I’ve just released a new version of PresenceRouter that supports routing your Plazes geo-presence via Instant Message (using Adium). This means that you can now update services like Identi.ca that don’t have an API, but do support updating via IM.

To use this new capability, just add a new service in PresenceRouter, setting the type to Instant Message and the IM Name to the name of the contact you’ve entered in Adium.

From Surveillance Camera Players: How to Make Maps of Camera Locations. See also How to Stage Your Own Surveillance Camera Theater.

Bio Mapping:

The central notion of Bio Mapping is that we can make better sense of our own body data than a disinterested observer. By recording our own body’s bio data along with our geographic location we can review the information and make meaningful decisions about our life.

All over Copenhagen I saw signs for Is. For example, here at Boys Shawarma og Isbar on Nørrebrogade:

Is, it seems, is the Danish short-hand for “ice cream,” although it technically translates simply to “ice.” Which is fine, until you come to Iceland. Where, in Icelandic, a language with the same roots as Danish, the name of the country is Ísland. Which, to English eyes, looks a lot like Island.

Suffice to say that when arriving jetlagged in Keflavik and trying to navigate the currency jungle enough to buy a coffee, having currency that doesn’t say “Iceland” on it anywhere, but rather Ísland, is very confusing.

Something even more confusing: the Danish word for “Island” is simply Ø. Weird.

Over the weekend I descended into the heart of “tourist Copenhagen” — the area that radiates out from Tivoli. The main shopping street, Strøget, was stuffed full of tourists doddering along with their maps out and daypacks bulging, and the Metro station’s ticket machines had line-ups 10 deep of confused looking visitors unable to parse the local transit system.

Tourists are annoying, and my trip into their enclave was the least pleasant part of my time in the city. The irony of writing this as a tourist myself is not lost on me. But man did I ever breath easier once I got back out of the melee.

Which got me thinking: the least interesting parts of any city are those that are frequented by tourists. Think of the Halifax Historic Properties, or Peakes Quay in Charlottetown, or Quincy Market in Boston: worldwide these tourist ghettos are increasingly morphing into one giant mass of Beanie Baby and homemade soap shops, “authentic” pubs, faux heritage pageants, and souvenir stalls.

Every city has its official “tourist zone” — in Copenhagen, for example, it’s essentially the the city bike zone (the area where you’re allowed to take free city bicycles), and here’s the tourist map of Charlottetown.

So here’s my idea: in the same way you can now buy a DVD player that strips out profanity, why not publish “masks” that can be applied over city maps that filter out the naughty tourist bits — cartographic “here be boredom” devices. Take it to the next level and you could integrate the masks with mobile devices so that they would vibrate and flash when in danger of veering out of the interesting parts of a city.

Like last year, I used a Telia pre-paid SIM card in my mobile phone this year in Denmark. The SIM costs 100 DKK, which includes 100 DKK of credit. I used the phone mostly for data access, both also sent some SMS and made a few calls. I checked my balance on the way onto the airplane yesterday, and it seems that, for me, 100 DKK is exactly the right amount of credit to have, as my balance on leaving Denamrk was 0,02 DKK:

Here’s how my usage broke down over the two weeks:

• Sending 16 SMS: 32,10 DKK
• Data (email, web): 55,32 DKK
• Received 6 calls: 0 DKK
• Placed 4 calls: 12,56 DKK

The big sinkholes were the ten SMS I sent to “overseas” numbers — friends in Sweden and Germany who happened to be also in Denmark at the time — at 3,00 DKK each.

The 55,32 DKK (about $11 Canadian) got me 2766 KB (or 2.7 MB) of data, which I used mostly to check email when out and about, and to surf TinyPlazer.com and Jaiku. The same usage on my pre-paid plan on Rogers Wireless in Canada would have cost me $138 (where the rate is 5 cents/KB).

In Britain I think of the pound as “twice a dollar” (which it is, almost exactly) and I think of the Euro as “a dollar and a half.” But a Danish kroner is worth 21 cents Canadian, which makes for more on-the-flay mathematics than my mind can handle. So I settle on everyday mnemonics. Here’s the ones I came up with:

• Cost of a flat: 1,000,000 DKK.
• Monthly mortgage payment on a flat: 10,000 DKK.
• Cost to have a cat’s ball joint repaired: 5,000 DKK.
• Return ticket to Sweden on the train: 175 DKK.
• Cost for a few days worth of groceries: 100 DKK.
• Film ticket (afternoon): 60 DKK.
• A large cappuccino: 30 DKK.
• A good machiatto: 22 DKK.
• A croissant: 12 DKK.

Since I learned it from Peter Livingstone, my main unit of mnemonic currency for large items is the cat ball joint repair: I see a new car advertised in a magazine and I think “oh, that’s 100 cat ball joints worth,” or a two-week flat rental (1 ball joint job).

Tomorrow afternoon I’m booked on an Icelandair flight to Halifax by way of Iceland. Schedules being what they are, I’ll overnight in Halifax before flying back to Charlottetown on Tuesday morning.

On either side of my lovely dinner with friends last night I’ve been spending a little tourist time in Copenhagen.

When I arrived yesterday morning in the centre of the city it was raining, with signs of raining more. So I diverted to the Grand Teatret movie house to see The Band’s Visit. This was a minor miscalculation: although English-language films are, as a rule, shown in their original version here with Danish subtitles, much of The Band’s Visit is in Hebrew and Arabic. Which the subtitles translated into Danish. It’s a testament to the other qualities of the film that my inability to understand most of the dialogue didn’t stand in the way of enjoying the film.

Just as the film was letting out I got an SMS from Til, my Plazes colleague, who had managed to find a way to inject juice into his powerless mobile phone with a one-time-use power pack after leaving his power supply at home. We met up at Europa, a café in the heart of the very, very crowded main shopping street. Despite the claustrophic journey and cramped quarters inside, I had an absolutely amazing sandwich with smoked salmon, smoked cream cheese and pears.

Til and I then headed down to Christiania, a neighbourhood I’d never visited in my four years of coming to Copenhagen. I was a nice way to spend the afternoon: we wandered around the alleys, grabbed an orange juice, listened to some music (and avoided some other music) and drank all the “partially self-governing” in.

Around supper time I left Til to his own devices and headed off to Peter and Nina’s for dinner.

This morning I cycled down to Riccos for one last coffee, and then continued downtown to the <a href=”http://rentabike.dk/>cycle rental shop to return my bike. Confusingly, they were closed, despite telling me that they would be open on Sundays. More confusingly, when I pressed the door bell outside the rental area I got buzzed in. To an empty, dark space. I decided to just lock up the bike, clip my voucher to the basket, and hope for the best, and went on my way.

I made my annual pilgrimage to the Danish Design Center where I took in the exhibitions on Living Wood and New Nordic Cuisine, did some shopping in the shop, and had a snack.

I had lunch at Chili — a burger place with an 8-item condiment caddy delivered with each burger — and then wandered about the edges of downtown for a while before walking to Gloria Biograf, a tiny one-screen repertory theatre near City Hall where I saw the 2:00 p.m. showing of En fri verden — the Ken Loach film It’s a Free World.

When the film let out I caught the bus home and began the process of closing down the operation here — washing the dishes, packing up my things, and getting ready for tomorrow’s travels.

It’s been a wonderful trip: the many kindnesses shown me by Olle and Luisa and Henriette and Thomas and Peter and Nina and Mark and Claus and Tobias and the rest of the Copenhagen crew have made me feel truly at home; reboot was great, with the added twist of being audience and presenter both this year, and the simple fact of working and living in the middle of everyday Copenhagen has been a welcome change.