History, Culture, and Other Things to Which I am Unaccustomed (Part 2)

I’m not sure how much of this will be about history and culture, but since I had a “Part 1” I felt like I needed a “Part 2” and it sort of fits here. I mean, I spent the weekend travelling to other Danish cities besides Copenhagen and those cities must have some kind of history and culture, right?

Six of us from the residence travelled to Skagen – the northernmost point in Denmark unless you go to Greenland (it’s part of Denmark, like Canada is to us) – via Arhus, Aalborg, Frederikshavn, and the hilariously named Middelfart. We didn’t stop there, but when I looked out the window and saw the sign for that city, I may as well have been handed a ticket for a two-hour ride on the giggle train.

Jutland, the part of Denmark that is connected to the continent, reminds me a lot of the Midwest (in a good way). Green rolling hills, expansive farmland, and even the big cities (Arhus being the biggest and “big” being a charitable term since the population is only 280,000 – roughly Corpus Christi, TX) are quiet, mostly empty, and apparently go to bed at about 8:30. In fact, if you were to superimpose an image of Europe over an image of the United States and stretch and rotate it so that the two more or less fit on each other, you’d see that Denmark lands right in the heart of the Midwest. It’s scientific fact.

Not helping the Midwest comparison was the farmers' market (and possibly tractor pull) we came across in Arhus. Arhus, the Milwaukee of Europe, was pleasant but sparse on sightseeing. The main attraction is Arhus Cathedral, Denmark’s longest cathedral featuring the most frescoes of any cathedral in the country, not to mention Denmark’s largest organ (All aboard! The giggle train is now departing for sixth grade).

Stop two was Aalborg, home to the largest Viking burial ground ever uncovered. I hope they aren’t angry ghosts, since we wandered around for long enough that we’re bound to have stepped on a whole bunch of graves. And at one point nature called, so I was forced to dig a hole, urinate on the remains, and rebury them face-down (note: this post has been up for only a couple of hours and I've already gotten a question, so I'll clarify. Every part of that last sentence was a joke). Aalborg also contains a very well-known pedestrian street where literally every establishment for two blocks is a student bar. From a cultural and historic perspective, this is clearly equal to the Viking burial grounds.

Skagen is where the currents of the Baltic and North Seas meet, crashing together with the fury of two professional wrestlers in a car accident. It was extremely stormy when we were there (on the bright side, the wind was strong enough that the rain only came from one direction, so while the front of my pants were drenched, the back remained bone-dry. Even when not stormy, the currents make swimming impossible. Or, rather, it’s possible for a short time but remaining alive and getting back to land is tricky.

It is just coincidence (though one that works well) that both posts involving “culture” seem to include me defending American culture. Parts of it, anyway. I’m not going to defend Paris Hilton or My Super Sweet 16. Or conspicuous consumption, willful ignorance of the rest of the world, and the inability to speak more than one language. I could list a lot more things here, but I’ll just say that, paradoxically, I’m still extraordinarily patriotic and wanted to relay what I found to be a culturally revealing moment that again made me proud to be an American.

At one point in the weekend, we were in a bar. Sitting at the table were three Americans, one Dutchman, one Belgian, and one Dane. Suddenly, two tables over, a guy (obviously intoxicated) jumped up and started yelling furiously at a girl (I’m again running into the problem of a lack of a feminine “guy” word) at the same table. He stormed out of the bar and, after a few moments of stunned silence we resumed our conversation. The guy stormed back in, looking even angrier, yelled some more, and again left. Once again, this time angrier.

The three Americans among us readjusted our seats and one of us said something to the effect of, “I hope he doesn’t take a swing at her; I don’t want to have to jump into anything.” The three Europeans stared at the three Americans with a, “well then just leave it alone,” look. After a bit of discussion (which I won’t try to recreate, since I’m sure I’d get the dialogue completely wrong and the written version would be much less interesting than actually being there), we all came to a realization: if the guy had taken a swing at the girl, the Europeans at our table wouldn’t have stepped in because 1) they don’t know the background of the situation and why the guy is angry in the first place, and 2) it’s dangerous to jump into a bar fight. For the Americans, we admit 1) we don’t know the situation and perhaps the guy has a perfectly valid reason to be angry, and 2) yes, it’s very stupid to jump into a bar fight, but if we see a drunk guy hit a girl, it would never occur to any of us to not throw ourselves in the middle of it. So I’ll end by basically restating what I said the first time I commented on American culture: whether the end results are good or bad, I’m proud that most Americans I know are willing to step in and attempt to do the right thing.