A Travel Junkie and Pastry Chef's Wet Dream
Aug 8th, 2014, 12:05 PM
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2014
Posts: 48
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
A Travel Junkie and Pastry Chef's Wet Dream
I'm writing from Copenhagen, Denmark. Just over a year ago I broke the first lumbar vertebrae of my spine. My X-Ray (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/) kind of summarizes just how bad it was. I've always been independent and done things my own way, but lying on my back helpless, wondering if I'd ever do anything on my own again taught me just how much I desperately need to be in control of my life and destiny. In 12 feet and 1.5 seconds my life changed forever. As I recovered and eventually stumbled out of a morphine fog, I realized that change--whether good or bad--is near-instantaneous. Bad things disrupt our lives and change our trajectory, but I wondered why can't good things happen just as quickly? Perhaps destruction is always quicker than construction....at the time it was a twinge of self-pity, I suppose, but the idea that good things can happen that change our life for the better in an instant became a thought that I never let go of.
Starting back at my job behind a desk, dealing with both irate customers (and the occasional colleague) who didn't know their job function even if you tattooed it on their right hand, became more difficult than ever, but I'm actually not sure what was worse--the pain that shot from my spine down to my legs and back--or the thought that unless something good or bad happened to change my trajectory, this is exactly where I'd be in 10 or 20 or 30 years.
I'm by no means wealthy. I'm 25 and have struggled to earn probably just a little less than your average taxpayer. I thought that dedication and hard work would lead to pay raises and promotions, but at the rate I was going, I was barely competing with inflation. During the day my thoughts would shift to the one thing I loved more than anything: baking. Whereas some girls of my age spend their extra money and time on going out with friends or shopping for new handbags, I spent all my extra time in the kitchen experimenting with flour, sugar, butter, eggs and heat. And I spent all my extra money on that, too. Croissants, breads, macarons, tarts were my best friends. Late nights for me left me hungover from a lack of sleep rather than overindulgence in cosmos and cabernets. Rolling pins and perfect macarons were what I lived for.
.. To be continued on the next post
Starting back at my job behind a desk, dealing with both irate customers (and the occasional colleague) who didn't know their job function even if you tattooed it on their right hand, became more difficult than ever, but I'm actually not sure what was worse--the pain that shot from my spine down to my legs and back--or the thought that unless something good or bad happened to change my trajectory, this is exactly where I'd be in 10 or 20 or 30 years.
I'm by no means wealthy. I'm 25 and have struggled to earn probably just a little less than your average taxpayer. I thought that dedication and hard work would lead to pay raises and promotions, but at the rate I was going, I was barely competing with inflation. During the day my thoughts would shift to the one thing I loved more than anything: baking. Whereas some girls of my age spend their extra money and time on going out with friends or shopping for new handbags, I spent all my extra time in the kitchen experimenting with flour, sugar, butter, eggs and heat. And I spent all my extra money on that, too. Croissants, breads, macarons, tarts were my best friends. Late nights for me left me hungover from a lack of sleep rather than overindulgence in cosmos and cabernets. Rolling pins and perfect macarons were what I lived for.
.. To be continued on the next post
Aug 8th, 2014, 01:34 PM
#3
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 16,875
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
There is a whole 'nother thread trying to help her figure out pastries in Europe. I don't think she knew Sweden had great pastry.
I hope it works out--fascinating. She cannot stand for long periods of time--a baker kind of needs that.
I hope it works out--fascinating. She cannot stand for long periods of time--a baker kind of needs that.
Aug 10th, 2014, 12:41 AM
#17
Join Date: Jul 2004
Posts: 4,823
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
We have a micro bakery in Rotterdam
https://www.facebook.com/ondergronds..._type=bookmark
So if you want to stop by, contact us.
https://www.facebook.com/ondergronds..._type=bookmark
So if you want to stop by, contact us.
Aug 10th, 2014, 02:19 PM
#18
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2014
Posts: 48
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
The night before I left Los Angeles, I paired down everything I wanted to take with me. You'd be surprised at how effective the volume of a backpack is at determining what is really necessary for an open-ended trip abroad. My first thought--other than how minimalist this adventure would be--was that everything I needed had to be carried. No titanium exoskeleton, no sherpa, no Darpa Robot. Just me and a backpack. The idea was thrilling, if not a little scary, too!
(Picture of all my life for the next several months, I have already downsized and ditched the white tote bag, got a much smaller bag to function more like a purse - https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/)
Typical plane ride: 7 hour delay, followed by 10 hours of being squished shoulder to shoulder while waiting for my olfactory nerve to turn off the "B.O. and bad breath" sensors in my nose. Whatever rudimentary, amorphous thoughts I had on the plane turned quite real as soon as we landed. I think I'd been in denial in-flight, because when I landed a huge wave of fear rushed over me. I was scared! I don't know the language, nor do I have any clue what their customs are like. As fear turned to self-doubt, I'd thought to myself, why was I in Copenhagen? What the hell was I doing? I had basically thrown a dart on a map and here is where I landed, the puncture point, Denmark. Even if I removed the dart from the map and threw it again, the small hole would always be there, having never been filled by experience. Maybe others wouldn't notice, but I would. I knew that hole would always be a hole in me; something would always be missing. I couldn't let fear stop me, dammit! Unfortunately, all that didn't do a thing to help me deal with the anxiety. To make things even worse, it was the first time in my life I've ever truly followed my heart. Was my heart an idiot? I hoped not. 36 hours of sleeplessness didn't help. But almost instantly my fears were assuaged. After a drama-less cab ride I settled in to my rented room and, after exchanging greetings with the host and settling in, I passed out like a drunk baby.
