That night, however, ended at 11pm. Well 1am for me because I could not sleep. I laid in my bed and debated whether or not to get up. I tiptoed through the house, with the now-familiar snores of my host mother wafting through the rooms. I ended up calling home only to hear familiar voices saying, "Oh, my aunt's got the turkey coming out in a few minutes. We have some really good pumpkin pie... and such and so on." So I was a little bit sad. My parents said that they had a "quiet" Thanksgiving. Well. I had a very loud, wet, and smoky one.

We walked to the train station where my friends uhm, forgot to buy a ticket. Michelle immediately found out that she had left her camera at my house, so she decided that if one of the train police came onto the train, that she would take all of her anger, sadness, and frustration about her camera, and turn it into a lovely story about how our friend had their tickets. We were seated next to a lovely couple who whispered about the "Amerikanerne," even though Michelle is very much Canadian. So we proceeded to talk about our lives of being porn stars in Odense and having 10 different sex partners. Yeps. All was well until we got to Ballerup and the 3 train police came on. We suddenly decided that it was our stop and ran off the train. Ha! The thing about those damn tog police is that they aren't really police, and that if you get a really cute male one, he will probably let you off if you pretend like you don't speak a word of Danish and have an exchange student get together in the city (which you have never seen and you don't know how to pronounce).

Our dear friend Mike was being an asshole so we decided to hoof it to the hostel on our own. Before crossing the moat, we saw a nice place to take a picture, so we took off all of our bags and got out the camera. The girls were getting more and more pissed off as me as we passed Solitudevej. And even though the street we were on was cheery with Christmas decorations, all we wanted was something to eat and to get to our hostel. We finally got to the hostel, where we were met with a really typical mural. Yes, you can nurse your children in public in Denmark. And you can even make murals about it.

We were very happy to be there, although it cost 140 kroner, with all these hidden costs that we wish did not exist. But oh well. We were happy to be there anyway. Mike and Forest finally came, and we all decided to go get shawarma food right in our neighborhood where it was 10 kroner, instead of 30 kroner shawarma in the hippest zone in town. Yep, we like Nørrebro.

Then being the really rad people that we are, we cheated the København buses again, and proceeded downtown. We had an interesting time, but not enough to detail. One thing that did make me very happy was that my pictures from Nyhavn turned out. We stood by containers of hot coals and warmed our hands and fumed our noses. A marching band passes by, and we drank our Stor Tuborgs and smiled at each other. It was very "hyggelig," but cold. That's when Mike came up with the brilliant idea of stopping into an old maid's bar. She snarled up to us and he got some sort of drink, and we sat there and admired the fact that we didn't make steam when we breathed. Although it was just 5 o'clock, it seemed about 10 in this Scandinavian world. We decided to hoof it back to the hostel before we fell asleep on a street corner. That's when an old man started babbling to me about computers on the bus. Good think I know when to say, "Ja." and "Åh, nej." Mike joined in. For that, he had me buy him another kebab.

Back at the hostel I started to talk to Pepe, from Spain. He gave me a nectarine, and we talked about København in spanish. Then we met a guy from Alaska. Amazingly, he knew one of my friends in Anchorage, Chelsey. Chelsey went with me to Costa Rica last summer, along with Rachel. We revelled on what a small world it is. Hygge Hygge HYGGE. Yep, we hyggede for a good 5 hours back there. Forest fell asleep, it was so hyggelig.

The girls had a different story, about not being able to get into the Australian bar. But Mike and I, along with our new friend, Peter (who I unfortunately did not take a picture of), got into that bar. We proceeded to buy very expensive Australian goods. It was an okay time, with Boy George in the background, hyggin with our quiet but proud Brit friend who, as I remember, will study media in the US of A. We met up with the girls and went over to a seedy tequila bar, where we met very seedy people who hit on us all, at least with their eyes. Oh, what a night.

Fast forward through 2 hours of fitful sleep, and you have the after effects. We woke up to the sounds of Portuguese, our Scottish friends overhead, and our growling stomachs. I had not eaten since the shawarma place the day before. So, being good informed exchange students, we headed for Netto, where we found assorted breakfast goods for our consumption.

Mmmm Yogurt...

Mmm... Appelsin Juice.

Breakfast was set in the elegant setting of an Apartment Complex's stately concrete walkway.

Breakfast in Action

After that, we had to say goodbye. We had a nice walk, and nothing else could tempt our tastbuds. At the train station, we bid adieu to our dear Farst, who was taking our money and wildcards because he was bankrupt. We waited around, with full stomachs and sick heads. We finally said goodbye to Meesh and Texas, as the tog-police lingered by the door. What nerve they have to laugh. Bah!

Here is a list of all the pictures--as there are some I left out.

Nu, Hjem.