A few days in Helsinki and southern Finland

Our grand return to the European Union, and the last leg of our Baltic adventure, began with a few days off from city life. I'd hoped to go further north, but the transport fees and schedules weren't in our favor, and honestly, it probably wasn't the right time of year. I'd wanted to visit the Sami people, the European Union's only indigenous people, who inhabit the Arctic Circle across Russia, Finland, Sweden, and Norway. They happily receive tourists interested in learning more about (and financially supporting) the Sami. I'd also have loved to see the Northern Lights, one of northern Finland's major draws, but they aren't generally visible after early-to-mid March. I reluctantly acknowledged that some bucket list items can afford to go unchecked.

We stayed in a home in the outskirts of the Helsinki metropolitan area alongside a lake, complete with rowboat that we took out for a spin. Literally. To be generous, we were both a bit rusty on our rowboat skills, so some spinning definitely happened. I am proud to report, however, that nobody tipped the boat, which counts as a win in my book.

Our Airbnb home on a lake came complete with our own private rowboat.

The next morning we got ourselves out to the Nuuksio National Park, probably the best nature escape near Helsinki. The birch tree forests shaded us from a surprisingly sunny day as we hiked past lakes and rugged, untouched terrain. The scenery could not provide a starker contrast from where we'd just been two days prior, and it provided a welcome balance to the trip.

Nuuksio National Park, the best nature escape in Southern Finland

After a couple of days nearly off the grid, we headed back to the world's second-most northern capital city. The prices immediately reflected that we were back in a Nordic country, where we were no longer equipped for the fancy wining (beering?) or dining of Talinn or Saint Petersburg. But Helsinki still had plenty to entertain while holding tight our purse strings.

We visited fancy churches, from the spartan Lutheran Tuomiokirkko just north of Senate Square to the Russian Orthodox Uspenski Cathedral to my personal favorite, the late-1960s Rock Church, or Temppeliaukio kirkko, whose own unique take on Nordic modesty is expressed in its guise of a giant pile of rocks.

Notable churches of Helsinki. Leftmost images: Lutheran cathedral Tuomiokirkko. Top right: Russian Orthodox Uspenski Cathedral. Bottom middle and right: Late 1960s Rock Church, a semi-underground church which appears, from the outside, like a giant pile of rocks.

We spent our time wandering along the waterfront, down the tree-lined boulevard called Esplanadi, and across the city admiring the sights.

Highlights of Helsinki.
Top row: Nicolas and me in front of the Sibelius Monument; Rauhanpatsas, or Statue of Peace, a monument to the friendship between the Finns and the Soviet Union, erected in 1968; the Three Smiths Statue, unveiled in 1932.
Middle left: the Helsinki waterfront.
Bottom row: A sideview on the Presidential Palace; a memorial on Esplanadi to Zacharias Topelius, a Swedish-speaking Finnish journalist and historian; a small German church; monument on Esplanadi to Johan Ludvig Runeberg, a Finnish-Swedish poet; the Kallion Kirkko, a church built in the Art Nouveau style that can be spotted all around Helsinki

While wandering along Esplanadi, we stumbled upon the existence of techno-opera. Who knew?

I even found some impressive consignment shop offerings—thank you, Recci!

Remarkably enough, through the wonders of Facebook, I had the chance to catch up with a friend I'd made while backpacking through Southeast Asia last year. We didn't just enjoy good company out in the town, but also back in our Airbnb home, where we had the pleasure of staying with a worldly musician and her gracious hostess of a cat.

Our feline Airbnb hostess in Helsinki graciously allowed us to share her bed, if we asked nicely.

Finally, on our very last night, we allowed ourselves a bit of Finnish culinary exploration at Juttutupa, a restaurant and bar that was once supposedly a favorite of Lenin. A table in the corner where Lenin and Otto-Ville Kuusinen supposedly liked to meet up is known today as the "Revolutionary table," at least according to the restaurant menus, though we couldn't figure out which corner table they meant. I sampled the fried vendace fish with mashed potatoes and lingonberries. Not bad at all, though Tallinn still topped the list for food on this Baltic trip.

Traditional Finnish food at Juttutupa, supposedly one of Lenin's favorite hang-outs.

The skies finally opened up on the morning of our departure, but we could hardly complain after Mother Nature had spent the past week and a half smiling down on us. It was time to head home.

Russia's "Window to the West"

St. Petersburg was our Paris of the East, or the Russian "window to the West," as the city's founder, Peter the Great, once called it.

