The happiest place on earth. But really.

I think we're all about too find out what I look like with blonde hair and blue eyes. After all, I don't want to stick out too much when I move to Scandinavia. Have I mentioned how much I like that part of the world? As if my love wasn't already abundantly clear, here comes another blog post dedicated to the happiest part of the world (but actually, it has been proven to be the happiest city).

            Copenhagen has been at the top of my travel list for a few years now, ever since my brilliant incredible and beautiful friend Ali told me about her semester abroad. Finally, after hearing about its wonder and Ali's biggest complaint that everyone was too pretty and normal, it was finally time to join the fun.

I'm a little biased about how great the city is because I have a weakness for bright lights, shiny holiday joy, and free samples that made me fall head over heels almost immediately. The minute I entered the walking streets of stroget I felt like I was in whoville. Christmas is a way of life there, so much so that I think they produce gingerbread cookies instead of bodily fluids. That's the only explanation I can think of for why there were buckets of gingerbread cookies at every store, stand, and street corner just calling my name. And I answered.

The walking streets led me to the bright lights in one of the oldest amusement parks: Tivoli. This place is more like a Disney movie than Disney world is. And there is something for absolutely everyone. Want a Michelin star restaurant that looks like a snowy castle?

Or maybe some rides and games that take you around the world in 80 minutes?

If none of that interests you, how about some concerts or a stroll through another Christmas market filled with Gnoam’s brethren and holiday goodies?

Even the Russians can be happy here:

Seriously, you want it, they got it and it will make you smile.
After all that holiday and family joy I decided it was time for the Hannah version of Christmas so I celebrated Shabbat at the Copenhagen Chabad. No matter how you feel about chabad, if you can find a fairly active, just do it. I've had some less than positive experiences, fine, but the good times FAR outweigh the bad. The good times (which, Copenhagen and Venice currently top my list) are the perfect place for lonely travelers looking for some Jewish traditions, family fun, and a free home-cooked meal. Between meeting three Australian brothers who became my travel buddies, getting to celebrate Shabbat dinner and lunch at a table crowded with warm people and warm food, and letting my Jewish mother/babushka loose by helping in the kitchen, this place was just what I needed. Maybe instead of a food blog I'll have a blog dedicated to different Shabbat dinners... Anyone want to take me in? I do dishes!

And while we're talking about food (because I'm always talking about food), I may not have gotten to eat the 26 course meal at the number 1 restaurant in the world 3 years running (it's a lowly number 2 now anyway) but Michelin stars or not, my belly was like santa on Christmas eve; very busy and very jolly. As the wise Ali advised, "There will be bakeries on almost every corner and every time you walk by one, you must go in and get a croissant or something." I can't say I did exactly that (I needed to fit on the plane to get home) but I sure did try. 

The best bakery item I ate was actually in the airport when I was trying to use up my kronor and I spotted chocolate black bread. Black bread is something I was first introduced to in Latvia and recently learned is important in other cuisines, such as Danish. I think the best way to explain the bread is to clarify that in Russian there are 2 words for bread: black bread and bread. So basically, it is its own breed. Black bread is extraordinarily dark, sharp, and sometimes dry. It took some getting used to until I realized how well it soaks up other flavors. And how good it is when it’s chocolatey and soft. The Danes are so good with food they not only make black bread delicious but they even have good pastries in their airport. What is this place? Black bread is also an important part of their lunch delicacy, smorreboard. Basically, they’re known for their open-faced sandwiches of black bread with butter and meat, fish, or other similar toppings. I decided if I was trying it, I was eating all I could eat in the form of an all you can eat pickled herring smorreboard buffet at Nyhavns Færgekro. 

It's a little extreme, I know, especially for someone who usually hates fish, but this was a whole new world under the sea. I am so sorry I cannot tell you what on earth the different types of pickled herring were but I can tell you I liked them all. Actually, all. My favorites were the two purple ones. They were a little sweet to counterbalance the saltiness of the fish and one had lovely oranges and onions so I at least got in some vegetables and fruits. After catching up up on a lifetime of not eating fish in one sitting I may not need or want to eat fish for a while, but it was all sorts of worth it. 

