So I'm A "Student" Now...

...and I happen to be both the only Dane in the program and the only American, as well (if you consider me an American; I think, for the purpose of diversity, I could get away with either "Dane" or "Yankee"). What do you say to people when you're in my situation?

"I can has two homelands?"





Anyhow the first day went rather well, except for the part where I tried biking like Lance Armstrong when I seem to be in the same physical condition as John Candy. I arrived with a sheen of sweat on my forehead, panting like a dog in a butcher shop with my eyes barely open and my stomach gaping wide. A fantastically brutal re-introduction to the wild world of exercise, and one that I am anxiously trying to avoid (with some success, I might add; the first trip took thirty minutes; today's took twenty). And they've got a pool at school...

...which is beautiful. Imagine, if you will, an elementary school campus that housed college-level educational facilities. I hear nothing outside except for the shouting children who attend the primary school situated next to my own halls. No cars, very few planes, and the air is fresh enough that it could probably be exported to America in cans, a la Spaceballs. I will admit that sitting in an elementary-sized cafeteria, complete with a small stage and student art, makes me feel a bit like a third grader, but why concern myself with that shit when I can get Faxe Kondi and fried fish for lunch?





I haven't met many of the faculty members, but the ones I have met are good people: Hanna and Pia (please don't knock my lack of Southern manners; apparently, it is customary to use first names only, so these are the only names which I can remember anymore) two women in the autumn of their years, who are still more lively and interesting than most Americans half their age (as is the case with almost all Danish folks in the autumn of their years; photos to follow); Seren, who runs student housing (I don't have any photos of Seren; he is somewhat scarce during class hours); and Raduca, a fellow student [if I'm correct] who acts as an assistant to pretty much everybody.

The school is situated near a huge forest, some four kilometers from the beach, and it's a very pleasant walk in the afternoon, particularly when the sun's out (though it wasn't shining in the photos). Lots of deer, as well. They apparently become aggressive in the later months, but for now they're eager to be photographed, which is just fine by me.








There isn't too much going on right now in terms of curriculum; we spend our mornings learning basic Danish via Hanna (jeg kan tale lidt dansk, med jeg er en gimp endnu) and exploring the various finer points of Danish culture via Pia (which provides opportunities to take pictures of humorous things written on chalk boards; oh, and THEY HAVE FLIPPING CHALK BOARDS IN THIS COUNTRY!); afternoons have, so far, been devoted to informational sessions on everthing from the school's full-time Danish course (I will be in attendance) to the student-run bar, which is in the basement, and is rather baller as student-run bars go (though they could do with a wireless upgrade, and some black lights [/wishful thinking]). They're offering positions during the fall; I put my name in. We'll see what becomes of that sometime in September.





My fellow foreigners are, for the most part, very outgoing and easy to get along with, and they're from all over. Franks, Spaniards, Portugese, Bulgarians, Hollanders, the list goes on. The Romanians, in particular, are extremely friendly (I have nicknamed them my "Bromanians." I hope this isn't too lame). Two of them, Alexandra and Dan (pictured below) are especially awesome. All of them ask about the Obama shirts. I will hopefully have a legion of Converted by the time November rolls around. If not, at least I will have trolled on an epic scale. Either way, it shall be how I roll.









The entire experience has, so far, been a bit like high school, except there's only one class, and we're allowed to buy beers on every floor of the facility. We even managed a field trip to the beach on Monday; some pretty good chicken work on the grill, and amongst the photos you will find a shot of the hornet whose life was ended via my patent-pending hornet-slaying technique, the "Coke Shake."







A few of us hit up Bakken on the way back, too, which resulted in my first Danish ice cream cone (WAFFLER!) of 2008. I'm afraid they didn't have the solbaer, Lise, but I did myself justice with an almost equally-potent flavor. Which flavor, you ask?

Nougat, bitches.