A very convoluted Halloween story

I would like now to tell all of you, friends, family and fans, about all of my exciting plans for this fine Halloween. O.K., here goes...(yawn).... Wow, wasn't that exciting?

Now, it's not that I don't want to celebrate the spookiest holiday in the calendar, I mean I like it and all, but, well, I live in Europe. Don't misunderstand me, there are some movements towards Halloween here in Denmark. The other day, I saw not one but two carved pumpkins outside of a bar, and some few places have put up orange and black streamers. But it's frankly a marketing scheme and nobody takes it seriously.

And why should it be taken seriously when Danes and especially their kids have Fastelavn, which is essentially Danish Carneval. On that day in February, children dress up in costume, play games, and get lots of candy and special cakes. They even go from door to door collecting candy. So, there isn't much of a call for an imported holiday doing basically the same thing just at a different time of year.

However, I tried to get into my own personal Halloween spirit anyway by wishing both of my classes today a Happy Halloween, and discussing very briefly (like for two minutes) the implications of the holiday. Which reminds me of my mother (Hi Mom!) The connection? Well, the first comment out of the mouth of the first student in one of my groups was 'Well, it's just children begging really, isn't it?' And I had to smile and say, 'You sound just like my mother!' That led into a small discussion (like for two more minutes) of my two favorite Halloween terms, begging and bribery. And my mother featured in there somewhere. Let me explain.

My mother does in fact see Halloween as 'children begging'. And I have to admit that I can see her point, though I might modify it a bit...let's make it 'children wearing really adorable and/or interesting and/or downright strange costumes and begging'. In the last several years before retiring, my mother (a teacher) would purposely take a day off each and every October 31st, on principle - she would tell her class that she would be dressing up as, let's call her Mrs. X, and then on Halloween, the teacher would be...Mrs. X. Pretty nifty, huh?

Now, at this point I can see some of you fretting, and getting upset, envisioning my brother and I locked in the basement to keep us from sneaking out and trick-or-treating on the sly. No, actually we were allowed, nay even encouraged, to dress up and do a spot of trick-or-treating. Some years, we carved pumpkins. In the early years, my mother even waited at the door and gave out treats to the other kids (boxes of raisins, of all things...but let's save that story for another time...).

And, then, inspiration struck. Not for us kids, for my Mom. Why not escape the drudgery, the pain of the doorbell, the shrill cries of 'Trick or treat!", forever. The inspiration? Bribe us with the one thing guaranteed better than candy. Books. Yes, instead of begging for candy, we would go to dinner, and then make a pilgrimage to Kepler's (in their old location, which was far cooler) where we could each chose a book. Keep in mind that 'a book' to my Mom was always really two books. It normally went something like this: 'Moooom, I can't decide. Do I want thiiiis book (raise right hand containing nice book)...or do I want thiiiis book (raise left hand containing equally nice book)?' Worked every time. Plus, we still trick-or-treated at our immediate next-door neighbors' houses, one of whom was especially generous with the candy. So, really, could we have gotten it any better than that?

Halloween was o.k., before, but a holiday celebrated by going to a bookstore and getting a book (or two) is the coolest holiday ever. In fact, this could be just the thing to get the Danish Halloween tradition going. A holiday where you celebrate by getting your kids books. Or getting yourself books. I think it could work!

But in the meantime, I'm beginning to think I should be doing something beyond just this blog to mark the occasion. But what? The bookstores are closed. I don't have a costume. So, I guess I'm off to find something in the house to carve. Any suggestions? An onion maybe? A carrot? No, wait...I'll be back!



The moral of this drawn-out tale? Always take your carved bell pepper pictures before dark, and Happy Halloween!

Weekend in Europe, Part 2: Brussels

The weekend after Paris, I was in Brussels. A short weekend this time - I arrived on Saturday morning, and left Sunday late afternoon. My purpose was primarily to spend time with a friend who was in the middle of an interpreting traineeship at the European Parliament, but of course we also saw the sights, ate some chocolate (most of which was far too sweet for my taste, sad to say), went out for a wonderful meal, and generally had a good time.

Brussels is in no way as big as Paris, or as exciting, but it's a cute town. My camera was almost out of battery (I couldn't find the charger after my Parisian adventure), so I took a total of only 7 pictures. Here are a select few of them. Two (I'll leave it to you all to decide which two) are of the Grand Place, which is the main square, as well as one of the main tourist magnets. The details on all of the buildings in the square is fantastic. The gentleman in the foreground of the lower of these two pictures, wearing the black coat and facing away from us, is the friend I was visiting. He's just passed the exams needed to be an official EU interpreter, and is thus extremely happy. He also reads this blog, so let's now everybody say along with me, 'Congratulations, David!' O.K., he interprets into French from, among other languages, Danish, so now let's do it in Danish, 'Tillykke David!' Thank you for your heartfelt participation.