Another noteworthy meal came from the porridge restaurant that I woke up early to visit before rushing off to the airport. The restaurant is called Grot and specializes in seasonal porridges, risottos, and similar mushy gushy delights. I opted for the three grain porridge cooked in beetroot juice and water with apples, raisins, and seeds. It was as beautiful as it was delicious.

Obviously though, the highlight of my eating and travelling experience was the market. I recently realized that when I travel I find either a food or exercise thing I love about the city and then repeat that every day. Copenhagen had both, in the form of the glass market and bicycling madness. Clearly it's the dream.  When I first saw the shiny twinkle of the Christmas lights emanating through the huge glass walls of the market, i thought I had read the map wrong and was actually at a museum. Luckily I realized all the beauty of the outside was just beckoning me to come explore the beauty on the inside and I quickly discovered my Disney fairy tale. The market exhibits gourmet restaurants, chocolate makers, pastry chefs, seafood experts, and produce salesmen who not only offer some of the best food I've ever had but also the best and most samples. They have quantity AND quality. I tasted fish with plums that rivaled my meal at Le Bernadine. I tried (and spit out) the salted black liquorice thats a specialty that I'm not sure anyone enjoys. I even found apples filled with joy. 

I wandered around this place until I thought they might kick me out. All other markets are ruined for me. And it was totally worth it.

To compliment the incredible food (and make space for more) I joined the cycling lifestyle, which quickly became my other favorite part of the city. 70% of homes in Copenhagen don’t have cars because why drive when you can bike? I thought it would be too cold and rainy for cycling season but boy am I glad those Danes do what makes them happy no matter what. Something about feeling like I was in a fifties movie while covering more of the city agreed with me. I would take rush hour on a bike over rush hour in a car any day. And I plan on it. I left the city inspired and excited about everything. I now know how I want to decorate my house thanks to Scandinavia's keen sense of home decor and this nifty hot tub boat:

I know that all stores should have a boyfriend waiting room with water:

 I know where to find more hot sauce and the ideal pairing of my favorite spicy flavor with my favorite alcoholic beverage (THE DREAM)

And I know what city I plan to spend a lot more exploring. Das vidanya and see you real soon you real soon you magical fairy tale wonderland they call Copenhagen.  

Stockholm Syndrome

            One of the best things about living in a place I never thought I’d live is that I’m now visiting places I never thought I’d visit. I used to have a generic, long, and strict list about the places I thought I should be traveling to: France, Spain, Italy, England… Then I came to Riga, and suddenly the most accessible places were ones I’d never even thought about twice. After Vilnius went so well, I decided why not take advantage of one of the other convenient destinations for Latvians: Scandinavia. Apparently you can hop on a 17 hour ferry and wake up in Stockholm. To be honest, when I first heard about it, the whole thing sounded pretty miserable (except for the being in Stockholm part). But, I decided, meh, it’s cheap and it’s a thing, so why not? I mean really, who needs comfort and sleep for 17 hours if it means I can be in a new country? Thank goodness I took a risk because, as it turns out, the ferry is really a cruise ship. I mean a real cruise ship, complete with tacky colors, all you can eat buffets, duty free shops, concerts by Cher, and a lot of drunken Sweds who came to Latvia for the cheap booze. So I boarded the ship, enjoyed the free entertainment (of the singers and drunken passengers), and found out I sleep really really well on boats.

             By the time I woke up, I was in the happy new land they call Stockholm. It’s everything I’d heard about and more: it’s like walking through Ikea surrounded by friendly happy people. The biggest problem they have there is that alcohol is expensive. But they’ve even fixed that with the ferry to Latvia. Otherwise, they have good government support, wages, and maternity leave, so they’re happy and they know it and they really want to show it. They’re nice and welcoming and have excellent taste in home décor, vintage shopping, and food. It’s the dream.

