top grade on a Masters thesis from one of Europe’s most prestigious Universities? I did not see that coming.
As opposed to Anakin Skywalker, I was granted the rank of Master with flying colors!
My supervisor also presented me with the results of some fresh isotope analysis he had done on my outlier samples. This was not part of my thesis, but more of a curiosity side-study to check my hypothesis. The data confirmed my assumptions! Without saying a word, Paul Martin just gave me a proud look with a big grin on his face that just filled me with pride and joy. It was the cherry on top of the cake for me.
Post-exam mood surrounded by my KU friends and colleagues
What followed was an afternoon of celebration with friends and colleagues. For the Danes, it was customary for family members to attend the graduate celebration, but for me in that moment, they, my friends and colleagues were my family.
We had cake and drinks and blasted “We are the champions” by Queen on the speakers in the class room. That feeling of relief and elation was something else… Something magical. A feeling that lasted for days to come.
Aftermath
My supervisor and I had plans to submit my work to a scientific journal after some needed refinement. This, I thought, would also boost my chances to land a PhD. Two weeks we said. It will take us two weeks. Five years later… our hard work got published. It was no fault of either of us, but between his busy schedule and my job searching, it took painfully long… Even after so many years though, it felt good seeing my heavily frankensteined work finally get published.
Back in the fall of 2017 though, I was more actively looking for the next career opportunity. As the weeks and months passed by, I would slowly broaden my search. One of the main countries I was eyeing had become New Zealand. Mostly thanks to a Kiwi professor we had at KU and a Kiwi girl I met and got close to the year before – I can hear you groaning and rolling your eyes, reader! The point is that it was thanks to them that I began thoroughly researching New Zealand and discovered the spectacular beauty of that country. From afar, of course.
I got in contact with a few professors from Auckland and Otago and there was clear interests on both sides. However, the New Zealand PhD application process was not in my favor. As opposed to Europe, the professors there only had funding for the research itself and not for the candidate’s salary/grant. Doctorate wages in New Zealand are given out as scholarships by government institutions. This leads to a very rigid point-based system where candidates with the best overall grades from undergrad and post-grad get offered the grants.
You work and play so hard that you risk getting drunk on your euphoria and overconfidence, blinding you to the mountains of hurdles and hardships before you. And when your pick breaks… the music stops
My high level research and top-grade thesis didn’t even count in that bureaucratic systems eyes. Suffice to say, my overall average grades were not good enough, frustrating both me and the professors alike.
The grind begins anew
As 2017 rolled into 2018, my frustration was growing by the day. There I was once more in the same situation as before… Jobless, uncertain, with hopes and dreams slowly eroding away. Ever widening my search parameters. Not limiting myself anymore to certain countries, or academic paths.
In early 2018, I managed to get a four month internship at the Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland through the help of my examiner, who happened to work at GEUS. Each time, something like this would happen, I’d start wondering if this was a sign. A sign that I was on the right path and this was the door opening towards my glorious future. Trying to find abstract justification for why certain things in the past hadn’t worked out. It was all in the plan! Right? Right?? All my past excitement about the unknown was slowly turning into dread.
The sad reality was that in Denmark and Europe in general there just weren’t many jobs in my career. With a dwindling oil and gas industry and an almost absent mining industry, all that was left for geologists to do was work in the civil sector, meaning you had to be fluent in the local language, or go down the academic path and risk getting caught in an endless loop of study and poorly payed research jobs. And as much time as I spent learning Danish, I was still far from a work-level fluency.
The year 2018 was shaping up to a very uncertain and turbulent year. But not one without its moments of crazy fun and adventure!
About a month after our big cycling trip to Helsingør, my flat mate and I were on our bikes again. This time around, we were cycling to Roskilde. During my time in Denmark, I had heard many times of this historic city 30 km west of Copenhagen, mostly in the context of its famous summer festival. Even though I never got around to attend it, I figured it was high time I payed this historic city a visit.