(Picture of all my life for the next several months, I have already downsized and ditched the white tote bag, got a much smaller bag to function more like a purse - https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/)
Typical plane ride: 7 hour delay, followed by 10 hours of being squished shoulder to shoulder while waiting for my olfactory nerve to turn off the "B.O. and bad breath" sensors in my nose. Whatever rudimentary, amorphous thoughts I had on the plane turned quite real as soon as we landed. I think I'd been in denial in-flight, because when I landed a huge wave of fear rushed over me. I was scared! I don't know the language, nor do I have any clue what their customs are like. As fear turned to self-doubt, I'd thought to myself, why was I in Copenhagen? What the hell was I doing? I had basically thrown a dart on a map and here is where I landed, the puncture point, Denmark. Even if I removed the dart from the map and threw it again, the small hole would always be there, having never been filled by experience. Maybe others wouldn't notice, but I would. I knew that hole would always be a hole in me; something would always be missing. I couldn't let fear stop me, dammit! Unfortunately, all that didn't do a thing to help me deal with the anxiety. To make things even worse, it was the first time in my life I've ever truly followed my heart. Was my heart an idiot? I hoped not. 36 hours of sleeplessness didn't help. But almost instantly my fears were assuaged. After a drama-less cab ride I settled in to my rented room and, after exchanging greetings with the host and settling in, I passed out like a drunk baby.
Aug 11th, 2014, 06:57 AM
#20
Original Poster
Join Date: Jul 2014
Posts: 48
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
First (real) day in Copenhagen started out a bit rocky. I got lost on the way out while trying to find an ATM. I had no krones (only Euros and USD) and no useable credit cards. I did have my bad sense of direction with me and a cell phone with no service. Just when I began to worry that I could very well get stuck in a maze of a city, I found an ATM machine and met some awesome Greek cafe owners, who showed me around and took me to Christianshavn. (Inserted picture)
Streets of Copenhagen - (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-t/14863550366/)
More cute streets of Copenhagen, I love it. (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-t/14857376616/)
In the 1600s by Christian IV found and built Christianshavn as a little merchant/fortress town while he was fortifying Copenhagen. Some time in the mid 1900s the square was made public and hippies settled in and the tradition carry on until now. I doubt he could ever imagine that his park would become the epicenter of Copenhagen weed culture, as this is the park where the locals and tourists come to buy and smoke. Of course, no pictures allowed signs spray painted everywhere where the product is being sold, but once you pass it, it becomes a friendly atmosphere. The section where the hash and cash transaction took place seemed serious. Every dealer was set up under tents with sunglasses, and hoodies and no one was alone. When people talk to the seller, the guy next to him (bodyguard I suppose), would stare you down. I'm sure they pretend that they're there for security, but I got the suspicion that they took their job too seriously. Now, I'm no drug addict, and I surely didn't go to Denmark with the intention of smoking hashish, but if what I wanted was routine and sameness I'd still be back at home working my boring, awful job. New unexpected experience #1! I don't know what the 60s were like, but now I have a little better idea.
No pictures available really for Christianshavn since it wasn't allowed there, but I did manage to get a picture of a guy who's had too much of Christianshavn playing on his guitar horribly next to us and singing terribly. (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/)
Pictures of the Greek Cafe and owners - https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/
https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/
P.S. For more pictures, you can follow my instagram, though the trip report would be behind on where I am and what I post on Instagram, search by : llamas_need_love_too or Pamplemousse
Streets of Copenhagen - (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-t/14863550366/)
More cute streets of Copenhagen, I love it. (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-t/14857376616/)
In the 1600s by Christian IV found and built Christianshavn as a little merchant/fortress town while he was fortifying Copenhagen. Some time in the mid 1900s the square was made public and hippies settled in and the tradition carry on until now. I doubt he could ever imagine that his park would become the epicenter of Copenhagen weed culture, as this is the park where the locals and tourists come to buy and smoke. Of course, no pictures allowed signs spray painted everywhere where the product is being sold, but once you pass it, it becomes a friendly atmosphere. The section where the hash and cash transaction took place seemed serious. Every dealer was set up under tents with sunglasses, and hoodies and no one was alone. When people talk to the seller, the guy next to him (bodyguard I suppose), would stare you down. I'm sure they pretend that they're there for security, but I got the suspicion that they took their job too seriously. Now, I'm no drug addict, and I surely didn't go to Denmark with the intention of smoking hashish, but if what I wanted was routine and sameness I'd still be back at home working my boring, awful job. New unexpected experience #1! I don't know what the 60s were like, but now I have a little better idea.
No pictures available really for Christianshavn since it wasn't allowed there, but I did manage to get a picture of a guy who's had too much of Christianshavn playing on his guitar horribly next to us and singing terribly. (https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/)
Pictures of the Greek Cafe and owners - https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/
https://www.flickr.com/photos/iamms-...n/photostream/
P.S. For more pictures, you can follow my instagram, though the trip report would be behind on where I am and what I post on Instagram, search by : llamas_need_love_too or Pamplemousse
