Cold and blustery wind rises from the sea and tunnels down between the buildings of Stockholm and pierce my face with the icy tingle of winter. I wrap up a little tighter and try to soak in the sun on my face as I stand on a city sidewalk while Stockholm Central Station rages with the traffic of a Sunday morning behind me. Anxious, I stand and wait. Today is the day I meet the family I will Au Pair for. Lingering doubts and fears present themselves in full force making my knees just a bit weak as I wonder if I will be what they thought, hoping that I can be good enough for the children's lives. My stomach churns with anticipation and fear. I love my surrounding, I love the sea and travel but I hate feeling scared, and I miss my girlfriends smile that eases me and I think of all of this a thousand times over while waiting. Waiting has always been, for me, torture but this waiting takes it to a new place where all there is is doubts fears and desire to run back to the sunny parks of Atlanta and warmth of familiar. Then, as I am contemplating the agony that i feel inside my stomach, a mini-van with the smiling faces of a family happy to meet, finally, someone they have entrusted so much to pulls up to the sidewalk and pops out ready with hugs and greetings. The anxious monster growing power inside my abdominal is now writhing full force as I load my bags climb into the back and feel everything I felt all morning in ten fold. As we ride through city I am a ten year old looking out of the window at the world around me and I feel small and scared and excited.

I arrive at the home I will be living and finally meet the children. Well, kind of. The smallest one is asleep and being shy, the little boy is attached to his father at the leg and refuses to show his face. The eldest, smiles at me with a knowledge admitting that "I know your here, and you don't speak my language." As I try to communicate with her I realize just how difficult this

is going to be until I get into the language class. Hopefully I can learn from them and them from me. It is the time of the afternoon that the Swedish have an after noon snack, so the family and I head to the town center and go to a little cafe filled with delicious looking small deserts and my mouth begins to water with excitement. The fastlagbulle is a floury sweet bun filled with loads of sweet soft cream that the Swedish use as a way of fattening up before lent. I sit with the large fastlagbulle in front of me and hope that it is as good as it looks because there are few things as embarrassing as

trying a new cultures food and wishing that

someone would kill your mouth because it tastes like boogers. As I tear as small piece from the top, dip it in the cream and begin to eat I am filled with a little taste party. It is wonderful. The bun is not to sweet and the cream is a perfect light-as-air consistency. It is a very tasty and very rich treat. I look forward to many more like these.

At dinner we discuss where I came from and my family as well as there. We learn about each other the most that we can over a meal. I learn the calender of activities for the week and what I will be doing. We show the kids where I am from on the map and just how far I was from home. We discuss and struggle with the differences in the metric system and Celsius to Fahrenheit. Then it is time for me to head down to my studio apartment. It is sleek with Swedish design and very clean. A small white table rests poetically under a green and yellow painting with a vase of tulips. A small bed lays in front of a small window and four large closet cabinets. All in all the sharp white of the room filled with splashes of color is very aesthetically pleasing but I feel the anxious monster churning below as I am overwhelmed with the reality that this is my home. I un-pack quickly and begin to relax and soak in my new surroundings. This will surely be a struggle and an adventure that will test and teach me so much. I look forward to all that is ahead of me.

The sun rose on a new chapter in my adventure and, quite literally, my new day. The sun shone bright and the spectacularly beautiful buildings of the city bask in the morning light. I step out into the streets and soak up the sun myself with a smile starting to form itself and I begin to venture out into the Old Town. Stockholm is a very magical place. Within a stones throw from where I am staying there is the Old Town. Small cobble stone streets create my path into a world that I have only seen pictures. I cannot contain my excitement as I walk, holding back a skip that I am sure would draw negative attention! I walk down these streets and feel as though I am in a dream. Everything seems to be centuries old, yet still contains an shimmer as if built yesterday. My head turns from left to right and straight up to the towers of the curches all around at a pace that I will regret this evening. Sweet shops, cafe's, and pubs surround me and I want to look into every window. Suddenly I exit the Old Town street and am placed on the edge of the frozen water that surrounds the city. I stare in awe of the beauty of the broken ice upon the water and the bridges above. Here from my perch I can see just how magnificent the city is. There is history and beauty in every direction I look. Excitement rises as I think of how I will be able to surround myself with this anytime I want! I look forward to getting lost in this city very often. I begin to walk again toward a cathedral and what appears to be a crowd gathered at the Palace.

