It’s a great feeling. And it’s a great milestone to recognize how important my bike has become to me and maintaining my sanity over the past few months.

Throughout the spring and this past summer, I’ve gotten busier and busier. My life has been turned upside-down thanks to social media, networking, and entering my final year of undergraduate study at American University, and this upcoming year isn’t getting any calmer. With three jobs, six classes, a new organization on campus and two executive board positions–not to mention maintaining posts on more than five blogs and numerous social media accounts–things are understandably a little crazy. I like it that way (I wouldn’t have it any other way, in fact) but having a little down time every day is kind of nice.

And that’s where my bike comes in. With the 15-20 miles I ride every day, it gives me just enough time to relax. No news. No social media. No talking. No distractions at all. No stress.

On my bike, it’s just me and the wind and the city I love around me. It’s navigating the winding, bumpy streets of Georgetown, or riding through the quiet little neighborhoods between Logan Circle and Dupont, or riding along the Crescent or Mt. Vernon trails, enjoying the nature around me. It’s the small amount of time every day that I can push everything else out of my mind and just focus on the wind, the smell of the world, and the beautiful, refreshing pain in my legs as I pump those pedals up Wisconsin Avenue.

In Copenhagen my bicycle became my life. It was a form of transportation, and a conversation piece. It was a form of protest for climate change during the COP15 climate change conference. It was a souvenir in my photos, videos, and my memory. It was a crap bike, but to be honest, I kind of miss it.

In DC I brought that back with me, and it changed the way I look at my city and the world around me. I learned this city like I’d never seen it before. In my first two years of college I viewed DC as a series of metro stations, small, separate communities connected by tunnels and nothing more. But the city is so much more than that–not to mention more than the politics and the nonsense headlines (“Is Washington BROKEN?” ::GASP::). My bicycle let me explore the city in new and unexpected ways.

Anyway, here’s to 1500 miles, and here’s to 1500 more.

Today I will reach my 30,000th tweet.

Or I might have already, depending on when this is published. It's been a long and winding journey and my 30,000 some tweets so far tell a number of stories, but primarily that of myself, a young professional making my way through college, traveling the world, and working towards career success (with a little luck).

I started it all on July 20, 2007, sitting in a cramped little apartment outside of Tokyo, Japan, where I was staying for six weeks as part of a cultural exchange scholarship program. I signed up not knowing what this little micro-blogging service called Twitter was, and with no possible idea where it would take me over the course of the past three or so years.

As I tweeted out my excitement about hitting 30,000 tweets this morning, a follower asked me, "How many were of value?" That got me thinking. How many of these little 140 character messages really provided value to anyone? What have I accomplished in my 30,000 tweets, my approximate 4,200,000 characters, those 50,000-some-odd words?

To me, all of them provided value, and I've accomplished more than I ever dreamed I would with a social network.

With social media there's a constant struggle between quantity and quality. Do you want to be the one who's always present, always first on the news, and with the highest stats and metrics? Or do you want to be the one with the highest quality, who provides intense value in a small number of tweets, updates, or blog posts?

I think that depends on your goals, and I don't think there's any rule saying you can't have both, as long as you balance it right and engage with those around you–it is a social network, after all, not a wire service.

For me, my 30,000 tweets have taken me around the world, transformed my relationships, integrated me into the city I live in, and propelled me on a career path I never would have expected even two years ago.

With those 30,000 tweets I've made thousands of friends and I've shared countless lessons. I've shared my joy during the 2008 presidential election, participated from afar in the attempted Iranian revolution, shared my experiences protesting for action to solve climate change in Copenhagen, and enjoyed the calmer moments in life with thousands upon thousands of both digital and real-life friends.

After those 30,000 tweets I can now look at how I've evolved on social media. I can look at my activity from a personal and a professional perspective–as a student, marketer, communicator, citizen journalist, activist and more. And taking a step back and looking at those 30,000 tweets, I see that I've created incredible value for myself, and I hope I've created value for those that follow me and those I've gotten to know through this remarkable social network. Here's to 30,000 more.

Stepping into that grocery store was intimidating, to say the least. It’s hard enough that everything is in a different language, but the types of products, arrangement, pricing, and even social interaction that takes place in the grocery store are so radically different that, despite how much I’ve traveled, foreign grocery stores still make me pause with foreign unease.

It wasn’t just Copenhagen, either. In fact, grocery shopping in Tokyo was much more difficult, for obvious linguistic reasons. But on the other end of the spectrum, even visiting a convenience store in London, or closer to home, even New York City can be a shockingly unfamiliar experience for someone like myself, who’s grown up in rural America and moved to Washington, D.C.–a city that is, well, remarkably unique. Sure, there’s no language barrier, but there’s still that odd feeling of unfamiliarity. I remember the first time I walked into a Duane Reade–it felt exactly like walking into a 7-eleven in Japan, a Netto in Copenhagen, or a Sainsbury’s in London.

