A Whole New Copenhagen

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to know a place. Place has been an important concept to me for as long as I can remember; I think it’s something I inherited from my spatially-conscious father. I certainly base a lot of my identity around the place I have lived, more-or-less, for my whole life: Durham, NC. When I went off to college at Rice, I was suddenly in the midst of a whole new, completely different place in Houston. I have to say, it took me the better part of three years to feel that I had an idea of what Houston was, as a place, and it took some effort to force myself out of the Rice bubble and discover there was more to the Bayou City than oil refineries and overpasses.

Part of the reason I applied for the Fulbright grant was to experience a place I wouldn’t otherwise have the chance to see. I was also inspired by my other opportunity to live for an extended period in a new place, my semester abroad in Chile. Unfortunately, I think my wonderful experience there made me misjudge, to a degree, how quickly one can get a sense for a place. In Chile, I lived with a host family and, within a relative short time, was pretty comfortable speaking the native language. In addition, I was part of a program that placed great, almost paramount, emphasis on developing our sense of what Chile was as a place.

In Denmark, I have found it much harder to get a feel for what it means to live here. Though I have some great Danish friends, it’s certainly not the same as living every day in the home of a native. And then there’s the language. I can make the excuse that Danes are so ready to speak in English that it’s hard to practice any Danish, but the truth is I haven’t devoted the time and effort required to learn it. That one’s on me. During my wonderful trip around Western Europe a few weeks ago, I was struck by the fact that a tourist’s experience in a city like Paris or Amsterdam is pretty uniform, consisting of a series of “must-see” sights, “must-do” activities and “must-eat” foods. It felt like, even though I wasn’t part of a guided tour, I was forced through one by my own preconceptions, with an assist to various travel books and websites that all suggested doing the same things. When you go to Madrid for three days, you expect, and are readily spoon-fed, a pre-packaged “value-meal” of Spain.

What was even more disturbing was the realization that I hadn’t really ventured much further from Denmark’s own value meal. Sure, I’ve absorbed a lot more than any tourist would in a week’s time, but I still felt that my sense of Copenhagen in particular was confined to various small areas around major metro stops.

I’m happy to say that I’ve begun to overcome this deficiency through a confluence of factors, some deliberate and some not. For starters, spring has finally arrived. You have to remember, I spent the first three months of my time in Denmark living right beside my university. It’s a nice place, but there’s nothing much there besides the school. When I moved to Copenhagen, I spent my first two weeks at the COP15 conference and then went home for Christmas. When I got back, I had three months of winter weather that made exploring my new city a less-than-inviting proposition. But, with the sun finally shining and the mercury finally rising, I decided to take advantage, and save transit-money, by getting another bike. I had been putting this off, ostensibly, because of the weather, but more because I was still frustrated about my first bike being stolen. However, I finally ran out of excuses and ended up renting a nice road bike from a cool place that uses their profits to send bikes to impoverished areas of Africa.

The reason for the (nicer) road bike was that I had decided to make the three-day-per-week journey to class by cycle instead of by train. I’ve certainly thought twice about my decision when I’ve had to make the 15-mile ride into a stiff Danish wind, but it saves me having to pay both for train tickets and a gym membership. At a little over an hour, it’s not that much longer door-to-door than taking public transit. OK, maybe that’s not true, but still.

As a very welcome consequence, however, I’ve been able to use my bike to explore around Copenhagen, as well. And in this city, more than probably any other in the world, by bike is the only way to travel. Not only does virtually every street have a separate bike lane (not to mention separate traffic signals), but the distances also melt away. I knew Copenhagen was a compact city, but being able to get from my apartment to almost anywhere I’d want to go in 45 minutes max really drives it home.

No longer confined to the most popular metro stops, I’ve been free to roam the immigrant neighborhood of Nørrebro, filled with Turkish bazaars and Jordanian barbershops. I’ve biked along the canals of Christianshavn as young professionals walk their dogs on the old fortress works. In fifteen minutes I can be at a friend’s place in the former working class apartments of Sydhavn. I can fly down Vestergade on a Saturday morning to buy fresh bread from my favorite bakery.