It may be my American need for immediacy or the fact that my ear drums are on the brink of collapse from the frigid Archipelago wind but I begin to grow impatient as I stand in the crowd and wait for what I assume will be the changing of the guard. A soldier begins to speak into a furry microphone in Swedish, so I am still no closer to figuring out the mystery of the crowd, and it is no warmer. My mind has to fight my feet in there desire to flee and take me somewhere more warm. I am glad that my mind won this battle because the man and the furry microphone were finished and the changing of the guards was soon to begin. A silence fell upon the crowd seconds before a cheer came from a group of young Swedish soldiers standing at the ready. They began their march to the center of the courtyard as the twelve o'clock bells rang freedom and echoed through the streets. A distant sound of steady drumming could be heard marching closer to the rhythm of a hundred soldiers heartbeats. My anticipation rose to a climax as many more soldiers entered the Palace courtyard beating drums and marching with the Swedish colors flying beautifully in that same frigid wind. Immersed in this history and rich culture I can only think that I am very lucky to have chanced upon this moment. My heart beats, now, to the same sound of the drumming and I smile and stand in awe of the history that surrounds me. Staring into the colors of the guard at changing I am happy, I am reminded again why I travel. In that moment I am overcome by luck that I have to be able to stand there healthy and free and full of life.

This is a poem that I wrote recently. It is a story about overcoming adversity, having dreams and hard work. Many people are not dealt the hand they had hoped for, many children grow up the way that I did, and we all have hard times that come. This is a story that shows no matter how dark the shadows, with dreams and hard work, we can still grow in spite of the shade. This story can trace it roots back to a little shaded spot by the creek in Auburn Kentucky that I would go when things were tough, or I had so much on my mind that I needed an escape. Here in the shadows by the water I could find a solace and a peace free of the grime that was around me. Here I could breath and dream of a place that was far away from the unfairness of it all. I would sit for hours and escape into my wild imagination. I could go anywhere and be anyone, this was my "Over the rainbow". I can still remember those dreams and recall those hours and I strive to be the tree that grew in those shadows in spite of the shade.

There was a tree born by the river,

In the shadow of many taller trees.

As this tree fought for sunlight

He grew in spite of the shade.

As the clouds floated by in the sky overhead

The young tree dreamt of being on the move.

The world moved around him years seeming by the hundreds

The young tree grew in spite of the shade.

One day as the sun shone bright

The young tree felt the sun.

As he basked in the light he dreamt of rootlessness

He shook with desire to move like the clouds.

As his leaves shook and his mind raced

Something strange happened; his roots removed themselves from the earth.

The still young tree began to travel with no roots.

Everywhere that he would go he would plant himself and become a new tree.

He grew upon Peruvian soil and let the llamas eat his fruit.

He traveled as a tiny tree in a pot across the sea as a sailor watered him and shared his soul.

The young tree grew in the red earth of Africa as a Baobab

Lions sharpened there claws upon his bark and at nights the birds used him for rest.

Everywhere that he traveled he became something new

Still he remembered the clouds over head and the dreams dreamt in the shade.

Though he traveled and shaped he never forgot how hard he fought to travel

He grew and moved with no roots in spite of the shade.

Today is a travel day for me. I woke up and prepared my things to depart the Sleep in Heaven and Copenhagen. I took the bus to the Central Station and went back to the ticket office. I was informed that the last ticket of the weekend was a first class seat for 200 USD. That was not what I expected but at least I would be comfortable. I grabbed a bite and waited for my train. The train came and I found my seat. It was an extra wide seat by the window. I was lucky to find a plug for the computer but unlucky to find that smell. Early this morning old pickle smell and juicy trash bag smell met up and formulated a diabolical plan against my nostrils! I tried to fight it by burring my head into my scarf. Fail! I tried to smell my tea. Fail! I seemed destined to be tied to this smell for the duration of my train ride. First class my ass. That was my ride.

