I just realized that it's almost been two weeks since I've updated this little blog, but it's been a busy two weeks. For the most part anyway. I actually spent one FULL day trying to switch this blog over to Tumblr. Ahh, sweet unemployment. My friend Cheyne turned me on to Tumblr and, unfortunately, it consumed most of my productivity for the better part of a day, or two. I'm not proud. Tumblr is another blog site that offers a lot more options for the look and feel of your blog. At first, I was completely impressed with the plethora of different formats and dove right in trying out each one. It was only until day two of spending hours simply playing with layouts that I decided I needed to get a life. I also concluded that when presented with too many options, I get completely overwhelmed and distracted. I still couldn't find exactly what I was looking for and ended up extremely unsatisfied. Now, I just feel complete resentment towards Tumblr for all these hours wasted and refuse to switch over. Blogger it is. All this energy focused on a blog left me feeling a new level of pathetic and I couldn't dare to look at it again for days, or as it turns out two weeks.
Danish weather.
Now that I'm back, let's talk about Danish weather. again. It hasn't snowed since my last post and let's hope it won't snow again until winter. I've been getting down right giddy when it gets close to 60 degrees here and, then, I get slapped in the face with updates from my girlfriends in LA or sweaty Facebook photo updates from Coachella. Damn you, hipsters. The weather here is just ridiculous. In Michigan, there's a saying that if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes. The temperatures are slightly unpredictable and do fluctuate in the mid-West, but this is a bit of an exaggeration. I can confirm that the expression is definitely better suited in Denmark. Today alone, I've seen temperatures go up and down, clouds, repeated bouts of sunshine and then rain again. It, literally, changes every five minutes. As you can imagine, this makes wardrobe decisions incredibly difficult. I had a friend in town last week doing an around the world trip and she, of course, was super disappointed with the weather. She also mentioned that their bike tour guide claimed Denmark had the worst weather in the world. The guide obviously wasn't Danish. I will continue to complain, but "the worst weather in the world" seems drastic and unnecessary. I'm still adjusting to the sunlight here. My internal clock is completely off as it seems to get light by 5 am and will stay that way until around 10 pm. The days seem to get longer day by day. Time to invest in an eye mask for sleeping. I noticed no one dare complains about the sunlight. ever. This is because of the total darkness that is most of the winter. More adjustments.
My Danish friend, Mette, commented a couple weeks ago that she thinks the weather in Los Angeles is incredibly boring and prefers Danish weather. I quickly corrected her, thinking she obviously made a mistake and asked if by "boring" she meant "awesome," but she stood by her convictions. Part of the rational of Denmark having preferential weather, over somewhere like Los Angeles, was that there is always something to talk about in Copenhagen. She continued saying people LOVE to talk about the weather. This, to me, is not a strong argument. But enough about the weather, for now, as I predict it will be something I will undoubtedly mention every time I blog.
Danish Traditions at the Marina.
Mette took me to a traditional Danish procession at a nearby marina to celebrate the raising of the flag. This event happens twice a year - opening and closing of the marina - and both times there is a lot of old men, Danish beer, shots, swaying while singing old Danish songs and, apparently by observation, onesie snow suits (in spring weather) in the marina. When Mette invited me to join her, she ran through all the details, but as soon as I heard "my friend's boat," I blocked out the rest and just repeated, "yes" until she stopped talking. I really didn't know what I was getting myself into, but I knew with Mette it was going to be good. I wasn't disappointed. You know it's going to be an interesting day when you're served beer and shots for breakfast with a bunch of old foreign guys. I guess I'm the foreign one here, but you get what I'm saying.