The other main tourist attraction is, of course, Manneken Pis. Before I came to Europe, I had no idea that the symbol of Brussels was a statue of a little boy peeing. Now, I know, and can offer photographic proof. It was especially nice to see a major European 'landmark' that was so much littler than the Little Mermaid. The best part was the chocolate shop window overlooking the statue, with its chocolate Mannekin Pis. Please note that the chocolate boy and the statue boy are exactly the same size, and are positioned almost next to each other.

Hmmm...now, I'm off to plan another weekend in Europe, so that there can be a part 3!

Weekend in Europe, Part 1: Paris

A couple of weeks ago, my boyfriend's father celebrated his 60th birthday by taking a few family members and their partners, including me, on a 5-day trip to Paris. Ah, Par-EE, eet is so romantic, non? Mais, oui! As you might imagine, I walked a lot, saw some sights, and above all, spoke lots and lots of Danish - you didn't think I would actually try to speak French, did you?

I had been to Paris twice before. The first time was in college, where I spent 6 weeks purportedly studying French. In reality, I wandered aimlessly about the city, listened to music (The Smiths and Indochine, one casette tape of each, pretty much continuously), and talked to no one (well, to no one French at least). Then I was there for a few days with my brother and Dad, about a year after I had moved to Europe. We survived four or five days of maximum tourism. But that was 9 years ago. I remember a certain fondness for the city, but couldn't remember anything specific. So, forthwith, my answers to the unasked question, 'What is Paris'?

1) Paris is museums and street art. The museum is of course the Louvre. The particular street art is right next to the Pompidou Center, another museum/art center, which I think is one of the ugliest buildings ever built. There are some who disagree with me on that, I can't imagine why.






2) Paris is cafés and street food. In particular the street food. I could (and during my times in Paris have) lived on crêpes, avec fromage, jambon, et oeuf.





3) Paris is monuments and cathedrals. Ah, aren't they purty?






4) Paris is small details. All over the place.






5) And above all, Paris is frogs. Yes, frogs. One of the two big blow-out dinners (the other was a cabaret) was at Roger la Grenouille. In the Latin quarter and specializing in, you guessed it, frog's legs. You get to wear an assortment of silly hats during the meal, which meant that all 6 of us spent the whole time taking pictures of each other. The decor is sort of upscale chaos, with lots of memorabilia scattered about. I found this frog sitting next to me. It was only after my meal that I realized where those frog's legs had come from! However, he had no hard feelings, and joined right in the festivities with the rest of us.

Tillykke til Mary og Frederik!

Well, Thor's morning ritual of looking at the on-line headlines gave us the news that the wait is over. Crown Princess Mary and Crown Prince Frederik have now jointly produced their first child, thus ensuring the further continuation of the world's oldest direct monarchy. I have no reason to be excited about this, but find it exciting anyway, which is good as it will be the main topic of conversation pretty much everywhere in the country for an interminable amount of time (if the buzz which occurred before, during and after their wedding last year can be anything to go by).

The main birth-related event right now is Frederik's first meeting with the press after the birth. The article refers to Frederick as 'den nybagte far' or literally 'the newly baked father', 'nybagt' being the normal way of referring to newborns in Danish. Mary and baby haven't emerged from their room at Rigshospitalet yet. It is also of course just possible that the couple have given birth to an invisible baby, as shown by the picture of Frederik, which is clearly the photo of the moment so far. Frederik said also that 'the baby is sleeping soundly and has no idea what awaits him'. A press frenzy, no doubt.

You can also see an English version of the press meeting here and a good overview of Mary's transition from Australian businesswoman to Danish royal is given here.

Two baby related issues are:

The name: Apart from the current Queen Margarethe, the last 20 or so Danish Kings have been named (in order), Christian, Frederik, Christian, Frederik, Christian, Frederik...do you sense any pattern? No one doubts that the new one will be named Christian, though wouldn't it be great if they chose something else? Probably by this point, the whole royal family is afraid of jinxing the monarchy if they don't stick to the historical order (though the earlier kings had cool names, too, like Harald, Valdemar, and Gorm - well, methinks they can do without a Prince Gorm actually). As for the rest of the little guy's names, no one seems to know, except that there may be three of them, making him Prince Christian Something Something Something of Denmark.