Despite taking ages to pass a border guard who made it clear that Americans were not particularly welcome, I immediately felt at home in the city.

Made it to Russia! Complete with my new Cyrillic name and fresh passport stamp.

As displaced Parisians, Nicolas and I were immediately struck with a sense of familiarity thanks to Saint Petersburg's wide boulevards, the ornate bridges criss-crossing the Neva River and canals, the grandiose architecture, and the international flare.

Unfortunately, due to the boat schedules and our 72-hour time restrictions, we had to book our departure trip for the following evening, allowing us just 36 hours to see a city that could easily take a week or two. This meant we had to rapidly switch from our leisurely Tallinn pace to power tourist mode.

We were happy to take advantage of the weak ruble, but still felt a bit of a price jump compared to Tallinn, where we could dine and drink like royalty. Still, we didn't feel too pinched as we sat down for meals. Being in Russia's second largest city, it was no trouble to find a place specializing in Russian and Ukrainian dumplings, which we promptly did.

Traditional Russian food. Left: Pelmeni, meat-filled dumplings. Right: Varenyky, curd-filled dumplings with cherry sauce and sour cream. A food he happily associates with his late Ukrainian great-grandmother, Nicolas insists I note that varenyky are traditionally Ukrainian.

Our stomachs happily full, we spent our afternoon running around town trying to check off as many major monuments from the tourist list as possible. The pace of life here felt fast, busy, energetic. Everything was so big, so colorful (notably a trait not shared with Paris), so beautiful. My personal favorite was the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. It seemed to have come to life straight out of the Candy Land board game we used to play as kids. Trying to see all of Saint Petersburg in just two days was unfair to this city. A photo collage might do a good job of capturing the whirlwind of sightseeing.

Saint Petersburg in 36 hours.
Left column, top-down: St. Isaac's Cathedral; the view down the Fontanka River from Anichkov Bridge; the Winter Palace by night.
Second column, top-down: the Smolny Cathedral convent; Dvortsovyy Bridge by night; Feodorovskoy Sobor.
Third column, top-down: me outside the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood; red carnations, the most common flower to place at Russian soldiers' graves, around an eternal flame monument. Flowers were there to mark the May 9 anniversary of the end of Soviet involvement in WWII; the Admiralty.
Right-most column, top-down: Nicolas outside the Peter and Paul Fortress; the inner courtyard of the Winter Palace (Hermitage Museum)

For once, the following morning, the weather wasn't entirely in our favor. Under heavy skies, we toured the Peter and Paul Fortress and then headed for the Winter Palace, once the official residence of the czars (pre-1917 revolution), now home to the Hermitage Museum, one of the oldest and largest museums in the world. I'm not sure exactly how it compares in size to the Louvre, but it certainly gives the Parisian gem a run for its money.

Views from inside the Hermitage Museum

And lest Saint Petersburg look merely like a sparkling monument of the past, here's just one glimpse at how modern and trendy it is, with store fronts à la New York/ London/ Paris.

I couldn't help smiling at these store front windows along Nevsky Prospekt, a major boulevard in Saint Petersburg.

And in honor of Nicolas, I'll wrap this post up with an image of just one of the many Western chains that made it to the Motherland, complete with Cyrillic sign post.

Burger King, now in Cyrillic. (For the life of me, why a Frenchman would find *this* cuisine enticing...)

Before we knew it, we were rolling our suitcases down the sidewalks, doing our best to avoid the major puddles, and wheeling back up the boarding ramps past customs and back toward the European Union. By now, I'm convinced that getting that Russian tourist visa will be worth it, one day.

A small, modern, medieval town: Tallinn

The first words I find to describe Tallinn are small medieval town. I just loved the medieval town walls and the old town hall, complete with dragon gutter spouts. Of course, this is a modern (albeit little) European capital city, so there's much more than just that.

Old Town Tallinn. Top row: St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox church seated atop Toompea hill; The view down Rataskaevu, home to plenty of fine restaurants that we enjoyed during our stay; A typical street in the Old Town; Tallinn's Viru Gates, which date back to the 14th century and were once part of a larger defensive complex. Middle left row: A typical street (technically outside the Old Town) bearing the Estonian flag; A medieval city gate. Bottom row: Part of the old city walls; Looking down the street toward the 14th century Gothic St. Olav's Church; Tallinn's town hall, reputed to be the best preserved Gothic town hall in Northern Europe; Climbing up to Kiek in de Kök, a 15th century tower.