Cycling to Roskilde
The weather was a bit muggy that day, not too warm, not too cold, with a constant breeze blowing long hair into eyes. Basically, your typical Danish summer day. Starting from Farum early in the morning, we cycled for about two hours through the Danish countryside. This mostly consisted of lush farmlands interrupted by occasional small towns. Not as eye-pleasing as the coastal road we had done during our last trip, but the backroads were pretty good for biking, and there was little to no traffic.
Roskilde
We reached Roskilde by the northern road following the Roskilde fjord. The fjord being one of the key elements of this old Viking town. Founded during the Viking Age, the city became an important trading hub and a center of power for Danish kings. According to legend, Harald Bluetooth, the king who helped unify Denmark and convert it to Christianity, established Roskilde as a royal seat in the 10th century.
Roskilde fjord
During the medieval period, Roskilde grew into a major religious center. The construction of Roskilde Cathedral in the 12th and 13th centuries solidified the city’s importance. This UNESCO World Heritage site is the final resting place of Danish monarchs, with over 40 kings and queens buried within its walls. The cathedral’s Gothic brick architecture and historical significance make it a key landmark in Denmark’s cultural heritage.
Roskilde Cathedral
Despite losing its status as Denmark’s capital to Copenhagen in the 15th century, Roskilde remained a vital city. It continued to be a religious and economic center, playing a key role in regional trade.
The 5 m tall Roskilde Jars (Roskilde Krukkerne) created by Danish artist Peter Brandes in 1998
In modern times, the famous Roskilde Festival I mentioned previously is one of Europe’s largest music festivals and well worth experiencing. Outside of festival season, the Viking Ship Museum is the city’s top attraction.
The Viking Ship Museum
After cycling around the city center for a while, we headed to the famous Viking Ship Museum. Located along the Roskilde Fjord, the museum is dedicated to Viking maritime culture and shipbuilding. It is best known for its collection of five original Viking ships, known as the Skuldelev ships, which were excavated from the fjord in the 1960s.
The Viking Ship Museum in Roskilde
The Skuldelev ships date back to the 11th century and were deliberately sunk to create a barrier against enemy attacks on Roskilde. Each of the five ships served a distinct purpose: one was a long, narrow warship built for speed and raids, while another was a sturdy trading vessel designed to carry cargo across long distances. The remaining ships included a coastal trader and smaller boats used for fishing and local transport.
Recovered Viking ships on display at the museum
The discovery of these ships provided invaluable insights into Viking shipbuilding techniques, maritime warfare, and daily life on the sea. Aside from the exhibits, the museum offers a hands-on experience with Viking shipbuilding techniques. Visitors can watch skilled craftsmen use traditional techniques in full-scale reconstructions of the original ships.
Ship building workshop
During the summer months, visitors can also hop on board one of the reconstructed Viking ships for a rowing experience through the fjord. Before setting off, participants receive instructions from museum staff on Viking rowing techniques, teamwork, and navigation.
Museum visitors rowing away in their Viking ship
A synchronized effort is required to keep the vessel moving smoothly, so rowers must follow the rhythm set by the crew leader. If conditions are right, the sail can also help them out.
A worthwhile visit
After our visit to the museum, we slowly made our way back towards Farum. Another two hours across the peaceful Danish countryside. The sun finally decided to come out to greet us in the afternoon as we rode back. Even though our trip to Roskilde was rather short, the Viking Ship Museum made it worthwhile. I would highly recommend a visit, especially to any Viking enthusiasts out there!
My main objective in 2017 was finishing my Masters thesis. It was going to be a highly work-intensive year with no plans to travel abroad. Cycling had always helped me relax and clear my mind in the past. So in my attempts to cope with the stress and mental fatigue of a demanding year, 2017 would turn out to be a year of cycling and exploring Eastern Denmark.
Cycling: The solution to everything
After moving to Farum at the end of 2016, I was heavily reliant on the Danish S-trains to get into Copenhagen for work. Luckily the trains were fitted with plenty of bicycle areas so passengers could bring their bikes aboard. However, things would get very chaotic during rush hours when the train would be absolutely packed with bike-wielding people. If you were unfortunate enough to be stuck in the middle, you’d have no chance of getting out in time for your stop.
