Well, Monday marks my 7-week anniversary here, and I can hardly believe the time is passing so quickly. It's been quite a while since my first email, and a lot has happened since then: I've been to the oldest/largest Zoo in Europe, attended a Danish funeral, visited a drag show, celebrated three birthdays, fallen flat on my face in the middle of the road chasing after a bus, lost my gloves, grown to love pickled beets, come to fully realize the challenges of group work, and successfully had my first conversation entirely in Danish (admittedly, I was ordering chicken from a 7-11, but hey - you gotta start somewhere).
It’s weird, getting used to things around here. I no longer think twice when I hear the abnormal gagging sounds of everyday Danish speech, nor do I have a constant crick in my neck from gaping at all the beautiful buildings and roadways as I stroll through the historic neighborhoods. The transportation system doesn’t bedazzle me like it once did, and I’m pretty much acclimated to the perpetually grey, overcast dreariness of Denmark. I’ve got my routines more or less in order, and I’m beginning to feel situated. In short, the novelty is wearing. And while part of me is uncomfortable with this notion, I'm trying to embrace adaptation and view myself now as a semi-local rather than an obnoxious tourist.
The academics here have kept me fairly busy, but I'm making sure to take part in some other extracurriculars to fill my time. I have no classes on Wednesdays, so I've started volunteering to teach free English lessons to community members at a local church once a week (generally low income minorities and recent immigrants). It is a really a great and noble program, despite the occasional and unnecessary inclusion of religious initiatives in the lesson plans. I really enjoy teaching the attendees, as they clearly really want to be there. So far, I have met people from Denmark, Poland, Russia, Brazil, Ecuador, the UK, Latvia, Syria, Iran, Morocco, and I'm discovering people from new places every week. Ages are also varied – I've taught a 12 year old and a 72 year old, and everyone in between. But despite this great diversity, everyone is united with a common desire to learn English, and their persistence and dedication is admirable.
A few weeks ago the Danes celebrated Festelavn, which is essentially their take on Halloween but occurs on Fat Tuesday. This is a holiday traditionally marked by beating a barrel with a cat inside until it dies or escapes, in which case you run it out of town, chasing the "evil spirits" away with it (I couldn't make this stuff up). Nowadays, kids beat a barrel that's filled with candy (think: wooden piñata), and the one who breaks it open is named the "Cat Queen," regardless of gender. Another, more modern tradition can be likened to trick-or-treating, but in the Danish context kids go door to door in search of money rather than candy. (The Danes are more straightforward than Americans in almost every capacity, and this outright demand for cash is no exception.) What a three-year-old dressed up as Spider Man does with his loot after going around the neighborhood panhandling for money is beyond me, but it's an endearing spectacle to be sure.
On an unrelated note, and in line with my last group email, I thought I'd include a list of a few more discoveries about the Danish culture that I've picked up along the way...
- Manikins are creepily realistic, and I've attempted to ask directions from a plastic person on more than one occasion.
- Danish names for newborn children must be chosen from among an existing list, and certain names require legal approval (e.g. you must have written documentation that your family has Muslim heritage in order to name your child Muhammad).
- Ice cream comes in cardboard boxes.
- Michael Jackson is a worshipped icon.
- Family pets are rarely spayed or neutered. This may not sound bad, but becomes a nuisance when you're dog must be banished from the indoors on a monthly basis, lest she leaves a trail of red spots throughout the house.
- Everyone smokes.
- Human population in Denmark = 5.4 million; pig population in Denmark = 25+ million.
- We eat a lot of pork.
- All taxi cabs are made by Mercedes-Benz.
- People leave their baby carriages outdoors in the cold/sleet/snow, unattended, for hours at a time (and in the past decade, there has been but one instance of abduction...see bullet point below).
- This society is governed largely by trust: in their government, with their bus tickets, at crosswalks, and in each other, and in virtually every other respect you can imagine.
- Top two male style trends, in no particular order: tucking the bottom of your jeans into your socks, and the excessive use of hair gel.
- People clap in unison and begin a cult-like chant when a show/performance is especially good.
- The Danes eat more "chocolate-covered-marshmallow-treats" than any other nation; they call them flødeboller (literally "cream balls") and they are incredible.
- Want some ice? Better look outside, because it sure as hell won't be in your glass.
- Danish weather sucks.
- The Danes take crosswalks very seriously; no matter what the traffic conditions, if the little man is red, don't you dare attempt to cross the street.
- Danish "layer cake" (served on birthdays) is unlike anything you have ever tasted: layers of cake, jam, fruit, chocolate, whipped cream, and other occasional add-ins. Awesome.
- Everything is smaller here: cars, refrigerators, homes, buildings, egos...
In my leisure time, I have been able to do a little traveling around, both with my academic program and independently. A few weeks ago, a "study tour" took my classmates, teachers and I to Western Denmark by bus for the weekend to check out some schools for children with special needs (especially those with hearing impairment). It was a fascinating trip, and in conjunction with the weekly observations I am making at my practicum site, I've decided that the Danish education system for deaf children really amazes me. It's a complex issue and I have very strong opinions on the matter, but I'd rather not bore you to death, so if you're interested I'll write to you separately.