With this newfound freedom of movement, I feel as if Copenhagen has finally opened up to me. By bike, I’m able to get a better sense of the people on the streets around me, not to mention in the cycle lane next to me. I can stop if I see something interesting, rather than being forced to whizz by on a train. It helps that, now that the sun is out (and doesn’t set until 9 pm) everyone is eager to soak it up. I was told during my Fulbright orientation that “the Danes go a little crazy when they get sun” and now I can safely say this wasn’t a lie. You can feel the excitement in the air on a sunny Saturday afternoon as practically the entire city heads to the parks with a blanket and a few beers.

I’m certainly not the first person to feel that they are finally getting a handle on a place as their time there is drawing to a close, and I’d venture a guess that the pressure of leaving forces many to step up their exploration efforts. Regardless, I’m feeling especially excited about my final two months in a city that is just starting to feel, at least a little bit, like home.

Highlights of my Eurotrip

Hi All,

Well, after 17 days and roughly 4000 miles, I'm back in Copenhagen. I'm a little less healthy, a lot less wealthy, and unmeasurably more enriched by all I have seen and done. If I went into detail about everything I did, you'd be reading this post for a week, so I've decided to offer a recap by dolling out some Eurotrip "awards."

Before we get to the hardware, a brief intro to my travels:

My comrade-in-adventure for the duration of the trip was Sam Bagg, a long-time friend (we met when we were about 8) who was a classmate from 6th through 12th grade before he had the nerve to attend Yale for college. Sam is currently teaching history at a small Swiss boarding school with quirky educational philosophies like "learn based on how you're feeling today" and "let's spend two afternoons a week skiing."

Our primary mode of travel would be Europe's extensive train system, and our golden ticket the Interail Pass. This allows persons having lived in Europe for more than 6 months to travel on 10 different days within a 22-day period. Since we were under 26, this cost us 239 Euro ($325) plus reservation fees if we wanted to use high speed trains, sleeper trains, and/or guarantee ourselves a seat. While trains were our main transport we also made use of: a bus, taxis, canal bikes, ferries, real bikes, trams, subways, our two feet (a lot) and a zebra. Just kidding.

Our route was the following: Sam, having left a few days earlier (another funky philosophy of his school: 3-week Spring Break!) and passing through Berlin, would meet me in Copenhagen where we would hangout for a couple days. Then, it was off to Amsterdam, followed by Paris, Madrid, Grenada, Palma de Majorca, Barcelona and back to Sam's mountain-top Swiss abode before my final journey back to Copenhagen.

Now, the awards:

Best Hostel - Hostal 1 Puerta del Sol, Madrid

This gem is located right off of Madrid's central plaza and is in easy walking distance of almost anything a tourist might want to see. The staff was friendly, there was free internet 24 hours a day and we met some fascinating fellow travels over beers in the lounge area. The kicker: 12 euro ($16 per night) including sheets. Plus, bathrooms and showers were among the nicest we had during the whole trip. One theory as to why it's not better known: apparently there's a famous gay hostel with a very similar name. In fact, when Sam's co-worker Erik (who traveled with us for a bit) tried to find our place online he went to the website of the more, um, "fabulous" establishment and proceeded to send us a rather awkward email.

Runner-Up: The Flying Pig, Amsterdam; Oasis, Granda (tie)

Worst: Kabul, Barcelona

Best Train - Madrid-to-Grenada Renfe Altaria

Far and away the best because we were inexplicable upgraded to first class, which included full breakfast (with as many rolls as you wanted) and even little "airplane bottles" of olive oil. The Southern Spanish scenery (strangely similar to west Texas) didn't hurt, either.

