Just to put things in perspective...

So, earlier this month, we did the Portuguese Camino de Santiago, from the cathedral in Porto to the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, about 240 kilometers worth of hiking. 13 days of hiking, carrying backpacks (and in Thor's case, also carrying a 6 kilo baby in a front carrier) on the sides of very busy highways without much in the way of margins, up and down what appeared to be old riverbeds, through some industrial area, but also a lot of green foresty areas, by vineyards being harvested, and through small villages. We started hiking at around 8 each morning (so, when it became light), and finished each day at around 2 or so in the afternoon.

And then, after arriving, and spending a day resting in Santiago, we rented a car to do a bit of a Portuguese/Spanish roadtrip before flying back to Denmark from Madrid. We picked up the car at a bit before 10am, and started to drive towards Lisbon, where we were to meet with some of my old friends from when I lived there. And found ourselves driving back through our starting point of Porto (well, o.k., past it on the motorway) right around lunchtime.

Moral of the story: there are many ways, and many speeds in which to do things. Each have its place, but sometimes, it's good to take the slower path.

The joys of one-handed typing

One of the first photos, at about a couple of hours old
I seem to have lost the use of one of my hands (actually the whole arm, but it's the hand that's important for typing). Right now, it's my left hand that has become disabled, but in a few minutes, the paralysis could shift to my right side. As I am very right-handed, this would be somewhat difficult, so I'll try to make it quick. I'll assume that the last post, and the comments there make it clear what strange ailment has befallen me. Well, you can't expect me to set her down, can you? She might get cold.

Still the first day, with the proud daddy
So, a quick official report: When I said in my last post that I was "just waiting patiently for something to happen", I neglected to mention that my water had broken some 3-4 hours before, and I had been told to go to the hospital a couple of hours after. I had not started to have contractions, by the way, so there was no rush. Contractions started on the way to the hospital (starting at 2-3 minutes apart, for those who watch hospital drama shows and want to know these things), became painful shortly after arrival to the hospital, progressed unusually quickly, led to all appropriate phases of labor, and at what would ordinarily be called lunchtime, I was suddenly a mother. Vital stats can be seen in Thor's comment in the last post, so I won't repeat them here.

What a difference 4 days makes
Then, rather than being sent home after 4-6 hours because of the strike, we ended up in the maternity ward for 4 nights, although both I and my daughter came out of the labor room perfectly healthy. It was a case of slightly low birth-weight (not for me, sadly...I'm still in my maternity clothes, and will be for some time) and lack of keenness to nurse leading to worries that she might lose too much and become sickly, leading to a very long drawn-out process of supplemental feedings, daily weighings, and all sorts of complicated things, all the while stuck, well, in the hospital. So, it was fairly surreal, and about 3 nights too long.

:-D
Otherwise, though, it was exactly what I had hoped for and envisioned. Namely a quick labor - my mother had very quick labors for both me and my brother, and I had long hoped that there was something hereditary there...apparently, there is. But not so quick that I wouldn't be able to use a tub - I labored in the tub for about a half hour or so towards the end, and would recommend it to anyone (even if you aren't in labor, or if you're not pregnant, or not a woman). And the end result, magical. Everything about her is amazing. I'm in awe at the sheer potential of her, she could become anything, beyond my meagre powers to imagine.

I'd tell you more...but you're not reading this are you? You're just staring at the pictures. I don't blame you, she is quite entrancing. Although I'll be trying desperately (and possibly futilely) to keep this not a mommy blog, I'm sure she'll be making at least occasional appearances.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life

I've taken care of some last minute business, and am now truly ready to embrace being on leave. And I'm more than a bit overwhelmed. I can transform myself, in any way I wish, in this time that I will have. It's the time to start a true interior Spring cleaning (and, why not an exterior one as well while I'm at it).

Is it too late in the season? And where do I start? I'm feeling a deep need for some Camino de Santiago yellow arrows to guide my way.

*Photo: Yep, I took this on the Camino. I have no idea where I was at that point, but this could have been just about anywhere on the way.*

Where to go from here?

