Albert-slum

Albertslund Centrum on a quiet Monday morning, way too early for anything to be enjoying the sun except for this weathervane and town symbol.

I really feel like I'm settling in here in Albert-slum and Copenhagen. When I say Albert-slum, I mean, of course, the quaint suburb of Albertslund, known to Danes as the ghetto and known to me as the quiet town that houses my less-than-great kollegium, filled with plenty of sketchballs. Like Kim, from block 7Ø, who broke into every block and went to every American girl's door and tried to sleep with them. (Happily, I wasn't home for this lovely would-be encounter.) After a 2-hour lecture from our "Inspektor," Kim told my friend Tracy that he "wasn't allowed to talk to Americans any more," but has since repeatedly groped her and tried to kiss her (she lives in his block and shares his kitchen), and offers a wide array of drugs, from hash to crack, to American girls from DIK that he meets on the train or walking around. There's also Stupid Nigerian Guy, whose name I have blissfully forgotten, who lives in my block, and delights in knocking on my door and trying to come in my room, telling me I'm a "sweet gerl," despite my repeated refusals and outright rude behavior to him. At least he doesn't offer me drugs.

As for the rest of the kollegium, well, it looks like I'm lucky. Over in block 2Ø, people get mugged, and there is some sort of inter-block war between blocks 7V and 8Ø. Other people have also told me their couches mysteriously disappear sometimes, there are old chicken bones all over the floors, etc. My kollegium was actually a pit of filth when I moved in. I was disheartened, to say the least, by my grosser-than-my-apartment-last-year living conditions, not to mention that I never saw anyone hanging out, ever.

Thanks to the organizational efforts of a few cool guys on the block, our kitchen now stays clean thanks to a mandatory kitchen schedule (seriously, how did 5 guys make that much of a mess? It mystifies me), and the common areas of the block were cleaned Saturday for the first time in at least a year and a half, if not longer. They also threw a "party" Saturday night, which I couldn't go to because my friend Danielle's mom was in town, buying us dinner. Sadly, their "party" was just a couple of people hanging out, blasting music and drinking beer before going to a disco. Then they came back around 5:30 and started up the music again, much to my delight, that's for sure. I'm only glad I thought to pack earplugs, otherwise they would have been faced with a cranky, sober American, the last thing a drunk Dane probably wants to see.

Ugh, but other than kollegium goings-on, I'm used to the city - well, the city center anyway, I still haven't actually ventured out into Vesterbro and Nørrebro (with the exception of Keops, another kollegium). Riding the S-train, with all its foibles and faults and lateness and overcrowding at rush hour, is normal to me now. I have the extreme urge to buy a bike and ride it everywhere, not really fearing that it will get stolen, but more that I will be run over by a bus in the city. I enjoy shots of Fisherman's and don't remember the taste of Bud Light compared to Carlsberg and Tuborg. And sometimes, I can understand what Danes are saying and can even talk back without them knowing I barely speak Danish! (Unless they are just being polite, I suppose.)The view from one side of our kollegium. The other? Well, Jacq likens it to a prison camp.

Interesting statue garden near my kollegium.

Random statue. There's nothing else to it; I've looked. The tail/head/mystery doesn't have a face or anything, either. My best guess is some sort of random sea serpent.

At least the town center is pretty! And on some Saturdays, we have Western festivals. No, for real, they sing Johnny Cash.