Tallinn offered surprisingly good food and a great craft beer scene. Mostly, we came across high quality European cuisine, not too much in the way of Estonia-specific beyond some fantastic dark breads. We even found a fantastic Italian gelateria run by real Italians charging at least three times what they could in Italy. (Whoever said that EU didn't do any good?)

Dining in Tallinn. Left column: Estonian dark breads and soups. Middle columns: an assortment of main dishes we enjoyed over the past few days. Right column: desserts!

Enjoying the craft beer scene in Tallinn

Great wifi was available in just about every shop, restaurant, or café. The prices in Tallinn were cheap, though not Vilnius-level cheap, but uou definitely didn't have the feeling that you were among a downtrodden people struggling to find their footing in the 21st century. And you shouldn't. This is a high-tech European country. Did you know that Skype was once a small Estonian start-up? And things haven't stopped there. In late 2014, Estonia became the first country in the world to offer electronic residency, in a step towards "a country without borders," enabling people around the world (who are willing to shell out cash) to obtain access to Estonia's digital services and to gain the rights to open a company or a bank account in Estonia. This is a high-tech little country.

Views across Tallinn, capital of one high-tech little country. (Nicolas does not love the camera, unlike a certain seagull.)

Fun fact: Did you know that Estonia was actually run by the Danes from the 13th-14th century and again in the 16th-17th century? For such a small country today, Denmark certainly has left a large footprint. In fact, traces of it can be found in the Danish king's garden, right on Toompea Hill nearby the castle. Legend has it that today's Danish flag fell from the sky and into existence right here back in 1219, turning the battle for Tallinn in favor of Danish king Valdemar II and winning over the hearts of Danes, who take great pride in their Dannebrog (the Danish flag) today.

The Danish King's Garden, legendary birthplace of the Danish flag, overlooked by an eery sculpture of a faceless monk

It wasn't just the Danes getting in on the business of running Estonia for the Estonians. During much of the 20th century, Estonia was part of the USSR. However, unlike Lithuania, our first former Soviet state to have visited, Estonia is much more integrally tied with Russia. Unlike in Lithuania, where the Russians seemed to be viewed as an external former occupying force, many Estonians actually identify as culturally Russian, even learning to speak Russian before Estonian. Our Airbnb host here in Tallinn told us that she considers herself an exception as an Estonian who is just plain Estonian as far back as she can trace her ancestry. Most of her friends have some Russian/former USSR ancestry. As she explained, that's due much in part to the Soviet Union's efforts to create a "Soviet race" by relocating many young people to different parts of the USSR, where they often ended up meeting people, falling in love, and starting families far away from their roots.

This may help explain why the Estonian Museum of Occupations was much less overwhelming than its Lithuanian counterpart. However, it was home to some impressively discreet KGB spy technology and other interesting tidbits. For instance, we learned about the underground punk music movement of the 1970's, which the Soviets tried hard to suppress. In Estonia, a small magnet required to amplify a guitar could only be found within the public pay phones. It was no coincidence then that, at the height of the '70s punk movement, many repairmen found themselves fixing pay phones, and replacing these magnets, several times a day.

Museum of Occupations. Left: Anti-Nazi Soviet paraphernalia from the early 1940's. Right: a display of an old public payphone, the likes of which had to be repaired 2-3 times a day at the height of the punk music movement, when young Estonians secretly stole phone parts to make their own electric guitars.

In an earlier, less oppressive period of Russian rule, Kadriorg Palace and Park were created, beginning in the early 1700s under the order of the Russian czar Peter the Great. We took a half day to stroll the 2 km outside the city to enjoy the grounds and admire the palace.

Kadriorg Park and Palace

Overall, the city was a charming little place, though we might have done better to plan a day-excursion outside of the city as we had 4 ½ days to fill, more than enough to properly see the city. Instead, we took the opportunity to relax, do a bit of work each morning, and enjoy tourism at a pace to which I'm certainly not accustomed. I'd gladly give Tallinn my thumbs up.

And, with Estonia added to my list of foreign countries visited (#37 and counting!), we boarded our Saint Peter line ferry, Russia-bound.

Farewell, Tallinn!

Our first foray into the former Soviet bloc

At 30€ a pop, it would be wrong not to grab tickets for a birthday weekend abroad. And so I awoke to the last birthday of my twenties inside the former Soviet bloc. And it was awesome.

I didn't really know much about Vilnius. Heck, a few months back, I couldn't have told you it was the capital of Lithuania. And its status as an "undiscovered" tourist destination gave it a charm that may not last long as more people start to realize how surprisingly charming, vibrant, and affordable this little city is.

