It was so loud. Then everything stopped.

NYE on the streets felt like a war zone and we loved it. Even throughout the preceding days, the random bangs of firecrackers kept you on edge. It was almost as if trouble was brewing, in the form of more riots like on the 14^th December. Waiting to board the bus. Bang. Jumping on the bike. Bang. It was bad because you could never see the fireworks, because they were obscured by either the buildings or the daylight. You just heard the gunshot-like bangs.

It looked for awhile as if the Danes don’t understand the concept of one homogenous light show. Social housing, rental caps, and a 70% tax rate make Denmark like a Governmental Robin Hood, yet it seemed they couldn’t share fireworks.

I was wrong. Copenhagen put on a show for my second last night. Along the lakes just north of the city, and on the edge of Nørrebro(nx), explosions of colour shot from the bridges. Everyway you turned was a light show. Everyway you walked, you had to watch out for a crazy Danish setting off his own firework. Every intersection was a do-it-yourself pyrotechnic playground. The result was as spectacular as it was scary. Meanwhile, the Poles, Kuba and Maciek danced in circles down the street, and the rest of the remaining clan from our Erasmus exchange 2006 embraced on their last night together.

Then silence. Even as New Year’s Eve was so loud and hectic, on January 1, Copenhagen was a ghost town. Where are the people? Every day of the past 5 months I have lived here it has buzzed. Copenhagen is always electric but my last day was quiet and eerie. My time here is over and for me it can never be the same again. In their ones, twos and threes my friends here have slipped away from the city. Jochen, back to Deutschland. Frenchie has gone home to Paris. Big Al had a German Christmas before sailing in Bris Vegas. Mummy and Daddy Catalan are back ‘entre Blanes y Cadaqués.’ The Italian Mafia, Silvia and Vale, are back chanting Bravo Azzurri in Rome, while Livia recovers from being deprived in Copenhagen of real coffee and proper pasta. Margaux is swanning around in the south of France. Jeremy is off to Paris and can tell me all about it when I bump into him in Asia. Stampy is tramping in Berlin and then on to Barcelona. Catalan Anna II is temporarily home in Barcelona for the break. Bev is in Ireland and has decided to return to Copenhagen for another dose of the same.

And some remain. Jenny, Chris and Dave have a ‘touch of cleaning’ to do in their now lonely apartment before heading back for their final semester in Sheffield. Sethery leaves tomorrow to look for somewhere to live in Chapel Hill, NC. Freyah is coming to the realisation that she will be trading her Amager dorm for home and uni back in Melbourne. Catalan Anna I, “La Pitjor del Mon,” is staying in town and struggling with the idea of losing everyone, while still preparing for exams. Kuba and “Magic” Maciek are still in town, drinking polish honey vodka. The endless goodbyes have been emotionally taxing, but we convince each other that somewhere, around the corner or around the world, we will all see each other again.

The next chapter has begun as an ICE train spirits me though Germany towards the Swiss Alps. Now I just need to pray for snow because it happens to be the warmest European winter anyone can remember, and if there’s no snow, I’ll have to pursue another Swiss sport – Curling.