I would like to go back and comment on the Central Station of Copenhagen. It was my first real life taste of the wizarding world. I felt as though I was in a train station out of a Harry Potter book. Needless to say I loved it and it was awesome!

I arrived in Stockholm and exited the central station to find blustery cold. It is fine though because Stockholm is very beautiful. The first thing that I noticed was the architecture. It is a very contemporary and streamlined style. The city is far more clean then Copenhagen. I am staying at the City Lodge Hostel. It is clean and quite, though I cannot wear my shoes inside. I am fine with this but I have never encountered this. Tomorrow will be a more interesting day. I am going to interview a worker here at the City Lodge as well as a few guests. I am surrounded by Russians, Germans, French and many others. I am interested to learn why everyone is traveling, what they do for a living and how that effects this thing that I am doing and you back home.

The cobbled stone of the early morning streets are still cold with the wet of winter. The Copenhagen sky is still gray and the breath is visible as I exhale. I watch my breath, as a child pretending to smoke, rise to the tops of the buildings. I walk to the bus stop to catch the 250 s to the train station. As I arrive to the Corner I hear the shouting of an African man. He is shouting to a black man running across the street. "Run nigger.. You bet' run...you know all white men tink' you a nigger!" Yay! I thought. I stayed though at that stop, choosing not to find the next one. I knew better but hoped that he would not come to talk to me. Alas, he did. From five feet I could smell the liquor on his breath and his eyes were glassed over. He stumbles as he speaks to me about why I think, if I do, that all people hate Africa. Why are there no buildings like the ones here in Africa? He asked me these questions and I let him speak. He then asked me if I felt this way and I told him no. He then shook my hand. I looked up from the streets and say what I thought to be my rescue in the form of an auto bus. Insert big cartoon like eyeroll.... now! This rescue bus, I was informed, was his as well. As I entered the bus I paid the driver and escaped to the top tier and found a great seat. I thought for a moment about the craziness of the man. How could he be so drunk so early? Why does he think everyone thinks those thing? I wish he had just left me lone, I think. Then I think again, I didn't mind so much, and it opens a window into the culture of racism as viewed by a African Dane and how that compares to the culture of racism in th US.

I decided that I would ride the bus for a bit to get a cheaper site seeing tour. I enjoyed my ride and saw some very beautiful buildings and parks. I then arrived at the Central Train Station and realized that I had not brought my wallet. This would make purchasing a train ticket to Stockholm pretty hard. I priced one and left. Next I found out just how expensive Copenhagen is when I decided to walk into the McDonald's on the corner. I was curious as to how it would compare. McDonald's back home makes this one a not very funny joke. A single cheese burger is 10 Kroner. 10 Kroner is roughly 2 dollars. It comes with no ketchup, mustard or pickles. It has lettuce and big mac sauce. It is no dollar double cheese! No double cheese at all. I am also blown away by the price of Coke here. At McDonald's a small Coke is 15 Kroner, about 2.50USD.

I then spent a while walking the city. I visited Tivoli, which is a theme park of sorts. It is closed now, but in the open season it is a shopping center that has shows and some smaller carnival rides. It looks like it could be a nice time. It is located in the center of Copenhagen, just outside the train station. It then lead me to a street with two pubs. One of which boasts "Probably the finest selection of beers in town" . The other boasts "Probably the best beer in town.". I find this hillarious that the Danes are so modest that they do not even brag on there advertisments. In America every place boasts "Worlds Best Beer" and "Worlds Best Everything"! That is how you bring in business!