Worst: Montpellier-to-Geneva TGV

What's a trip to Europe without a French railway strike? Upon arriving at the Barcelona station, we noticed that instead of a gate number for our train to Montpellier, France, there was only the word "Bus." Uh-oh. Luckily, it is apparently just as fast on the road as by rail and we reached Montpellier in time for our connection to Geneva...which was cancelled. (Is taking a bus instead of a train because of a railway strike the same as crossing a picket line? Is the fact that this crossed my mind evidence that I've gone off the lefty deep-end?)

Luckily, we were able to get on another train to Geneva and made it one stop...before the train sat on the tracks for 2 hours for no apparent reason. Every so often an announcement was made in French and various groups of passengers would shout angrily and leave the train. Each time I would look at the woman next to me and say "Geneva?" and she would say "c'est bon." In the end, everything was indeed "c'est bon" and we made it to Switzerland where we completed our journey by hiking for an hour-and-a-half up the mountain to Sam's school...at 1 am.

Best Club - El Divino, Palma de Majorca

We were in true Spanish-mode for this one: finished dinner after midnight, left for the club at 2:15 and came home at 7 am. Even though (according to the Swedes we were staying with) the music was too "minimalist House" (that's a type of european techno, but you already knew that, right?), the atmosphere was lively and the ladies proved Palma's reputation isn't just hype.

Worst: Escape, Amsterdam

Best Beer - Alhambra, Granada

Once we realized that there wasn't time for a stop in Belgium, I got a little anxious about the quality of the cold ones we'd find in France and Spain - nations not necessarily known for their breweries. However, Granada once again came through for us. The local favorite ("la agua de Granada," according to one bartender) was a pleasant surprise.

Worst: Kronenbourg 1664, France; San Miguel, Spain (tie)

Best Food - Cinc Sentits, Barcelona

Sam and I decided early on that we wouldn't skimp on food during our travels, subsisting only on kebab stand fare and fast food chains (though, in a moment of weakness, we made one KFC stop). This quest to find the best culinary offerings we could find (and/or afford) in each city became a pretty big part of our trip, and one could argue that we did as much food tourism as anything else during our two-plus weeks. In light of this, it isn't fair to just describe one meal (though there was clearly a winner). So, I'm gonna do a city-by-city breakdown:

Amsterdam: A friend of Sam's who currently lives in Amsterdam suggested a little Italian place in the Jordaan neighborhood. We when got there, only one table was left and the place was packed with locals, always a good sign. To be honest, I know I had pasta but I don't remember what kind, and I don't remember the name of the restaurant. But I DO remember that it was delicious.

Paris: While wandering around the Latin Quarter with Sam's co-worker Erik, we stumbled upon a tiny establishment called "Coup de Torchon." After establishing that it passed our "full of locals" test, we each ordered an appetizer-entree combination. I got onion soup followed by beef medalions - amazing. The champ, however, was Erik's appetizer (which we all tried): crab-stuffed avocado. This time, I made sure to get a card with the restaurant's name an address.

Madrid: We met up with some fellow travelers at our hostel and decided to go our for tapas. The eclectic group included: a Canadian corrections officer from Winnipeg, an exuberant Dutchmen who insisted on being called "Danny Awesome," a waitress who had quit her job in Toronto to travel, a Brooklyner teaching English in Spain, and a five-foot Norwegian girl who took offense to almost everything the jail guard said. Our motley crew discovered an excellent Basque tapas restaurant (the name was like "Ktxchxis" or something else completely unpronounceable) and gorged on pieces of bread toped with delicious meats, cheeses and vegetables. One mistake: we asked for a bottle of red wine with our tapas, without specifying what kind, and wound up with what must have been the most expensive the place had...

Grenada: At a cafe in the cathedral square, Sam and I split a delicious "paella negra" filled with all types of seafood and vegetables and, giving its name and color, squid ink(!).