A long-standing issue in my life is just an idea, specifically that, once one has made a decision, or chosen a path, then all other paths become blocked off. Along with being a sure recipe for commitment phobia, this idea keeps me in constant search for whichever path might be one which will allow me to also chose other paths. Does that make any sense at all? Perhaps not.

The deal now is that, soon I will have a period of total break from my current reality, communitas time, where I will transition into motherhood. And then, after that transition, I will be able to go on to do, well, anything I'd like really. But what would I like? I realize that I have lots of time to ponder this, but also that the more I dream now, the more I can do to make it all a reality over the next year or so.

If it were you, with a year of transition, what would you want to transition to? And for that matter, what would you do during the year? The wilder, the better. As I hear your dreams, I will also be crystallizing my own possibilities, to be shared when they're a little more fully-formed.

Real life vs. blog

I've come across many in the blogosphere for whom a blog is the secret to a special compartment in their lives, unknown to their real life contacts. For me, it has always been the opposite - I encourage everyone close to me to read my blog, family, friends, whomever. And some of them actually do so. More importantly, many of them read it without me actually realizing it. This leads to some embarrassing situations, not because of anything I say about anyone, but just because I'm so generally crap at corresponding by more personal means (e-mail, phone, Skype, chat programs, etc.), that the only way for people to find out what's happening in my life is to read my blog. And people do clue in to this. Which leads to incidents like the following:

1) After my mom died, there were several people, childhood friends, ex-boyfriends and the like, who should have gotten messages from me about it. But I found it really strange to write about, and so didn't do it. In the month that followed, all of those people, without exception, wrote me really nice condolence e-mails, having figured out the situation from my post on the memorial service. I still cringe when I think of the sheer tackiness of it.

2) A few close friends who are far away in space and time have also written me nice e-mails congratulating me on my pregnancy. Which of course they read about on my blog. This includes a good friend to whom I did write with the news (long after I should have), who responded with a lovely Christmas card saying something along the lines of, 'Pregnant? I'm shocked! No actually, I'm not. I've been following your blog'. I would imagine that, at the rate I'm going, she'll read this before finding any follow-up e-mails in her in-box. It shouldn't be that way, but it is.

At least these incidents are only one-way...me not communicating with others, who in turn are good at communicating with me (luckily, as otherwise, I might have no contacts at all). But now it seems to be getting totally out of hand, as shown by a comment on my last post from the ubiquitous and prolific 'Anonymous'. In it's entirety, the comment reads:

Dear readers of this blog.
It's sad but true - this is the only way, I can come in contact with my girlfriend....

Kimananda: Pick up your phone and call your boyfriend (you know... the one you live with, father of your unborn child etc.) ;-)

Which basically means that not only can other people only find out about my life through my blog, but I myself am now only finding out about others through my blog. You know, I think I'll go and find an old e-mail (I don't throw them out, I just keep putting off responding to them until they are forgotten) and answer it. Or maybe I'll just go and start a conversation with my boyfriend, Anonymous.

Does this count as an impulse buy?

Our very own parking disc. I'm so proud.

What can I say? Thor and I went out a couple of Fridays ago to look at some stuff. And along the way, we spontaneously bought a car and brought it home with us. O.K., I'll admit, one of the things we went out to look at was a car (I know, it takes away somewhat from the overall shock value to admit this), but we've been talking about getting one for ages. We were never actually going to really buy one though. That would take away all the joyful anticipation...wouldn't it?

So now we have a car. It's pretty practical, not totally uncute, has a few kilometers on it, but not scarily much, is not too old. And I'm now a car owner. Car co-owner to be exact. Something I never thought I'd be ever again, to be honest. Why would anyone living and working in a big city area need a car? The sad thing is, that while Thor was more into the 'owning a car' concept...he hasn't had his license for that long, and wants to be able to maintain his skills...I'm the one who works all over the island, travelling to multiple locations each day, all of which are far from home. And yet, I can't yet bring myself to drive to work, even on those days where I sleepwalk my way to the 6 a.m. train.