Late winter in the Danish forests
To avoid the nuisance of train chaos, I began cycling back home, instead of taking the S-train. Cycling the 20 km distance would take me just around 30 minutes extra, but it would be much more rewarding. Especially on a beautiful sunset evening with good weather!
Cycling also became my solution to keeping up my gym routine. Farum didn’t have a FitnessDK gym, which I was a member of, and I wouldn’t always want to go all the way to Copenhagen just to work out. Instead, I would cycle to the nearby village of Birkerød. Thus Farum-Birkerød became another regular cycling route.
An old friend
A few months into the year, a close friend of mine from my undergrad years decided to move to Denmark for a fresh start. At around the same time, my old flat-mate was moving out, so my friend Cipri moved in in his place. I had really talked up the Danish cycling culture to him and he was keen on getting into it.
Throughout the year we did several long day rides across the island of Zealand. From Helsingør and Hillerød, to as far as Steven’s Klint in the south and Gilleleje at the top north of eastern Denmark.
Cipri and I on our Helsingør cycling trip
Our first big cycling trip of the year was Copenhagen to Helsingør and then back to Farum. A respectable 85 to 90 km ride that would take us the better part of the day.
A gorgeous day trip to Helsingør
We set out on our big cycling trip on the 20th of May. It was a gorgeous sunny day. Nice and warm with a constant gentle breeze. We took the S-train to Østerport and started cycling from there. The reason I didn’t want to start from Farum was to show Cipri the beautiful coastal road heading up north from Copenhagen.
A great day for water activities and biking along the coast
Starting off with the beautiful neighborhoods at the outskirts of the Copenhagen, the road passed by my old “sanctuary” at Charlottenlund beach park. After passing the last vestige of outer-Copenhagen at Klampenborg, the road followed along the eastern edge of the beautiful, forested Deer Park.
Danish peer in the foreground, Swedish coast in the background
Occasionally losing sight of the coast, the road to Helsingør, continued north with intermittent beaches and marinas on the Øresund straight. Given the beautiful weather that day, a rarity in Denmark, the seawaters were filled sailboats and various other pleasure-crafts.
Sailboat on the Øresund
For the next stretch, the road would cross several wealthy coastal small towns and neighborhoods, offering endless appealing sights to admire. This was by far my favorite cycling route in Denmark.
Helsingør
After a few hours of cycling we had arrived at Helsingør. The coastal road now continued along the Helsingør harbor and waterfront. There, daily ferries connect Helsingør to Helsingborg (Sweden) across the narrowest part of the Øresund straight. Once a key maritime trade hub, the harbor now blends history with modern attractions, featuring lively promenades, seafood restaurants, and cultural landmarks like the Culture Yard (Kulturværftet).
Helsingør harbor and the ferry to Helsingborg
Continuing along the coast, we stumbled upon a curious sculpture. Known as the “Garbage Fish” it was created in 2014 by Japanese artist Hideaki Shibata from plastic waste collected from the sea. The sculpture serves as a powerful reminder of the environmental impact of marine debris and emphasizes the importance of recycling and waste management.
The colorful Garbage Fish. A landmark in Helsingør
Further along the waterworks, we reached Helsingør top attraction and my destination point for the day: Kronborg Castle.
The history of Kronborg Castle
Designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Kronborg Castle is one of the most famous Renaissance castles in Europe. Tthe castle is renowned for its role in Shakespeare’s Hamlet and its strategic location controlling the Øresund Strait. With a rich history spanning over 600 years, Kronborg has been a royal residence, military fortress, and cultural landmark.
Kronborg Castle courtyard from the top floor
The site of Kronborg Castle was originally home to Krogen, a medieval fortress built in the early 15th century by King Eric of Pomerania. Its purpose was to enforce the Sound Toll, a tax on ships passing through the Øresund Strait, making it a crucial part of Denmark’s economy. The revenue from this toll contributed significantly to the Danish crown’s wealth for centuries.
The row of cannons along the battlements pointed towards the Øresund Strait
A grand Renaissance castle
In the late 16th century, King Frederick II ordered the transformation of Krogen into a grand Renaissance castle, renaming it Kronborg. Influenced by Dutch and Flemish architectural styles, the new structure featured ornate towers, decorative facades, and elegant interiors. Under Frederick II, Kronborg became one of the most splendid castles in Northern Europe and a symbol of Denmark’s power.
