Copenhagen says hello. I say goodbye.

It's been awhile since I've put on my traveling boots, and I'm afraid my "backpack of possibilities" is at home in California, but it hasn't taken long for me to sink back into traveler mode. I really do think it's in my blood, because even when I'm dead on my feet I still relish the excitement of exploring a new city.

So, here I am in Copenhagen, a city that seems to have a bit of an identity crisis. This city somehow manages to be simultaneously futuristic and full of ancient history. It's fascinating to see the markers of such a storied civilization, with it's uniquely barbarous Scandinavian past, juxtaposed with evidence of a culture that is strikingly modern in so many ways.

Danish culture is built on violent, magical, and often heart wrenching myths, full of gods that were as fierce and unforgiving as they were revered. Their history is founded on beliefs that are often strikingly different from their neighbors to the south, something that is evident on the face of every statue and in the stitch of every tapestry.

At the same time, Danish culture is at the forefront of many important innovations. Danes have been pioneering wind energy for years, and are seen as experts in the field. Copenhagen's new architecture is clean and sleek, ubiquitous with the famous Scandinavian design aesthetic. Danes still have an active, though not absolute, monarch and yet the Great Hall at Christiansborg Palace is lined not with the ancient relics of a long disposed autocrat, but with vibrant, almost cartoon like tapestries, given to the Queen on her 50th birthday in 1991 and depicting events and personages from Danish history with a sly edge. This city feels smart, and cool, and peaceful. There's none of the hustle and bustle of London, the smugness of San Francisco, the claustrophobia or New York, or the insincerity of Los Angeles (Copenhagen doesn't have a lot of things that make these cities great- but you get my point). It's a chill city. Everyone rides bikes, there are very few cars on the road, and people seem relaxed and happy.

Christiansborg Palace, the palace of the Danish monarchy, seems a testament to this national identity. Having burnt to the ground twice, once in 1794 and again in 1884, the current palace is in it's third incarnation. Built atop the ruins of the first two sites, the destruction and rebirths of the palace seem like a symbol of the Danish resolve to honor their past, while building the future.

And yes, this is just my impression of Copenhagen, after having only been in the city for two days. And as Emilie, my friend and tour guide pointed out, Danes may not be as chilled out and I'd like to believe. "Just wait until Monday," she said. "You won't believe the road rage."

Spending time with Emilie is fastastic because, like me, she has an unquenchable passion or travel. "I just want to see everything, go everywhere, experience all the world has to offer, and meet the most amazing people." Yes. That's it. That's exactly it.

As a result, Emilie knows exactly how to show my Copenhagen. By foot. And so, for the last two days we have walked, and walked, and walked some more. We bustled along with the crowd down the world's longest shopping street, "stroget." We meandered along the waterways and lakes, past the new opera house, and through the lush parks of Langelinie. We strolled wide-eyed and giddy through the famous Tivoli Gardens and Bakken, the world's oldest fun park, located within the environs of the King's Hunting Grounds. And, every once in a while, we stopped to take a break at a sidewalk cafe, observing the passersby, sipping lattes, cozying up under the fleece blankets provided for us, and reflecting on everything we had seen.

Copenhagen is breathtakingly beautiful. The canal that snakes through the city is clean and calm and scattered with boaters out for a night cruise, glasses of wine and cigarettes in hand. The streets are cobbled and populated with slender, brightly coloured buildings, and the cityscape is dotted with strange, ornate copper spires and clock towers. ("We put towers on everything," Emilie told me today). There's a green space around every corner, and the scent of lilac is heavy in the air.

That scent of lilac transports me to my childhood, and reminds me that I've ended up in this city at an oddly appropriate and painful time.

Lilacs take me back to the farm where I grew up. To springs and summers spent running through forests, jumping across mud bogs, and picking berries for my grandma to make into pie. And, it reminds me of my Uncle Gilbert, who passed away on Thursday. As with most of my family who lived on the farm, Uncle Gilbert helped to raised me, looked out for me, and is a part of some of my best childhood memories. Every afternoon as a kid I ran across the farm yard for tea (sometimes they let me have milky coffee full of sugar- I'm sure it didn't lead to my current addiction) and my favorite Danish cookies and sweets with Uncle Gilbert and Auntie Lee. Their home was decorated with beautiful blue and white Royal Copenhagen china, tapestries of the Little Mermaid, and Danish flags. Every Christmas I'd scamper around their house looking for the Danish elves hidden in every nook and cranny, and anticipate the annual trip into town for the Scandanvian Christmas Faire where we'd sample open-face sandwiches and ableskiver.

I didn't know Uncle Gilbert wasn't well until a few weeks ago. I haven't seen him since I last went to the farm, almost two years ago. When my dad visited him at the hospital he asked if I was married yet, and reminded my dad of the afternoons we'd spent together over tea and sneaky coffee. Homesickness hasn't really affected me since I've been away. Until now. Now all I want to do is be back with my family, drinking tea and talking about Uncle Gilbert. But since that's not possible, Copenhagen seems a strangely appropriate place to remember, to appreciate, and to say goodbye.