Our first Christmas in Aarhus

As Christmas seasons are wont to do, this year's in Aarhus flew by. Being our first in Denmark, it was filled with cultural discoveries, from the charming to the somewhat disappointing. To lay it out there, the Danes aren't big on lavish holiday displays. Unlike New York or Paris, Aarhus doesn't light up for the holidays. Beyond a few major shopping streets and the mall, the streets were as dark as ever, which is saying something given the amount of daylight this far north at this time of year.

It felt like I scoured the entire city to find this much outward expression of holiday cheer. Showy is one word you can't put on the Danes.

The Christmas markets also weren't something to write home about. If it hadn't been for the mulled wine, "gløgg," which the Danes have really mastered, I'd have been hard-pressed to find much to tempt me past the first couple of disappointments. France spoiled me, in more ways than one. But then again, there were the æbleskriver, the puffy bite-sized pancake balls that the Danes dip in powdered sugar and jam around the holidays. I guess there were a couple things to keep me coming back.

The Christmas markets aren't all they're cracked up to be in Aarhus.

Luckily, you can forget about the Christmas markets over a gløgg and some æbleskriver.

All this is hardly to say that the Danes don't do Christmas. Far from it. The entire month leading up to the holiday is filled with Christmas parties for offices, departments, clubs, teams, and friends. These epic all-night parties (which is saying something, since the sun sets before 4pm and doesn't rise until nearly 9am) are called the Julefrokost, or Christmas lunch, though I still haven't figured out why they call an evening event a lunch. Perhaps it's just typical Danish modesty, as calling it a dinner might sound haughty. Who knows? Regardless, the julefrokost does include a large sit-down meal loaded with all sorts of typical Danish foods: liver paté, lots of red cabbage, "sweet potatoes" (literally potatoes coated in caramelized sugar), duck, and the classic Christmas rice pudding with whipped cream, almond slivers, and cherry compote, the risalamand. Lurking in the depths of the risalamand is a whole almond, whose discoverer is rewarded with prizes like sweets or small gifts. The trouble with trying to slip in a whole almond in a dish packed with almond slivers is that finding the fugitive isn't always so easy. Mix in a few shots of schnapps and the whole almond can go down all too easily, leaving everyone's stomachs packed with the rice pudding— it absolutely had to be searched— and the prize unclaimed, as happened with us this year. (A subsequent dance-off seemed the only logical way to resolve the issue of who should take home the prize.)

Mmm, risalamand. (Prize not included.)

One of my favorite touches of a Danish Christmas is their advent calendar. It's got to be one of the most simple yet charming interpretations I've seen so far. Very fitting for the Danes in their constant quest for hygge, or cozy charm.

Nearly done counting down the days!

And with all that, it's time for me to call it a night. From the Billund airport, where I await my absurdly early Christmas Eve flight home, I'd like to wish you a very merry Christmas.

A Danish Expat Thanksgiving

The Danes may do the Fourth of July, and they've even imported Black Friday, but Thanksgiving has yet to cross the pond. And so I was pleased to induct a large group of newbies into my favorite American holiday this weekend. This year's grand challenge was the turkey, a responsibility I'd managed to hand off every year since I'd begun finding the bird in Paris. There was simply no more dodging the bullet. Luckily, my househusband*'s master culinary skills (I think the French are just born with it), finely honed over the past few months, came to the rescue. Wrapped in aluminum and stuffed with herbs and lemon for flavoring, our turkey came out surprisingly moist and flavorful. (*Nicolas is at home now while in professional transition and I'm affectionately calling him my househusband. You haven't missed out on any surprise wedding.)

A Thanksgiving turkey success thanks to Nicolas

Allrecipes.com was our best friend this weekend. Besides the turkey, we tested out a collection of recipes: gravy with a hint of tomato paste, buttermilk cornbread (with wholewheat flour), a "Thanksgiving turkey" bourbon citrus cocktail, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie cheesecake, and a traditional American hot buttered rum. Coupled with our friends' salads, curry, cheesy bread snacks, mashed potatoes, brownies, and sugar pie, we had ourselves a proper feast.

Our Thanksgiving feast

Our guests hailed from places as diverse as Germany, Denmark, France, Hungary, Ireland, Canada, Honduras, the Faroe Islands, and (if you want to count country of origin) even Bosnia and Iraq. By comparison, Nicolas was a seasoned veteran clocking in his second Thanksgiving. In all, it was a real melting pot of a Thanksgiving which, in a sense, couldn't have been more American, in spite of the total lack of American guests. It didn't take much arm-twisting to convince our foreign friends that the Americans have a few good ideas when it comes to this celebration.

