BabyMama & The Birth Story

Every telling of a birth story that I have witnessed has felt like listening to a veteran. Someone who has been through something life changing that not everyone has experienced. Someone who has seen some stuff. Someone who may or may not have a little PTSD from the event. Someone who is a bit of a hero, depending on your definition of the word. 

It's a saga. A telling of joy and potentially trauma. It's the tale as old as time: that of new life. 

I'm not saying that this is any of that, but, with our baby girl coming up on the year mark, I figured it's now or never to tell the tale of her entry. Because sharing these stories is important - hearing these stories before and after my delivery helped me be aware of what to expect and connected me to others. As captain of Team-No-Kids, I hadn't heard many details about pregnancy or labor prior to being pregnant, and I feel like I'd have had a greater appreciation if I had. I'd have been more empathetic, more supportive. Birthing persons are super heroes. 

Disclaimers: 

• Semi graphic labor details to follow (will put the most graphic asterisked in a foot note, skip if you prefer - or if you're like a co-worker who stumbled upon this blog and is thinking "yikes, I don't want to know!"). 
• Note that the exact timestamps are because I had my husband texting updates to our immediates (which was actually nice to have a little log of the day) and had some photos from the day. 
• Every labor and delivery story is unique, this was mine: that of a healthy, white, middleclass,  cisgender woman, with a pretty straightforward pregnancy, a supportive partner, and access to a great hospital (plus the wonderful staff that came with it). 
• Despite my ongoing fear throughout pregnancy that I was going to die in labor, I never once felt in danger during my labor and delivery. I was very lucky to have a labor without massive complications. I won't go so far to say it was a "normal" labor, but it was not out of the ordinary. 

The scene: After our first ultrasound, our original due date was moved up a week. But that due date came and went.  Due to Covid and the strains on the hospital system, "elective" inductions were not allowed. One week post due date an induction is able to be considered "medically necessary" though, so that's when our doc put it on the calendar. At week 38, baby was in position and I was almost 2cm dilated, but it stalled out there and baby girl decided to hang out until the 41 week mark. Then induction day was upon us and it was go-time!

4:30am : Up to start getting ready and have a big breakfast. My doc warned me to eat because I'd be on a liquid diet upon arrival (which, is fair because you could end up having a major surgery - a C-Section - and you wouldn't be eating at the hospital before a major surgery), so I scarfed an eggy sandwich. We were scheduled for 6am but told to call at 5am to confirm availability. If a bunch of others had gone into labor overnight and the unit was full, we'd have to wait. 

5am : We called and got put on hold for the longest ten minutes of my life, but got the all clear! To get to the hospital and parked is about 25 minutes, so shortly after we got the okay, we were out the door.

((Stage 1: Early Labor))

6:02am : Checked in at Labor & Delivery. The Kyle Rittenhouse case was on the news, and the Christmas tree was already up in the empty lobby. 

Shortly after, we were in a room and I changed into my laboring gown. They strapped a bunch of external monitors on my belly and got the IV going. I had been flagged with Group B Strep early on in my pregnancy - something that is just a regular part of my body, that could be harmful for a baby on it's way out - which is very easily treated with antibiotics during labor as a precaution. So I knew coming in that I would have penicillin via an IV. Since I needed to be induced and wanted an epidural, an IV was always in the cards. 

The monitors fed a stream of fetal/contraction data to both a digital screen and an old-school printer which steadily drew a line showing my progress, upon a never-ending stream of paper. It turned out that the back pain I had been feeling in the days leading up had actually been minor contractions, they just didn't feel like "normal contractions" (whatever that means lol) thanks to my anterior placenta (my placenta was always on the front of my belly, which cushions baby movements - so I felt kicks later and less intensely early on). Watching the upticks in the line and matching them in real-time with how my body was feeling, I was able to know when contractions were happening. And I definitely thought, "Okay, this isn't so bad." Because everyone tells you "OH YOU'LL KNOW when they're happening!" but at that time, I would've still just thought I was achy. 

7:10am : They started the Pitocin in my IV. Pitocin is a hormone used to induce labor.*

9:18am : Up and walking about with my IV stand. I told them I wanted to be up and about as much as possible, and they largely left me to my own devices. I couldn't wander the halls or anything with Covid, so just paced about our giant delivery room (it was super swanky). 

10:15am : My "liquid diet" meal arrived. Broth, Jell-O, juice, popsicles. I ordered it asap after the Pitocin started, knowing it'd take awhile to arrive. (My biggest fear is being hungry, and I absolutely was justified about that worry later.) I absolutely made my husband take a photo of me holding my broth cup like Baby Yoda - no regrets. 

Random hospital thing: they measure your pee. The toilet in the room has a cup to catch and measure so they can make sure you're hydrated. As a pregnant woman, I peed every ten minutes basically, so the poor nurses had to deal with that a bunch. 

11am : Shift change for my nurses. I thanked them for all their help and said I hoped I didn't see them again when they came back (12 hours later). 

11:43am : They had been slowing upping the Pitocin, to the point where my contractions were regular but still not super strong. The nurses consulted with my OB/GYN and they planned to "break my bag of waters." There was a different doctor who was coming in to do that procedure. Two good notes with this:

• When they said my labor was not progressing much and they planned to break my water, they had to ask permission to take that step. One key bit I remembered from the online birthing class we watched (thanks Covid again - only virtual options were available) was the BAR approach. If there are decisions to be made, you don't have to know all about them in advance of your labor, you just have to know how to get an understanding to make an informed decision. So you ask: what are the Benefits? the Alternatives? the Risks?
• My OB was not present throughout my entire labor - she popped in to check on me a few times and consulted over the phone with my nurses, but she was not just hanging out all day. I was very grateful to have my specific baby doc for my entire pregnancy and the confidence that she would be the one delivering my baby. That helped me to have someone I really trusted (that woman saw me at my highest highs and lowest lows - I consider her a trusted ally). 

12:13pm : Water broken. Definitely a whoosh of fluid. This started my "I am... in a pool" joke with my husband. Pool of fluid, pool of tears, pool of baby spit: somehow, I'm always in a pool. My exact text describing the process of them "breaking my bag of waters" to my friends moments later: "It's like they tried to crochet a sweater up my snatch, but hopefully that'll get things moving!" Feel free to google "amniotic hook" on your own time. (You can also look up goodies like "bloody show" while you're there, if you're feeling feisty.) 

12:57pm : Up and walking about again. I was very determined to keep walking to help bébé labor down as long as possible. Once you get that epidural, the walking stops, so I was on my feet as much as I could be. The thing I didn't fully understand before being pregnant: contractions basically come in waves, fairly standard waves, and they get closer together and can last longer as you get closer to birth. So for example, they can last about 30 to 70 seconds and come about 5 to 10 minutes apart. So you can feel "fine" and be walking around and then suddenly have to pause and do some deep breathing during the contraction and then as it passes you can carry on. 

