Doing things the Danish way.

I hope you’re ready for a kick-ass metaphor, because I’m about to deliver.
Despite it being a Swedish company, living in Denmark has been a bit like how I imagine living in IKEA would be.  I think IKEA is great.  I loved it when my parents would pile me and my siblings into a car on a Sunday and take us on a trip to buy a bookcase.  It was super fun to test out the furniture, and hilarious whenever anyone tried to pronounce the name of literally anything.  That excitement never really left me, and when I go without my family, as a real life adult (kind of) it is still a day trip that I enjoy.  Everything has a name I can’t pronounce, the meatballs are yummy, and there’s cool stuff.  You see where I am going with this?  Pretty sure a couple of IKEA trips have even felt like they lasted six months.  But I am getting ready to leave IKEA now: packing all my metaphorical candles into my metaphorical big blue bag.

Despite the tedious metaphor, I’m genuinely really sad about leaving.  I always knew that I didn’t have very long, but I didn’t expect to feel so at home here.

When I first came to Denmark, I was so confused by the language.  My neighbour (who is from Sweden), once told me that the Norwegian and Swedish languages sound like dancing fairies, but the Danes sound like they are talking with a big potato stuffed in their mouth.   I don’t think there could be a more accurate description of what happens when you listen to a person from Denmark.  But at least the Norwegians, Swedes and Danes can still loosely understand each other, which is something I definitely couldn’t manage when I first arrived.  In Danish the J makes the Y sound, the Y makes the OOH sound, the V makes the W sound, the R makes the RUGH sound, the H is silent half the time, a ton of the letters (C, Q, W, X, Z) are basically never used, sometimes they run words together or only pronounce half of the word (because why not), and on top of that there’s the whole confusing mess that is Æ, Ø, and Å.  But, I have taken some classes, and now I know enough Danish to tell a shopkeeper that I don’t want a receipt, or to ask for directions, or to order a takeaway.  I don’t feel uncomfortable when someone talks to me in Danish anymore, although I’ll admit that a lot of my confidence came from learning that if you pronounce the first half of the word a bit weirdly, and then just give up and vaguely mumble the second half of the word, then you’re probably pretty close.  I feel like I’ve cracked it.  It still sounds like everyone’s talking with potatoes in their mouth, but those potatoes are slightly smaller.

But it’s not just the language that I’ve got more comfortable with.  I don’t accidentally walk in the bike lanes anymore (believe me you will die).  I call hanging out with my friends Hygge.  When someone is particularly showy, I have started to scowl at them along with the Danes who have been brought up to follow Janteloven (the Law of Jante), which is the idea that you aren’t better than anyone else and shouldn’t show off.  I’ve even started to feel a strange kind of love for Queen Margrethe II  – and I can name more Danish royals than I care to admit.

The real moment of realization that I had begun to blend in (at least as much as a tiny dark haired girl can blend into Scandinavia) came a month ago.  Since 1994, the Danish Emergency Management Agency (DEMA) has tested the national siren warning system on the first Wednesday of May.  Because, of course Denmark has a national siren warning system.  The annual test, is not only to make sure the system works, it’s also intended to make sure the public become familiar with the sound and learn what to do if there is actually some kind of major incident in the future.  The kind of major incidents they’re concerned about?  Major fires, terrorist attacks or perhaps either Sweden or Germany getting too big for their boots.  But what surprised me most was how unsurprised I was by the whole thing.  It seemed perfectly normal to me that a perfectly peaceful country would have a complicated siren system that they test regularly.  That’s when I knew the Danes had changed me – for better or for worse.

So when it comes to packing up my things and leaving, I will be genuinely sad.  I feel like I’m leaving my home.  Sure, I am returning to another home, a home that I have had for much longer, but that doesn’t mean I feel less like I also belong here – at least slightly.  Leaving a home that is only a bit of a home is still much more sad than I expected it to be.
Hopefully I’ll be able to come back to visit at some point in the future.  I’ve had some of the most fun times of my life (so far) here, and I will probably always think of Denmark with a smile.  It’s been a pretty great “kinda home”.
In the mean time I’ll just have to incorporate a few Danish aspects into my life back in England, and maybe take a few nostalgic trips to IKEA.

Stay safe.

Visiting the home of Lego.

He might not be as famous as Hans Christian Anderson or Hamlet, but if you’re going to talk about important Danes you can’t ignore Ole Kirk Christiansen.  A carpenter from Billund, Christiansen began making wooden toys in 1932, naming his company Lego (from the Danish “leg godt” which means “play well”) in 1934.  Lego began producing plastic toys in 1947, and by 1949 were making early versions of their now famous Lego blocks under the much less appealing name “Automatic Binding Bricks”.

Like every kid ever, I loved Lego, and like every adult ever I’d probably still play with it instead of doing boring adult things if I had the choice.  So when I moved to within an hour or so of Billund, I was super excited.  I finally went for a day trip to Legoland on a very sunny Saturday with a bunch my friends from my Danish language class, and I wasn’t disappointed.  My dad took me to the Legoland in Winsdor when I was a child, and I didn’t think I remembered much about it, but once I was in Billund tonnes of memories flooded back, and I was almost expecting to turn around and see him sat on the seat behind me while I was on the log flume ride – which I am convinced is identical to the one that was in Windsor over ten years ago.  I’m not sure if it was the weird deja-vu or just the fact I was surrounded by Lego, but I felt like a giddy 7 year old, and I defiantly to enjoyed playing at the Lego stations while queuing up for rides and trying to decide which Lego castle I’d live in if I was a Lego princess a little bit more than a 21 year old should do.  It was a great day though.