The Thanksgiving bouquet brightened up our windowsill to bring some extra holiday cheer.

All in all, it was a wonderful Turkey Day.

Postdoc update: Finding beauty in the (very) little things

With the click of a button today, I submitted my final funding application for the fall 2015 season. It's been a rude, if unsurprising, wake-up call to what it means to be a postdoc-- so many long hours staring at screens, reworking paragraphs, and looking for just the right turn of phrase that might convince someone that my science is just the thing that will lead to that next great break-through, all the while wondering if that's even close to the truth.

I'd love to be able to share more about my project, but my hands are tied. Such is the depressing reality of science these days: it's all so cut-throat that nothing can really be shared before it's all wrapped neatly in a bow and published. Broadly, I am looking to better understand how the circuits develop in the eye (the retina) that allow us to detect motion. We've got some genes that we're particularly interested in, and some implications for better understanding the visual disease called nystagmus. I'm also working to develop tools that fall under the broad category of "optogenetics," a hot new field in science in which we design genetic systems which allow us to use light to control, manipulate, and record from neurons.

What I'm lacking in specifics, I thought I'd make up for in a little art gallery of recent scientific images. The first two are from a series I affectionately call my Starry Night collection.

Starry Night 1/2

Starry Night 2/2

These images are taken from plates of cultured cells growing densely together. I was shocked to find such beauty pop up under the microscope!

This next image is more meaningful. I call it Visualizing Vision. This is a highly magnified image of a cultured mouse retina, which closely resembles that of a human. In it, you can see a whole lot of blue amacrine cells, little intermediate cells in the chain of retinal information flow, which begins with the light-sensitive photoreceptors and goes all the way down to the ganglion cells, which form the optic nerve that sends preliminarily processed visual information along to the brain, in the form of a handful of parallel channels that each carry different aspects of the visual scene. In pink, you can see two ganglion cells, both reaching out to the hole in the top left, from which the optic nerve used to exit the retina and travel to the mouse's brain. In those pink cells, we can see axons extending toward the brain, stretching their fingers in an easily visualized goal of passing along the message as it is begins its transformation from little photons of light into that complex sensation we know as vision.

Visualizing Vision

I might be a burned-out researcher, and a postdoc filled with doubts about my future. And yet, sometimes I see images that really make me pause in amazement. I might read a thousand different charts and diagrams and textbook explanations of how the retina works, but there's just nothing quite like holding one in my hands, placing it under a microscope, and seeing its beautiful functional design first hand, knowing that I am looking at the very system that allows me to look, to perceive the visual world. I hope I was able to transmit a little bit of that wonder to you today.

A snowy championship weekend

If you know me or you follow this blog, you've probably realized that pole dancing is not just restricted to night clubs, but it also a sport. And, where first comes sport, next comes championships. And that's what happened in Denmark (and not for the first time) this past weekend.

My friends and I ventured down to what the Jutlanders call "Sweden" (a proper Danish insult), and what the rest of us would call Denmark's capital city. And, from our front row vantage point, the competition was way more exciting than YouTube. Still, it's worth a share. The highlight of the night was the guy who literally backflipped off the pole. None of us had ever seen anything like it.

Bjarke Hellden Pole DM 2015

And of course, our own lovely instructor put on quite the performance too! Another girl in our studio took second overall. It's worth checking out if you've never seen a pole choreography before.

By the time the excitement was over, we emerged from the theater to discover that the light dusting that had begun outside had sped past "charming": there would be no getting home that night.

Snowed in at the Danish pole championships

But a snowed in camp-out in Copenhagen with your pole girls isn't the worst way to spend a Saturday night. And after all that fun, I got to come home to this guy discovering the cold white stuff.

An extra weekend highlight: Mars learned about snow.

Another Copenhagen Chi Connection

Chi Connection: what we sorority girls call it when Alpha Chi's got together, preferably somewhere faraway and exciting, and certainly outside of the confines of campus life.

Another AXO reunion in Copenhagen!

It's been a few years since I've left my dear old alma mater, but it hasn't stopped the most welcome visits to my corner of the world from some of my lovely sisters. Back in August, I was thrilled to cross paths with Amy when her Euro-travels and my summer training course brought us both to Copenhagen. This time, in our first reunion since we'd both been French residents, I finally had a chance to catch up with Minh!