2:40pm : No updates, really. Contractions were coming on hard but the nurse seemed to think that it'd still be awhile. No epidural yet. Just up and walking about, listening to my labor playlist and chit chatting with my husband. Everyone told me to bring a book / shows to watch, but we didn't turn the TV on even once, and my book went unopened. I was pretty well focused on the task at hand, and didn't need/want any distractions. Just my approach on it. 

2:57pm : When asked about dilation status: they said 3cm but the last cervical check had been a few hours prior. They try not to do too many cervical checks, because after your water is broken, each check could potentially be introducing bacteria, disrupt labor, and just hurt like a bitch. (Cervical checks leading up to my due date, I equated to Hermione reaching into her magic purse #IYKYK)

With little progress, the nurses kept offering me options for pain management: use the birthing ball, lay down in a certain way, take a bath, take a shower, etc. The birthing suite basically had a swanky spa in the room. While the bath option was out since they'd broken my water, a shower was still an option. I love a good hot shower, but it's a little less nice when you have to roll your IV stand just outside the shower and stick your arm out the curtain. Not quite as relaxing. Did not make me feel less in pain, just made me feel awkwardly wet. 

The awkward arm-out shower stemmed from the DRASTIC mistake I made upon arrival of saying that I was 'not opposed to an epidural' vs making my intentions known that I did plan to have one. So, the nurses thought that by offering other things, they were following my wishes. And my damn midwest-nice attitude made me say "suuuure I'll try these things." But my contractions were coming on strong enough that I'd pretty much have to stop dead and focus up, and I was like "QUIT offering me these woo-woo pansy options and give me the damn needle in my spine!" I knew it'd take a bit for the epidural docs to come and get it all in, so when I knew it was time, I made my demand for it (and more Jell-O).

((Stage 1: Active Labor))

4:28pm : Epidural time and bonus cath LOL see this post for all the shit I didn't know about epidurals before needing one. Fun fact: I didn't realize until later that the doc who put the epidural in my spin was actually like the doc-in-training. THAT would've made me feel super stressed as fuck. But, the whole thing went smoothly. I am not a big fan of needles, but my game face was on, so, I think I did a damn good job. 

They always tell you to rest once you get the epidural in, so I did. Walking around was no longer an option anyways. I told the doc I could still feel my foot a lot though and that I didn't think it was working well enough. He said he could do a test and to let him know what I could feel. I told him I was ready for the test and he was already doing it - it's just an ice cube test. I thought I had feeling but I couldn't feel an ice cube on my foot at all. Epidurals are wild. 

6:16pm : 5.5 centimeters (after twelve hours in the delivery room). Which felt like nothing knowing I had to get to ten, and yet felt like we'd finally made some progress. At this point, I was absolutely starving and exhausted from laboring all day. While walking around had been something I felt so adamant about doing, it had worn me out. In hindsight, I'd have chilled with the walking about to save that energy.

6:50pm : 8 centimeters, 100% effaced. My OB was called in mid-dinner, and it felt like it was go-time. (Spoiler alert: I was about 4.5 hours away from having our little girl in-arm.) 

7pm : They began stopping the Pitocin, hoping I'd be able to get the last 2cm on my own. My OB was there, getting her scrubs on. They told us that if the last 2cm didn't come, they would turn the Pitocin back on for a bit. The hope was that the baby's heart rate would stay in a good place, and there wouldn't be a need for a C-Section.

7:11pm : It happened at different points throughout the day, but this was the time there was photographic documentation of it: the "labor shakes," in which one starts shaking/shivering uncontrollably. I felt cold and yet sweaty, and jittery as hell. The nurses put warm blankets on me and I tried to rest. It is apparently fairly common and basically happens because your body has a big old surge of hormones and freaks the fuck out (that's the medical description for it, obvi).

After further evaluation, my OB told us that while the baby was head down (good), it was in posterior position, aka "sunny side up," aka its nose was towards my abdomen instead of my back. This isn't the preferred position for pushing out a babe, because the baby’s head is more likely to get wedged against the pubic bone, putting pressure on mama's spine/sacrum. This can cause a longer and more painful delivery, a higher chance of needing a C-section, and other complications. Apparently, up to a third of babies are in this position in the first stage of labor - most rotate themselves into the right position before go time! 

Since the ideal position was for bébé to be facing nose-to-back, we talked through options for how to coax her into rotating. With the epidural, I was in jellyfish mode, so the nurses moved me about into various positions (to one side, to the other, etc.) and we waited. 

8:08pm : Next up to try involved them putting a giant peanut shaped ball/balloon between my legs to try and rotate that baby.

((Stage 1: Transition))

8:53pm : This time they sat me up into "throne position" where I rested and waited. 

Keep in mind, when I say "resting," I mean riding the contraction waves - as you transition out of active labor and into the actual birthing, the contractions are strong and close together - so every 3 to 5 minutes, and lasting about 60 to 90 seconds each. Not a very "restful" time. Thank GOODNESS for that epidural. Without it, I'd have been in a massive amount of pain - instead I just felt pressure. Like, I could tell when contractions were coming and happening, but it didn't hurt, it was more just like a wave of exhaustion. (Your body is running a marathon, you just can't feel your legs hitting the pavement.) 

More than any other feeling, for me personally, was that of hunger. I am an angry panda when not fed, and with naught but a liquid brunch eleven hours prior, and scattered Jell-O's thereafter, I was running low on fuel. I asked if I could have another Jell-O or anything before we hit the final stage, and my OB politely explained that they were about to put an oxygen mask on me, and many women throw up during labor - and that I did not want to vomit red Jell-O into that mask, because it would not be pleasant. And I was like.... touché, doc, no Jell-O.

((Stage 2: Baby Birthing Time!))

9:20pm : 10cm, baby is face down, pushing starting imminently. This was it. Game face on, I asked my OB how long women have to push for on average. She warned me that it could be hours, and I was like "challenge accepted" - I wasn't going to do this for hours. I was going to push and breath so well, and give this baby my very best, and we were going to get this thing done asap. 

My plan had been to not have my husband in the room during this stage - I needed to be in the zone, and have all my mental energy focused on the task at hand, not worrying about how he was doing or feeling. I didn't want the distraction. But with Covid, he wouldn't have been allowed to linger out in the waiting room and basically would've had to go wait in the car, and that just seemed stupid, so I asked him to stay out of the action, and back over my shoulder where I couldn't see him. Yes, I basically asked him to go sit in the corner. Comforting and hand holding and whatever else would've just made me lose concentration and probably pissed me off. ((Note: this had been discussed well in advance, and I'm grateful that he was respectful of my wishes, because I basically was asking him to not be in the weeds for the arrival of his child - something plenty of people told me I was being a jerk about, depriving him of this special moment. But, my labor, my rules.))