Sorry for the photo dump – I’m coming into exam time (I do some work on my study abroad, I swear!), so I didn’t have time to write too much, but I couldn’t make my mind up on which photos to pick so I just used them all.  😉

Stay Safe.

What on earth is Kapsejladsen?

I might have been feeling sorry for myself last Monday, when all my family and friends in England had the day off for Mayday, but not to be beaten on bank holidays the Danes got the day off on Thursday instead.  Unlike its name suggests, Kristi Himmelfartsdag is a fairly serious religious holiday also known as Ascension day, which takes place 39 days after Easter Sunday to Jesus’ ascension into heaven.  The name is pretty entertaining to non-Danes, although not very much happens on Ascension day  besides communions and family events, so it was a very quiet day.

The day after Ascension Day however, was a bit more exciting.  This is because, on the first Friday in May each year, the park at Aarhus University is home to Kapsejladsen, a boat race which has been happening since the start of the 1990’s (and which has been open to all departments since 2000).  It is organised by the Medicine department, who founded the race as a competition with the Dentistry students and as a parody of the famous Cambridge/Oxford boat race, but believe it or not, it now draws between 25,000 and 30,000 spectators annually.

Kapsejladsen translates roughly to “competition voyage”, although the race itself is simple, and not very much like the epic voyage the name would indicate.  12 subjects take part (although the maths department are apparently notorious for getting themselves intentionally disqualified during the race).  Each team is made up of 5 members, which must include both male and female participants.

Are you with me so far?  Because this is where it starts to get a bit weird.  Each team member must row in turn across the lake in a boat (usually inflatable), drink a bottle of beer, spin 10 times around the bottle and then jump back into their boat to row back across the lake and pass the baton to the next team member.   If the beer hasn’t been completely emptied, or if it is spilled, the team member must drink a penalty beer before they can continue.  The first team to have all 5 team members back on the shore where they started is the winner.  There are several heats throughout the day, leading to a grand final, where the teams are competing, not only for honor but also for a bedpan that is painted gold.  It’s interesting viewing to say the least.

While incredibly competitive, the people who get the loudest cheers from the crowd are quite often the ones who fell into the lake after spinning around a bit too fast.  I’ve been told that Medicine are the usual champions, although Economics occasionally give them a run for their money.  To quote my Danish next door neighbor, who is the source for a huge amount of my Kapsejladsen-based knowledge: “they even beat Sports Science every year, who knew that those nerds could row so well”.  This year however, in a bit of a plot twist, Medicine didn’t even make it to the finals, and Psychology went on to win.

In case you somehow thought the racing itself was a bit tame, there are also team parades with costumes and some skits (the ones that I understood featured a reenactment of Leo Dicaprio/Kate Winslet fighting over a door in The Titanic, a tribute to Grease in a hovercraft boat and a dance-off between Trump and Kanye in giant paper mâché heads).

But lets not forget about the naked race.  Danes aren’t too shy about nudity, at least when compared to the Brits, and naked races are apparently fairly common in Denmark, but I was not alone in the ranks of confused foreigners who thought it was some kind of unfortunate mistranslation until hoards of naked people literally ran past us.  I don’t think I will ever get used to the sight of bouncing bums and boobs, but the Danes generally don’t seem to think it is weird to have people run around a park totally naked to prepare the crowd for a drunken boat race.

While some (slightly crazy) people arrived at the lake in the very early hours of the morning, or even camped overnight to get a prime spot, we settled for an 8am start.  This worked out quite well for us, because as some of the aforementioned people got increasingly drunk and had to go home to their beds we managed to watch the final from the very front of the crowd on the edge of the lake.  Despite being generally confused about what was going on (and about why so many people were in various states of undress), this was a really fun day that I certainly won’t be forgetting any time soon.

The sun came out for once, and we adorned ourselves in Danish flags to get the true cultural experience.  Once they had discovered that I had never been to a Kapsejladsen before, plenty of tipsy Danes were very eager to try and explain why they thought it was the best spectator sport ever.  There’s no point trying to tell a Dane that this isn’t a real sport.  Sure, real sporting events don’t actually involve this much nudity or alcohol, but I have yet to find a Dane who will think that is an acceptable thing to say.  So while I might still be pretty confused about the whole day, one thing is increasingly clear: in the eyes of the Danish, Kapsejladsen is not a party, it is a serious sport (although it certainly had me fooled).

Stay safe.

 

MJ’s visit.

I’ve almost left it a whole month before writing again (oops), but last week Mark came to stay with me in Denmark, and we had a super fun time doing a whole array of touristy things, so I have lots and lots of cool stuff to tell you about.  The sun even made an appearance once or twice, although it also snowed because what else would you expect from the Danish spring time!