The gender issue: Queen Margarethe is Queen because there was no direct male heir to the throne, and I believe that the Parliament had to do something to allow for this break in the order of succession. The big question soon after the pregnancy was announced was 'What if it's a girl?' The answer is that Parliament will most likely be changing the constitution so that the right to the throne goes to the oldest, regardless of gender. I believe this is against the wishes of the Queen herself, but not against the wishes of the majority of Danes.

Oh, and both Mother and baby are doing well.

Støt Brysterne

Well, I just bought my first rubber armband for charity type thingie, a pink one for breast cancer. I realize the dangers of charity fashion as opposed to real charity giving, but it was an impulse buy. While the English language pink bands say very nice things like 'Breast Cancer Awareness' or 'Beacon of Hope', the name of the Danish campaign is 'Støt Brysterne', or in English, 'Support the Breasts'. How can a girl resist a statement like that? Danish man has been having fun with it as well.

I can't seem to get the lettering to show on a photograph, but you can see it here. If I wore clothing with slogans, I might also be tempted to get the t-shirt. Please note that the symbol on the t-shirt (which is also on the armband) is the symbol for the Danish cancer society, and so not necessarily supposed to look like breasts.

1 down, 42 to go

If I were to set this post to music, you would certainly now be listening to the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah. The reason? I have recently officially completed one of the 43 things I'd like to do before I die, namely #22, becoming family reunified (in Danish, familiesammenføring). For those not in the know, this is a big deal. Nowhere in the European Union makes it easy for non-EU citizens (like, for example, me) to settle, but I've never had such visa annoyances as I've had here, despite having lived legally for 8 and a half years elsewhere in the Union before arrival.

For those who don't know me personally, and who haven't followed the whole saga, here's a summary of the process.

May-June, 2003: Did the Camino de Santiago. Met Danish man on the way. Started to make regular weekend visits to Copenhagen and use up phone cards.

Dec. 2003: Moved to Denmark, on a tourist visa, figuring it would be easier for me to find a job in Denmark than for Thor to find a job in London (I'm an English teacher, and can theoretically find work anywhere; Thor's job deals with Denmark-specific employment regulations, and is very local.)

End January-Start February, 2004: Offered a job, and applied for work visa.

February-August 2004: Waited, called immigration every week, and watched a lot of bad television. During this time, I couldn't work, even voluntary work, couldn't take Danish lessons, couldn't open a bank account, could check out library books, but only because I used Thor's card. The application process supposedly lasts 8-10 weeks, by the way. The phone calls to immigration always followed the same pattern, and became increasingly surreal...

(Me) I'd like to check the status of my case.
(Immigration) There's been no change, but the process does take 8-10 weeks.
(Me) Yes, I know, but it's been 19 weeks!
(Immigration, sounding confused) Oh, well...I'm sure you'll get an answer soon!

This went on for months. To give a point of reference, my work permit application in England took about 2 weeks.

August, 2004: The first hallelujah moment, as I got a 1-year work permit.

March, 2005: Our first application for familiesammenføring. There are lots of rules for this. Both parties must be over 24, and must show greater ties to Denmark than to any other country (this part is waived if the Dane has had Danish citizenship or permanent residency for over 28 years). The Danish resident must earn enough to support the immigrating partner, live in a house of over a minimum size, and present a 50,000 Danish Kroner (about $8,000) bank guarantee (as the immigrating partner is not entitled to state support for several years after approval). We met these requirements. For 'samlever' applications (where the couple is cohabitating, rather than married), the couple should normally have lived together for a minumum of a year and a half. We figured that by the time the paperwork was started, we would have met the time requirement.

April, 2005: We figured wrong. It took just under a month for us to get a rejection, on the (perfectly valid) grounds that we hadn't lived together for long enough. The rejection letter nicely stated that I had no deadline to leave the country in light of my work permit. Otherwise, I believe I would have had 2 weeks to pack my bags - and I would have had to pack my bags, as appeals can only be done from the country of origin, not from within Denmark.

June, 2005: Familiesammenføring application, take two. This had some extra steps, but progressed as it should have.

September, 2005: Hooray, I am now officially reunified!

And, this is only because our application was 'fast-tracked', meaning that we could supply proof that we met all the demands. I both know, and know of, people who have waited, or who have been waiting, for up to a year for approval. These are people who have made the comittment and gotten married, too...unlike Thor and me, who faffed about for so long not getting married, that in the end we didn't need to.

The silver lining? Well, have you ever lived with someone too dispirited to do anything, and unable to get a job? I haven't, but Thor did for several months. I was not happy, neither was he, and the relationship was strained, to say the least. And we're still together. Had we known what the process would have been like, we quite likely wouldn't have gone through it. So, it's good that we didn't know, and 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' goes for relationships too. And we've had at least two occasions (first the work permit, and now family reunification) to drink a lot of champagne.