I made some visits to shops and thought very hard about getting another sweet from another shop but I opted out. I then decided to hop back onto the bus and ride to the other parts of town. I enjoyed seeing the sites from the window but I do wish to come back sometime when it is not so overcast and ugly out. There is just a better feel in the sun. I then had a Kebab proper at another Kebab place. It was quite good. One of the Doner Kebabs where they slice the meat off of a rotating stick. It was in a pita with lettuce, tomato, and onions. It was very tasty and satisfying after a long day.

I sit now back at the Sleep in Heaven hostel surrounded by the ambient sound of many different languages. It is an incredible experience to sit and listen to the different cultures making the same calls I want to be. Watching people as they process the surroundings and experiences I am going through in there own way. People sit in corners and type into there computers, some have much to loud phone or skype conversations and some sit with friends and eat as they discuss the day. All of this is happening to the soundtrack of american jazz, listened to by the hostel employees. These are the moments I enjoy traveling.

I have made it, I must say solemnly, through the first day. I now know what it feels like to be a stranger in a strange land. Ha, it is an oddly unsettling feeling. Tonights menu consisted of King Kebab and Pizza! After walking a few blocks more than I wanted to look for this recommended Kates Joint I stumbled hungrily into King Kebab. It was a very tasty pizza. Hand rolled and tossed dough and fresh cheeses made it taste better than the run down bodega looked. Afterwards I couldn't help but indulge in a sweet. Copenhagen has many, many pastry and sweet shops and through the window all day they called to me to liberate them from there current dwelling and let them take up residence in my tummy! I bought a little sweet, the name still unknown, that consisted of a white and chocolate cream puffed high between two oatmeal and chocolate crisps. It was every bit as good as it sounds and looked. Though a little to sweet to finish. Never fear I believe that science tells us that treats like that make a nutritious breakfast, can't argue with science.

I am again sitting in the hostel listening to my own playlists being played by the workers who are all Danish. I just had a talk about how everyone here loves Bob Dylan, Black Keys and most importantly Bruce. It is nice to hear familiar music on a day so overcast with my anxiety and fears of the new land. Oh and based on the musical tastes I assumed that they would like to hear my friend Eric Wilson. As it turns out they know Eric and love him I am soon to be on my way to email him the news.

I am here, abroad, for a mission. I am trying to take it all in and learn how these people truly live, how they get there hands dirty and work. In the bit that I have observed today I notice that the Danes are a friendly people very interested in the community aspect of life. Everyone seems to be content talking, laughing and having a coffee. I haven't learned any of the intricacies of the Danish working or cultural life but I hope to. As for no I can say that they love bikes and take it to a whole new level. Bike interstates I might say, and I do. One thing is also for certain the Danish people LOVE 7/11! There is a 7/11 on every corner. That is seriously not an overstatement. There really is one on nearly every corner.

As for now I am trying to beat this jet lag, skype with my Anne, and relax. I await, impatiently, a sunnier and more well rested tomorrow.

I am sitting alone at a corner table awaiting my bed in the Sleep in Heaven Hostel in a very cold and gray Copenhagen morning. There are many stimuli to keep my mind racing and trying to process but as I sit here now I am in one of those "Oh shit!" moments where all I want to do is run home to the states. This is a new concept to me considering I have been wanting nearly all my life to leave and explore. I am just wondering and hoping that this little plan that I am working on pays off. I have to make it worth it because right now there is a fire from the pain of leaving. It is not an easy thing to adventure while loving someone back home. she and I are in a good place and both believe you have to chase your dreams while they will lead you as not to come to despise the choices you made to sacrifice and stay. That sounds like a logical and mature thought, sure, but it is damn hard. Nearly impossible to leave the comfort of arms you love so much. To leave that safety nest for such unknown is gut wrenchingly painful, so I will make it worth it.

Today will be a recovery day from travel. I will journey into the central station in search of the coveted and mythical plug converter and then I will rest and try to fight the jet lag. I think that I will get some coffee and try to take as much in as possible. It will be hard to learn a new language in a place that English is so present but I will try. Things in Denmark are very similar to a city in the US. So far it is much like visiting the historic districts of New Orleans and Nashville. As the day progresses so may theses thoughts.