We made the most of the weather by going on an explore of the beach and harbor.  The beach closest too my flat is really lovely; there is  never any rubbish there, and there are always loads of pretty shells that make me feel like a kid again.  While I doubt anyone would be mad enough to lounge about trying to catch some sun (or, god forbid go in the water), it’s such a nice place that I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to hang out there.

Our first proper place to visit was Den Gamle By, or The Old Town.  Den Gamle By, is an open-air town museum (the world’s first open-air museum of its kind!), where you can explore what Danish houses and workplaces have been like through history.  The old timber framed houses have come from all over Denmark, and are really pretty and fun to explore, with guides in character to tell you about the kind of people that would have lived there and the kinds of jobs they would do.  It was pretty hands on, we had a quick go at churning butter and pumping water from a well, and I even became an honorary Danish scout, although that basically just involved looking like an idiot in a cap and a cloak.  The coolest thing about the museum is that it goes from the 1800’s right up to the late 1970’s; so you literally have a nosy round a blacksmith’s house and a gynecologists within the space of about an hour.  As much fun as a gynecologist is though, the most interesting part of the more modern section of the museum was the chance to visit the house of a young Muslim family, where visitors were invited to learn more about the positive aspects of immigration and multiculturalism, which was a really wonderful end to the whole experience.

This has nothing to do with the cultural experience of being in Denmark or whatnot, but anyone who knows me will probably know that I have a bit of a soft spot for Frank Turner.  Just after I moved here, he announced his European tour dates – which included his first ever trip to Aarhus, so I got some tickets, and we went along after our visit to Den Gamle By.  It was a smaller venue than I’m used to, but it was really fun, and was probably the most laid back gig I have ever been to.  He even tried to sing one of his songs in Danish, and it kind of made sense.  So yeah, that was cool.

So after a night that probably involved the most British people I have seen in the whole time I have been here, we got on the coach to Copenhagen to do some of the really touristy things.  We went to the National Gallery to have a look around, and there was a new exhibition about the work of William Hogarth (yes, another English guy, soz) but I really love his stuff, so that was cool.  We then continued our cultural masterclass with a trip to the National Museum to learn about the Vikings.  However, the most exciting part of our adventures in Copenhagen was our visit to The Little Mermaid.  I was obsessed with the story and the Disney film as a kid, and have always been desperate to pay her a visit, so I was really excited to finally have the time to go down to the harbor and say hi.  We also, of course, stopped off quickly at the Hans Christian Anderson statue on the way, because you can’t have one without the other.

Our next stop, was the beautiful Helsignør, which is famous in English as Elsinore, the home of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.  The trip started off in the best possible way: by a journey on a double-decker train, which was really cool, and I refuse to accept anyone telling me otherwise.  We were visiting Helsignør as Shakespeare nerds who wanted to see a cool castle, but it was legitimately a really beautiful place.  It’s a lovely seaside town that is a complete mix of old and new, but somehow it works really well.  I am sure the weather helped, because with the clear skies you could look straight across the water and see Sweden (fun fact: the journey between Helsignør and that part of Sweden is the busiest in the world with more than 70 departures in each direction every day), but even ignoring that, the harbor was beautiful and I basically just fell in love with the place.  And it’s not just the modern ferries that use this spot, water has always been a huge part of the town’s existence, and the castle was actual built with he profits from the Sound Dues introduced by in the 1400’s.   For centuries all foreign ships passing through the strait were required to pay a toll to the Danish king (plus fees if they tried to avoid paying!), and many of the sailors stayed in the town as visitors while their toll was being processed, which meant that Helsignør quickly became a very rich area.

Before we visited the castle itself, we explored the harbor and said hi to Han, the shiny brother of the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen.  Han is programmed to blink at irregular time periods, so if you’re lucky and you watch him for long enough you’ll be able to see that.  Mark didn’t believe me when I told him this, and initially refused to hang around staring into the eyes of a merman, so I had to force him to read some information about it so that he’d stop calling me crazy.

After staring at poor Han for a while, we made our way to Kronborg Castle.  The castle was originally a fortress before it become a royal residence, but has been used at different as a prison (it’s where Caroline Matilda, the wife of the crazy King Christian VII for all you “A Royal Affair” fans, was imprisoned), and also as a military base.  It’s now completely open as a museum, where you can learn about it’s past and about the castle’s links to Shakespeare.   Unfortunately, the Danish Prince Amled (who Shakespeare based Hamlet on) wasn’t very much like his rather dramatic counterpart, but it was still really exciting to explore the stories surrounding the castle, especially as we visited around the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.  The castle is also intertwined with another legend, which says that the statue of the Danish hero Holger Danske, who sits in one of Kronborg’s casemates (the tunnels under the castle), will come back to life and save Denmark, if the country is ever in danger.  I’m not quite sure where he was when Hamlet needed him, but he was pretty scary, so I wasn’t willing to be the person who brought it up.

We arrived back in Aarhus in time for Store Bededag, which is translated literally as Great Prayer Day.  It’s a Danish holiday that is basically just a collection of minor Christian holy days consolidated into one, and the Danes generally rung church bell, eat buns and get the day off to go for walks and hang out with their family.  We celebrated (and escaped the intermittent snow showers) by visiting the Botanical Gardens, where I basked in the greenhouse, feeling the warmest I have felt in 5 months.  We also visited ARoS Art Gallery and the Rainbow Panorama, which I have visited before, but there were some really interesting new exhibits that I loved.