Now the only reason I write all this is because this morning I got that very same feeling walking into a Rite-Aid here in Crystal City.

I walked in and was suddenly stunned by that odd feeling of out-of-place-ness. That feeling you get when you go in a place that you expect to feel comfortable, normal, and consistent, but instead are confronted with an environment radically different from your own–like walking into a foreign grocery store.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about this Rite-Aid that I can pin this feeling on. The products were the same, the prices no different. Even the layout was remarkably similar to most of the CVS’s and Rite-Aids around the District. Perhaps it was my mood, my state of mind at the time, or my imagination still lost in the book I was reading on the metro.

That said, I felt the need to say something about just how amazing it is to bike in the rain.

So how amazing is it? Really, really amazing.

My love affair with biking in the rain began in Copenhagen and well, it started out as a love/hate relationship. Sure, it felt kind of nice in September 2009, but as soon as it started getting colder (ya know, like the third week of September…) it wasn’t quite as nice. And sometimes it just wasn’t convenient to get all wet whenever I needed to be somewhere and, well, look decent.

But I soon got over that. After biking in Copenhagen for a few weeks, you get used to the rain and the clouds and biking in the dark on winding city streets. You get used to wearing water-resistant clothing and drying out quickly (even using bathroom hand dryers, if absolutely necessary!). And you get used to everyone else being soggy and out of breath from pedaling through the storm, too. It’s just part of life.

Once I got past that, I started to realize just how beautiful a city can be in a rain storm. It’s not always about the sun, or blue skies, or being able to see miles and miles. Sometimes it’s nice to just appreciate the calm and the overwhelming monotony of the rain, drowning out traffic noise, voices, trains, planes, you name it. Sometimes it’s nice to bike along and get absolutely soaked, like I did today, and just enjoy it. You learn to let go and get over it, realizing that there are so many worse conditions to be in than soggy.

Today I biked home from Northern Virginia and biked my way up Wisconsin Avenue. It’s not an easy bike ride–those of you familiar with that hill will back me up, I’m sure–but it’s a pretty one. Just as I almost reached the top, the skies opened up and decided to throw everything it had at me. It was like biking through a river in spots, and needless to say, by the time I reached my apartment I was thoroughly, utterly, drenched. And naturally, the rain stopped about 15 seconds before I reached my door.

I made my way upstairs, dropped my shoes outside the door, parked my soggy bike out on the deck and stripped off my ridiculously wet clothes, and then took a look outside. The bike ride was amazing, the rain came at the perfect time, and I didn’t mind being soaked at all. But what I saw out my kitchen window is what really made my night. And well, a picture is worth a thousand words:

I hope you all have an amazing night, and next time it looks rainy outside and you’re thinking about biking, but start to change your mind… go for it. Who says you can’t bike in the rain?

And really, it’s kind of like from capital (D.C.) to capital (Copenhagen) to capital (London) to capital (Copenhagen) to capital (Stockholm, Sweden) to capital (Helsinki, Finland) to capital (Brussels, Belgium) to capital (Paris, France) to capital (Dublin, Ireland)… and well, you get the point.

It’s been a long journey. And a fun, exciting, exhilarating one. But one I’ll certainly never regret, nor ever forget.

As we drove down Interstate 66 on Saturday morning, coming up into the District, I began to get that sort of rush that I usually get when I make my way into a big city. If you’re from a big city you won’t understand it, but after spending my entire childhood in a small town, it’s a totally different experience. When you see the lanes widen, the traffic thicken, and the city skyline appear off in the distance, your heart starts beating faster, your mind races, you think of all the potential and opportunity and excitement a city offers that you just can’t really get in rural America (most of the time).

I got that feeling when I arrived in Copenhagen for the first time, too, but it vanished pretty quickly. By the end, Copenhagen began feeling more like the medium-sized city it really is. It’s a fine, fantastic city, but to me at least, it still doesn’t quite match the grand manner-style sheer power that a city like Washington, D.C., New York City, or even London exudes.

Being back in D.C. is a surreal feeling. In some ways, it feels like just yesterday that I was leaving to study abroad. In others, it feels like it’s been years since I’ve stepped foot in the city. The differences between D.C. and Copenhagen are remarkable: people are friendlier here, drivers more aggressive, stores bigger, sidewalks more crowded, bikes totally absent.

The food is better.