Apparently, these events are typically only attended by Danes and more specifically ones of the older variety. I felt like I was witnessing something pretty special. We went in for what they tell me is a traditional Danish lunch which was a buffet with cold salmon and cold herring paired with some tart tasting sauces, some other meat that didn't interest me, and potato salad. No complaints there. I could have done without the schnapps that accompanied the lunch. That wasn't great. I did appreciate the conversation though. Somehow, the conversation got directed to the date April 20. The rest of the table recognized this date as Hitler's birthday, which was news to me, and were surprised to find that American's use this date as an unofficial holiday to smoke marijuana. I'm not sure they were impressed. Shifting gears promptly, I commented on a group of people nearby struggling to put up their mast on their sailboat and was happy to learn that this is informally called "masturbation" among gentlemen in Danish circles. I was even more pleased to hear a story about email chains regarding one friend helping the other friend masturbate that Saturday. This story was cut short as the procession was starting. I quickly grabbed my camera and headed to the flagpole.
"masturbating" There were a group of about 12 old Danish men, wearing aprons adorned with a beer logo (questionable uniforms in my opinion), lined up with song books in their hands. A short abrasive woman stood on a chair and grunted out something captivating I'm sure and then a woman with an accordiane started the old men off. To my surprise, everyone in the crowd watching started singing too. I checked and think I was the only person there not signing, so I swayed back and forth, beers in hand, and did my best lip singing.
Shortly after, Mette introduced me to a few people, including a famous Danish rebel. There were details about his historic story whispered to me during the procession, but most was lost in my intoxicated state. I've made a note to follow up with Mette to create a more interesting story about me meeting this impressive local hero? celebrity? not sure really, but here is a photo of us getting friendly... impressed?
We spent most of the rest of the afternoon sitting on Lars' boat enjoying Danish beer in the sun. A good day overall. Two weeks in and I already have friends with boats and hugs with a local hero. I'd say things are progressing nicely.
whoopsie.
"heart starter" just in case...
Spanish style stress.
The next day, Pedro and I helped one his Spanish friends, Abilia, move. Abilia was complaining about how stressed this move was making her and how she just cannot wait for it all to be over. She has very broken English, but she clearly articulated how complicated things were for her at this moment and that she was extremely full of stress. This is all completely understandable. I especially understand since I just moved. What I question is, even with all these pressures, our appointment time to help her move wasn't until late afternoon and when we arrived, we only moved a couple boxes before being stopped because Abilia cooked us a nice Spanish feast. We all went downstairs to the picnic area and had paella and wine. After a leisurely proper lunch, we then had a coffee break. Then, Abilia offered us beer. I kept wondering, is this her at her most stressed? Spanish people must live a long time? Speaking for myself only (even though I'm tempted to generalize all Americans), during peak moments of ultimate stress, if you come to my house to help me move, I probably won't cook you dinner, offer you drinks and coffee before anything gets done. This was her moment of stress, but I think I was the one feeling anxious. I kept thinking, what's happening, why isn't anything being done, how long will this take, how can I help, why doesn't she look more stressed, maybe American's are generally wound too tight, will I ever be this relaxed? Her belongings eventually got moved by a decent hour and everything was fine. This reminded me of a road trip I took with Pedro in Spain last year. He mentioned that we were in a hurry to get to our destination and that we needed to try to get there as soon as possible. Note, this didn't stop us from stopping at more than one bar/cafe along the way for a coffee and tapas. But, we didn't just pop in and grab snacks for the trip, we actually went inside, grabbed a table and sat down properly for said snacks. This, in America, is unheard of if you're trying to get somewhere by a "hurry." These Spaniards do things differently. I'm not going to fight it. I even made a personal note to calm down.
Grocery Shopping.