Dining table in one of the many rooms at Kronborg
In 1629, a massive fire broke out, destroying much of the castle’s interior. However, the outer walls remained intact, allowing King Christian IV to rebuild it in a similar style. The new interiors were less extravagant but retained the fortress’s grandeur.
Holger Danske, the eternal protector of Denmark in Danish folklore
In 1658, Kronborg was captured by Swedish forces during the Dano-Swedish War. Though they plundered the castle’s valuables, it was later returned to Danish control. Over time, Kronborg evolved into a military barracks, housing soldiers for nearly 200 years until 1857, when it ceased military operations and was restored as a cultural landmark.
Sights and thoughts
The fortress boasts around 40 rooms that are open for visitors, as well as the dungeon. The rooms range from royal dining rooms and bedrooms to game rooms and study rooms. The Chapel remains as one of the best preserved parts of Kronborg and the only section that survived the devastating 1629 fire untouched.
Kronborg inner courtyard and clock tower
The dungeon bellow offered its own interesting story, from casemates to beer cellars. our tour guide told us about how Danish soldiers of old would drink several beer a day instead of water because the water was so polluted. A hardy bunch!
View of Helsingør harbor from the castle tower
On top of all this, the outside views like the inner and outer courtyard, as well as the rooftop terrace offer fantastic views of the fortress and it’s surroundings. One could easily spend hours in and around Kronborg and I would highly recommend a visit to this historic Castle to anyone planning a trip to Denmark.
On top of the fortress
I highly enjoyed my tour, but I tried not to dawdle too much. After all, we still had two and a half hours of cycling left to get back home. With sun in our face, we bolted off towards Farum. In total, cycling around five hours that day.
After returning from my holiday in Norway, I fell back into my work-study routine for the rest of 2016. Apart from the occasional bike trips to Bakken, or hang outs with my friends from university, the last months were fairly uneventful. It was soon time to close a triumphant year of success and adventure.
Svanemøllen beach near where I lived in my first year in Copenhagen
Work and study were intense through this period. I didn’t have any more courses, but I began thoroughly working on the samples collected in Iceland. Whenever I wasn’t working in the labs, I tried to read through one of the numerous scientific articles my supervisor had sent me. Apart from that, I had my part-time job and Danish language classes to fill my time. Whenever I’d manage to get a free day during the week, I’d try to hang out with friends. I remember being amused at one of my Danish friends, Irene, calling me a machine because it seemed like I wasn’t ever taking any breaks.
I was busier than ever and it felt great. It felt so rewarding! Having purpose, earning money, building my life and having more friends than ever.
The housing crisis is back
As busy as I had become, I had completely forgotten the unwritten terms of my then living arrangement. If you recall, I had moved in with one of my friends in early summer. However, the deal was supposed to be short term, while I find my own place. I was still looking, but not as hard as I should have. With everything else happening, looking for a new place had fallen to the bottom of my priority list. That’s until, Lasse gave me a wake-up call in November, which then really took me off guard.
The autumn streets of Frederiksberg, Copenhagen
I tried to figure out if there was an issue I could fix with him so that I could stay more, but the man simply wanted to go back to living alone. Which was completely understandable. Although I jokingly kept poking him for years later about that time he wanted to “kick me out on the streets”. Hehe… It wasn’t anything like that, of course (If you’re reading this Lasse, you know I love ya, buddy!). In any case, the pressure was on to find a new place to live. Not an easy feat in Copenhagen.
Farum
After quickly exhausting all possibilities in Copenhagen due to unavailability and pricing, I had to settle on moving out of the city. As long as I could live close to an S-train station, I could easily get in and out of the city. I ended up panic-agreeing to a basement apartment in a house to the west of Copenhagen. The price was a bit steep for me, but I was going to have a fairly large area to myself.