 

             I started my visit with a meal that was so good I had to call my mom long-distance to kvell. It was an all you can eat organic vegetarian buffet that would turn even the most hardcore of the carnivores over to the dark side. I ate and ate until I could barely walk. 

 

I pushed through the joyous food coma to explore the windy streets of Gamlastan, the old city. It’s full of small, slightly touristy shops and shows what Stockholm used to look like. Amidst the chocolate shops, place dedicated to the Stockholm Gnome (yep, that’s a thing), and cute cafes was The Nobel Museum. The museum was a beautifully high tech lesson on the history of Alfred Nobel and the people who have been honored with his award. There was also a special exhibit about worldwide peace efforts in honor of the recent anniversary. It was pretty and interesting and definitely worth a look.

 

   By the time I finished the museum, most things were closed (it was Sunday), but luckily a friendly swed helped me map out a nice walk across the different islands. I told you they were nice. I saw the lights, and the walking street, and kind of just fell in love. The one thing that was open late was the photography museum, where, of course, there was a special exhibit by a Latvian photographer. Well look at that. Latvians are like Goldstein/Glazers. They’re everywhere. I also saw one of the most touching, beautiful photography exhibits I’ve ever seen, by Pieter Hugo. After growing up in apartheid South Africa he’s dedicated his career to representing the underrepresented. The pictures were graphic, vivid, entirely captivating, and not entirely appropriate for this blog. But oh wow, did they make me stop and stare.

 I started the next day with a breakfast of champions that would make my sisters green with envy: cheese, cheese, and halloumi yogurt.

I then made my way over to the peninsula of Djurgarden, which is basically a convenient collection of museums. With so much to see and little time to see it, I decided to focus on Skansen, the first open air museum. I got to see the old buildings of rural Sweden and traditional animals. And so many peacocks! You literally picnic among the peacocks. Even I would start farming for a life like that. It was pretty quiet because it was a Monday, which made it feel even more authentic and more like a museum of fun little doll houses.

        

             After Skansen I went to wander the wealthy part of town to see the pretty buildings and Ostermalm Hall, aka market wonderland (as if I would make it through a trip without finding a market). The weirdest thing about Stockholm was that a good meal is the same price as a museum, which is the same price as a glass of wine, which is all just kind of expensive. But oh so worth it. The market is more like a collection of cafes and I got one of the Swedish delicacies to take on the ferry ride back, smoked fish. Dad, this is for you: I tried fish and I liked it. If you feed me fish that fresh all the time, I'll eat as much of it as you want. You definitely win this one.

                                 

  I finished off my day and trip by walking around Sodermalm, the southern part of the city. It’s a hipster, vintage, home décor wonderland and the perfect way to finish off my trip. Especially because I found a hot sauce shop (which, again, a bottle of hot sauce cost the same as everything else... I don't usually talk about money but I'm still confused about this one). I then hopped on the ferry home only to discover it was filled with 500 Erasmus (aka European study abroad) students. Way worse than the drunken sweds. Oy. Double and triple oy. Thank goodness I sleep well on boats.

       

Babushka gone wild

When I decide to be busy, I decide to be overwhelmingly busy. I guess they say go big or go home and, since I’m not going home any time soon, I may as well go big.

One of my favorite projects is helping in the public Hebrew kindergarten (dietskysat). Since it opened last week, there are 4 adorable students and 4 people to take care of them. I join whenever I get the chance because apparently I love being a kindergartener. I mean, what’s not to love about finally being around Russians with the same vocabulary while doing art projects? The only thing that would make it better was if I stayed for naptime. The teachers make up for that by thinking I’m good at art and putting me in charge of creating decorations. I know I know, I just keep getting the hard jobs.

