Eclipse
And that starts the weekend! I say to myself while smiling on my bike. I freaking love it. The weather is still warm, my hair blowing off my forehead, me zipping around on Excalibur. I’m finally biking the way I drive, with way to much confidence in the Bostonian way. “It’s not my fault, its my culture,” I tell my friends when they question my riding style.
I’m trying to find an alternative rout to Netto right now. Netto is the main grocery store for college students who are trying to find cheep noodles and don’t want to risk too much on the gamble between accidentally buying yogurt instead of milk.
I ride down Vestagrade, the home street of DIS, crowded bars, and bagel shops, towards one of the large shopping streets near the Round Tower. Okay, this is not going to get me to Netto, I realize while circling a large fountain at the center of a square – a place where tourists go to drink up some culture and conversations. Fancy restaurants with outdoor dinning protect the square, while crêpe and hotdog stands dot the center offering Copenhagen classics accompanied with cold beers. An Aiden Gillen (Petyr Baelish, from Game of Thrones) look alike takes seat under a tree at one corner of the square. Dressed in a fancy blue shirt with little red flowers, stylish jeans, and brown dress shoes, he pulls out a guitar and hooks it up to a speaker. He adjusts his sleeve and dives into his music. A Spanish-esque theme emerges from the twitching of his mustache and cocky looks he gives at passers-by.
Yeah, alright, I have to stay here awhile. I roll my friend to the side of the square, pop out his kickstand, and lock his back tire. I find a seat under another tree, next to the guitarist. Beside me sits an old man smoking through his second pack of cigarettes and fourth slice of pizza. He grunts while happily swinging his legs gleefully and taking another swig of beer. I smile faintly at him; he looks at me nervously from under his flat cap. On my other side a young woman sits while playing around on her phone. I got the impression she wasn’t from here – Danes are never on their phones.
The three individuals sat there, each enjoying the same moment from who knows what type of perspective. After about a half hour into listening and watching the old man pulls his pizza box closer to himself and looks around before getting up and hobbling to the pisser. A young father with a small child on the front seat of his bicycle scoots his way over to our musician. He gives his son a few coins and helps him toss them into the guitar case. Why do parents always do that with their children? The old man returns, checks on his pizza and lights up another cig.
“Do you speak English?”
“No. French?”
Dang, weren’t five years of linguistic torture enough? “Yes, I speak French, a little.” I say in his language.
I don’t know if we are really talking… but we communicate through accented noises and hand gestures. He came here from France to visit family. I would have asked him more about that but didn’t have the language. He asks me what I’m doing here and then about my studies. I tell him my background and ask him about his travels. I’m surprised and honored when he shares his pizza with me and buys me a beer to drink while he finishes another few cigarettes. I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have the language and he doesn’t have the time. Smearing out the last embers of a final cigarette, he limps away.
“Are you Danish?”
I turn to the woman next to me, “No,” I say smiling and laughing a bit, “Although I don’t mind giving off that impression. Where are you from?”
“Singapore, I’m here studying at KU.”
“Oh, no way! I’m studying through DIS but I’m taking a philosophy class through KU. Are you doing undergraduate or graduate?”
“Undergrad, what year are you?”
“Junior.”
“What’s that mean?”
This woman and I start talking. She tells me about her life in Singapore and what it was like to grow up there. She says she never had leisure time like this. “Do people in Boston ever sit out and enjoy life?” She asks.
“Yeah, sometimes, but not like the Danes.”
She tells me a lot about traveling too. About going to Japan and South Korea. She also tells me about her friend who has been to North Korea several times, because North Koreans respect Singaporeans. Before coming here she went to Spain and tells me that if I ever go I have to swim in the Atlantic. I tell her the Atlantic is a Bostonian’s backyard and we laugh.
We talk about politics, cultures, and living. We expose our similarities and differences until the buildings cast long shadows on each other and the square. The guitarist has left and a woman with a tuba has taken his place. She looks a little sad and says she has to get going. I tell her it was nice talking with her. Saying good-bye is awkward, parting rituals need more work in most cultures. She tells me to enjoy my semester and I bless her with the same before we walk off in separate directions.
I unlock Excalibur and turn back down the street I came. Time to go to Netto.