The stores here still intrigue me. I'm told that in Denmark, it's primarily only Danish products sold in the stores, which might be one reason why the options are so limited. There seems to be basically only one option for most things. This is a big change from the massive super markets I'm used to in the States. It's not all of Scandinavia, because I've been to huge stores with seemingly limitless options in Sweden, but in Denmark, you take what you get. The little market around the corner from our place is no different. There also seems to be no sense of order or organization in these markets either. You just have to walk the entire store to find detergent curiously placed next to cheese, and so on. The one thing that Danes seem to overstock on is dairy products. I learned this last year when I visited the Copenhagen Google office. I was shocked when I opened the office refrigerator and it seemed to only contain various containers of dairy products. I wish I took a photo. Having limited knowledge of Danish, I remember guessing and pouring one in my coffee. It was not a nice surprise to realize that it was not milk that I added to my coffee, but rather yogurt. It's my observation that rather than cereal in the morning, Dane's love yogurt and granola... various kinds of yogurt with variations of flavors and fat percentages. In Fakta, the little market near us, even though there is a shortage of nearly everything else, there is a full refrigerated wall dedicated to containers of various dairy products, with various hybrid names. To me, they all look exactly the same. Last time I was there, I spent an unacceptable amount of time inspecting each label. I took a gamble and just picked one. Thinking it must either be milk or yogurt, I thought I was safe. When I poured a little in my oatmeal the next day, I was NOT expecting sour cream. Not exactly a breakfast of champions.
VISA this.
After some rescheduling, Pedro and I spent a couple hours at the immigration office last week, with piles of documents in hand, and as it turns out some of the rules have changed. This is creating a bit of stress regarding getting Danish residency. It's not great news. Based on our research, I thought I had multiple options for getting a CPR number, but was advised otherwise by an extremely unfriendly representative. I have options, but just different ones than we initially understood. This was a rude wake up call for me. The whole process is a huge headache. It makes sense that it's more difficult in Denmark than other European countries since there are so many shared benefits here, but I still don't like it. The best and easiest option for me is to just secure a job that is on the Danish "positive list." I've made very little effort to do so since I got here since I have a significant amount of savings to live off of, but now there is a real sense of urgency. In reflection, it seems I've wasted most of my first 28 days here and now it's go time. blah. There are applicable jobs available, but this limits my freedom to be as picky as I'd like. Also, this cuts into time I would otherwise be using to sleep-in late, take long walks, take photos, read, study and time spent writing in this blog. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly thrilled. It's occurred to me, post move, that I must have always had dreams of being a true Euro bum. It's absolutely amazing how quickly one can become accustomed to leisure filled days sitting in lovely European cafes and exploring. I guess it's back to reality.
One small victory at a time.
I'm happy to announce that the black leather couches are gone! The apartment adjustments are coming along nicely and after one more Ikea trip I might upload some updates.
Sunny T, Patriotism, and LA dreaming.
One of the reasons Facebook is amazing is that it's such an easy way to keep in touch. Sunny is a friend I briefly spent time with in Los Angeles, but have always been super impressed with her. She has been living in New Zealand for the past couple years and if it weren't for Facebook, I feel pretty confident that we would've lost contact. However, technology brought us together again and I was able to spend a couple days with her in Copenhagen last week. It was an absolute treat to be (1) with an old friend in my new home and (2) to be in touch with not only another American, but another ex-pat. It also felt nice to know more about the area than someone else as I had a couple weeks advantage on her and her boyfriend.
One thing we discussed about our experience abroad that we both found surprising was our increased sense of patriotism since moving. There are a long list of things about Americans that I find embarrassing, but even only been gone one month, I can confidently say that the phrase, "well, in the States, we do it like this..." has come out of my mouth at an alarming rate. I feel like I'm embracing change, but some things just seem to make more sense the way I'm used to doing them. I'm sure it's just the comfort of knowing how to do certain things and the refreshing sense of familiarity that I like. For example, the other night I caught myself home alone and looking for a movie on TV when I stumbled upon American Idol. Now, for the record, I never watched this show when living in America, but for some reason felt I should watch it here, being American and all. I'm hoping this behavior comes to a stop soon. Next thing you know, I'll be watching Jersey Shore... this is not progress.
Side note, although there is a big effort not to watch TV here, I have done some exploring of the channels and made some conclusions. First, there seems to be an overwhelming number of ridiculous reality shows imported here -- this cannot do well for the general opinion of dumb Americans abroad. I saw a few minutes of something called "A Double Shot of Love" featuring trashy, implanted, bi-sexual twins looking for true love when I lost a little bit of hope for our overall reputation in the world. Secondly, shows like the "Tonight Show" are always consistently at least one month old. It must be a cheaper buy for the networks. I was actually just impressed to see they even make it here.