Palma: I can't decide between the amazing gespacho followed by baked chicken that our Swedish hosts made for us on our first night, the delicious pasta puttanesca that Sam (his recipe) and I made to pay them back, and the scrumptious "Pizza Donnie Brasco" I had at a local Italian place. Thinking about them makes my mouth water, so I'll move on.

Barcelona: A family friend of Sam's gave him, as a present, a not-unsubstantial amount of Euros on the condition that he spend it on something he wouldn't otherwise do. Being the gastronomical fanatic that he his, he decided to use it at one of Barcelona's most chic restaurants. That is how two decidedly under-dressed backpackers wound up at Cinc Sentits (that's "five senses" in Catalan). After doing a little research (and discovering that "Michelin Star" was not a tire-rating system) we realized that to get the full experience, we would need to order the 8-course "tasting menu." What followed was guided tour through the strangest, most wondrous cuisine I have ever tasted: to begin, a "cinc sentits shot" of maple syrup, cream and salt crystals, followed by such delights as clam in asparagus sauce, blue cheese with honey crust, mediterranean red snapper with peppers, iberian suckling pig, sorbet with crazy foam, peas made in such a way that they shouldn't even be called peas anymore, foie gras, and an unfairly-rich chocolate brownie-thing.

(Disclaimer: The above is what I remember. I'm pretty sure there was more, and I'm certain the descriptions do not match the dishes perfectly. The deliciousness of the food seems to have blurred my memory, that or the wine. The only evidence I have is a hard-to-see photo of the menu...in Catalan)

Honorable Mention: The Boqueria market in Barcelona is stall after stall of every kind of fresh food one can imagine. Highlights included fresh squeezed strawberry coconut juice and chocolate croissants.

Honorable Mention II: The Iberian Flauta sandwich at Cafe Viena may not be "the best sandwich in the world" (per the New York Times' Mark Bittman) but it was darn good. Those Iberians know ham.

(Note: Despite what you may think, I do not now weigh 300 pounds. We did A LOT of walking)

Best Museum - Louvre, Paris

What, you thought I was gonna say the Museum of Catalan History? Just because it's probably the most well-known, well-publicized museum in the world doesn't make it any less amazing. Two-and-a-half hours wasn't nearly enough time, especially as I spent the first half just in the Ancient Middle East wing of the first floor before I realized that I should probably get moving if I wanted to see things like, for instance, the Mona Lisa.

Runners Up - Prado, Madrid (again, way too little time); Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam (second time around didn't make it any less cool) and the aforementioned Museum of Catalan History (yes, it's real and yes, I thought it was sweet).

Best City - Grenada

This southern Spanish city had it all: History in the small, steep, winding streets of the Albaicín neighborhood. Beauty in the colorful and poignant wall murals. Power in the enrapturing step of the flamenco dancer. Taste in the free tapas that come with any drink. Creepiness in the Holy Week parade filled with marchers in white robes and pointed hoods. Glory in the glittering gold adorning the Virgin Mary's palanquin in the same parade. Wonder at the gardens of the Sultana perched high above the city in the tranquil confines of the Alhambra palace.

I sincerely hope to one day return to Grenada, and to all the places I visited, but I want to make sure it's with some dear friend or family member with whom I can share the amazing experience.

P.S. Sam's created a facebook album with the highlights of our combined pictures. You can find it on my profile (titled Sam, Daniel, Barcelona) or (if this works like it should) here

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2162063&id=311251&l=66678c62a0

I'm working on a way to get a permanent link to the pictures independent of facebook (for you stalwart holdouts) and I will post it here as soon as I can.

Away away

Hi All,

Sorry I haven't posted anything in awhile...and unfortunately it will likely stay that way for the next two weeks as I'll be traveling around France and Spain on a Spring Break trip. I promise pictures and updates as soon as I get back!

Daniel

Why I joined Twitter

Hello All,

Last summer, I told my friend Barber that Twitter was a sign of the apocalypse and would probably take over the world. On Wednesday, I became a genuine hypocrite and created my own account. I'm going to try to explain myself.