In many ways, I even think D.C. is a cleaner city. There’s less graffiti, no glass in the sidewalks (one of the advantages of open-container laws), and less run-down buildings–especially in my neighborhood (northwest D.C.).

It’s younger: a baby-aged city when compared to Copenhagen’s 1000+ year history. But despite it’s young age, I’m in awe of the history that has transpired here. The documents enclosed in our museums; the histories transcribed in our archives; the art, science and knowledge held in our museum vaults — they never cease to amaze me. Copenhagen’s history is fascinating in it’s own right, but it’s ancient history. Modern Danish events lack the passion and excitement of American history. In many ways they’ve moved slowly through the past century, changing passively only in reaction to the world around them, whereas the U.S.–while not always first–changes rapidly, dramatically and often only after fierce debate and struggle.

I’m not saying either one is better than the other–just observations.

The politics–oh the politics. It’s hard to draw a more radical comparison than Copenhagen and Washington. Washington is full of fiery debate, heated rhetoric, flaming insults and scandal. Copenhagen is… silent. Politics seem almost an afterthought in a city that is focused on living “happily”, enjoying their “hygge” and consuming copious amounts of alcohol. It’s not, really–politics play a key role in Copenhagen just as they do in any capital city–it’s just quieter. Changes are less dramatic (for the most part) and less controversial. With a strictly consensus-based political system, and seven political parties that lay incredibly close to each other on the political spectrum, people simply agree more in Denmark.

I’ll be honest, it didn’t get my blood flowing like politics here in D.C. do. One evening at the birthday party of my good friend Laura Bryson (who is starting an excellent blog as part of her New Year’s resolutions), for example, a fellow DIS student and I argued American politics for well over three hours. It was a heated, yet civil, debate, and ridiculous fun. In stark contrast, the most heated debates I’ve seen over Danish politics regard their immigration policy. Even there, most debates end with one side simply being labeled racist and the other “demanding” reform. Feebly.

I learned a lot in Copenhagen. I experienced a country that only a lucky few get to experience. I opted for an experience a little outside the norm, something more out of the way and unexpected than London, Paris, Madrid, Tokyo or Beijing. Denmark is a fascinating little country and Copenhagen is a fascinating little city. It’s got a lot to love (especially if you can get past the terrible weather). It’s not perfect, and to be honest I can’t see myself ever living there, but it was a fantastic experience.

I’m going to miss it.

But D.C. is just another adventure. I’ve lived here for two years already, but I am far, far from scratching the surface of what the city has to offer. Tack this on for another New Year’s resolution: I pledge to experience this city like I experienced Copenhagen. I will take advantage of all it has to offer at every possible opportunity. I want to know the people, the streets, the neighborhoods, the museums and libraries. The events, festivals, restaurants, bars and clubs. I want to see it from every perspective in every season. I want to learn its history and its hidden gems.

I’m glad to be back. Here’s to a great semester. Skål!

I apologize for the total lack of updates lately–it’s a busy life! Sunday I traveled safely back to the U.S., and I’m now back home in Kentucky for a little while. Unfortunately, I’m also a little sick.

I’m doing my best to balance some relaxation with some work, but it’s hard when there is so much to do! Because of that, I’m not going to finish my “series” on “What I’ll Miss”, because I can just easily tell you quickly now and be done with it. No sense looking back, anyway. The final four things I’ll miss from Denmark are:

4. Traveling (not exactly in Copenhagen, but facilitated by my location)
3. Biking
2. Climate Activism (this may very well have changed my life, we’ll see)
1. The People!

Anyway, I’ve got a lot to do over the next couple weeks. Not only do I have Christmas, New Years and traveling to do, but I’ve got the annual career center NYC site visit trip (more on that when it gets closer) and several applications, etc. to complete.

ALSO, I will soon be moving my blog to a different service, probably WordPress. Please bear with me as I make the transition, tweaking and adjusting along the way. Blog posts might also be a little more scarce in the next few weeks, but I’ll do my best to pick it back up at the beginning of the semester.

So just FYI, more later.

Today was a ridiculous day, and a day I will–without a doubt–remember for the rest of my life. Not only did we have the DIS closing ceremony, which made me re-realize how much I’m going to miss all the wonderful friends I’ve made here, but I spent the entire afternoon and evening (until about 2am) in the tcktcktck Fresh Air Center volunteering, manning the door and tweeting my brains out as fast as I can for all the breaking info that came out of tonight.

Which brings me to the title of this post. Derailing.

There’s no doubt that our ideal train to a sustainable future has totally derailed. (And, in a more personal sense, so has my blog posting–I’ll be finishing up my “Things I’ll Miss” list on Sunday as I travel, most likely.) But this isn’t over.