I have found that the first few weeks I've been so busy, primarily on focusing on being a Euro bum, that there was little time to be homesick. Everything was too exciting. Now, especially after my immigration office visit, I have found myself being more and more homesick. Maybe it's the thought of facing more changes, or maybe just that I miss my friends. Starting over, in a new country, definitely has it's challenges and I've found myself the last couple days dreaming of California and my life there. This does not mean that I'm regretting my decision, just that changing everything in one's life can be an emotional shock to the system. I've been reminding myself that I hated LA when I first moved there and it took time for me to fall in love with it. The good news is I like Copenhagen much more than I initially liked LA. I take this to mean that, with time, I will also fall in love with it here like I did with my beloved City of Angeles. Roots take time. I'm working on being patient and allowing myself to just enjoy the ride.
This morning I woke up to an email from Los Angeles filled with detailed accounts of my friend's weekend activities including a full well-captioned album. Here are a couple of my favorite shots:
I love them. Not the random guy working at Nick's Liquor store, but more specifically Amanda, Sarah and Todd. These photos produced tears and smiles. Thank you, friends!
Hospital time with Pedro.
I went to the cinema the other night with a British girlfriend, Rachel. It was a bit of a scene at the theatre trying to secure tickets since their system is slightly different than either one of us is used to. The Danes behind us didn't look pleased as the two confused foreigners blocked up the whole line. We saw 'Remember Me,' which only induced more patriotic feelings. Leaving the theatre, I was shocked to get a message from Pedro that he was in the hospital. During his futbol match, he had a rough collision with an over-sized rugby player resulting in a completely busted knee. He says he waited hours and still wasn't treated so, he decided to try a bigger hospital in the morning. With limited movement, I have no idea how he made it up all 72 steps to our apartment, but I found him home with a swollen knee and in a lot of pain. Pedro complained about the lack of service and how Danish health care doesn't compare to that of France or Spain -- which also have Universal Health Care. When you're in the waiting room for hours, I suppose you can't help but wonder where your 50% taxes are going, especially when you don't pay that much in Spain or France.
The next morning, I got my little cripple up and dressed. Thankfully, a friend was able to pick us up for the hospital and helped carry Pedro down stairs. At the hospital, I was prepared to take notes on the obvious differences between our current US health care system and the Danish experience. At first impression, check-in was quite easy as there is no insurance run around. This time, we were prepared with books, water and snacks for the waiting room, but it actually didn't take very long to be seen. During the examination, the doctors spoke in Danish the entire time so I wasn't able to take efficient notes. It wasn't until after at least 20 minutes of dialogue did the doctor realize I wasn't Danish and she apologized for not using English. This actually happens to me all the time as I look Danish. Plus, I've picked up a couple words which I use whenever and as often as possible. For example, I learned how to say 'Excuse Me' in Danish and say it to everyone I see. I get a false sense of pride and arrogance for my seeming adaptability. I even stand up taller and hold my head high with the new found confidence one word gives me. However, when you speak to people, they typically respond... and almost always in Danish. As you can see, my confidence high never lasts long.
The doctors provided Pedro with a leg brace, crutches and a preliminary diagnosis. We have a follow up visit with a Specialist later this week for further treatment. There was no paperwork, no check out, no payment. All things I'm not used to. Overall, I would say it was a pretty thorough visit and fairly painless from my point of view. Looking forward to the follow up visit and, in the meantime, playing full time nurse to poor Pedro.
That's it for now, but I'll leave you with some random photos from last week:
Here I'm standing next to an absurdly priced one-of-a-kind car. Notice the Lamborghini in the background... this is the owner's backup day-to-day car. Outrageous. They tell me this fancy Italian car, a Pagani Zonda, cost around $1 million. I just can't get my head around that.
Miguel pointing to the Gold rims.
Here are more shots of us sunning by the canals:
Amazing Chuchi, please continue, my sweet Euro Bum!
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