9:27pm : Pushing began. I have never been more focused on anything in my entire life than I was during those first few pushes. Our nurses were excellent and talked me through the breathing, pushing, etc. and I made AWESOME progress immediately. Everyone was all "wow, this is impressive, just a few more pushes like that and like, we'll be done" - much applause. I was a goddamn champion.

9:50pm : And then I was still pushing. Still doing great they told me. But as time went on, my pushes were not as strong because I was so worn out, and every time it seemed I was making progress, I was losing it. 

**See double asterisk subnote if you want the graphic, nitty-gritty details of this part - please skip if it'll make you uncomfortable. It sure made ME uncomfortable.

10:52pm : Still pushing, getting closer. We switched position/approach slightly. But I basically had two nurses holding my legs (since I couldn't feel them) at any given time. It's fascinating when you try to dig in your heels when you...can't feel your heels. 

At some point, my OB asked if I'd like a mirror to see the baby crowning so I could *see* my progress, to visualize/motivate me, or if I'd like to touch the baby's head: both were a HARD NO from me. Literally zero interest in either of those things. I feel like it would have been the opposite of motivating to see my poor body being destroyed by the exodus of our dear babe.

11:00pm : And there it was, the shift change. My nurse from the morning was back and I was absolutely disappointed to still be laboring.  The nurse who had been with me for the past hour and a half of pushing stayed around but had to go do the shift hand off, and other nurses came in. In the jumble, my OB hailed my husband over: someone needed to hold a leg. So much for me wanting to keep him as far away from the action as possible, but there was nothing for it: that leg needed holding. 

As the staff shift whirled about, I was still just there, waiting for each contraction wave, trying to muster up what was left of my energy to get our baby out into the world. I was so very tired. I wish I could say there was a sudden surge of adrenaline or something that got me through, but it was more just a primal need to be done. If it didn't happen soon, I wouldn't be able to have a vaginal delivery, and I was so scared of a C-section that I knew it needed to happen. 

My main pushing-nurse had been my rock in terms of counting and talking me through the breathing, and in the shuffle there were different people saying different things, my legs weren't being held properly, and everyone just seemed distracted from the task at hand. In my delirium, my project management skills came out and I had to give a wee speech along the lines of "hey, we all need to be on the same page - I need someone to do the counting again, I need my legs to both be held the same way, I need help, I need everyone to focus." And we regrouped, with my OB acting as coxswain for the finale. 

11:15pm : Our little girl was born. Nine pounds. Per my husband, it was like seeing a little inanimate thing flop out, and then just spring to life. 

((Stage 3))

I remember saying I wanted the baby cleaned off before they gave her to me for skin-to-skin, but that's apparently not a thing (babies don't get a bath until 24 hours after birth - the goo is protective for them), so the beautiful slimy creature I had grown was handed over, for me to cling to as my body collapsed under the weight of the effort it had just made. The doc began to "repair" the damage (which I could unfortunately feel most of, as the epidural was being tapered off) while we got to meet our sweet girl. A time later, I remember asking my doc about delivering the placenta (which I knew happened after labor), she kindly said it had already happened (so apparently the epidural was still working enough!). The nurses began kneading my stomach, something they'd come do throughout the time it took my uterus to shrink back to size. They did tests and assessments on our baby in the room, while I began recovery.***

Mom and baby were both safe and healthy, that's what mattered. My OB had informed me before pushing that with most insurances, we would get "two midnights" to stay in the recovery ward for a vaginal birth. Some people who are closer to the midnight mark stop pushing and wait... because America. (Seriously, how fucked up is our healthcare system??) So by the time we were moved out of the labor and delivery ward, we were already well into our "first night" for our recovery stay. 

At that stage in the pandemic, I was allowed one visitor in a 24-hour period, i.e. if I wanted someone other than my husband, it would be just that person for that day and my husband would be kicked out during that time. Needless to say, it was just us three. Just us three to begin this wonderful, chaotic journey. At the point of no return, ready to enter parenthood. We'd done it. We'd ticked a little +1 to humanity. It might have meant sacrificing my body in the process, but, she was finally on the outside, ready to start the big adventure called life. 

Life is rarely a straight line.

* NOTE that Pitocin can also be used in abortions, and with legislation restricting access to reproductive healthcare, this may become something unavailable to women - meaning that I would have had to continue to carry my baby for an undetermined number of days. I could have gone post-term and had to deal with a number of health risks to myself and my child. Getting an induction allowed me to have a safe labor and a healthy child. This is a reminder to please VOTE and understand that restricting reproductive healthcare extends well beyond abortions.

*** At my six-week postpartum appointment with my OB, I still was NOT recovered and had a lot of healing to do. I pushed a nine pound baby out, and she did not go quietly into the night. 

** When in stage two, you are still waiting for contractions. You feel the contraction coming on, like riding up the hill on a roller coaster. When the contraction hits, you push. When it ends, you wait until you go up another hill again. I ended up "pushing" for about two hours. With contractions about 3 to 5 minutes apart, that means I may have pushed about two dozen times. Putting your entire being into pushing a giant object out of a small opening, when you can't feel your body and haven't eaten anything? It's um, not delightful. Rather tiring. While I started with such verve, I got increasingly more fatigued. When I say it felt like I was losing progress, I was literally losing progress. With my initial pushes, the baby's head could be seen, but as things went on, each contraction the baby would push out a bit, and in between contractions/pushing the baby would slide back in. Literally two steps forward and one step back. You can imagine the impact of having a large baby head just there, hanging out in my vagina for two hours, bobbing in and out... it was, not good. 

My OB explained to me that the baby would not be able to fit through as things were, and that they might need to make more room for the baby to exit. I had made it very clear beforehand that I did not want an episiotomy (in which they strategically cut the perineum - the area between your vag and anus - to enlarge the opening for the babe to come through) unless absolutely necessary, and that I preferred to let things "expand" (i.e. rip/tear, sigh) naturally, if needed. Dazed, I tried to reiterate this, asking how bad the tearing might be if we just continued on. And **skip to next paragraph if you want to avoid the most traumatizing thing a doc has ever said to me** my kind, straightforward doc, who I deeply trust, looked at me and told me that things were not looking to rip backwards....they were looking like they would rip upwards if they didn't intervene. If you're a woman reading this, take a second to let that horror sink in. If you're a man, just move along. 

And I finally caved: I started crying. Out of pure frustration and exhaustion. I had thought I'd be this rockstar who would push this baby right out. My mom had told endless tales of how we had basically walked right out of her vagina into the world, so I had thought that my "child bearing hips" would make for an easy go of things. And here we were. I took some deep breathes and told my OB she could proceed. She was already on it. We needed to get the baby out, we'd come too far.  The pushing needed to continue.... Okay, jump back up to the timeline now <3 

Copenhagen Round 2: The Denouement

After three absolutely perfect days in the Faroe Islands, and one day of picture-perfect views and heartbreak, it was time for our return to Copenhagen!