(ironically, my desire to defend joining twitter via an online message to a loose collection of people I communicate with primarily over the internet is just further evidence that I've sold out to the 21st century philosophy of "inundate people with your inane opinions as often as you can.")

I think two big reasons why Twitter often evokes a negative response from people are 1) They don't understand it, or 2) They understand it to be a shameless means of self-centered promotion. Unfortunately, reason number two is somewhat correct. At least, correct for a great many Twitter users. But before addressing why I think Twitter can be used in a constructive way, I think I should clear up the trouble with issue one.

Twitter is a website where you can post a message. The only rule is that the message has to be longer than 140 characters. When you post a message, everyone who is "following" you can see your messgage. It's kind of like being friends on facebook, and in fact the whole system works just like the facebook "status" system.

When you post a Twitter message, you can add a "hash tag" to the end of it. This effectively categorizes what the message is about. So, if I tweet something about electric vehicles, I add the text "#EV" to the end of my tweet. Once it has been hash-tagged, people who search "#EV" can see my tweet, along with the tweets of all the other people talking about electric vehicles. But who cares what every Joe on the internet is saying right? Well, if you give it a bit of time, you can usually identify some people who know what they're talking about, or at least have interesting ideas. Then, you sign up to follow them and receive all their tweets. This, I feel, is where Twitter has real value. Effectively, it allows regular people to receive up-to-the-minute information on a topic they care about from people who have devoted their lives to analyzing it.

What made me come around on Twitter is the view expressed to me by a classmate of mine at the University. Twitter is basically a more effective, more efficient way of doing what I (and, maybe, some of you) already do on the internet. I have a few websites I check regularly. I have some columnists or bloggers that I read. I have areas of interest that I like to get information on. With Twitter, I can aggregate a lot of this information into one place.

After trying it out for three days, I see advantages and disadvantages. Twitter has lead me to a host of interesting articles and studies that I probably never would have known about otherwise. On the flip side, it has become one more thing demanding my attention as I sit at my computer. Between following recent tweets, checking email, paying attention to facebook updates, etc., I feel like I'm approaching the thin line between "well-connected" and "addicted to information." Furthermore, Twitter may simplify the information aggregation process, but it also lets choose, very specifically, what information you're getting. I worry that I, and others who may increasing get content mostly through Twitter, will lose the valuable ability to be subjected to alternative opinions. If I follow people talking about renewable energy, for instance, then I'm likely to get a pretty constant stream of "good news" tweets pointing me to this success story or that breakthrough. I'm less likely to see negative analyses or hear naysayers. Twitter, if not used carefully, can certain contribute to the "echo chamber" effect that people describe when one gets all their content from sources that are ideologically similar to themselves.

I'm gonna stick with Twitter. Maybe it will keep me more up-to-date on topics I care about, maybe I just can't refuse another information pipeline. Probably both. Just one piece of advice: if you take the Twitter plunge as a means of enriching your intellectual life, avoid tweets from user DanielHoCo.

Diet-ribe

One of my very best college friends, Ruffles, has a habit of getting completely engrossed in certain activities. Some might say to the point of obsession. One month it might be playing guitar, the next two it will be meditation, and then it will be poker. As part of this pursuit, he seeks to gain as much knowledge as he can about the activity, including all the theoretical background behind excelling at it. I remember during sophomore year, he spent hour after hour watching internet clips of the best Super Smash Bros. videogame players in order to learn how to perfect complicated moves.

Beginning during senior year, and continuing since his graduation, Ruffles embarked on a new quest: eating healthy. While undeniably a more worthwhile pursuit than Super Smash Bros., he has approached it in much the same way: absorb as much theory as possible and then identify the expert or experts he believes have the right ideas, and follow them. The result: Ruffles has embraced a form of what is often called the "Paleodiet." With apologies to Loren Cordain, the Weston Price Foundation and all the other proponents Ruffles encourages me to read, its basic dietary principle is this: eat like people did before agriculture. Or, at the very least, before commercial agriculture. That translates to a diet high in animal protein and vegetables, and low in sugar and carbohydrates. Raw milk and wild game are in, bread and beans are out.

