I wasn't. It was cold, wet, rainy and every blessed thing looked grey when I arrived. Exhausted from the long plane journey from Malaysia, wrestling with baggage, Danish and Danish trains that you have to climb stairs to get into (with said baggage), the idea of staying in this concrete bunker nearly made me cry.
But that remains just about the only bad memory I have of this wonderful place full of party-loving students from around the world. My housemates became family, and as you wander around good 'ol Skjoldhøj, you'll find its hidden beauty spots:
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