I also taught my first of (hopefully many) cooking classes to the university students. I made the theme Israeli-inspired and Jewish, so we cooked shakshuka, choomoos, and pineapple kugel. The food was super tasty and the students seemed to understand most of my English! Of course, I started to doubt whether they really understood me when, after my best imitation of Ina Garten teaching the proper way to crack an egg and cut an onion, the students picked up the very large knives to crack eggs and tried to cut onions while holding them. I screamed as I pictured the blood getting mixed in with the egg yolk, but as usual, my students told me they knew what they were doing. After pleading with them unsuccessfully, I learned to walk far far away (and look up the local emergency number). Thankfully, we made it through without any bloodshed (that I know of) and very full bellies. And from now on, we might only make things that don’t require knives. Babyfood it is!

I also got to lead short activities for the teens and kids, which must mean that either my Russian or miming are now borderline understandable. The teens dedicated their Friday night to making key chains for babushka (the arts and crafts are everywhere!), and I had the esteemed privilege of killing time when, as always, the program was behind schedule. I led a name game because I still have trouble understanding and remembering all the Russian names. Like the babushka I am, I keep re-introducing myself to the same people who awkwardly know who I am even though I have no earthly idea who they are... Whoops. I’m not sure the game helped, but at least there are more people who I don’t know who know me!

The little kids activity was about Tel Aviv and someone who’s clearly never heard me sing decided I should lead “If you’re happy and you know it” and “head shoulders knees and toes.” I’m hoping that they were so distracted by my lack of language that they didn’t notice my lack of tone too. After a nice few rounds in English we sang the same things in Russian and by the end I think they were starting to feel comfortable with the random foreignor who usually comes to take pictures of them. It also helps that I fed them Israeli salad. I did feel a little bad that when they tried to engage with me and ask me questions in Russian I probably answered entirely different questions… More reasons to find me loveably adorable?

With the good comes the bad, of which I got a nice ole dose in the form of a not-so-nice ole woman. As a welfare project I went to keep a former English teaching babushka company. I was thrilled by the idea, envisioning the knitting circles and cookies we could share over a hot cup of tea. I got the hot tea and cookies, served with a side of ice cold, “you don’t know Russian, you won’t find a job as a psychologist, and you don’t know what you’re doing with your life.” After telling me just what was on her mind in English and Russian she also complained about me in front of my face to her caretaker. By the way, Russians tend to sound very angry when they speak, which makes already bad situations a whole lot worse. I am now aware that I know just enough Russian to recognize if someone is speaking about me but not enough to know exactly what they are saying. Even though this was not the first time Russians had had a meeting about me in front of me, this was the first time I felt truly and utterly uncomfortable and unhappy here. I am not describing this unfortunate circumstance to complain, but to acknowledge that not everything can be perfect all the time. I know I’ve been pretty gosh darn lucky so far so it’s only natural that I hit a speed bump eventually. As my fellow fellow said, this is about the time when things get real. People don’t always like foreigners and linguistic differences can and will be used against you. Oh, and it’s really really uncomfortable to not understand people when they are talking to and about you. I wish I could say I picked myself up and brushed myself off but I didn’t. I really did not take any of this well. After about a week, I can finally almost laugh about it. I guess I’ve gotten really good at adjusting to the fun parts of living abroad but admittedly have some work to do on adjusting to the discomfort. It’s all part of the experience. And now I understand why one of the first phrases my Russian teacher taught me was: “minye para itti” (it’s time for me to go).  And with that, minye para itti. Stay tuned for how I consoled myself with a trip to Stockholm.

To another baltic state we go

I decided to take a relatively spur of the moment trip to Vilnius (fine so I came up with the idea last week but that's my version of spontaneity). For the year, Vilnius and Tallinn shall be my versions of NYC; just a short, cheap bus ride away. Luckily these cities are MUCH cheaper and the bus rides far more enjoyable. And I'm actually traveling to a whole new country... So really, they're nothing like NYC. At least Vilnius finally offered good food and a whole new take on art. A whole new republic of art to be exact. 