Nyhavn in November: we won't be seeing much sun in these parts until next spring

Our weekend together was standard Copenhagen: wandering along the canals, through the park-like Assistens Cemetery, around the 17th century military fortress Kastellet, past the Rosenborg Castle, and of course down to Mikkeller & Friends for some Danish craft beer. There was good food, great company, and wonderfully delicious Danish cuisine. We even discovered that the Danes serve their take on mulled wine, gløgg, complete with sliced almonds and raisins that puff up plump with spiced wine. Another check in the plus column for Danish cuisine and for tourism in their capital city.

Gløgg: Danish mulled wine. At Cafe Gavlen. Delicious.

Country #35: Sweden

In September, I got to counting and realized I'd visited 34 countries to date. Not bad for someone who's done it all on a student budget. It only took a small leap to decide that 40 would be my next big goal. And why not add a deadline? 40 by 30, specifically my 30th birthday, coming in March 2017. From there, the next step was to find the easy targets. And from Denmark, it doesn't get more obvious than Sweden. My first opportunity arose on the return from Brighton. We had 7 hours to kill in Copenhagen, and with Malmö just across the Öresund Bridge, 20 minutes by train from the Copenhagen airport, hitting country #35 was smooth sailing.

Malmö is Sweden's third largest city, with a population about the same size as Aarhus (~300,000). The region has been inhabited for thousands of years, and was in the heart of viking territory. It began to build up as a city in the late 1200's, first under Danish rule. It only became part of Sweden in 1658. Malmö boasts to have the highest number of restaurants per capita in Sweden, and to be a city of parks. I think that sums up about how exciting the city is. That said, Malmö isn't without its charm.

Just a few of the charming sites that caught my eye while wandering through Old Malmö.

We spent most of our day around Old Malmö.

Rådhuset, or Town Hall in Malmö

We walked from the train station over to town hall, whose façade dates to the 1860's.

Lilla Torg, a square in Malmö lined with half-timber buildings from the 1600's and 1700's.

Walking through Lilla Torg, a square filled with half-timbered buildings from the 17th and 18th centuries, we found our destination: Smör & Bröd, a casual restaurant specializing in open-faces sandwiches, typical Swedish (or Danish, for that matter) fare.

A proper Swedish lunch

After eating to our fill, we wandered through Kungsparken (the King's Park) and Slottsparken (the Castle Park, which is overlooked by a castle).

A few highlights from our tour through the King's Park and the Castle Park

Having checked Malmö's nature off the list, we bee-lined for some place a little warmer: Café Hollandia, Malmö's oldest (and perhaps most charming) pastry shop. With its charming, classical and old fashioned décor, you might place Hollandia in the heart of Paris before the land of Ikea. Hardly minimalist for anyone's standards but the most die-hard French romantic. Still, enjoying some of Sweden's finest sweets with an air of my former home wasn't anything you'd find me complaining about!

Café Hollandia: a good decision for a visitor to Malmö

With only time for a power tour of the city, we can hardly have seen everything, but we saw enough to realize what a small world this really is. So I'll leave you as with left Malmö, with this ad we spotted in the train station.

Yes, Pumpkin Spice Lattes are a thing even in Sweden.

A city of street art, pubs, and royal folly

A thoroughly sleep-deprived brain-overload week: just one way to describe my first of what I hope to be many—or at least a handful—of international scientific conferences, the European Retina Meeting in Brighton, an English seaside town. Concepts and complex scientific vocabulary kept flying at me from left and right: "mosaicism," mysterious number classification systems, "patterns of stratification," "cross-species inconsistencies in biomarkers," ... after a while, I felt like all the graphs, novel terminology, and microscopic images of fluorescent neurons were simmering inside my skull in some sort of brew that had supplanted my brain. I am pretty sure I eventually got something out of it, but my first time swimming in the deep end with the retina researchers was an exercise in keeping my head above water.

Looking across the seafront while poking my head out from the Brighton conference center that hosted this year's European Retina Meeting, where I did my best to keep my head above water.

Luckily, I got a gentle mental warm-up each day along my morning walk. I awoke in our creatively, thoughtfully, and very uniquely decorated Airbnb home nestled in a leafy residential part of town, on the opposite end of Brighton from the waterfront conference center.

We found ourselves a cozy and cleverly decorated home with lovely hosts in a charming residential neighborhood for our stay in Brighton.

