Things continue to go extremely well in Daneland; weather's been nothing but sunshine and ethereal skies. You really have to see the sky here; it seems so much...further away than the sky in Florida, which might be because there isn't a layer of emissions floating between the ground and the clouds. Speaking of emissions: I read on Joystiq today that Wal-Mart's been trying to bring attention to the fact that the video games industry is one of the least ecologically sound on Earth. All the time we let our consoles idle? Power usage equivalent to two refrigerators. Those skajillions of plastic boxes and discs? Best believe there's a cost for those, too: greenhouse emissions from nine-thousand cars. Media playback for Blu-Ray's and HD-DVD's? Several times the consumption of a regular DVD. The list goes on, but the essential point is one that we probably considered but didn't really care about it, because it didn't stink the same way an exhaust pipe did: gaming is just as much of an issue when it comes to the energy crisis. So give it some thought next time you guys are all hanging out at the Fire Pit and someone leaves the 360 on. You know we do it.
Back to Denmark: I start [real] classes tomorrow! They run from 10 to 4, and while I've been searching the school's site up and down for an actual list, I can find only a sort of "theoretical summary" that details what I'm going to be taught, rather than where, when, or how. Crazy Danes...I don't know which of my newly-made friends are going to be in the same program, but hopefully there will be one or two Bromanians (though I believe Andra and Dan are doing Marketing Management; correct me if I'm wrong, you two.) or some Franks. If not I'll just have to make some more friends. Not too difficult when you have shirts that start conversations.
I'm amazed at how little "spare time" I seem to have; between going to school, getting back home (eventually; there are a lot of reasons to get sidetracked in this town), seeing my friends later in the day, eating delicious food, writing, editing photos, writing on paper, playing the guitar (Free Fallin'? Covered.) and watching the news on my laptop (which has been put through its paces; Mac for life, it would seem), I can't remember when I last decided to just sit back and breathe. Consequently, I did nothing of any use today, whatsoever. The header picture? That actually happened. I sat outside, in the soft grass (I bet this is what grass in Hobbitton feels like), and played music until it became hotter than would otherwise have been tolerable. Henrik and Benedicte's daughter, Julia, came by with her two young children, Emil (I think) and Anna (sooooooo cute; she didn't say much, but she was animated and a lot of fun to watch), and we all had dinner, and that's about as much work as I've done today. My entire lower body aches as though it were subjected to a gigantic meat tenderizer. Biking is a lot of fun but I'll be damned if it's not a lot of work, too.
The last two days of the introductory week were pretty laid-back as days go. Thursday saw us departing from Lyngby station to visit the immigrations office in Fuglebakker (seriously, when they came up with these names, did they realize that someone would eventually make fun of them on a blog?), so that the entire lot of international students could confirm themselves as such in order to study here without fear of accidentally being thrown the Hell out. I didn't actually have to go, what with my not [technically] being a foreigner, but every trip skipped is a set of photos skipped, as well, and I don't want to be accused of slacking. Plus it gave Dan a chance to tell me about his music taste (note to Dan: NO. MORE. ALTAR BRIDGE. No more Creed, either. I catch you with Creed? An ear. I will take one ear for each offense), thus giving me a chance to save one man's soul from the pits of the Inferno. I did have to bike back in the rain, but this isn't the worst thing ever, at least not anymore. Perhaps I'll eventually begin to hate the sun.
Friday was a completely different level of Awesome. On Thursday, Pusha had put us all in groups (Andra and I were lucky enough to get stuck in the same one; divine providence, no doubt), with instructions to prepare food for a communal dinner of epic proportions on Friday evening. At first, we were unsure of what to make, but then I remembered a particularly festive evening at Joey's house, wherein a delicious spread was prepared by hand for evening consumption. I knew immediately what to do.
Having instructed Niki (yes, yes, I know you don't know who Niki is; have patience) to prepare salad and bread, and Ras, Julie and Kosmin to assist in any matters requiring assistance, I set out with Dad to Irma, a relatively swanky indoor market with an array of fantastic cooking materials. As is customary in Danish supermarkets, a lot of things were Done Wrong. We picked up the various necessities and headed back to campus on what had to have been the most gorgeous afternoon of all time, and deposited the load in the campus guest house (which, apparently, has a lot of guests). From there, Dad went back home, and I sat down to write the last blog entry whilst waiting for Andra and the others. It didn't take too long; Andra showed up super-early, which turned out to be a blessing because I had forgotten two essential materials: corn starch (Andra: "Corn flower?" Me: "Corn starch." Andra: "Like flower from corn, yes?" Me: "I guess so.") and baking soda (Every Dane in Denmark: "Hmmmm...I'm not sure what you are talking about."). So we had to head back into Lyngby, which wasn't so bad, except no one at Netto knew what I was talking about (see previous parenthetical documentation), and neither did anyone at fucking SuperBest (which I am going to buy the rights to, so I can call it "SuperBad" instead). But we eventually found what we were looking for ("THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE CORN FLOUR AT ALL!" "WELL DAMN, I GUESS I FAIL!" "YES, YOU DO! UGH!"), and sped back home. We sped back home in such a hurry that Andra nearly ran over a nice Asian couple ("YOU'RE SO EUROPEAN THAT YOU NEARLY KILLED THOSE PEOPLE!" "SO?" "I'M SO AMERICAN THAT I NEARLY KILLED MYSELF TO AVOID HITTING THEM!" We were two minutes late. The Danes refer to this disorder as "being polychronic").