But the things we can do with a car! The things we have done! A week ago we drove to the far coast of Sweden to buy apple and cranberry juice (as of course you all do with your cars)...exploring the beautiful Scanian countryside replete with autumnal foliage (but alas, without a camera). We now seek out big warehouse stores, where we buy large items, because we can, we have a car. Well, truth be told, we don't buy that much stuff, and no large stuff, but we could, you know. It's the sheer possibility of it that thrills.

So, in short, for me at least, this car is all about the future, not so much the present. The fun is in thinking about where I could go next. If you were in Denmark with a car, where would you go? What would you do?

Yes, it's true. I am officially great.

A blog post in question and answer format.

Q: 'Officially great'? Isn't that a bit much?
A: Well, I'm referring to it as part of a longer expression. Other titles I considered were, 'Starting out NaBloPoMo with an attention getter', 'Maybe this should have been a Halloween post, as it contains news which is scary (in an exciting way)', or 'Attention: bun in oven'. I think you'll agree that I picked the best of a rather mediocre bunch.

Q: So, this is all a ploy to tell everyone that you're knocked up.
A: Yeah, basically.

Q: Aren't you supposed to post gratuitous ultrasound pictures or something? Or tell us some words of wisdom that 'no other pregnant woman before you has ever known'?
A: No ultrasound pictures...you'll just have to take my word for it, they're cool, and actually look sort of like a baby, rather than the white lines on a black background abstract art I was expecting to see. As for words of wisdom, I don't feel any wiser than other pregnant women throughout history, but I am amassing a serious collection of reading material on pregnancy-related subjects.

Q: Such as?
A: Well, of course some of the usual suspects (like this, which I find fairly useful, but which is beginning to get boring through sheer overreading, or this, which is a fairly dry read, but it enables me to talk about things like 'nuchal fold tests' in Danish), but also some others. I especially enjoyed Birth: A History. This one can be summarized in one sentence: we should all be grateful that doctors have learned to wash their hands before examining patients. The actual history in the book was also interesting. For those who would rather get their information from the internet, The Onion is always a sure source of information, even about pregnancy. And I haven't added any video to my collection yet, but I believe the plan is to get a group together for an evening of fun, merriment, and all the alien movies on DVD. It just seems proper to see them at this point. You know, just in case I end up having a cesarian.

Q: Does this mean that you'll be turning into a mommy blogger?
A: No. My role models on this are all my favorite blogging buddies who have kids, but don't feel the need to dwell on them in their blogs.

Q: Good...oh, and I suppose you should share some of those details that everyone always wants to know, I'm sure you know what those are.
A: O.K., well to answer the questions that I'm already getting from everyone, well first off, my greatness will end and my new career as a milk provider/diaper changer is due to begin sometime in the middle of May, but I predict it'll be earlier than that. Speaking of early, it's too early to say if it's a boy or a girl. And Thor and I have some ideas for names, but it's a bit too early to share any of them. Oh, and everything has been very smooth so far, no morning sickness or anything. Just a second, I need to find some wood to knock on....

Q: All right, just one more question before you go...don't you think you're a little old for this kind of thing?
A: Yeah, probably. But I have the feeling that I wouldn't have gotten any younger by waiting.

Two-year-old house

Well, the first year was the year where I figured out how it all worked. The second year is where life interrupted and kept me from showing off my blogging skills, such as they are. Now it's time to see what the third year brings. In the meantime, have some celebratory birthday cake. It's 'Steelhead cheesecake' (from the Steelhead brewpub), and I think it's rather good.

Kadish for a woman of valour

This morning at the memorial service for my mom. Gathered together, former students, colleagues, friends, neighbors, family. People I hadn't seen in years. People I had never seen before.

A fitting eulogy which convinced many that the rabbi had actually known my mom, though he hadn't. Reading from the 23rd Psalm ('Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil'). Reading from and discussing Proverbs 31 ('An accomplished woman, who can find? Her value is far beyond pearls'). The mourner's kadish. Sniffling and kleenex using from assorted parts of the chapel, heard but not seen from the front 'family' row. People in suits who are not normally in suits.