Feelin' so fly like a G6...

Saturday

• We thoroughly enjoyed one last Faroese breakfast in our grassy-roofed hotel, and spent some time rearranging what had become rather messy suitcases during our two day stay in Tórshavn, before checking out. After one last quick visit to the harbor and a stop by the post office (the beau's ma collects stamps!), we were back off to Vagar airport - the scene of much heartbreak less than 24 hours prior. 
• En route, we made one quick stop at the lost hamlet of Kvívík - aka the village we couldn't find on our first day because Google thought it was inside a mountain. This time: we found it! And it was awesome. I'd say the beau had to "drag me back to the car," but really he just said "Okay well, I'm going back to the car, we can't linger too long because we have to return the car by xyz time, and if you don't get to the car in a few minutes then I'm going to leave...." and I said "Good, then I can stay forever, bye!" and ran off into the hillside. Typical.

Where in the world is Kvívík? Right there!

• Right near the airport, we stopped alongside the road to explore some old boathouses along Sørvágsvatn and finish up our remaining road-snacks. Since we had to return the car several hours before our flight (so as not to pay the extra day), we were a bit stuck. For a small fee, you can leave your luggage with the tourism office there and go on foot to explore, but I was only able to drag the beau out to sit in the parking lot (which still somehow had stunning views). From there, it was a two second walk through security and several hours as the only people in the gate area. Which meant tons of time to explore the duty-free area! Unfortunately, we had security to go through the next day in Copenhagen, so couldn't smuggle along any Faroese beer (they have one brewery on the islands!).

I try to get one of these photos everywhere we go.
Fun fact: there are very few sewer covers in the Faroes,
and none of them that we saw had any Faroese on them, so...
you'll just have to trust me on this one. 

• After our day in the airport and a flight in which we watched a newly married couple get all the free swag (seriously, should've just invested in Mr and Mrs shirts), we were finally back in Denmark proper.  
• Copenhagen on a Saturday night is a far cry from the chill city vibe we got on Monday night. The downtown was alight with trolleys carrying drunken bachelorette parties, their off pitch  ABBA singalongs echoing in the streets. The bar crowd was spilled over into the streets. And there was a clear lack of regard for OWI when it came to bicycles. Amongst that chaos, we were starved.
• Because I'm all about tourism (and never miss a chance at fireworks), we rapidly checked into our hotel first and then ran to catch the lights and explosions over at Tivoli - the amusement park that Disneyland is based off of. Unfortunately, by the time that was over, almost all the food options were closed. Which means, after a long week of hiking and exhaustion... we opted for a last resort. We got Burger King. 
• We took our Whoppers back to the coolest frickin' hotel: Hotel Alexandra. Upon arrival we claimed our free glass of wine, grabbed our giant brass key from the witty man (Jonas) behind the desk, and had ourselves a picnic on the floor of our room. Each room had a different layout/decor and is furnished with awesome midcentury modern pieces. It is so damn retro chic that I was totally obsessed. Our room was how my dream tiny New York apartment would look. It was perfect.

In an ideal world...

Sunday

• The next morning started early so we could leave the hotel by 9 am to grab breakfast. We headed to the "Next Door Cafe" adorable hipster spot with limited seating (ie we sat on a random bench out on the cobblestoned street), awesome food, and witty / fabulous service (our "table marker" was a rubber duck). It was a good thing we got there early, because it's clearly a hot spot. 

Good Eats.

• Back at the hotel, I did one final recombobulation of my suitcase. Between our two carry-ons, we managed to squeeze in everything we'd bought and all our dirty laundry. As we packed up, there was an unfortunate turn of stomach in which I deeply regretted our adorable glass walled bathroom and made the beau leave for a stint (#traveltruths #burgerking). And then, it was time to leave, we had a plane to catch...
• Not one to miss an opportunity to see a church, I insisted we hop off the metro on our way to the airport and see the Church of Our Saviour. Known for it's iconic helix spire, we'd seen it in the distance throughout our time in Copenhagen. We unfortunately didn't have enough time to climb the winding external staircase up to the top to see the view, but it's definitely on my list for next time!
• At the airport, we made it through the highly efficient security line so fast that we found ourselves with several hours of wait time. If you have to wait anywhere, it may as well be in CPH - the place is HUGE! Their shops and duty-free area were extensive. We both took turns  exploring the massive duty-free shop. Mostly because hauling suitcases around in there would be insane (there are hordes of people literally stockin' up), and because I wanted to surprise the beau by buying him some Danish beer. (Yes, that beer did shake around in my backpack for the next twelve hours as we journeyed home. And yes, I did panic a little about having "nothing to declare" as it sloshed back and forth. But, it all worked out and he was indeed surprised!)
• After putzing around for a good long while, we started to work towards our gate. Only to discover: there was another line. Had we known, we'd have not lollygagged around! This time was an additional passport check - with the EU citizen line flying by, and the rest of us piled up waiting. Following some mild worry on my part,* we were through. In fact, we made it just in time really. So thank goodness I didn't dilly dally longer before realizing there was that extra line!
• With a departure around 4pm Copenhagen time and an arrival back to Chicago around 6pm, we both settled in to stay awake! (NOT TODAY, JET LAG!) This flight had another delicious dinner and a "snack" meal - I was once again stupid impressed by the meals on SAS. We both also had a movie binge. I had enough time to tackle: the newest Maze Runner movie (awful, fast forwarded most of it), The Shape of Water (people were really judgey about what I was watching), and I, Tonya. 

And then, just like that, we were back. Dealing with the insane customs process at O'Hare, chasing after our bus, riding in the sweltering heat back up to Milwaukee, and home. There's no point in pretending that I was happy to be back (sorry, friends and family - no offense!). After such a whirlwind adventure, yes, I was beyond exhausted, but I was also eager for more. Still am. So in the meantime, I'll just keep enjoying the here, until I can go back out and get to the there... 

"I don't wanna go home and you CAN'T MAKE ME!"
she said, stubbornly hiding at the top of a waterfall.

* Because I'm definitely one to jump to conclusions... the beau and I stayed in the same line until we were close to the front and were split into two. My line ended up putting me through very swiftly. Super easy, no issues. So, on the other side of this large glassed off area (with detainment rooms,  security gates, etc.), I waited. And waited. And waited.... And as I stood there waiting, I noticed that there was a specific demographic of other people waiting as well for their loved ones to pass through. I had a horrible flashback to that one episode of the Handmaid's Tale (the one where that Gilmore Girl is at the airport) and started to quietly panic. This was it. This was the moment they started to detain the Jews again... Helllooooo overreaction, it's me, Gina! (But yes, I was already Googling the number for the U.S. Embassy....) 