Incoming train towards Farum at Østerport station, Copenhagen
No written contract, just a trust-based payment. However, on second inspection, I found quite a few things that were off putting, like no toilet seat, very poor lighting throughout the day, dirty surroundings and a moldy smell. Oh and did I mention NO TOILET SEAT? That one really bothered me. But I had already sent those people my two month deposit.
Just as I was getting ready to move in, a much better offer had fallen into my lap through a friend of a friend from Romania. At the risk of losing my deposit, a substantial amount, I decided to cancel the first offer and go with the second. Thus, I ended up moving to Farum, a small town to the north of Copenhagen.
One of the regular visitors on our balcony in Farum
I had a nice clean room with a balcony and was sharing the lower part of an apartment with a neat and friendly Romanian guy. As for the other offer, well… I never saw my deposit again. Still worth it.
Holiday season
With the holiday season around the corner, I was planning to gift my mom a trip to Copenhagen so we could be together for Christmas. I wanted her to experience arriving in Denmark the same way I had, so a Norwegian Airlines flight from Budapest was the best option. I had also found a decently priced room in the WakeUpCopenhagen hotel, right in the city center. All she had to do was get herself to Budapest a couple of days before Christmas.
At the Little Mermaid statue with my mom
It was around that time that I had bought my second bike. A new one, fresh from the store. It was a simple city bike, but without all the quirks of “Shame“. So from that point on, Shame became the tourist bike I would lend out to anyone visiting me. Sometimes it was also the backup bike whenever my main one had a flat tire. Shame would never disappoint, despite it’s shameful name!
Checking out the Christmas decoration around central Copenhagen
My mom was fairly quickly impressed with her experience, having appropriately flown on the “Hans Christian Andersen” plane from Norwegian Airlines. Old Andersen being one of her favorite authors growing up. She also enjoyed cycling, so Copenhagen’s extensive cycling culture was ideal for her.
Touring the city
During her few days there, I basically wanted to show her around as many places as I could. I would head back to Farum each evening and then take a train to Copenhagen the next morning. By the time I would arrive she would have had time to go through her morning routine, and then we’d have the entire day to cycle around.
Rosenborg castle in The King’s Garden
We toured the Copenhagen Citadel, Amelienborg, Frederik’s Church, The King’s Garden and of course Nyhavn. I gave her a tour of my university campus as well. On another day we cycled all the way to my sanctuary at Charlottenlund beach. I probably also took her around Østerbro to show her where I used to live. It was basically a tour of my life for the past year and a half.
Hans Christian Andersen statue in The King’s Garden
She enjoyed it very much. She also developed an odd love and fascination for canons, which were plentiful around the old city fortifications. Even to this day she gets excited whenever she sees an old canon or artillery piece displayed in a park.
We caught the changing of the guards at Amelienborg
We spent Christmas night in the hotel room. I was hoping to be able to go out for a nice dinner somewhere, but all restaurants were of course closed. The only thing I found open was my favorite Turkish kebab place. So we ended up ordering a pizza from there. A Christmas pizza!
It’s Turkish Christmas pizza time! With some fine wine and decorations
On our last night, we visited Tivoli Gardens. Tivoli is basically an amusement park and my mom wasn’t really big on rides, or anything like that, but she was taken away by the decorations. She was snapping photos left and right at every little corner. Suffice to say, she had fallen in love with Denmark by this point.
A happy mom at Tivoli Gardens
Considering that my mom raves about that Copenhagen Christmas holiday to this day, I would say it was a resounding success.
New Years Eve
After Christmas had passed and my mom left, I went back to my work routine. I had to work on the 31’st of December too, which lasted well into the night. I didn’t make any plans, so at around 10 pm when I was done, I messaged my friends to see if anyone was available to grab a few a drinks in the city for New Years Eve. One of my friends, Carlos, replied.
We met up soon enough and bought some extra strong Carlsberg Elephant beers. I’m not going to go into details, but we ended up having a pretty wild night on the streets of Copenhagen. We even made it to the Town Hall square for the fireworks just in the nick of time!
Those Carlsberg Elephants hit hard!
The next morning I woke up at Carlos’ place with a pounding headache and an adequate hangover. It was an appropriate way to close a triumphant year of success and adventure. One of my best years to date!