A lagoon-front reception, eating and reminiscing, catching up with the seldom seen. Hearing how much my mom meant to people I barely know, and to people I know well. Her caring. Her sharp wit. Her many talents. How proud she was of her children. Vowing to keep in touch, now that the glue holding the rest of the family with her small part of the family is gone.

My mom, who was she? A private person, not someone who would want fifty-odd people meeting in her memory. Not someone who would want to be written about for posting on the internet, or possibly at all. But someone who deserves to be eulogized, and remembered.

*photo: me, my mom, my mom's mom, and my mom's mom's mom: four generations of women of valour*

The Camino

In the Spring of 2003, I was at somewhat of a crossroads of my life, considering starting a PhD in something that I wasn't sure of, and generally looking for a change. I decided the solution, at least for the short term, was to take a few weeks off of work and do the Camino de Santiago. You know, reflect on life, experience communitas first hand, that kind of thing.

They say that the Camino changes people. I had always assumed that this referred to interior change, different priorities, greater maturity or patience or understanding, subtle yet transformative things. What I didn't realize was that it could also signal external upheaval as well. In my case, I ended up meeting a really interesting Danish man, and six months later, I was living in Copenhagen, somewhere that I probably would never even have visited otherwise. So, it can safely be said that my whole life is different because of the Camino. The interior stuff changed some as well.

In the morning of the 14th of June, 2003, Thor and I completed the Camino together. We got our compostelanas together, and had them laminated together (next to the office where they are issued). We then went to mass, for me the third of the journey (I went to one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end). A couple of days later, I went on to spend a few days in Madrid, and Thor went back to Copenhagen. The rest is not so exciting.

The end result is that life went on, but with new possibilities. And now, it's four years later, and I cannot imagine how things would have turned out had I not done the 800+ kilometer journey across the North of Spain. A truly transforming experience, in almost every area of my life.

What has transformed you? Which pilgrimages have you travelled, be they real or symbolic?

Conversations over Memorial Day weekend

A very small sampling of conversations held over the weekend:

Information sharing on the best phone to use to call 9-1-1, if the need should arise (answer, the house phone, not a cell, so the address will be sent automatically).

A discussion of the life-span of c-diff bacteria (not definitively known, but a long time), and the best way to avoid getting any oneself (copious hand washing with soap and water, and use of rubber gloves when, for example, changing ostomy bags).

Whether a certain size rubber glove fits, in case the usual bag changer is not available.

Whether it is more worrying for a very frail person with increasingly bad balance to descend steep stairs, or ascend them (I worry more about the descending, because of the balance, but the counter argument is that ascending is more worrying, due to strength issues).

All of these conversations on completely normal, in the realm of reality, subjects. For us, now. It's amazing to me how much we mold our conception of the normal based on current realities.

In other news, I have now officially taken over the job of feeding the rug-colored dog. As in, 'Hello, my name is kimananda, and I'll be your server for the evening. Today's special is a lovely kibble, sprinkled with a multi-vitamin garnish, and drizzled with a spoonful of delightful virgin olive oil, all served with a side bowl of refreshing tap water.'

By which I mean that, if you should see a three-legged Wheaten terrier in your neighborhood, with all her personal belongings wrapped in a handkerchief at the end of a stick, and a sign saying 'Running away, owners not feeding me', well, I'm the one to blame.

*Photo: Rug-colored dog in classic, 'Have you considered, just maybe, feeding the dog?' pose*

Birth announcement

I am pleased to announce that yesterday evening, a thesis was officially born (in triplicate actually), and that in addition, soon after 10 o'clock this morning, Tristino was officially presented as a part of the world. He's a strong 70 page, 25,000+ word beauty, and it is hoped and expected that his presence will make an impact in the academic community, as well as on the future goals and ambitions of his mother.

His birth was greeted by roses, provided by his Danish step-father, along with champagne. Tristino himself did not partake of the champagne (too young, too papery to handle it), but he did pose with the roses. Mother, step-father, and thesis are all doing well.