Wandering through the streets of historical Vilnius

As luck would have it, a street fair had sprung up across the city center on the weekend of our arrival. Around each twisting turn and street corner were more stands selling woolen slippers, bouquets of dried wild flowers, wooden carvings, and sparkling amber jewels. Block out the smart phones and you could easily imagine yourself transported back in time about a half millenium, when this city was the seat of power of the largest country in Europe, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. UNESCO has recognized the well-preserved medieval town center, lined with a blend of Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, and Classical architecture, as a World Heritage Site. Who knew a city could survive a half century of occupation and still look so good?

The street fair that just so happened to coincide with our weekend in Vilnius

That said, the most memorable part of our visit wasn't the charming narrow streets. In the middle of Gedminas Avenue, Vilnius's Champs Elysées, lie the former KGB headquarters, now the Genocide Museum. The museum was a powerful testament to the resilience and pride of a people oppressed by Nazis only to be "liberated" by a Communist occupation. This museum displayed the country's painful past while inviting visitors to connect and to see themselves reflected in the faces of those who had struggled through life in Lithuania in the 20th century. As I walked through the rooms, I kept wondering about the photographers who'd made much of the museum possible. Who had the presence of mind to sneak a camera into the woods and document the resistance movement of the 1940s and '50s? Who was brave enough, when faced with a mutilated body displayed by the Soviets, to document the horror for posterity? Who walked along the lines of displaced Lithuanians in their work camps and asked the workers to smile for a camera? And then, there was the museum basement: Here, the KGB political prison was preserved, complete with torture and execution chambers. To emerge from this museum and walk through the streets of Vilnius, suddenly appreciating that anyone just a decade older than me had real memories of these times, was eye-opening. The locals were so welcoming. The city was vibrant. The markets were bustling. These people had been through hell and back and here they were, cheerfully enjoying a weekend in what could only be described today as a charming little capital city. How privileged I suddenly felt.

"Even under total surveillance and brutal persecution of people with other convictions, there were those who risking their freedom or even their lives were determined to fight against the regime and protect human rights. Although there were not many of them, their resolute stand and activities served as a moral example for many others and helped to keep the hope for freedom and independence alive. [...] Lithuania is working for its future remembering the price of freedom and independence."

On a lighter note, we also explored Lithuanian culture through our stomachs. Local cuisine included lots of unexpected but surprisingly edible, even enjoyable, delicacies: acorn coffee, dandelion cappuccinos, sour dough flavored drinks, rye bread ice cream, and apple pie served in a bread bowl. There were lots of soups, especially a cold, bright pink beetroot specialty, and sour cream and potatoes were everywhere. Beer was cheaper than water-- can't complain there. And each meal finished with an embarrassingly small bill.

Lithuanian cuisine. Clockwise from top left:  a cold, bright pink beetroot soup with sour milk, boiled eggs, and dill known as saltibarsciai and a sourdough drink, kvass, in background; potato sausage and potato pancakes; fried cottage cheese dumplings with cherry sauce and sour cream; dandelion cappuccino and a typical Lithuanian tinginys (meaning "lazy one") chocolate dessert with cookie chunks; Nicolas with mini fried dough balls covered in powdered sugar; apple pie à la mode with cherry sauce in a rye bread bowl; beer: cheaper than water; a glass of surprisingly good ryebread ice cream.

In three days we had enough time to hit up most of the major tourist attractions: the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Lithuania, now a history museum; St. Anne's Church, the Gothic cathedral made of 33 different kinds of brick; the Gates of Dawn, once part of the medieval city walls; the remains of the old Vilnius castle atop a hill overlooking the old town; the self-styled independent Republic of Uzupis; even the Stebuklas ("miracle") tile, in the Cathedral Square, which marks the end of a 2 million person chain formed from Vilnius to Talinn (Estonia) in 1989 to protest Communism.

The tourist highlights of Vilnius. Clockwise from top left: Gediminas Avenue; the Stebuklas tile in the Cathedral Square; a university entryway; Castle Hill; The Republic of Uzupis; St. Anne's Cathedral; three displays of medieval Vilnius artefacts at the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Vilnius and the Cathedral doors bearing Alpha and Omega wreaths

Nicolas and me outside the Vilnius Cathedral and its free standing bell tower at the end of my birthday weekend abroad

Vilnius was an unexpectedly charming, vibrant, and fun little town. I hope it isn't the last I'll see of it.

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.)

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.

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