Faroe Islands Day 4: No Puffins For You!

While I've avoided mentioning it (#toosoon) throughout my posts about the first three days in the Faroe Islands, one of the highlights of our trip was to be slated for day four: I was finally going to get to see PUFFINS. These adorable, derpy birds are absolutely everywhere in guides for the islands. Every tourist lure has a shiny little puffin dangling on the end of it. For MONTHS leading up to our trip, it was my favorite thing to mention. I built up a whole dialogue of hype. "Puffin Watch 2018" I dubbed my quest as, joking on social media for the first several days.

Day four arrived and, spoiler alert: it was the day my puffin dreams went to die. And here was how it came about....

Friday

• After a ridiculously awesome hotel breakfast, we departed for what I labelled our pre-puffin adventure. Map for the morning jaunt can be found here.
• To start the day, I had saved one of the most iconic views. We hopped islands and drove under and ocean and through a mountain to get to the village of Gasadalur to see the Mulafossur Waterfall. For several kilometers of that route, it was apparently field trip day and the one lane (two-way traffic) cliff roads were swarmed with children... Children we almost knocked off said cliff with our car because, like the local sheep, they would not move out of the way. 
• No infant lives were lost, and when we got to our destination: it was just as picturesque as they say. Only a dozen or so people live there, and prior to 2004, you couldn't even reach this area via car. Now that it's accessible: it's a must-see stop! We hiked around for awhile before I got antsy and began our journey south again.

Looking out to Mykines, where my puffins awaited!

• Next up, I really wanted to hike out to see Drangarnir, but since it's such a difficult hike and I knew we'd be going by the gorgeous formation on our ferry ride later, we instead went to Bøur to see it from across the way. Once again we wandered among cute little grass roofed houses, as I quietly jumped for joy that we'd soon be boarding a helicopter to go to the magical puffin island. IE I was so excited that we had to leave, and got to the airport an hour before our flight. 

Eyeing up the dragon rock from the other side.

• And that is when the puffin shit hit the fan...
• As I mentioned previously, there is a fair bit of logistics involved in getting to certain spots. To get to this puffin paradise, the island of Mykines, we were going to helicopter from Vagar airport. Helicopters can only be taken one way (and only fly M-W-F), so we planned to take a ferry back, knowing we'd only have about 2 hours to explore the island, which would be JUST long enough for us to hike to the lighthouse on Mykines and back, allowing even minimal time for all the puffin snuggling/smuggling that I had planned. 
• When we checked in at the airport for our chopper trip, they asked how we planned to get back (since some people forget it's one-way), we explained the ferry we were taking and that we already had tickets. They asked if we knew there was a special fee to hike on Mykines, and we said yes, explaining we'd already purchased that pass as well. We were set. They directed us to watch the helicopter safety video and I ran to the bathroom thirty times as we waited, since I was so excited. A) Neither of us had ever been on a helicopter before and B) it was FINALLY puffin time!
• That's when I began to notice several different groups of people arguing with the desk people, and leaving. So, mere moments before we were to board, I finally got curious and went to the desk to ask what was going on. Fun fact: the ferry back was cancelled. NO announcement was made, there was no indication, and when we called the ferry, they said they were NOT cancelled officially, but had cancelled the last several trips.... the odds were not in our favor. Cue me having a nervous breakdown at the Atlantic Airways counter. 
• Then all the stages of grief kicked in....
• Shock: In which I gestured to the perfect, sunny day outside, I asked why on earth it'd be cancelled. WAVES. Fucking waves. Doesn't matter how beautiful the weather is, the waves can still be jerks and be too rough for a ferry docking on a tiny island with a tiny harbor. There was not the usual rain and storms though, it was perfect out, and we had done everything right. 
• Denial: In which I pleaded with the beau: there was a chance. I mean, the ferry wasn't FOR SURE cancelled. We could risk it - and risk being stuck there and risk missing our flight the next day....
• Anger: In which I yelled at the woman at the counter and she explained that "it's just the way it is" because they're just used to being at the mercy of waves and not having alternative solutions available.
• Bargaining: In which I told the said woman at the counter she would just HAVE to make an exception, and allow us to helicopter back. And in which she told me no, the helicopter back was full because it was carrying the people who'd been stuck their since Wednesday (the day of the last flight) because the ferry had been cancelled every day since.
• Depression: In which I openly sobbed at this poor woman who I was witnessing the full gamut of my breakdown. 
• Lying/Melodrama: Okay, these aren't real stages, but at this point I started telling the beau to just lie to them and convince them to somehow make this happen. Suggestions like, "Tell them you were going to propose on that island, or that I have a terminal illness" came out. I'm not proud, but I don't regret.
• Testing: In which we discussed with a blue haired Instagrammer and her man, who had been trying to get to the island in vain for days. We thought aloud the options with them, but all pointed to too much risk and us likely missing out flight back to Copenhagen, and thus spending an exorbitant amount of money switching flights, after several days of camping (with no equipment / food) on a tiny island. (Not to mention our rental car would end up overdue and our stuff was still back in a hotel in Tórshavn.)
• Acceptance: So... we told them to fly without us, and that we, like the other dozen people who had been counting on that ferry, would not be going to Mykines. There would be NO puffins today.
• Through my tears, I had the beau Google where to find puffins elsewhere. There was one possibility, but we had to hurry. So we dashed to the car and kicked it into high gear. Here's a map of what happened next....
• En route, we booked online for a boat tour in Vestmanna, which lead out to the sea cliffs where many puffins and other birds call home. It was our second chance! We could still see the puffins! We would have just enough time to make the drive and board to catch the last tour of the day, per their website. So when we arrived, the beau ran ahead to get us checked in, while I quickly ran to the restroom. 
• When I came out, I could see him arguing with the woman at the counter, and my heart sank. I knew something was wrong. Fun fact: their website was a lie. They'd decided to leave at a different time today (despite the fact that it LET US BOOK online) and there would be no more boats today. The next one was in the morning - if we tried for it, and the tour ran even a half hour longer than expected, we'd miss our flight... again with the risk. 
• So, I stomped out of the boat house and looked up towards the hills. Cliffs, they'd said. Too difficult to hike to without a guide. Very far. I instructed the beau to drive us to the foot of the mountain.... we were going to climb those damn hills. I was GOING to see my puffins, if it killed me.
• And then we climbed... we climbed and climbed. Til we were at the edge of a cliff. The first cliff of many, with little gorges in between that you'd have to spend hours to hike around. And where were the puffins, you ask? Well. Not on that first cliff. Staring down into the gorge I knew - it just wasn't in the cards. 

Dear Puffins, are you there? It's me, Gina.