1st Annual Official Year of Improvement Day

Also known as, New Year's Resolutions. Which I haven't made any of in a number of years, because, what is the point of making a resolution knowing that you couldn't possibly carry it through for more than 2 hours?

This year, however, I feel much more ready for the challenge, and much more able to set measurable goals. And what better way to ensure resolution completion than by opening myself up to nagging from the blogosphere? Gentle, loving, constructive nagging preferred, thanks. Then, it will be your turn. What are your resolutions? I'd love to be inspired to borrow from your list, too!

But first, here are my official New Year's Resolutions:

1) Complete and blog about the 2007 TBR Challenge: Things are always better packaged as challenges; I'm competitive that way. Here, I will get to read 12 of those books that have been on my list of things to read for, on average, too long. My list is as follows:

1) Ulysses, by James Joyce
2) Moby Dick, by Herman Melville
3) Philosophical Investigations, by Ludwig Wittgenstein
4) Ludwig Wittgenstein, the Duty of Genius, by Ray Monk
5) A Natural History of the Senses, by Diane Ackerman
6) A Natural History of Love, by Diane Ackerman
7) The Beatrice Letters, by Lemony Snicket
8) Death without Weeping, by Nancy Scheper-Hughes
9) Discipline and Punish, by Michel Foucault
10) Journey to the West, by Wu Cheng’en
11) Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen
12) Collected Fictions, Jorge Luis Borges

I realize it's a bit heavy, but, well, that's the stuff that's on my list. Anyone wanting to read along and chat about any of these, let me know. I can't imagine I'll follow the challenge totally to the letter, which is to say, that I'll start and finish each of these books in a month. Some, like Philosophical Investigations, for example, will probably take more than a month, and several others will take much less...for example, Beatrice Letters shouldn't take more than part of a lazy afternoon. My goal then is to finish one of these each month. I also pledge to write at least one post inspired by each of the books on the list. I'll read them in whatever order strikes my fancy, and am starting January with #5, A Natural History of the Senses. Nothing too heavy this month so that I will still have time to focus on...

2) MyTheWriMo: First there was NaNoWriMo, or 'National Novel Writing Month', where crazy people write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November (I plan to be one of those crazy people this year, too.) Then, my brother decided to do a practice run, or MyNoWriMo (well, HisNoWriMo to you and me), in January. That got me thinking about my writing behemoths, and I thought, forced marathon writing...thesis...MyTheWriMo! Yep, a rough draft of my thesis in the month of January. 25,000 words or more (the maximum for the assignment is 28,000). I still haven't totally worked out my problem statement, but have some ideas that are really drawing me in. This is the resolution I most want to keep. I'll try not to post too much thesis angst in this space, but some will be unavoidable. (Gentle, loving, constructive) nagging is especially welcome here.

3) 10 kilos begone: is there a single person who makes resolutions who doesn't have at least one about body shape? Some of this is from my holidays, and will go pretty fast. The rest will involve lots more attention to diet and lots more exercise. I don't plan to blog about this one at all.

4) Fun, fun, fun: I need to have more fun. I have forgotten how to have pure, unmitigated, fun. I vow to go out more, laugh more, but I refuse to post photos.

5) Work, work, work: This is the one I'm most unsure of how to go about completing, but I'm determined to get a job which reflects my interests. Which first means getting accepted into a PhD program and getting funding. Anyone have any idea about this? Not so much the getting in (though that too), but the funding. I hope to blog about all my successes and chosing between lots of cool programs. My virtual fingers are crossed for the foreseeable future.

I'd say that's enough. And now, let the games begin.

Rug-colored dog on a dog-colored rug

Now that I'm back home, it's time to tally up the statistics from when I was at home:

Number of rug-colored dogs communed with during trip: 1. Please note, the rug-colored dog has given me permission to post her photo on the internet.

Number of close family members communed with during trip: 6. So all the main ones.

Number of books (bought, given or foraged) brought back home from home: 17. About half academic and half not-so-academic.

Number of books left at home due to lack of space in luggage: 13. The Complete Wreck to be exact.