There are good and bad things about the paleodiet. I could (if I wanted to expend a lot of effort) give you an exhaustive list of peer-reviewed studies analyzing the health ramifications of the lipid hypothesis, saturated fat, antinutrients and complex carbohydrates. Personally, I think that while some aspects of the paleodiet are intriguing (and it is certainly romantic to imagine returning to our hunter-gather roots) its benefits are unproven. But I think that ultimately, it's beside the point and doesn't offer help to anyone trying to eat healthily.

What gets lost in all the arguments about the various nutritional properties of this protein or that enzyme is the big picture: We live on a planet containing 6 billion people that are steadily getting less healthy. If you live in America, "less healthy" probably means obese and cancer-ridden. If you live in Zimbabwe, it probably means starving and tuberculosis-ridden. What we eat is far from the only thing making us this way, but it definitely plays a big role. And with a problem on this scale, doesn't it make more sense that the flaw lies less in caloric ratios then in our food production system?

Advocates of very specific diets are fond of citing different "native" populations that subsist almost entirely on diets high in their nutrient of choice, like Eskimos on animal protein or South Indians on carbs. They always mention how low their rates of cancer, heart disease, etc. are. What recieves less attention is, in my opinion, the biggest difference between us and them: these peoples aren't getting their food chemically treated, plastic wrapped and shipped around the world. It's pretty simple: if you can find it nearby in nature, and you prepare it yourself, it's probably gonna be good for you.

My expert of choice in the crazy food debate is Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma, In Defense of Food, and Food Rules. His basic premise is what I've been driving at above: eat local, natural things that you've actually had to put thought and effort into finding and preparing. And while the words "thought" and "effort" strike fear into everyone's heart (including mine), consider that the way we eat right now is arguably a cause of such well-publicized crises as health care, energy/environment, and even jobs. Just in case you needed some extra pressure next time you go to the grocery store.

At long last...Castles!

Hi All,

My roommate AJ (a fellow Fulbrighter and NC State-grad) had a high-school friend named Kenny come and visit him for the past week and a half. On Monday, Kenny and I decided to take a popular Copenhagen day-trip that I hadn't gotten around to doing yet: taking the train to the Danish city of Helsingør and taking the 20 minute ferry ride across the Øresund to the Swedish city of Helsingborg. Helsingborg and Helsingør are at the top of the map below, Copenhagen (København) is at the bottom. The train ride takes about an hour.

Helsingør is most famous as the location of Kronborg Castle, the setting of Shakespeare's Hamlet. Shakespeare changed the name of the town to Elsinore. So, after five and a half months, I was about to see my first European castle. Here are some photos from the trip...

The Gates of Kronborg. To get it out of the way, this picture was taken around 11 am. The sun is pretty much a stranger in Denmark from November to April.

The castle has been rebuilt several times, and its current form is a Renaissance/Enlightenment version

The original purpose of the castle was to guard the straits between Denmark and Sweden, and to force merchants to pay dues to the Danish Crown

To enter, or not to enter, that is the question. And the answer is no. The interior is closed Mondays. Ouch.

This video will give you an idea of why mid-February is the WORST time to visit Helsingør.

It's hard to see, but that's me!

After the twenty minute ferry-ride to Sweden, we had a delicious Scandinavian lunch of roast beef, garlic potatoes and fresh tomatoes. We then went across the street to check out the ancient Church of St. Mary

Stations of the cross on a 14th century North German altar screen. Rad.

Frescoes!

What a troublemaker...

Sweden has its own castle, which is actually located smack in the middle of the city of Helsingborg. Not to be confused with the Danish city of Helsingør just across the straight.