• So we left Vestmanna, my puffin hopes dashed, and headed back over the island of Vágar to visit the last iconic location on my list: Sørvágsvatn. It's the largest lake on the islands and feeds into the ocean near Trælanípan, a large cliff area that is only a short hike and towers above the lake. Thanks to this awesome blog, we had the perfect coordinates for parking and details for the hike.

Lake life: only slightly different than lake life in Wisconsin...

• After an emotional roller coaster, the scenic hike along the lake and subsequent dangling off a cliff edge, were just what I needed. It was stunning. We saw more people than normal (since this was an easy hike and close to the airport, it's more visited by tourists probably), and witnessed various photographers go way further to the edge of different areas than we dared. We sat and watched the sun begin to set in the area where lake meets ocean, and it was, dare I say, fucking magical.

Seriously though: lake goals.

• Post-hike, we rushed back to Tórshavn to try and catch dinner somewhere before everything closed. One of the only spots open still (after 10pm) was an Italian restaurant called Toscana. This was one of those meals where we didn't care the cost, we just needed the relaxation of a good meal with a cozy atmosphere. (It was a good thing we didn't care, because it ended up being rather expensive lol) They played nothing but Frank Sinatra music (yas) and we binged on fresh salmon, shellfish, and escargot. Very much worth it. 

It was a day with many very high notes of the trip, and a very low point as well. We missed out on both the helicopter ride and the puffins that we had been talking about for months leading up to the trip, yes, but we also saw some of the most striking views on Vágar. Picture-perfect spots and beautiful walks. A lot of zig-zagging and island hopping during my puffin-conquest, but otherwise just a day of impressive sights. This day, more than any other point in our trip, solidified one fact: when it comes to the Faroes, we'll be back. 

"And they never saw her again..."

For tales of the journey home, pop by my Copenhagen Round 2 post!

Faroe Islands Day 2: All My Sci-Fi Children

After our 24-hour Copenhagen whirlwind and an eventful first day in the Faroes, it was time to really dig in and explore a few more islands. The was a day of many more tiny villages nestled into ocean-view cliffs, all with strange names that I'm certain we were pronouncing incorrectly. Names that I'll use some day to name characters in my semi-autobiographical Sci-Fi novel...

I shall name you Lambareidi and Glyvrar. And you will be the heroes of my story.

Wednesday

• Today's adventure map can be found here!
• After yet another carry-on reconfiguration (that's what we get for hotel hopping!), we had an awesome breakfast at the hotel (thanks, Europe for the filling breakfast goodies). Since we had only gotten to do a little sight-seeing the night prior, we wanted to do some additional hiking in Gjógv. 

Still struggling with the sand in my boots from the day before #outdoorsyAF

• This time we aimed for the cliff across from the cute little bench we'd sat at the night prior, and started up the other side of the gorge. However, as we got higher/further our, the WIND got so strong that we literally had to turn back. I was so sure we were going to blow off a cliff, that I was ready to just lay down flat and not move for days, til the wind subsided or I was eaten by a sheep (whichever came first). Because of the wind, we also decided against our potential hike up Slættaratindur (the highest point in the Faroes) and instead moved further south.

Little boxes, on the hillside

• We had a brief stop to admire Funningur, an adorable little town in which I had the most horrifying bathroom experience of my adult life. Due to this, we swiftly moved on. Which is really the beauty of the islands: there are so many cool things to see that if you're not feeling one spot, you can easily move on to something else!
• Our target: the city of  Runavík - a port city in the southern part of Eysturoy (the island we were already on). It was too early to check in at Hotel Runavík, where we were staying, so we went to wander the town. We found a trail around a large lake area (Lake Toftavatn) which was also a sheep / bird preserve -- jk, they don't have preserves, sheep and seabirds are just everywhere. It ended up being a very easy trail walk, and was a nice way to pass the windy morning.

Walkin' on water, Jesus style

• Despite out very chill walkabout, we still had more time before check-in so went to travel along the southernmost tip. We visited Æðuvík, Nes, Toftir, and several other little villages that I'll name the children in that aforementioned Sci-Fi novel after some day.... #jokesnotjokes 

Down south, looking out

• After a loop back and a speedy check-in (in which they were alarmed by our promptness, because no one in the Faroes rushes to do anything, those chill souls!), we hit the road for our day trip to Klaksvík, on the neighboring island of Borðoy. The second largest town in the Faroes, Klaksvík is roughly the size of my tiny hometown in northern Wisconsin (twins!). Which is... literally insane.
• To dodge the misty chill, we ate "lunch" at the cutest coffeehouse: Fríða Kaffihús (Kaffihús = coffee house?? Get it? Because we didn't... for like an hour...). The had awesome Faroese tapas (all the fish, all the lamb), plus it was BOGO happy hour, which meant ALL the hot cocoa I could handle! As an added bonus, they played only American oldies music, and I was the only one there who properly knew all the words. IE, I had the best time and likely terrified the locals.
• Once properly fed, I was of course ready to climb mountains... We hiked up a hill overlooking the town and hopped the fence* to head towards the further cliffs. From beyond the fence, towards what appeared to be a weather station, there was a clear view of neighboring islands of Kalsoy, Kunoy, and Eysturoy. Oy oy oy, was it gorgeous! Along the way we saw several locals. People just out for a stroll. Because those stunning views are just part of their daily routine.... Mind. Blowing.

Bench break for me, world conquering power-pose for him

• After our hike, we figured, why not keep going? So we got in the car and carried on to another new island and went to the little town of Viðareiði - the northernmost settlement. There, I was totally obsessed with yet another picturesque church and we walked through the town, observing the locals gathering at what appeared to be a school for a rousing game of "stick your children in squishy plastic and watch them bounce about" - aka bubble soccer. Apparently that shit is popular everywhere. Why? Well, because they're like hamster balls for people, and it's hilarious to what kids bounce around like that. But, I digress....
• At the edge of town, we awkwardly asked some sheep wranglers if it was cool that we ripped out a fence post so we could climb up another mountain - they were cool with it.* So, after pulling out said post and then returning it to it's hole after we crossed, we followed a sheep trail up above the town. There, I could get a bird's eye view of the little church I'd fallen in love with lower down. I obsessively photographed it like a creepy stalker, or a private eye hired to see if it had taken on a secret lover... and I have no regrets. 

Climb every mountain, ford every stream.

• Took a different route on Viðoy (the northernmost island) to make our way back to Runavík. Upon arrival back to our city of sleep, it was so late that the only place for food still open** was an "American pizza" joint. Which, we of course got. We closed the night munching greasy pizza in the hotel while watching random Danish television.

We had gone into the day without much of a plan, but somehow ended up exploring three islands, hopping from point A to B to everything in between. Thankfully, many of the islands are well connected, making it easy to roam. We spent the whole day reading unpronounceable names of unspeakably magnificent places. And we still had several more days to rove... 