Number of sneezes, coughs and nose-blowing incidents: too many to count. Was it the local dust mites? Rug-colored dog dander? Am I allergic to California?

Number of boyfriends Skyped while on trip: 1. Total number of people Skyped while on trip: 2.

Number of bloggers met over lunch: 1. And it was very cool. Please note, I'm not counting my brother on this list, although we did go to lunch (more than once), and he is a blogger.

Number of A Series of Unfortunate Events books read during trip: 6. I had read the first 7 books before.

Number of kilos (yes, kilos) gained during trip: almost 5...so about half a kilo per It's-It.

Amount of work done during trip: not as much as I had wanted. But almost enough.

Number of belated Christmas/Chanukah/Yule/Winter Solstice wishes to all: infinite.

Just a bit of bureaucracy

In Lisbon, I got to do it twice a year (towards the end, only twice every other year), and it took at least 4 or 5 hours each time. In London, the one time I tried it, I arrived at around 5 in the morning, in the cold, in the dark, and in Croyden, and left shortly after 2 in the afternoon after being told that I didn't have all the documentation I needed. Here in Copenhagen, it has taken me up to 5 hours before, but today, it took only about 2 hours, for which I am extremely grateful.

I am speaking, of course, about the immigration experience, and waiting in line to either turn things in or to get things renewed. I am also thrilled that I only had to wait 6 and a half months for the renewal, as I had heard rumors of waiting times of up to a year. This means that I was only without a valid visa in my passport for about 5 months, though of course could still live where I am and work and so on because of my previous visa.

When I write these things, it occurs to me that my sense of timing is becoming extremely warped. Two hours is a long time to wait. Six months is a long time to get a renewal on something where none of the conditions, addresses, incomes, housing size, nothing has changed. And yet, for the countries I've lived in, they seem like remarkably short time spans to me.

So, I ask you...please help me readjust my sense of bureaucracy. Tell me your horror stories, the horror stories you've heard from your friends and family, horror stories you've seen or read or heard on the news. Because I'm afraid this will spread to the rest of my life. And because at the rate this is going, soon I'll be overjoyed at being only the 27th person in line at my local Fakta.*

*A discount supermarket, known for inordinately long lines, and only one cashier working at any time of the day or week.

Birthday 43 Things: Take Two

A year ago today, I completed a meme for which I had been tagged by the inimitable Daphnewood. It seemed like a good birthday thing to do then, and it seems like an equally good birthday thing to update it now. The idea is to think of (that's the hard part), and then list (that's the easy part) 43 things I'd like to do before I die.

First, here are the things from the original list that I've now done, with appropriate commentary:

1) learn the words to the Danish version of 'Happy Birthday' (there are several verses.) I've learned the first verse, and have decided that this is, in fact, enough, thank you very much.
2) get my Portuguese back to where it was. In July, it was back pretty much to where it was. It may not be there in a few months, but I know I can get it back whenever the opportunity arises.
22) be family reunified (this relates to my visa status in Denmark). Done, and even blogged about...now let's see if I can keep it for a while.
32) learn to knit. Yep, I did it. And I'm saddened to report that it was boring, and that I won't be doing it again.
37) learn to make kung-pao chicken. Did I mention that I took a Sichuan cooking class while in Chengdu?
41) see Citizen Kane. I'm not quite sure what the fuss is about this film, but I can honestly say that I didn't not enjoy it...which is to say that it was o.k. Of course, I already knew the 'secret' of Rosebud, which may have been a factor.

Several things I've done in part, or even in large part - I am procrastinating less, and worrying less, and sometimes I even have more patience with people. My Danish is getting better all the time, and I've seen a bit more of China, but I'd like to do more with all of these things, so they're still on the list. And if knitting is so boring, then why crochet? So I'm taking that off of the list, too. So, here is my updated 43 things to do before I die (new items in bold). Wish me luck.