We ended the week with a visit to Aarhus Dyrehavn, an area of woodland where you can visit the Deer.  We brought along some carrots, and I managed to make some cute new deer pals.  Not to brag or anything, but they totally liked me 100% more than they liked anyone else there, which basically means I am a real life Disney princess.  I have no shame in admitting I was insanely excited by seeing the deer, and I felt like a child again when they wanted me to scratch their little deer faces for them.  It was a pretty fab day.

So that’s what I’ve been up to recently.  Shout out to Mark for flying over to visit, and for bringing me chocolate (yes, chocolate’s a recurring motif here, I know).  Apologies for how many photos I took, except I’m not even sorry, because if you look at those pictures of all the little deer and tell me that you don’t want to see them, then I’ll tell you that you’re a liar.

Stay safe.

A rather busy month.

It has been lovely and sunny here recently.  We’ve had bright blue skies, and even the kind of warmth that allowed me to venture outside in a slightly lighter coat than usual one time.  As a response, the international students have been optimistically bouncing around wondering if it acceptable to buy an ice cream now that it’s 8°C, and generally ignoring the native Danes who have been muttering under their breath about how it won’t last long.  But it turns out that the Danes were right about this one.  The skies have opened, and there has been a truly biblical amount of rain today.  It’s April showers, except they’re on an obscene amount of steroids.  So I’m curled up inside, trying to recover from getting drenched while going to class earlier, and for the first time in a long time I have time to tell you what I’ve been up to recently.

I meant to update you all on my life before this point, really I did.  I started a draft and everything.  Technically the draft only contains half a sentence, but it’s the thought that counts?  I have just been busy, gosh, get off my back.  So basically: oops, I’m sorry that I haven’t written anything here in a grand total of 1 month and 1 day.  I’d say it won’t happen again, but lets face it, that would be a huge lie.  I have been up to some really cool things though, so here’s a super-sized update on what you’ve been missing.

5th and 6th March: Copenhagen
I have been living in Denmark for nearly 3 months now, and up until this point I still hadn’t visited Copenhagen, which is pretty disgraceful considering the coach costs about a fiver.   So, after being coaxed by Henry into an impromptu trip Eastwards, I finally jumped on a bus, and after three and a half hours, arrived in Copenhagen.  You can tell I made it there because I took cute photos in Nyhavn, which is pretty much the poster boy canal/street of Copenhagen.

Tourist activities aside, we had a pretty cultural weekend to be honest.  We took the trip primarily to visit The National Museum of Denmark and to do some filming for a project.  Henry had a slot arranged with the museum so that we could film there after hours, so we spent the day exploring the exhibits, and then got down to the serious stuff when everyone went home.  I was slightly disappointed by the lack of Night At The Museum style antics, but other than that it was pretty great.  We also spent quite a bit of time at the National Gallery of Denmark, which was really cute.

My favorite part of the trip however, was our accommodation.  I slept on a pretty wooden boat in Copenhagen, in the snow: which in my mind means that I am a totally bad ass Viking now.  The Hawila is a beautiful ship that is being restored by a group of volunteers, which is being funded by renting the cabins out as a really quirky B&B.  The staff were super friendly, and they didn’t even mind when Henry made a huge mess with some camembert.  It was just a lovely place, and as you can see, I was having the time of my life in my cute little bunk.

11th to the 13th March: Stockholm (and Copenhagen)
So, with Copenhagen ticked off my list, I turned my sights even further East to Sweden.  After finding some ridiculously cheap flights (thanks Ryanair!), a group of us decided to head to Stockholm.  The journey time to fun time ratio was not perfect, but that’s cheap travel for you, and we managed to have a really great time.  One of the flight attendants even told me that he appreciated my face, which was the weirdest compliment I have ever had, but brightened my day none-the-less.  We’ll just forget about how the security people searched me and then swabbed me for explosives because I inexplicably always set off the metal detectors in airports.

On our first night, we went to a little place called Gästabud in the Gamla Stan area, and had literally the best Swedish meatballs I have ever had.  I’m talking 10/10 – even better than IKEA.  Then we found big snow piles while walking back to the hostel, so Sweden was pretty much everything that I thought it would be.

The next day was insanely busy, as we rushed around to try and see everything we could in 24 hours, so that we would make it back for class on Monday.  We started out by taking a free walking tour of Stockholm straight after breakfast, which was really fun and helped us to find our way around while learning about the history of the city.  Stops on the tour included the location of the bank robbery that created the term Stockholm Syndrome, the Stockholm City Hall which is where the Nobel Prizes are presented each year, and the palace, where we finished the tour just in time to watch the changing of the guard.  To keep our energy up, we went for hot drinks and cinnamon rolls at Sundbergs Konditori, which is Stockholm’s oldest bakery-cafe.  We spent the rest of the day exploring the parts of the city we had missed on the tour, and visiting the Moderna Museet art gallery.