Statue of David. A bit different take than Michelangelo...

The "Swedish" castle was actually built by the Danes, as they ruled southern Sweden for about 1000 years. Take that, Swedes!

View of Helsingborg

Helsingborg's town hall

On the ferry back to Denmark

Kronborg from the ferry

Before getting back on the train to Copenhagen, we stopped at Denmark's oldest pastry shop. I had an UNBELIEVABLE piece of cake/danish thing, and promptly forgot its name. At least I have reason to return...

The Dark Side of "Finding Yourself"

Hi All,

I apologize for the long gap between posts; my excuse is that...well...there's not really much going on right now. My new classes are just getting underway and the weather (cold and snowy, kinda like most of the U.S., apparently) makes me eager to stay home where it's warm. I'm pretty excited, however, about the new research project I'll be starting on Denmark's efforts to adapt their power grid to increased wind energy and electric car usage.

While on the phone with Mom the other day, I remarked how I am one of the younger students in my Masters program. Most of the Danish and international students are in their mid-to-late twenties, and some are much older. In talking with Danes about this, I found out that in addition to graduating high school later (usually at 19), many Danes take some time off after that to travel or work before heading to college. As a result, it seems (and may be completely wrong) that Danes often have a better sense of their career (and life) goals by the time they start at university. I think that this is rarely the case for the average U.S. college freshman, and would also venture to guess that their are a fair amount of graduating seniors who still have no idea what they want to do for the long term. As a result, one's twenties become somewhat of a "find yourself" period where people bounce between jobs (or lack thereof) and often cities looking for something that fits.

You're probably thinking that this entry is a way for me to vent some angst about going through the situation I just described (and you're partly right), but I have a larger point, too. While this soul-searching period may sound like a trying but ultimately beneficial step in growing up, there is reason to believe that if done in a certain fashion, and particularly during certain times, it can actually do more harm than good. Unfortunately, this happens to be one of those times.

I read a pretty sobering article in The Atlantic today about the consequences of prolonged high-unemployment rates on society, particularly young people and men. While the economy is apparently growing again, unemployment remains at around 10 percent, and some projections have it staying their for another four years. The unemployment rate for young people is even worse. According to Pew survey cited in the article, the percentage of people ages 16 to 26 participating in the workforce fell ten percent over the last decade, to 56%. Unfortunately, this isn't entirely explained by increased enrollment in college. Job offers to graduating college seniors fell by 20% last year, and I can tell you that, anecdotally, I staggering amount of my friends have left school with no job prospects and no success after months of searching. The Atlantic article points out that their are real consequences to long periods of unemployment when your young. Kids who graduate during a recession are still making less money than their peers who didn't decades later. One stat says that the average gap in total earnings over a lifetime is $100,000. A hundred grand.

So, now that my generation knows we're screwed, we should probably get started on blaming somebody. Obviously there are tons of good candidates: Banks, politicians, terrorists, the Chinese. Unfortunately, at least according to several sociologists, some of the responsibility lies in the way that people my age think and behave. Translation: as my parents have told me for years, we're spoiled. Didn't get your dream job out of college? Just move in with your parents and chill out for awhile. No need to think long-term, being a twenty-something is about enjoying yourself. We have a sense that we're all exceptional and that things will not only work out, they will work out without us having to undergo any of the pain or suffering related to, you know, hard work. As much as I hate for my generation to be generalized, I have to say that there might be some truth to this. I can even see some of that mindset in myself.

It'd be nice if there was an easy solution, but looking for easy solutions is what got us in trouble in the first place. And by "us" I don't just mean young people. Rather than bemoan the turns of fate that thrust us into the job market during the worst economy in 30 years, the twenty-somethings need to take the best job that we can find, however undesirable, live independently, but within our means, and save for the future. If we're lucky, our learned resiliency and resourcefulness will benefit us down the road. And if worse comes to worse, we can always blame our parents for how we turned out.