After the announcement of the Copenhagen “Accord” by President Obama this evening, the room was, to put it mildly, absolutely furious. But we aren’t done yet.

This train may have derailed a bit tonight, but we will not give up. We are mad, we are unsatisfied, and more than anything we are disappointed in our leadership. But we aren’t about to throw in the towel.

In the past 24 hours I’ve been working alongside the most incredible people in the entire environmental movement. Bloggers, journalists, columnists, organizers–even the famous faces of our movement like Naomi Klein and Bill McKibben. I’ve been working with people blogging, writing, tweeting and representing organizations like tcktcktck, Oxfam and Greenpeace. I’ve learned from them, I’ve seen them do their magic, and I’ve even tried to jump in and play a role by tweeting, blogging, passing on information and taking care of a lot of the behind-the-scenes work at the Fresh Air Center, so they can keep this movement alive.

I saw it in the room tonight–people are pissed off and sick of cold, dreary Denmark already, but they’re ready to keep fighting and keep moving. These past few months have brought the environmental movement closer together and made it stronger and more resilient than ever before.

Mr. Obama, world leaders, those in opposition to our cause, I say this–be ready. Step it up. We’re changing this game.

If you won’t save the world by yourselves, we’ll push you until you have to. Every time you turn around, we’ll be demonstrating. We’ll be rallying. We’ll be shouting and screaming at you, holding vigils, fasting for weeks on end. We’ll be standing in the cold at all hours of the night, making you listen to us. This problem isn’t going away, and neither are we. It’s taken me a while to get involved in this movement. But I’m here now, I’m inspired, I’m motivated and I’m here to stay.

It was epic, to say the absolute least.

Katherine Goldstein, George Monbiot and Naomi Klein (left to right) Speaking at the tcktcktck Fresh Air Center in Downtown CopenhagenI’m not going to give you the play-by-play rundown of the event because that’s what twitter is for (and even if you’re reading this late, just go back a few pages worth of my tweets and you’ll figure out when I was tweeting about the event). But I will say this–I learned a lot in just those few short hours I heard these amazing professionals and activists speak.

The first thing that really stuck out to me was one thing George Monbiot said about the movement. In all the press releases, all the documents, all the official U.N. materials, it’s always called “climate change”. Rarely is it even called global warming any more because sometime back it was decided by “they” that “global warming” was too incendiary of a phrase and made the movement seem alarmist. But really, there are no words to describe this problem we face.

It’s that simple. Like George Monbiot said tonight, describing this problem as “climate change” is like “calling a foreign invasion ‘unexpected visitors’”. It’s like calling “a bombing a ‘package delivery’”. It doesn’t quite cut to the heart of the issue. It doesn’t show you what the problem is.

George Monbiot came up with the best term I’ve heard for it yet, the “Climate Crash”. And I think that’s about as close as you can get to really describing it effectively. That’s what this is, it’s a climate crash, make no doubt about it. Unless we turn this ship around soon, we’re all sinking–not just those countries stuck close to sea level. If we don’t make some major changes, we’re going to see everything change–for the worse. Crashing weather patterns, crashing economies, crashing foreign relations, crashing human lives. That’s what this problem is.

Which brings me to the second thing that really stuck out in my mind during tonight’s event. Naomi Klein presented a pretty pessimistic view of the COP15, unfortunately, a view that’s probably also the most realistic. And despite the negative outlook she put out tonight, she did have one thing to say for the conference–this has changed the message.

No longer is the movement just about rising temperatures or rising sea levels. It’s not about changing weather patterns or changing to “green” lifestyles. It’s not about making green trendy or making climate activism cool.

This movement is about saving lives.

Klein gave us the quote of the night: “This is the moment when environmentalism became a social justice movement.” That’s what this movement is about now. It’s about human rights. It’s about looking at the way this climate crash is affecting humanity. George Monbiot put it in incredibly blunt terms (appropriate, if you ask me)–this is a “battle over humanity” he said, it’s a battle between “human decency” and “human selfishness.” “Human decency must be paramount,” he said, “Only one side can win… and it must be us.”

It must be us.

The History

This one will be a little shorter–partly because I’m absolutely exhausted, and partly because there just isn’t quite as much to say.
Kronborg Slot

One of the best parts about being in Denmark is that it’s old. Really old. Like so old that it has the oldest state flag in the world. Like so old they were vikings.

I’ve seen a lot of this old stuff. From Christiansborg (although now in it’s third iteration after a sequence of fires, I suppose it’s really not that old) to Kronborg Slot (Hamlet’s Castle), to Hans Christian Andersen’s birthplace, I’ve seen pretty much the full gamut of Danish history. Not to mention I took an entire class on the history and urban development of the city of Copenhagen.