Before I die, I would like to...
1) climb a mountain.
2) start a successful vegetable garden.
3) continue to improve my Danish.
4/5/6) visit all the continents...at this point, this means South America, Antarctica, and Africa (I was in Morocco, but for less than a day, so it doesn't count).
7) own my own house.
8) have a job where I earn enough that I can afford a mortgage.
9/10/11) have articles or papers published in at least 5 academic journals, 5 large-circulation publications, and the Weekly World News
12) retire before I'm 80.
13) learn how to build websites by building my own.
14) learn how to take professional quality photographs.
15) get a tattoo.
16) make my own cross-stitch designs.
17) learn to meditate.
18) live to see and enjoy my 101st birthday.
19/20) travel around India and China.
21) learn to speak and write Mandarin Chinese.
22) see at least part of the world from a inside a hotair baloon.
23) stop procrastinating so much.
24) get into better physical shape.
25) find a job that I look forward to going to almost every day.
26) complete a PhD.
27) decide what I would like to do a PhD in.
28) radiate self-confidence.
29/30) see more of California and the rest of the US.
31) stop worrying so much about all sorts of things.
32/33) start and successfully run my own business/consulting firm.
34) learn to weave cloth on a floor loom.
35) earn enough money to hire someone to clean my house for me.
36) learn how to network at social events.
37) learn to salsa, and/or samba.
38) learn to make clam chowder.
39/40) read José Saramago and Peter Høeg in the original.
41) decide the whole kid/no kid debate before menopause.
42) have more patience with people.
43) appreciate how many things that I wanted to do could not be included here because I've already done them.

So, now it's your turn. Yes, I am talking about you. You don't even have to wait for your birthday. I look forward to reading your list.

One-year-old house

Yes, as of 10am tomorrow morning, the House of Fortune will have been up and running for a whole year, by far the longest I've ever kept to one writing project. A good reason to celebrate. As my blog is a product of my Denmark experience, here is its Danish birthday cake, marked with a liberal presence of Danebrog (the Danish flag, traditional marker of birthdays and other festive events). Please help yourself to a slice.

32 happy birthday wishes

I dag er det Thors fødselsdag
hurra hurra hurra.
Han sikkert sig en gave får
som han har ønsket sig i år,
med dejlig chokolade og kage til.

(Today is Thor's birthday,
hurrah, hurrah, hurrah.
He'll certainly get a gift
that he's wanted for a year,
along with lovely chocolate and cake.)

*play-doh cake, courtesy http://www.cookiepots.com/. Lack of actual singing courtesy of me!

An elegy to the past, cancelled

Yes, it's true. I'm starting afresh, totally against my will. The event which triggered this? I went today and picked up my new passport. I'm gutted...well, that's an exaggeration, but I am horribly disappointed with this new, shiny, crisp, thin, empty identity document.

This is my third passport. My first one I wasn't ever that attached to, even though I made my first overseas trip with it (to Paris), and became an ex-pat with it (to Lisbon). But my second passport, ah, it was my eternal companion. We had adventures together. It brought me amusement; it brought me annoyance. I adored it. As an exercise in total self-centeredness, I would like to share a few selected memories, fond and otherwise, with you.

1) A story of beginnings. I used to be early. Really early, for everything. Then I got to Portugal, and found that not everyone was as prompt as I was. So, in order to evolve, I determined to be, no not late, but not so early. This is why, when I realized half-way to the bus station that I had forgotten my passport, I didn't really have time to go back and get it. Which wouldn't have been a problem except that the bus was to take me to visit a friend in Switzerland. In the end, I brazened it out, and made it past passport control on the border from Spain into France (not a problem as I wasn't stopping there anyway), and from France into Switzerland (I presented my California i.d., which got me a rather scathing 'you come to Switzerland with your...driver's...license?!', but which also got me into the country).

Then, I started to worry. On the return journey, I was to arrive back in Lisbon just a few short hours before having to go back to work. Any passport related delays would be very bad. So, I made a day trip to the consulate in Bern (this was the day after my friend and I made a trip to the consulate in Zurich...to find that it no longer existed) to get a new one. At the consulate, the guard at the entrance told me, 'You can't get into Switzerland without a passport.' Then the woman behind the window counter told me, 'You can't get into Switzerland without a passport.' She had more to say:

Counter woman: We cannot issue you with a temporary passport. You should have brought yours with you.
Me: I didn't leave it on purpose. But in any case, I don't have it, so what should I do?
CW: Well, you'll have to get someone to send it to you.
Me: But I'm only here for a couple more days.
CW: Well, then you should have thought of this before.