From our Airbnb home, my Google Maps app directed me to the conference center along a trail of street art that couldn't have been better mapped if that had been the express purpose of the route I'd requested.

An assortment of murals I passed on my morning walk to the conference center

It turns out that Brighton is a surprisingly lively, young, and vibrant town.

And I also had lunch breaks to look forward to. My new boss is Japanese and, wherever he goes, you can count of him to scout out the best local Japanese joints. It turns out Brighton's Preston Street is the place to go. We tested Japanese barbecue, ramen, and of course, my favorite, sushi. In fact, the Sushi Garden on Preston Street was some of the most fresh and flavorful sushi I've had in quite a while.

As part of the conference, we were even treated to a dinner at Brighton's aquarium, which was a surprisingly fancy and old-fashioned place built in 1872. The meal was hosted underground, in a vaulted hall which happens to be Europe's largest underwater fish observation tunnel.

The Brighton Aquarium: a surprisingly old-fashioned setting for dining under-the-sea.

Finally, after surviving a half week of heavy-duty science, on Saturday afternoon I was freed to enjoy a weekend in a charming English town with Nicolas. We kicked things off in the fantastic Food for Friends restaurant, a modern and creative take on vegetarian cuisine which has plenty to tempt even your standard carnivore. We could hardly resist each splurging for the three-course meal: First, smoked ricotta and parmesan gnudi dumplings and crunchy Thai salad. Next, piquillo peppers and open ravioli of roasted butternut squash, beetroot, walnuts, and wilted spinach. And finally, a saffron crème brulée and coconut and black sesame arancini. My mouth is watering just thinking of it.

A three-course lunch at Brighton's Food For Friends. Original vegetarian cuisine. Highly recommended.

That evening, Nicolas's French pride was satiated when he got to enjoy watching England get kicked out of the Rugby World Cup with its loss to Australia, all over pints of beer while surrounded by some impassioned (and not terribly thrilled) fans in an English pub.

The following day was reserved for what is arguably Brighton's single largest attraction: the Royal Pavillion. From the outside, this place looks like it could very well have been plucked from DisneyWorld's Epcot, a romanticized and Westernized interpretation of Middle Eastern/Indian/Arabic architecture.

Brighton's Royal Pavillion

The palace as we see it today was designed by John Nash for King George IV, who was known for his frivolity, love of fashion, womanizing, drinking, and gambling. After George IV, William IV also enjoyed the residence while living a more moderate lifestyle. Finally, it was passed on to Queen Victoria, who decided as she had more children that the palace simply didn't offer enough space or privacy. (I mean, just look at that shack.) So she sold it off to the town of Brighton in 1850. The inside is a surreal blend of the Orient as seen through a Western lens, complete with murals, light fixtures, vases, and chandeliers boasting dragons, lotuses, and other vaguely Asian designs. Sadly, photography is prohibited inside. And so I've only got this one shot. ;)

An illicit photo from the inside of the Royal Pavillion

Overall, Brighton was really charming, lively, and a lot nicer than we'd anticipated. Nicolas's biggest complaint was the lack of rain: it is hardly proper for a Frenchman to return from his trip to England without anything to complain about. (Luckily for him, his wishes were granted on our Monday morning ride to the airport.)

Hoops!

My new studio offers a wide range of classes beyond just pole dancing. It's been a great opportunity to twist, turn, and test my fear of falling. After a few months of learning the ropes, I'm pleased to share some images of the exciting new challenge that is hoop class. :)

Hoops!

Official business in Copenhagen

It seems my new lab will involve the occasional business trip, to which you could say I'm not entirely opposed. ;) This past week, I enjoyed my first professional travels as a post-doc: a trip to Copenhagen for my Danish animal experimentation certification course at the university. While it involved a lot of studying and even a proper classroom-based written exam (something I thought I'd put behind me years ago), the time in the capital wasn't entirely tedious.

Art spotted on Copenhagen U campus. Top right is a real special piece. Taxpayer money at work.

By chance, the trip coincided with the separate travels of two of my friends, Amy and Ally, who made the weekend a lot more fun.

Group shot at Nyhavn! We all managed to cross paths over the weekend in Copenhagen.

We checked off a few of the requisite tourist stops, from the underwhelming Little Mermaid of Langelinje Pier to the military-occupied Citadel to the Botanical Gardens where we found a wandering barefoot flutist to the hippy commune Christianshavn to the Assistens Cemetery-- as surprisingly cheery and family-friendly picnickers' paradise.

