DENMARK: Land of Great Cheese, Weird Herring and Beautiful Blond People

It’s reverse culture shock after Beirut to be forced to wait for the little green man to illuminate before I’m

allowed to cross the street. Copenhagen is clean, orderly, walkable, casual, expensive and, well, blond. Seriously, the people are gorgeous. They all bike. They all have complexions as clean as the air and cheekbones chiseled as finely as the many statues that adorn the public parks and squares. In my next life, I want to be a Dane.

When I came out of Iraq the first time, I flew through Amsterdam and arranged a layover with my friend Phillip. Little did I anticipate how traumatized I’d be by the pre-war trip: I barely got out of bed except for one blustery February day to visit the Van Gogh Museum. Marshmallowed in Phillip’s oversized down

coat and stirred by Van Gogh’s art, I broke down in the middle of the museum. An embarrassed and kind Phillip wrapped me in his arms while I sobbed. The next trip, I pre-arranged a dive week in Aqaba, Jordan. No one could hear me cry underwater. This trip, I thought I’d housesit in London, a familiar place where I could be alone in an impersonal crowd. What materialized was a housesit in Copenhagen. Turns out, it’s actually cheaper and easier to fly from Beirut to Copenhagen than to London. Go figure. I anticipated that The Little Mermaid, soft cheese and two bunnies would help me emerge from Baghdad. Instead, I found a restaurant

called Beirut Café that serves nachos.

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