This is the condensed version. At some point, I decided to give up gracefully and just leave, as I clearly wasn't getting anywhere.

CW: But you can't travel without a passport!
Me: Well, I got here without one, didn't I? So, I'll just have to go back without one.
CW: Wait a minute. Please fill out this form, while I check with a consular officer.

The consular officer was friendly and chatty...'Oh, so you live in Lisbon? Great city, Lisbon,' etc. I got to present some passport photos, pay some money, wait around a while and show proof that I was me (the driver's license, of course). And then I got my genuine Swiss-issued U.S. passport. The old-fashioned kind with the number stamped onto the front. As I couldn't prove my citizenship without my old passport, the new one was only valid for one year. When I got back to Lisbon, I went to the embassy there with both passports, had the old one cancelled, and the new one extended to the full ten-year term.

And, for what it's worth, I encountered not one single passport check on my way back from Switzerland.

2) A story of amusement. My passport's humble beginnings provided a good test of who's really paying attention to what they should be paying attention to. This because instead of the expiration date on the main information page, there was a 'see page' reference, to guide the reader to the extended date. No, actually two 'see page' references, the first for the original 1-year limit, which was crossed out and replaced with the reference for the extended limit. It's scary how many airport personnel and customs and immigration personnel clearly didn't look. Even more amusing are all the people who couldn't seem to figure out where to find the expiration. At some point right before moving to Denmark, I had to have extra pages put in...you'll of course kindly ignore the fact that 90% of the stamps that had filled up the original pages were from Lisbon, London or Copenhagen, and just think of me as a world traveller, yes? Thank you! Anyway, the extra pages were put in so that they cut off the page with the new expiration from the back where only the old expiration page could be seen. I have gotten such great quirky joy out of trying to guide middle-aged men behind glass in airports to where they could find that magical date...'no, it's not expired, the new date is on page 22...no, not so far forward...it's before the extra pages...no, no, the page before that....'

3) A story of annoyance. As my passport was issued same-day, it is not the usual cookie cutter format. It's what I believe is called a 'foreign issued' passport, which I'm not sure is done anymore, or maybe just for cases like mine. This was never a problem...except when I went to open a bank account when I first got to London. Apparently, it's difficult to do this in England, especially if you've just arrived and haven't set up residence yet. I could only go to one bank, because I had a letter from my new employer to that one bank (and in fact to that one branch of that one bank). Everything was done, and I was ready to move money into the account...and then my bank advisor made one final telephone call, about my passport. Not to check on me, but to check on the format of the thing. His end of the conversation included things like, 'no, the information is on the third page...typed...the photo is underneath, on page four'. After the call, he turned to me and said, 'I'm sorry, but we can't proceed because we are unable to verify your passport.' Excuse me? His final words (final because I couldn't stand to hear anymore): 'We're not saying that it's not a real passport, because it probably is.' In the end, I went in with my driver's license...well, it worked in Switzerland, didn't it...and made the very logical case that 'If I can't open a bank account, then where am I supposed to put my money?', which quite worryingly seemed to impress the person helping me...but got me special bank manager approval to open an account.

And now, it's time to start anew. I don't want to. I want to keep my old passport, and add more and more pages to it until it no longer fits in my carry-on luggage. But of course that's not possible. So, my new task is how to bond with this thing, which is so fresh it really appears fake to me. The bottom line is, it's time to travel. I've set my plans for the summer (July studying in Lisbon, and most of August travelling in the Sichuan region of China), but that's too long to wait. To anyone reading this, be prepared, I may show up on your doorstep at any time, ready to show off my first stamp in my new passport.

image credit: http://en.wikinews.org/wiki/Image:Gov-us_passport.jpg

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.