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(A big thank you to Seb for letting me steal some of his photos to use here, I take it all back, your selfie stick is a wonderful thing.)

Over the course of this weekend I really fell in love with Stockholm.  I think the sun helped – this was the first time since I started living in Scandinavia that we had really lovely weather – but Stockholm is such a beauty place that I am sure I would have loved it regardless of the weather.  The water made it unlike other cities I have visited, and paired with cobbled streets and beautiful buildings, it became somewhere I am definitely keen to visit again one day.

On route back to Aarhus, we split up and Ellie, Ed and I decided to spend the morning/early afternoon in Copenhagen.  We explored the main touristy streets, went to Freetown Christiana (while it was light and therefore not scary), popped by the Danish Museum of Art and Design and then went for dinner at the amazing Copenhagen Street Food Market – who do THE BEST cheesecake, just fyi.

By the time we finally made it home, I was super ready for my bed.  For some reason travelling makes me a billion times more tired than literally anything else.  I pretty much slept until I had to get up to go to class, and even at that point I was still pretty groggy.

The only other exciting thing that happened this weekend is that I caved to peer pressure and finally got myself an Instagram (www.instagram.com/sarahemilymiddlemiss/), which I hate to admit I am enjoying much more than I would have ever expected.

Easter Holidays
I got a week off for Easter, so decided to come home to see everyone, and more importantly to get some free food.  Having people talk English to you requires so much less energy, so I even got some hard-earned rest.  I spent most of the week catching up with my family: either with my parents or my grandparents, but I also managed to fit in a night out with my pals, an evening watching performances from the lovely young people of Stage2, and a fantastic trip to the RSC in Stratford to watch Dr Faustus with MJ.

So all in all I had a really lovely week back in England, and I even manged to stock up on Cadburys, which has made my life so much better.  A lovely British roast dinner with my family on Easter Sunday was very welcome too!  I was back in class straight away when I arrived back in Denmark, and have been pretty non-stop since, so the break was definitely appreciated.

And that’s it!   So if you’ve made it this far into the depths of the post, CONGRATULATIONS: I am pretty sure that you’re now all caught up on the main things you’ve been missing out on in my absence.  Hopefully I didn’t forget too much.
Even the rain is letting up a little bit now, miracles do happen.

See you in another month probably.

Stay safe.

My first Mother’s day away from home.

Today is Mothering Sunday, or at least it is in the UK and Ireland, I’ve never been quite sure how it works in other places.

From what I know, on the 4th Sunday in Lent, everyone would get the day off to go and visit their “mother church” (the church they were baptized in).  This meant that whole families could drop their hectic lives and get together to do some good old fashioned praying.  I’m not quite sure how this turned into the tradition we have now, where children burn toast and spill tea on the stairs while they tried to make breakfast in bed, but nonetheless, today there will be thousands of mums pretending that they’re eating the best breakfast they have ever had while their still-slightly-sticky handmade card spews glitter all over the bed.  They will all act like it was all a big surprise and that they had no idea this is what their day would be like.  When the kids fight later, there will be a feeble attempt at trying to make them stop by telling them they can’t fight on Mother’s Day.  They will probably fight anyway.

My mum has  dealt with me climbing into her bed, squishing her, and trying to get her to open my present before the ones my brother and sister got her for different 20 Mothers Days.  This year, however, she’ll be able to have a lie in, followed by a breakfast that I haven’t made a mess of, because I’m in Copenhagen.  I am sure she probably welcomes the peace and quiet.

But, this is the first Mother’s Day that I have’t been able to see my mum, and it’s really odd.  I haven’t felt properly homesick at all since I moved out here, I’ve been having a really good time so I just kind of forget to miss home.  However, the mixture of Mother’s Day approaching and having a bad back (I bent over to get some milk from the fridge and as a result couldn’t walk for 3 days, don’t ask), means that I have been left wanting a big cuddle.   I am pretty sure that being an adult is 90% acting like you have your life together when really you just want a hug, although maybe that’s just me.  Although at least I knew Mothers Day was happening, I’ve basically had a full time job reminding my British friends out here to send cards and order flowers back home (and have usually been met by a chorus of “oh shit that’s this week?!”).  So I guess I have my life together a tiny bit.

So, in lieu of cuddles, here’s an ode to my mum.  Not a real ode, because lyrical stanzas are not my cup of tea, but a celebration at least.   Thank you Mum.  For looking after me when I’m ill, tired, or just plain grumpy.  For listening to me even when I am talking nonsense.  For doing everything you can to make sure I am happy.  For supporting me endlessly, and for being one of the strongest and most amazing people I have ever met.  I really appreciate it.

To my mum: Happy Mother’s Day.  Your burned toast will be with you when I come home in a couple of weeks.  Don’t tell Dad about this though, or he’ll be expecting one on Fathers day.

And to the rest of you: I am sorry this was so lame, I promise to be cool and stop talking about my mum next time.  (Maybe).

Stay safe.

Visitors.

Last weekend, the lovely Róisín and Laura popped over for a weekend visiting me here in Denmark.  I’m living with these lovely ladies next year and it was really cute to see them (especially because they brought me lots of chocolate).  So yeah, it was a pretty good weekend.   It’s also worth noting that our housemate reunion was missing our fourth member, Corin, but she has been photo-shopped into this very Danish picture to illustrate that she was here with us, at least in spirit.