Got the world on a string, sitting on a mountain...

* One of my favorite parts of our trip was hopping fences. No one is like, stopping you or yelling at you. You can just carry on through. Any fence or gate, we just assumed was for sheep.

** Many villages don't have restaurants at all, so, we did have our snacks just in case.

Faroe Islands Day 1: What the Sheep??

After our 24-hour Copenhagen whirlwind, we were ready to move on to our main destination: the Faroe Islands! Here's how the next leg of our adventure went with day 1... in which Gina tries to jam in as many adorable villages and cliffs as possible.

Tuesday

• After a dead-to-the-world, deep sleep in our fabulous Copenhagen hotel and some carry-on reconfiguration, we checked out to head for our next flight. While we didn't have much time to spare, we did make time to walk back to Nyhavn, hit up a bakery (Vedels Konditori), and eat some danish by the canal. A nice little breakfast before we were on the metro and then boarding yet another plane. (This time for a short two hour jaunt.)
• Flying into the Faroe Islands is like flying into Jurassic Park. It's absolutely amazing, and you're certain that people don't belong there, because they'll just spoil it. There's also probably dinosaurs there. Even if you don't see them at first, you just are constantly waiting for a fanfare of music and BOOM dinos! 

Sometimes you wanna go...

• Our plane arrived around 12:30 pm and I insisted we eat at the airport. There are not many restaurants on the Faroes, except in certain villages. While I had scheduled a grocery store stop for later in the day, the idea of not having easily accessible food meant that I was eating like a mama bear prepping for the long winter. This would prove a wise strategy given the crazy amount of steps we put on hiking.
• We strapped on our hiking boots and picked up the rental car (see tips for getting around the islands here!) and off we went! 
• For a plug-and-play adventure map, you can follow along right here. Looking at the map and seeing all the islands, you think it's a lot bigger, but everything was oddly close together. (No matter where you're standing on any given island, you're within 5k of the ocean!)
• First attempted stop: Kvívík, which Google Maps could not seem to find, so we didn't end up seeing (til our last day when we found it accidentally!). With the stress of me directing the beau to drive into a mountain looming, we took a little break to reset. Stopped alongside the road, I was thrilled by the random sheep hanging out just feet away, not realizing this would be commonplace the whole trip.
• A short time later, we tally-hoed onward. Taking under ocean and under mountain tunnels to go from the island of Vágar to the "big island" of Streymoy (total area around 144 sq miles - which is slightly smaller than the size of the city of Atlanta). Thank goodness I wasn't driving, or we'd have never made it anywhere. I'd have been stopping to take photos every five seconds. And with the beau at the wheel, that's just what I did - a nonstop stream of fabulous images and videos. It's so beautiful that even a photo out a car window is frickin' frame-able. 

Just a peak??  (bahaha, get it?! PEAK!)

• Our first real stop: Saksun! After a long drive down a one-lane road (with two-way traffic), we found a fork in the road with two areas to park: to the left or the right. 
• The left fork is what we took first. It was next to a trail that led down to a large tidal, seawater lagoon and a giant waterfall (both which fed into the ocean around the bend). This massive area looks up at the cliffside which the small village of Saksun is perched upon. The whole area is surrounded by mountains. Those picturesque little houses and a gorgeous church, overlook this stunning area, which is home to about a dozen people and a zillion lambs. Since it was low tide, we walked along the sandy shore of the lagoon around the headland to see the ocean. We made several failed attempts to scale up along the sandy slopes to get a few over the ravines edges of the surrounding area. Turns out, we're just not as nimble mountaineers as those damn sheep, because no matter how many of their trails I tried to climb in, I just kept sliding down! After my boots got entirely too full of sand, we followed the sheep back toward the car.

Staring out into the ocean, eating snacks: a still life of our trip.

• Since we'd seen the area below Saksun, we decided to take the right fork to go up into the village. The view from above was totally worth it. This was the first of many historical and well-placed churches that made me think, "Yeah, I could find God in a place like this..." The villages of the Faroes also tend to have one public restroom, indicated by a little WC sign plus arrow, that you follow on a fabulous scavenger hunt until you find something that looks nothing like a restroom. In this case, it was grass roofed and a really fascinating place to have a pee! 

I spent a good portion of the trip trying to get Saksun sand out of my boots
and looking toward the horizon #basic

• Next up was the renowned Fossá Waterfall. This giant waterfall is just there, hanging out on the side of a road. Because the side of the road in the Faroes, no matter which side of the road, is filled with majestic frickin' beauty. We lucked out and were having beautiful weather, so the waterfall was "low" enough that I could climb up around by it. (I've seen photos of it after a heavy rain and it's insane how different it looks!) This was a quick stop since our car was precariously parked and a group of we-have-fancy-cameras-because-we're-real-photographers people showed up and it made me feel bad about standing there gawking in the middle of all their shots.
• We continued driving up to Tjørnuvík - zipping around what the beau called the "death cliff" (hairpin turns on more one-lane roads). Also surrounded by mountains, this village is on the ocean. It's windy and exposed water apparently draws in a lot of surfers (#faroesbrah). From the edge of the village, you can see Risin and Kellingin (aka the Giant and Witch) - free standing rock pillars off the nearby cliffs. Apparently there is a trail between Tjørnuvík and Saksun (a three hour hike) that I'd have definitely had us do if I'd realized it was there in advance. (Next time!)

Hey there, Tjørnuvík, lookin' good.

• Finally, we were en route to our "hotel." With a very important stop made at Bónus Norðskála, a Faroese grocery store with a giant pig for the logo! Here we loaded up on a meat/cheese feast (Remember those lambs from earlier? Womp Womp!) and grabbed snacks for the rest of the days. This was brilliant to save money overall, but was also a godsend to prevent me from being whiny and starving on our coming days of hiking, where restaurants were few and far between! 
• We stayed at the Gjáargarður Guesthouse in Gjógv. Gjógv is absolutely splendi and is just on the edge of the world. I hate to overuse words like "idyllic" and "charming" but really, they're just so damn applicable! PLUS, our hotel had a heated floor in the bathroom and a picnic table patio area that overlooked all that frickin' splendor so it was literal heaven. 

Inappropriate footwear at its finest at the Gjógv gorge!

• After we checked in (at around 9:30 pm - because I kept making us stop to take pictures!), we explored the nearby cliff area and the gorge that the village is named after. We took the very well laid out and easy trail to a spot called Mary's Bænk (aka the Princess seat! Google it!) that overlooks the gorge. We went to this easy spot because my boots were drying on our heated bathroom floor after I attempted to scrub out that Saksun sand, so I was wearing tiny ballet flats for this particular cliff climbing excursion (sorry, mom!). 

