On Thursday, I took the scenic route to my Kierkegaard class. Well, more like I forgot which road was the one that connected to Fiolstraede. Whatever. I had time to spare.
It had been cold and rainy that morning, but for the moment it was sunny. I don't know *how* but even the briefest sunny spells seem to cause hordes of fashionably-dressed Danes to spill into the streets. Maybe they all have a wireless chip in their brains that connects to weather.com.
Because it wasn't just the shoppers, tourists, and lunch-seeking businesspeople who were out. In my (not that circuitous) walk, I saw:
- A Spanish guitarist
- A black dude with a beaten-up honky-tonk piano in the middle of the street
- The guy who plays glasses like a bell choir
- Two indie rock nerds with guitars
- A brass ensemble (playing "Where's That Tiger?", coincidentally)
- A journalist and her cameraman, preparing to record
- A boy, skin and clothes painted completely gray, standing on a box and freezing in various positions--I took him for a statue until I saw him move to the next pose
- A table of anti-fur activists, complete with graphic pictures of dead skinned animals
- Two Turkish dudes selling gourmet candy
- A grizzled old man plying his accordion, barely audible over someone boomboxing Eminem in the square
Not to mention about a zillion fruit and flower vendors. All drawn out by the smell of the sun. Did I mention that this city is awesome?
In other news, Nosve Release has just restarted with a five-page-or-so journal comic about hijinks at Newark International Airport during my layover on the way to Copenhagen. Keep checking this week.
For the life of me, I can't figure out how a "real" adult, in her infinite wisdom and maturity, would've handled the backpack situation differently. As long as absurdity keeps happening to me, I guess I'll just always feel eight years old...
And now to write my first paper of the semester. Wheeee!