Hans Christian AndersenThis is even one thing I’ll miss that I really don’t have a love/hate relationship with, either. I just love it. There’s nothing not to like about it, unless you just have some strange vendetta against interesting history. There’s plenty to complain about when it comes to current Danish political viewpoints and cultural things (not saying I am complaining, just saying that there are things people could complain about), but when it comes to their history, it’s just interesting and, quite often, pretty.

Relating back to the U.S., I absolutely love United States history. And I think there’s a lot to learn, and probably far more in U.S. history than I ever will learn. But at the same time, it just doesn’t quite have that ancient feeling that Danish history does–I mean hell, by country standards we’re pretty young. Kind of a baby country. That just grew up, really, really fast.

Danish history has that feel to it like you’re walking into something epic. The country itself already feels a little like a fairy tale land, the history just adds to that sensation. Not to mention how epic it’s history actually is. I mean look at it–for a long time they practically owned Europe. They were the top dog, the ruling empire. And then of course they suffered a series of dreadfully embarrassing defeats and ended up the teeny-weeny little country they are now. But that doesn’t make it any less interesting.

Anyway, there you have it. One more thing I’m going to miss. Hopefully tomorrow’s will be a little more substantial–when it hasn’t been such a crazy day (more on that in a minute) and I’m not about to fall asleep at my desk!

The Food

At first glance, Danish food really doesn’t seem like much to get excited about. And at second glance, to be honest, it’s still nothing revolutionary. But Danish food has a few little cultural quirks that make it special (and tasty) and it’s nonetheless something I’m going to miss.

What’s the first thing you think of when you think of Danish food? Well, if you’re like 99.999% of most people, you’ll think of, obviously, a Danish. Here, it’s called wienerbrød (direct translation: “Vienna bread” — evidently the Danes didn’t want to take the blame for all those empty calories) and well, it’s pretty amazing.

Everyone’sBreakfast had Danishes before and, to give us a little credit, I’ve had some damn good Danishes in the United States. But there’s nothing like having a real Danish pastry in Denmark. So needless to say I’ve taken advantage of the plentiful supply around here and it’s a pretty frequent breakfast for me. See left.

But Danish food is about more than just the wienerbrød. There’s also smørrebrød and hyldeblomst, rounding out my top three foods here in Denmark (and well, that’s about it). Smørrebrød is about as traditional as traditional Danish food gets–it’s an open-faced sandwich, usually on dark rye bread (but not necessarily). It can be topped with any of a number of things, but oftentimes it’s fish of some kind, or sometimes little Danish shrimpies. I’ve had several different kinds and well, they’re all basically amazing. In fact, I even got the opportunity to eat at Restaurant Ida Davidsen–basically the world famous home for smørrebrød–and tried a couple of different ones. One had roast beef with crispy little onions, while the other was asparagus with shrimp and a cheese sauce of sorts… mmm tasty. Makes me a bit hungry, actually (cue break for dinner).

Smørrebrød in HelsingørHyldeblomst

Anyway, moving on to hyldeblomst (pronounced hool-da-blomst). Hyldeblomst was one of the first things I was introduced to in Denmark, sort of on accident. As soon as I landed I headed straight for a convenience store in the airport to grab a drink (long flight + lots of sleeping = dry mouth, thirsty) and grabbed a clear fruit juice that looked interesting. Pretty bottle and whatnot, ya know, I didn’t care I was just thirsty. Turns out this was hyldeblomst, and I basically fell in love. It’s hard to describe the taste; It’s sort of sweet, just a slightly tangy aftertaste, but really impossible to communicate until you try it. It’s actually from a flower called the “Elder Flower” and well, it kind of tastes like flowers. Anyway, enough trying to describe this impossible-to-describe taste. Next time you’re in Denmark, just try it. Trust me.

Anyway, much like the Lakes, I do have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the food in Denmark as well. While the aforementioned foods (and drink) are absolutely amazing, I’ve got to criticize Danish cuisine a bit for its lack of variety. Simply put, there aint much else around unless you’re into mediocre falafel or God-awful Asian or Mexican (I’m dying for good Mexican food–that’s probably one thing I’m looking forward to the most in the States!).

Finally, there’s the licorice. Some people–basically all the Danes, for example–seem to like it. But it’s awful. And not just, “eh, not my thing” kind of awful. It’s “holy crap that’s HORRIBLE”, spitting-it-out kind of awful. I have yet to find an American who enjoys it. It’s just… bad. But ya know, to each his own.

Anyway, that’s it for this edition, part three tomorrow!