With the sun not quite set, watching the clouds roll in to tuck the neighboring islands to sleep, perched up on a point just above the crashing waves... it was quite possibly a perfect day. Going to sleep in Gjógv, we still had several days of island hopping and grass-roof fangirl squealing ahead of us!

Don't know where it goes, but it's only me and I walk alone.

Copenhagen Round 1: The Whirlwind

Since I've never been called "short winded" in my life.... this is part one of a day-by-day series on our recent trip to Copenhagen and the Faroe Islands, focusing on out first two days. For general thoughts and tips for travelling to these locations, go hit up this heavily bulleted post. 

Coming off a hectic month of work, a royal wedding in which I had to watch my future husband marry a cool (albeit less attractive) other woman, and our yearly 5k, I somehow managed to squeeze in rabid excitement for our looming trip. After months of planning and packing, it was go time. And here's how it allllll began...

Sunday

• Because it's substantially cheaper to fly out of Chicago compared to Milwaukee, leg one of the journey was a bus ride down to Chi. After a drop off from the beau's dad, we were off! We left obnoxiously early, which ended up being a swell idea since, due to traffic, the bus arrived to O'Hare an hour late. 
• After prancing past the British Airways terminal (still decked out for the royal wedding - single tear), we suffered through the ridiculously inefficient security that is the international terminal. (Thanks, O'Hare, for leaving such a great impression on our guests. You suck.) There, we sacrificed a bag of liquids to the TSA gods (seriously, HOW does a ziploc baggie GO MISSING on that five feet of conveyor belt - major flaw there) before breaking from the masses to enjoy some pizza and a beer.
• While dining, we were serenaded by a random youth choir that was rehearsing while waiting at a nearby gate. An audience is an audience, I suppose, no matter where you're queuing! 
• Upon boarding for our 10 pm departure, we were informed that sorry, they had to switch planes and we'd gotten an older model. Comforted by my lack of leg room, I scoped out our fellow passengers, just in case we'd need allies upon crashing. 
• Fun fact: a 10 pm flight comes with TWO meals! Dinner AND breakfast! It's been a hot second since my last transatlantic flight (ten years in fact, almost to the date, since my return from study abroad) that this was just a frickin' delight. Airplane meals are WAY better than I remember! So, major props, SAS. 
• We did dinner and a show (the new Jumanji movie, which we watched on our separate little screens while carefully timing any pauses) and then tried to get some sleep so we could stay up and fight the jetlag upon arrival. 

Go home, plane. You're drunk.

Monday

• It was 1:30 pm Copenhagen time when we arrived, and with a 9:30 pm sunset time, I was stoked to cram in eight hours of exploring! Since we really only had a "24 hour layover" and I wasn't sure how exhausted we'd be on our return layover, I insisted that we see everything possible right away. 
• Since it had been almost a nine hour flight and I was eager to ditch our bags, the first place we aimed for was our hotel, the Copenhagen Strand. We snagged some DKK cashoola and caught the metro. Cheers to Denmark for crushing it on public transit - the metro was clean, efficient and overall just lovely. 
• After a luggage drop and quick showers (fun fact: it ended up being about 75 degrees and I had only packed sweaters so, this gal was a sweaty mess!), it was time for the first of many intricately planned "tours" that I had written up in a Google Doc before out trip. If you want to follow along, here was the "walking tour" I took us on!

Took me awhile to realize København was Copenhagen... derp.

• A short stop from our hotel: the Christiansborg Palace (aka Danish Parliament). We didn't go in, just looked around the outside and checked out the grandiose building while enjoying the beautiful weather. 
• En route to our next stop, I insisted upon getting gelato. We wandered, eating our rapidly melting treats from Gelato Rajissimo, peaking into the occasional shop, and then arrived to the Rundetårn.
• Known as the "Round Tower," for just about $4, you can take the slow and steady spiral walk up to the observation deck atop the tower where you can get a full 360 view of the city. This is a great early stop because it helps you get a bird's eye view of how the city is laid out, so you can sort of see where you'll be heading later to see other sites. Since it's not a strenuous climb to the top, I'd recommend this stop for anyone. There was a gaggle of drunk French women who were particularly enjoying the sites when we were there (we later saw them drinking wine on bicycles in the streets #FrenchAF). Rundetårn also has little history and art exhibits as you spiral up or down. (If you were in a rush, you could go up and down and do a brief look at the exhibits in a half hour even.)

Up on the roof, leaving our mark on the city after a spirally ascent.

• Thanks to my dawdling and constant photo taking, by the time we made our way to Frederik's Church, they had just closed. I could just kick myself at not seeing the inside, because the outside of this huge marble church was just stunning. There were also beautiful lilacs everywhere! 
• Because you just can't go to Copenhagen without seeing it, we next walked along the Kastellet (a star shaped fortress / park area) to get to the Little Mermaid statue. The statue itself was... fine. It was the same somewhat underwhelming feeling I had when seeing the Mona Lisa. It's a beautiful and culturally significant piece of artwork but it's oddly small in real life and so surrounded by tourists that you don't get a chance to really enjoy it. Worth a stop though because there were so many cool gardens and other statues on our walk there, AND a really cool little church that I was obsessed with (aka took fifty photos of). 
• It was getting closer to sunset and was feeding time, so we came back along the canal to head for dinner. Turns out the Royal Run was taking place: a race being run to celebrate the birthday of the Crown Prince, who is apparently an avid runner. At some point, we had missed the royals running (damn it, royal watch fail!) but found ourselves in and out of the course area for the rest of the night. (Because of COURSE there'd be a race wherever we go - the beau was bummed that he didn't know, else he'd have been running it!)
• Dodging the runners, we passed by the Opera House and finally got to Nyhavn. If you've ever seen a postcard of Copenhagen, odds are you saw the Nyhavn. It's the iconic brightly painted houses and restaurants along the canal. Bicycles and merriment to be had by all. We had a restaurant in mind, but it ended up that they only serve Smørrebrød (open faced sandwiches that are a specialty of the region) at lunch. Since the beau really wanted to try them, we instead went to a lovely spot called Nyhavns Faergekro. Sitting outside, eating some delicious local cuisine, watching the runners from a distance, and enjoying a cold beverage after a long day of travelling and walking: it was heaven. 
• We stayed out til after sunset before getting back to the hotel, where we flooded the bathroom (thanks for the lack of shower doors, Europe!) and struggled to stay awake late enough to beat the jet lag. 

Knowing that a week later we'd be back in the city to enjoy more delicious food and sights, it made the introductory whirlwind pretty chill. If we really weren't able to catch something we wanted to see, we'd be able to try and squeeze it in on the way back. The weather was beautiful and it was the perfect jumping point for the entire trip. Because, the next day, we were off to our main destination... the Faroe Islands.

A danish in Denmark, naturally.