So, after the girls caught up on sleep (with Laura somehow sleeping better than all of us despite being on the worlds most solid floor and Rósh spooning me and trying to steal the duvet), we took a trip to ARoS Aarhus Kunstmuseum.  The name  ARoS itself is a nod to the old viking name for the city (Aros) but it is styled so that the capitalization suggests the Latin word for art (ars) because the Danes are the kind of people who find joy in witty naming that no one else will really understand.  And the obscure referencing doesn’t stop there, with the whole museum supposedly designed to metaphorically mimic the journey from heaven to hell, with the “9 Spaces” gallery in the basement referring to Dante’s nine circles of hell, and the roof terrace being representative of heavens light, or something.  Like I said, Danes are pretty artsy.  We mainly just giggled at the kunst part.

The museum was really cool though, there was loads to see and it was all pretty interactive and engaging.  I really liked the “Boy” sculpture, which was the museums first piece of art and which was really lifelike despite it’s size, but I think my favorite thing was “Your Rainbow Panorama”, the unique doughnut-shaped rainbow tunnel on the top of the building that let you look out over the city through different colored glass.

After the museum we had lunch, went shopping and had some coffee.  The restaurant where we had lunch had self-service beer dispensers, right next to the usual fizzy drink station, which was probably the most danish thing I have seen.  Also, I bought some really cute shoes, so it was a pretty great day.

The next day was an early start, and after we finally managed to wake up a very sleepy Rósh, we headed off to go on a walking tour of some of the art around Aarhus.  The walk lasted about two hours, and looked at a few of the seemingly endless sculptures street art that are dotted around the city.  It was pretty cold, and in hindsight I feel like these walks would be slightly more practical in the summer, but I really enjoyed it none the less, and managed to explore some cool corners of the city I hadn’t found on my previous adventures.  The sun even made a little appearance for us at one point!

The weekend was completed with a quick trip to Ikea for some candle and meatball related purchases.  So yeah, it was a pretty cute few days really.  It’s odd that I won’t see the girls again until we move into our new house in 6 months time, but I think I have seen Rósh eat enough bananas in the few days she was here to last a lifetime.   Besides, I’ve been left eating chocolate and feeling all arty while waiting for the snow to return, which isn’t a bad life at all.  Cheers for a good weekend ladies!

Stay safe.

My first week in Denmark.

Unless you have been living under a rock, if you’re reading this then you are probably already aware that I have moved to Aarhus in Denmark, where I will be studying History/European Studies for the next six months as part of my undergraduate degree.  I say you’re probably well aware, but if you’re reading this then statistically you’re very likely to be either my mum or one of my best friends (who I ask to proof read for me), so I hope very much that you know I have left the country.
The fact that I am posting this today however, signifies that I have managed to survive a whole week here!  Which is no easy feat, I mean it is pretty damn cold.

Okay, so my one way flight was booked, I had said goodbye to my nearest and dearest and I was all packed up, so I was basically unstoppable right?  Wrong.   My travels didn’t exactly get off to the smoothest start (although I guess I did travel on the 13th, so not sure what else I was expecting).  While my dad was driving me down to London, an accident ended up closing the motorway, leaving us stuck about 20 minutes away from the airport for around 3 hours, which is never good when you have a flight to catch.  With a lot of slow moving traffic, a few dodgy side roads and a tiny bit of speeding, we arrived at the airport with approximately 12 minutes before my flight was meant to depart.  I ditched my bag with my dad, and pegged it through the airport in a desperate attempt to get onto the plane.  There are countless films that are to blame for the myth that dashing through an airport is in some way easy or romantic, and to those films I say a great big fuck you.  There is nothing cute about sprinting to your gate with no shoes on (there was no time to put them back on after you cleared security), when you’re fairly sure that your lungs are about to physically collapse (the inhaler that would prevent this is in the bag you had to ditch).  If you’ve never had the joys of visiting Stansted, let me tell you, it is an impossibly large airport, and I am still slightly convinced I ran a marathon or something.  In some kind of miracle, I made it to the gate just as they were preparing to remove the stairs from the plane, and I was allowed to board anyway.  I will henceforth claim that the airport employees let me onto the plane because of my dashing good looks and my impressive show of athleticism, although I have an inkling that it might have had more to do with them taking pity on the little red-faced girl in her dirty princess socks.

Regardless of the reasons why I got on the plane, I made it to Denmark!  A quick bus into town later, and I was greeted by the lovely smiling face of Astrid, a Danish student who had offered to collect my keys and show me how to get to my new flat.  I am fairly sure it would have taken me hours to find otherwise, so I am very grateful that Astrid was there to lend a hand.  She taught me everything I know about buses here (get on the back, and get your ticket using the machine in the middle) and pointed out important landmarks (the supermarket and pub), which meant I didn’t spend this whole week stumbling around in the snow desperately searching for food and beer and being stared at by bus loads of people when I do everything wrong.  It was genuinely so lovely of her though, and I haven’t met anyone here who has been anything other than wonderful (although I don’t always understand what people are saying, because Danish is confusing as hell, so they could be slagging me off while smiling at me, you never know).  But yeah, first impression: Danish people are the friendliest people ever.