I've been hearing a lot about this oft under appreciated baltic Capitol recently so I decided to see it for myself. Tallinn is usually regarded as the prettiest, Riga as the hipsteriest (im not sure if this is because of all the hipsters or delightful babushkas with sore hips)  and Vilnius gets talked about like she's the last pick at a party: big and cheap. Lately though, I've heard about the beauty and (what really gets me moving) the food. So I decided to take advantage of the pre-camp "slowness" to get out of town.

After a lovely 4 hour moving nap I arrived in the bus station. For a moment I was worried the bus driver had just driven me around Riga for a few hours because I was immediately greeted by the same casino and pizza place I have next to my apartment. Then I looked at the language, which didn't help either because I don't know Latvian or Lithuanian so its all familiar letters in unfamiliar words anyhow. I decided just to walk and hope that would help. And it did. I realized I was on the street of a Belorussian restaurant someone had said was life changing and since I haven't heard those words in relation to food in a while I decided that was to be my priority. The hostess was very confused by the girl wandering in for lunch at 2:30 speaking in English and muttering Russian but luckily she let me sit. I ordered the most Belorussian looking thing a vegetarian could eat: something fried with potatoes and smoked fish. Sorry mom, I know this is blasphemy, but they were the best latkes I've ever had. And somehow the fish didn't make it too salty.

While the meal was wonderful, one of those traditional peasant meals is enough for one weekend/lifetime so I decided I could skip Lithuanian food for this trip (also because I'm not super interested in sausages stuffed with potatoes or fried pig ears. Shocking, I know). I settled on multiple meals of Indian instead. The dream.

Then it was time for a Hannah tour of the city: I got totally lost. I had a map and occasionally followed the hostel owners advice, but mostly, I just walked. It turns out I walked around the old city, which is hilly and colorful and made me think i was seeing what would happen if Nice and Tuscany had a baby. There are probably as many cathedrals in Vilnius as there are in Italy so I felt right at home. This cathedral may be my favorite:

Apparently under the soviet anti-religious campaigns they repurposed all the cathedrals into storehouses, movie theaters... (sounds a little like Portland) but this one was special. Welcome to the museum of atheism! It's rumored they kept torture instruments inside and said they were used by religious leaders so religion must be evil. Too bad the weapons were clearly from the soviets but that doesn't mean soviets are bad... Also, I found out I probably would have been the first to convert to Catholicism because the way they converted the entire country was by promising them free white t shirts if they showed up to the baptism and they put a market outside of the church to lure people in to services. They know my weaknesses!

Don't worry dad, I counterbalanced all the churches by trying to see the Jewish stuff too. The synagogue wouldn't let me in (from what I gleaned they weren't letting in girls today) 

so I convinced some nice people at the community center to let me in even though it was closed. I'm really too good at smiling and looking so lost people want to help me. It also helped that the guard was a babushka who only spoke Russian and found my desperate attempts to communicate hilarious (I have a way with those women, I swear).

I also saw one of the many Holocaust museums, which featured one of the most touching exhibits about Jews in hiding I've ever seen. It was an all-encompassing movie in a cold, creepy attic. I haven't been that uncomfortable in a long time, which is exactly how it should be. The museum also had a fascinating section about the doctors in Vilnius, who created the most sanitary conditions they could, improving and saving an incredible number of people. In addition to the museum and plaques about the ghetto I saw where the old synagogue stood. Jews are crafty! When they were told the shul couldn't be taller than a cathedral they said okay and built part of the building underground so it sat 5000 people! Well done. Also, the highlight of the Jewish tour: 

The gaon of course.

As if the city wasn't fun enough, some artists decided if Lithuania could be independent of Russia they could be independent of reality! And so, uzipis was born. On independence day you need a passport, visa, or smile to get in.  This is their parliament:  

And constitution in Yiddish (they had a bunch of languages but obviously I chose this one):

 And their symbol is an open hand with a hole in it because: have an open mind, if you cover your eyes like that you can still see, and artists are poor so money slips through their hands.

This place is real. And just as fabulous as it sounds.

But really, i never felt as at home as when I saw this: 

Yes, that is knit graffiti. So, if I end up in jail, you know why and it was worth it.