Hitting up the tourist sites across Copenhagen under perfect blue skies. Is this really Denmark??

Copenhagen's charm doesn't come so much from its must-see tourist attraction as from the spirit of the city, which you'll find in the impromptu concerts in the park, in the random weekend attractions like Cardboard City, where everything down to the participants clothes and the water in which they swam was of the aforementioned material. You'll see Copenhagen best by admiring the zany outfits you may spot on public transport as well as the total lack of reaction they garner from the locals. Go to a bar and enjoy a craft brew. Sample the Mexican food from the street trucks, the new Vietnamese restaurant, the small Italian take-out joints, and the charmingly decorated cafés. (Who knew a Nordic city could be so diverse?)

What makes Copenhagen so great may just be its perfect blend of Danish hyggelig*, cosmopolitan energy, and international flare. Or not. Luckily, this was just our first real chance to get to know the city. And it certainly won't be our last, now that we've planted ourselves in Denmark for the next few years.

Craft beer bars with accompanying Mexican food trucks, full grown (apparently sober) men walking the streets in hot dog, hamburger, and flamingo hats, hyggelig cafés, and wise-crack chalkboards outside stores. All in a typical Copenhagen afternoon.

*Hyggelig is an atmosphere or mood which the Danes strive to achieve, and in which they take great pride. The Urban Dictionary translates the concept as "cozy, homy, delightfully intimate, a genial moment or thing, often at home with candle lights and warm blankets."

Or maybe it's the fact that a random Elvis impersonator just might show up at the train station at a moment's notice that gives Copenhagen its certain charm.

We always knew he was a smart cat...

Turns out that kitty painting higher up on the shelf was prophetic.

Where East meets West

This is the city that straddles Europe and Asia, where East meets West. Welcome to Istanbul.

Begin with a stroll. Pick up something light like a simit, the wanna-be-bagel sesame roll that the street vendors sell on nearly every corner. Maybe take a walk through Gülhane Park for a peaceful start.

A street vendor outside Gülhane Park selling simit (rolls).

Fill up on something hearty to prepare yourself for the day of touristing. You won't have trouble finding a rich, meaty dish, and normally there is at least one eggplant-based meal for the vegetarians among us. (Plenty of fish, too, if you are so inclined.) If you're traveling on a moderate budget (let's say mid-range hosteling or low-end Airbnb-type travelers), you won't be disappointed at the Sultanahmet Gulhane Kebab House (and the location in the heart of the tourist district isn't too bad either), just don't take a seat if you're stomach is rumbling or your watch is ticking. In Turkey, no one is ever in a rush.

After you've capped your meal off with a Turkish tea, if you have time for just one stop, the Hagia Sophia should probably be it.

The Hagia Sophia!

This singular building encapsulates so much of this land's history. The Hagia Sophia, whose name means Holy Wisdom, was built in 532 AD under the rule of Emperor Justinian I. It was built over two earlier Hagia Sophias, that latter of which was destroyed in the Nika Riots during which angry, overtaxed mobs tried to run Justinian out of office. The threatened emperor ordered this incarnation of the Hagia Sophia just a month after the riots, a masterpiece designed to show off his prowess. It was built in only six years. The architecture is a unique blend of Greek, Roman, and Asian that defined the Byzantine era. Stones were brought in from Egypt, marble from Greece, and yellow rock from Syria for the construction of the cathedral. At the time it was built, the central dome was the world's largest, amazing visitors with its seeming defiance of gravity. The Hagia Sophia rivaled Rome, standing as the world's biggest cathedral for nearly a millennium. Over the centuries, emperors continually added their own touches, as can be seen in the crumbling tiles of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and various Byzantine heads of state.

In 1453, the Ottomans conquered Constantinople, and the ageing cathedral was converted to a mosque. Mosaics and paintings were covered in plaster, and minarets and medallions displaying the monograms of the four caliphs were added. Though it was not originally built as a mosque, the architecture of the Hagia Sophia was so admired that it served as a model for many mosques built in the Ottoman Empire, including the Blue Mosque.

In 1934, the newly secularized government of Turkey converted the Hagia Sophia from a mosque to a museum, as it is to this day. By law, it is illegal to use the Hagia Sophia as a place of worship.

Inside the Hagia Sophia

You could probably wander around the Hagia Sophia for hours, but a peek out one of its windows reminds you that there's still much to be seen.