My flat is absolutely lovely too.  It is in a block with a load of other students of varying ages, because unlike in England basically all students live in student accommodation, not just the first years.  It is very white and clinical, which meant that when I first arrived it kind of felt like some sort of weird psychiatric unit or a prison or something.  But once my suitcase had been shipped to me by my parents and I could fill the room with stuff that was mine, it became much more homely.  I put up lots of photos, and gave my good luck cards and letters from my friends pride of place on my shelf, and it really feels lovely being in here now.  I’ve even got used to lying in bed looking at the oven, which was kind of weird at first but has actually become a really great way to combine my two favorite hobbies: food and sleep.  Also, I am on the very top floor of a pretty tall block, which means that I get an amazing view from my room, and I can even see the sea!  As a girl who grew up in the Midlands, seeing the sea while sat at desk will never stop being exciting.

Lets’s be real for a moment though, it is really really cold.  Over the course of the last week the temperature hasn’t really risen above 0°C and has gone as low as -12°C.  The first night I was here it snowed quite a lot, and there have been a few snow showers since, but generally everything has just stayed in a perpetual state of quiet coldness, because it’s never warm enough for the snow or ice to melt, so it just stays there.  Inside buildings there’s heating and stuff obviously, and I have been wearing like a million layers every day which makes me look like I am about 50 stone heavier, but I haven’t felt warm since I got here which is bizarre.  I have felt not-particularly-cold on occasion, but I’ve never been like “oh hey I am warm right now”, and I’m not really sure how I feel about that.

The Danes are absolutely fabulous at keeping roads and paths and stuff clear though.  If you’re in the middle of town, you kind of forget that it is as cold as it is, until you look up and see snow on the rooftops, which is pretty cool.  But again, my Britishness has been completely showcased by my confusion that people here can get on with their lives even though it is snowy.  While I am still squealing internally and trying to suppress my inner child’s desires to stomp on every snow pile I see, everyone else just seems kind of fine with it all.  I had taken about two steps off the plane before my first stumble on the ice, but everyone around me seems to have a kind of grace that I am pretty sure I will never have.  I’ve spent a whole week slipping and sliding my way around and fumbling over trying to do anything without taking my gloves off, but everyone else seems to be acting like normal humans and I am not really sure how, because like I said, it is really cold.  But you have never known cold-shame until you have accidentally got your hand stuck to a bin while trying to take your rubbish out.  According to the leggy blonde Danish girl who appeared behind me (seriously, basically everyone here is a super model, what is that about): “it happens to everyone!”, but I am still yet to see anyone else get stuck to a bin, and believe me, I have been keeping an eye out.

Aside from nearly freezing to death (have I mentioned that it is cold?), my main issue has been with food.  Food tastes different here and on account of my poor Danish language skills, I’m never completely sure what I am buying.  I’m quite a fussy eater, and not even pizza tastes the same which is a travesty.  (Sideline: they do have “pizza burgers” though, which believe me, are as amazing as they sound).  They don’t really do chocolate or sweets here though?  They have liquorice, but I’m discounting that because lets face it, it isn’t a sweet, and also no junk food should be that difficult to spell.  It’s not even that liquorice that is red and isn’t really liquorice, it is that boring kind that grandparents like except they make it salty here?!  I have found myself chasing up my friends to determine when they are going to come and visit, just so I can tell them to bring me some Cadburys (a Twirl or two would be ideal).

Oh, also, I keep nearly getting hit by cars.  They are on the wrong side of the road, and I am confused about which direction they’re coming at me from.  Also sometimes it has a green man to cross the road but the cars are also on a green light, and I have no idea what is going on there, but it’s scary.

Basically, I feel like I am 4 again, and all the adults around me know what is happening, but I am playing with snow and trying to remember what my mum told me about looking both ways before I cross a road.   Not to mention that everyone here is much taller than me and what I am saying doesn’t make any sense to them.  Essentially the only difference is that I’ve been left toddling around on my own, while no responsible adult would leave a real 4 year old unattended.

It has been a pretty good week though, despite all the moaning here.  Everything is very different, but it’s in kind of a good way, or in an exciting way at least.   My friends in Birmingham and in Bath have been great about wishing me luck and checking that I haven’t died or anything, which means a lot, and everyone in Denmark has been super friendly too, which is amazing.  I don’t know what I expected, but I am happy with the outcome.

Also, I genuinely think I might be in one of the coolest places ever.  It is so pretty here, I feel like I have stepped into a completely different world.  So I will leave you for today with a bit of a photodump of various pictures that I have accumulated during this week.  Peruse them at your pleasure.  Or don’t, I’m not the boss of you.

Stay safe.

 

3 resolutions for 2016.