We assembled Team 3 in one of the residence kitchens, and it was here that my greatest culinary achievement ever was unveiled: Corn Flake-Battered Fried Chicken. People, when I get home, we are making some, and we are putting it on waffles, because it puts Publix to shame. You cannot believe the amount of work involved, but the final result was fantastic. For nearly an hour we labored, messing up this measurement, correcting that one, adding water, adding corn flakes, taking some out, putting some back in, burning ourselves with the sizzling cooking oil (none were spared; we all bear the scars of the fiery baptism!), screwing up the batter and having to restart, but the end result? Perfection. Our only real competition in the Most Insanely Delicious Offering were the Franks, and to be fair, they put up a serious challenge: a plate piled high with crepes, each crepe filled with meat and covered in melted cheese. My God in Heaven, what sinful eats did we deliver unto the unintiated? But there can be no debate: at the end of the evening, there were still crepes sitting on that plate. At the end of the first minute, all twenty pieces of chicken had been taken, and very likely eaten. Mission Accomplished.
After dinner, the entire crew went in separate directions: some 50+ went to Copenhagen, and the rest of us went home. I would have definitely gone deep into my city, only I was most certainly not fresh to death enough to facilitate proper representation, so I biked home, in the dark with my trusty little light, had a bath, and went to bed. The most satisfying Friday in a good two weeks, if I may say so. And I do.
Saturday was extremely chill, but I still found myself biking to Lyngby in search of food, and lo, what did the Heavens deliver unto me? Falafel. That's right, Fran: I have found falafel. It is cheap. It is tasty. I would go so far as to claim that this is the tastiest falafel I've ever had. Freshly prepared falafel on a fresh, hot pita, with good, good tahini. For the first time ever, though, I felt like a pig: when I asked for a small Faxe Kondi (YESSS!), I had to recant my request in favor of a medium; small drink is smalllllllllllllllllll. Having consumed my falafel in under three minutes, I then proceeded to ParadIS (they make sure to remind you that it's an ice cream store), wherein I used my Danish for the first time in public! "Jeg vil gerne en waffler med to kugler; en koks med en kafe/chokolaeder!" FUCKING SKILL! A pity that when she started speaking Danish back, I pissed myself and immediately went back to English. She didn't mind, and I went to my little table full of pride (and rapidly filling with ice cream, too; did I mention that I am absolutely in love with this country?). Pride turned to lulz when I looked to my right and saw what the middle-aged woman next to me was reading. Lulz turned to lol when I saw her facial expression. (See photograph that stands out and will probably get my blog removed from the internets.)
I biked back to school to discover that the residence hall party had been cancelled, but had, in fact, been supplanted by another party, this one with more alcohol and more food (prepared by a very serious grill-master; one man feeding twenty people? Yes please). I pretty much did a repeat of Friday night: eat food, get fat, take photos, bike home in the dark, take long, long nap.
What a good time I'm going to have here.
6 comments:
You know, I will never understand why the put faxe kondi in green bottles, owing to the fact that the drink itself is a very lovely shade of pale green. Seems silly.
Once again, I would like to bring to the table the idea of you profiling your peeps. Other posters, please help to carry the motion.
Yeah there are some beautiful people here... Do they have names? :) Lise, all for you, love.
Oh and photos on my next post? Certainly. Of evening in Manhattan? I'd deliver nothing less.
Duncan, I'm glad you're having such a pimptastic time in Denmark. Everything seems to be working out wonderfully for you, and I can only hope that the rest of your stay there is as fantastic as these first few days have been.
Also, I agree with Lise, match some names to faces, man.
God damn it, people! I will profile these folks when I next get the chance, alright? Sheesh.
Anyhow yeah it's a blast. :) More forthcoming soon enough.
Lol. I can't believe I actually read that giant post, but I must say, I was not disappointed. I'll look into sending you some baking soda from the states. I'm really happy you're happy there. Keep up the awesome Danish-ness. :P
Sweetheart, miss you so much!
As time goes by and you get more to do at school, I hope you still find time to keep up the blog. I am being vividly reminded of my own first few months in DK, it is poignant, although coming from the UK I did not experience quite the same weather shift. Also, being in my car rather than a bicycle, not to mention being pregnant, was not the same either! However, the food, the folks, the different skyline ... I remember that well. That wonderful feeling of being somewhere NEW, it is so invigorating and there is nothing like it.
Have you eaten a medister polse from a polsevagn yet? Yummy. And you will love 'gooler ehrter' soup too (can't spell it), that's thick pea soup. Come Christmas I will bury you in all your favourite dishes, I may even spare you turkey. Anything you want that is not too heavy to send, let me know. You could start with recipes I send you by email.
I introduced your father to your blog and therefore I expect you will also be getting comments from him forthwith ... how could he resist?
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