Looking out from the Hagia Sophia onto the Blue Mosque

From the Hagia Sophia, it's just a short walk across a little grassy park to the Blue Mosque. Built in the early 17th century upon the grounds of the former Byzantine emperor's palace, the Blue Mosque occupies a historically significant site in downtown Istanbul. One of the features that makes this mosque so extraordinary is its minarets. Specifically, it boasts six, whereas the standard is four, sometimes less. In fact, this was rather scandalous at the time as the mosque in the Ka'aba at Mecca boasted just the same number. Ultimately, the Turkish sultan had to send his architects to Mecca to build them a seventh minaret just to smooth things over. For your average tourist, especially someone not so familiar with mosque architecture, the most memorable feature is hardly the minarets: the interior is lined with 20,000 blue tiles from which the mosque gets its (English) name. So line up, grab your gender-appropriate covers from the tourist counter, and take a peek inside.

The Blue Mosque

So you've wandered through architectural feats with walls tickled by the sun's rays. By now, it's late afternoon and the sun is bearing down. How about a monument further from the sun's reach? Just round another corner and descend a flight of stairs to discover the Basilica Cistern. You'll wander along planked walkways between seemingly endless rows of columns, whose reflections against the watery depths only extend the apparent size of the place. Slow-moving carp slip in and out of the patches of the light rising from the water. The dim lighting produces an eery, ghostly atmosphere, which you'll have to enjoy without sharing on social media: the light levels render it nearly impossible to photograph. 

My best shot at a photo of the Basilica Cistern

The cistern was built in the 6th century from recycled Roman monuments as a water storage facility for the emperor's palace and the local populace, who were always at risk of siege. The cistern builders repurposed a variety of sculpted and carved Roman columns, including two Medusa heads now serving as pedestals (one on its side and the other completely upside down!) through which water still trickles today. You'll be surprised to find something so calm and mysterious right in the heart of Istanbul's tourist district.

Emerging into the sunlight again, you'll quickly be reminded of the summer temperatures in Turkey. It's time for an afternoon snack. So take a stroll down to the harbor and grab a seat overlooking the water at Hafiz Mustafa. Enjoy a lemonade or a tea and something sweet. Have a drool over their dessert selection at their photo gallery, or don't take my word: Trip Advisor currently ranks them at #45 of 11,427 Istanbul restaurants.

A much-needed break at Hafiz Mustafa

Rejuvenated, why not do some late afternoon shopping through the typically Turkish markets? And you can't go to Turkey and not admire at least one Turkish lamp store. Personally, I had to hold myself back. We'd already stocked up on goodies back in Selçuk, where we got a finishing touch for our entryway and a fifth lamp to bump up the count and add some more color to our bedroom chandelier, which I'd purchased in Grenada earlier this year.

In Turkey, we got the finishing touches for our apartment: a lamp for our entryway, and a fifth (purple) lamp (and green replacement) for the bedroom chandelier.

And speaking of goodies you can pick up in Turkey, have you heard of zultanite? If not, do we know the salesman for you. That lampseller in Selçuk sure knew how to make a sell. Zultanite is a gem found only in the Turkish Anatolian mountains. It is very unusual in that it undergoes a striking color change under different lighting, from a bright kiwi green in sunlight to a champagne shade in intermediate lighting to a raspberry pink under evening or indoor light. Needless to say, I couldn't resist. If you pick one up yourself, I think you'll be just as entertained to watch it change throughout the day.

Zultanite, a fancy color-changing Turkish gem stone

As the night falls and the calls to prayer from neighboring mosques compete for Istanbul's airspace, take a moment to enjoy downtown Istanbul and the lively Sultanahmet district.

Istanbul by night

This is a city where you'll never have enough time to explore every corner.

The Sultanahmet water tower by night

Soon enough, the trip to Istanbul will inevitably draw to a close. Drag your suitcases back down to Taksim Square and catch the bus to the airport.

Leaving our corner of Istanbul behind.

Say güle güle, or farewell, to Turkey for now, with wishes to meet again soon.

Güle güle, Turkey!

Enjoy a quick lunchtime layover in Copenhagen...

Calm, quiet, clean, and traffic predominantly of the two-wheeled variety. Yep, we definitely made it back to the right country.

And even if you wish you could still be back in that sunny, exotic, and welcoming land in which you had awoken, it's safe to say someone will be happy to see you return.

Happy to be home