Almost every year I make the same resolutions.  Normally it’s to stop biting my nails, although if I am feeling particularly podgy after the Christmas period I have been known to pair it with a pledge that I will go to the gym or something equally farcical.  The problem is, I never seem to stick to my resolutions, as evidenced by my seriously nibbled nails and by quite how much squeezing I have to do to get into my favorite pair of jeans.  But I have been thinking about it, and I realized I actually couldn’t care less.  I am healthy, so why should I stress about not being able to fit into those jeans, which lets face it, I kind of accidentally shrunk in the wash anyway.  And biting my nails isn’t exactly detrimental to my life, so I don’t really see the problem with it.    To quote the wise words of Shel Silverstein:
“Some people manicure their nails,
Some people trim them neatly,
Some people keep them filed down,
I bite ’em off completely.
Yes, it’s a nasty habit, but
Before you start to scold,
Remember, I have never ever
Scratched a single soul.”

So, this year, instead of sticking to the same old tat I have decided to change up my resolutions a bit, in the hope that for once they will actually be achievable and have a purpose.  I managed to come up with three different resolutions that I was happy with and which I will hopefully carry on throughout the year.  It probably seems a bit tedious to write this among the billions of people posting about the new year, but I genuinely think it’ll gives me more motivation if I document my resolutions here to look back on, so here they are just in case you are interested.

1) Look after myself.
This year I want to invest time into properly looking after myself, and I don’t even just mean the boring things like eating well or getting enough sleep.  I want to give myself time to watch cute animal videos, have bubble baths, do colouring in and watch Disney films.   I want to spend time using facemasks and painting my nails, and once in a while treat myself to a nice candle or some ice cream without feeling guilty about it.   Basically, I just want to make looking after myself properly a non-negotiable part of my life, to remind me that taking care of myself is a priority and to make me happier and healthier as a result.

2) Say thank you more.
I am lucky enough to have a whole bunch of really wonderful people in my life, and I want to spend some of my time this year making sure that I thank people more for their kindness.  I often find that the majority of my compliments to people are about the way they look, but I want to try and be more celebratory of the things that generally go unnoticed.  The small thoughtful gestures of my friends and family are some of my most special memories, and it means a huge amount that people are so nice to me, but I am not even sure if they realize that.  Hopefully by the end of the year they will know a little bit more.

3) Make my bed every day.
I very rarely make my bed.  The child in me still doesn’t really understand why it’s necessary when you just lie in it again anyway.  I do however feel like I have my life together and under control whenever I manage to fix the sheets to look half respectable in the morning.  So my final plan for the year is to attempt to make my bed every day, because then I will have at least one thing under control every day.  This means that if I have one of those days where nothing goes right (come on, we all have them), I can go to sleep in a newly made bed and wake up ready to try again.

I hope you all had a happy and healthy start to 2016, and that you have got some lovely positive resolutions if you want them.

Stay safe.

A few reflections on Christmas.

I love Christmas.

In my world Christmas jumper season begins as soon as Halloween ends, and it is compulsory for me (and anyone who I encounter who doesn’t want me to disown them) to wear a Christmas themed jumper on the 1st November.
 
There’s a photo of the wonderful Dom joining me in a fabulous mix of hungover festivity the morning after Halloween.

I just get really excited about Christmas generally, and the run up to Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year.
However, Christmas is primarily a time of family and love, and anyone who knows me will be able to confirm that I am not very good at the mushy stuff.  In the eternal words of Chandler Bing: “I’m gonna get all uncomfortable and probably make some stupid joke”.

And that is why Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the year.  You get to feel festive and magical but you still get your own space.  Basically I am a miserable sod.

Okay, so I am not really a complete grump, but Christmas Eve is just lovely.  I have my routines, and every Christmas eve I plod around doing my festive baking, making a yule log and any other festive goodies that I fancy, before helping my mum to clean the house, wrapping my presents and having drinks and takeaway with the family.


It’s just a really lovely day, that always makes me feel comfortable and happy.  Maybe it’s just the absurd amount of icing I eat from the bowl while baking.

This Christmas Eve has been extra special, because today is also the 60^th anniversary of my grandparents engagement.

I have always been amazed by how perfect my grandparents are together.  I have never really been sure if soulmates and true love exist, but I don’t think I can think of a single better example of a perfect couple.  It sounds super cheesy, but they genuinely complete each other.

But if there is one thing watching Love Actually half a dozen times each Christmas has taught me, it is that love comes in a huge range of different forms. I am as desperately single as ever this year (yes mum, that means I still don’t have a “lucky boy” in my life, but no that doesn’t mean I am a lesbian).   But regardless of being a loser in love, I don’t think I have ever felt as loved and happy.  Some of the most relatable and beautiful relationships in Love Actually aren’t romantic at all.  Billy realizing how much Joe means to him and Daniel and Sam overcoming their grief together and lifting each other up, are some of the parts of the film that I love most.

Saying goodbye to people before Christmas made me really realize how special the people in my life are.   I am super grateful to have so many fantastic and supportive people in my life, and all of the kind words and gestures I have received over the last month or so have been incredibly humbling and made me realize quite how lucky I am. I know this is super cheesy, but everyone’s thoughtfulness this term has meant a huge amount to me.

I know this has been lame, but making a fool of yourself is just part of the deal, so I might as well embrace my crazy when it comes to feelings about the special people in my life, because it’s Christmas and I am emotionally dead 99% of the time anyway, so when else is this going to happen really?

I hope you all have a lovely Christmas with the people you love, whoever that may be.

Stay safe.