But one critical feature about the trip I mustn't overlook: hot dogs. Not the crappy American variety with a limp weiner and dry bun, no. Authentic Danish campfire-sausages. Here's how it works...you take an oversized weiner (easily over a foot long), skewer it onto the end of a stick (a real stick from the ground, not some pantywaist coat-hanger), wrap the "pølse" (sausage) in raw dough, then roast the whole thing over an open fire until the bread is cooked and the meat is warmed. Apparently, this is a common tradition for little kids when camping, but they're often too impatient to let the bread get toasty and end up eating cold sausages covered in raw dough. Tempting, I know. We also convinced our teachers to get s'mores ingredients, which turned out to be harder than you would ever imagine. The marshmallows came from a specialty store and were strangely gummy and flavorless, the graham crackers were actually round "digestive biscuits" (as close as we could get), and the only chocolates we found were these incredibly thin wafers (<1mm thick) that a lot of Danes use atop buttered rye bread slices for a sort of sweet dessert sandwich. Anyways, s'mores didn't turn out quite as good as expected, so we came up with our own idea for combining the best of both cultures: crushed cookies, marshmallows, and chocolate, all wrapped inside a hunk of dough, then roasted until the outside is crispy-crunchy-toasty and the inside is a warm, gooey mess. Absolutely incredible. Next time you find yourself with a bunch of digestive biscuits, chocolate wafers, strange marshmallows, raw dough and a campfire, try it.
In other travel news, I took a day-trip with some friends to Malmö, Sweden, which is really just an hour bus ride from Copenhagen. We didn't have a plan, which turned out to be the perfect way to go. We went from store to store, street to street, town square to town square, in search of nothing and everything. We stumbled upon a Pizza Hut with white tablecloths and chandeliers, a fur coat dealer called "Skinn City!", a town park with woodsy trails and an old-fashioned windmill, more chocolate/sweets shops than I have ever seen, and a small yet notable corner grocer dedicated to providing specialty American goods: marshmallow fluff, oreos, salsa, jerky, you name it. But prices were outrageous; a jar of of JIF peanut butter would set you back 69 Swedish kroner (about 7 dollars).
Well, I better be going, my host Dad just yelled something from the kitchen that sounded he was coughing up a lung, but ended with the word "spise" (SPEE-zuh) which I have discovered means "EAT". Smells like bacon and potatoes...
If you have specific questions about anything or everything, feel free to write - I'd love to keep in touch.
Kærlig Hilsen,
Dashiell
P.S. - I promised photos, so here are a few...
Summary of the Danish diet. From left to right: booze, frikadeller (pork meatballs), homemade bread, rye bread (hidden beneath), more bread, and potatoes.
My incredible and beautiful host mom, Regitze.
Yes, I live in a fairy-tale where homes have thatched roofs.
Danish birthday party. From left to right: Amanda (friend), Hans, Karen (Amanda's Danish roommate, girlfriend of Hans), and Dan (Amanda's boyfriend). Can you tell the Danes are fond of their flag?
Danish birthday #2 - breakfast for Steven, my host-brother, who was turning 15. Notice the Danish flags hidden here and there, decorating the entire house. Breakfast is a big deal for Danes on their birthday, even if it has to be early (it was about 6:45...hence the complete darkness outdoors and Steven's expression of pure elation). In case you're curious about a traditional Danish breakfast, from left to right we have: orange juice ("applesin"), coffee, nutella, three kinds of jam, tons of bread, more coffee, butter, milk, and soft-boiled eggs. We were only missing the cheese and meats, which promptly arrived just moments later...
The church where the funeral for Regitze's mother took place. It is walking distance from our house, and we hear the bells every morning and evening at sunrise and sunset. The service was quite lovely, and not markedly different from an American funeral.
Statue in downtown Copenhagen of a man who was wounded in battle. How do I know? Apparently, if one of the horse's legs is lifted, then the person riding was injured in battle; if the horse is reared back on it's hind legs, the person was killed.
Only in Denmark...
Looking up in the Roskilde Cathedral, near the town where I live.
Woods along the coast of Sealand.
The old-school windmill in Malmö, Sweden.
Did I mention that the Danes really like their flag?
The oh-so-popular "French Hotdog." It's a wonder anyone can overcome the allure of such an enticing image.
The benefit of living in the boondocks and waking up early - waiting for the bus each morning, I get a view like this as I watch the sun rise...
Abandoned carriage outside a cafe. Yes, there's a baby in there. Yes, it's freezing outside. No, there's no telling how long it will be there. And no, nobody thinks twice about this.
Random murals like this are everywhere.
The Danish perception of America?
Narrow, cobble-stoned streets fill the city.
The only place you're likely to find some authentic Mexican grub in Roskilde - too hilarious to pass up.
Oh, boys and their childish humor...
Follow the golden pretzel to delicious pastries...
Odense, viewed from above (this is the biggest city on the island of Fyn).
The famous Nyhavn (pronounced "new-hown", meaning "new harbor", as opposed to København (Copenhagen), meaning "merchant's harbor").
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