Bureaucracy

So, I recently sent in my forms and documents to Danish immigration in hopes of getting permanent residency here. Actually, I applied 3 months ago, but at that time sent in the wrong form (for EU citizens...I thought it seemed a bit short...). Immigration was kind enough to send me the proper forms along with a form letter explaining my mistake. And, according to the form letter, I can apparently expect an answer to my quest within six months of applying correctly. Yay!

But I can't help but note that sending the form letter and forms alone took Immigration 2 months.

*Photo info: The view a month ago from down the street from my house (though admittedly, it's a long street)*

Optimism

I was first drawn to this because, well, cool car. But then I became aware of what is really going on.

Consider that it rained earlier today (only a bit, but still). Then consider that this is Denmark, where rain should be expected at any and all times. Finally consider that there is nowhere near this car where the owner could just pop in to take care of business in a few seconds. This is what I would consider optimistic behavior.

Happy Big Prayer Day

I came very close to calling this post 'More about zombies' (well, isn't the whole point of Christianity that Jesus rose from the dead and roamed the Earth?), but I really don't like to be that confrontative about my own non-religiosity. So, I'll just wish you all a happy holiday (it's Big Prayer Day, which is a direct translation from the Danish, Store Bededag). I like the idea behind the holiday, to consolidate all the little holidays so that people can actually get some work done. Or should I say, I like the idea in theory. In practice, it's nice to have lots of little holidays.

In honor of such a religious occasion, the day was spent attending Thor's nephew's confirmation. The ceremony, held at the church where the above crucifixion is to be found, followed by a typically Danish multi-hour reception. Which was a lot more fun than it sounds (though I find my endurance is not what it has been). But also a bit worrying, not because of what it was, but because of what I suspect it will represent to my unborn daughter. It's a big deal here, from what I can tell. Not least of which because those getting confirmed get a lot of very lucrative gifts from relatives. Which I don't consider a good reason to profess faith to a religion...but I don't think I would have agreed with the current incarnation of me when I was 13 or 14 years old.

I realize that I have many years before I need to confront this issue, but I really am not comfortable with the whole idea of it (both because I am not religious, but particularly as I am not from a Christian background). But for now, I suppose I should just accept that it was a nice day out. I hope your Big Prayer Day was also good, and that any big prayers you may have had will be answered in some way.

Me, and all the others who aren't going to work tomorrow

I am now officially on maternity leave. It's a strange feeling, and will only feel stranger as the days go on. And I'm not the only one who isn't going to work tomorrow. Actually, enormous numbers of day-care workers, nurses, and, most importantly for me, midwives, will also be on a leave of sorts. Which is to say, on strike.

It's been a question that keeps coming up, about what I will do if I go into labor during the strike, so it seems logical to write about it here. Of course, there's no guarantee that the strike will still be on when my daughter decides to make her grand entrance into the world, as there's no knowing how long the strike will last. In the past, I've heard, such actions have been ended after hours by parliament passing a law ordering the striking workers to go back to work. But there seems to be a sense that this will not be what happens this time, though I suppose we'll all find out for sure tomorrow.

The strange thing is, that although a strike has been rumored and talked about and now planned for a while, we can't seem to find out all the things we'd like to know about what this all actually means for me. I know that I can forget about the tour of the maternity ward which I had hoped to go on this week, and that my midwife appointment for next week is cancelled if the strike is still on (which I assume it will be). Any emergencies or urgent questions, there is a hotline set up, or I suppose I could make an appointment with my regular family doctor. I know that, or at least I assume (I haven't heard anything one way or the other) that I can go to the hospital when I'm in labor, and have my child there. Everything else is conjecture, and assumes that all hospitals will follow roughly the same procedures.

I must confess, I think everything will turn out o.k. The one issue might be the length of stay after the birth. The one hospital in the greater Copenhagen area which has issued what seems to be a full statement (or fuller than the one my hospital has on its website anyway) indicates that (of course barring complications) women having their babies there will be sent home four hours after giving birth. Some women would probably want this anyway, but many women choose to take advantage of the opportunity to stay for two nights, with their partner and of course the baby rooming in. I'd like to do this, too, and it will be very disappointing if I have to go home so soon. Not the end of the world, but not the way I'd like to do things. Though it seems logical; medical supervision for birth is an essential service, giving new parents a chance to get to know their babies before taking them home clearly isn't.

So, in short, what else can I say? I sympathize with the striking workers. I'd prefer they carried out their strike in, oh, June? But of course that has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with them.

The mysterious bathtub-free land that I live in

How can it be that a whole country seemingly has no bathtubs? I mean, of course, there are people in Denmark who own tubs. There must be. I've just never seen their bathrooms. And I know I'm not the only one who thinks about this issue. In any other country, I'd think of someone as strange who was actually looking forward to giving birth...because their birthing room would have a tub. (Actually, all the birthing rooms in the hospital we're birthing at have tubs, except for one. Thor's primary job as birth partner is to make sure that I don't get that heinous tub-free room...is that strange? Actually, maybe I'd prefer you didn't answer that question.)

I am developing a fondness for bathtubs that is far out of proportion to how I actually felt about them when living in a country where there were more of them. Maybe it's the possibility of bubbles. Or rubber duckies. Or just it's easier to miss something when it's gone.

*Photo: from one of the bathroom areas in that hotel in Møn. They don't have any bathtubs either.*

kimananda, television star

Last weekend, Thor and I went to the opening of a new small hotel/pension on the island of Møn, owned by one of Thor's co-workers and her husband. They recently bought the place, and have re-done it. Each of the rooms in the place has been stunningly decorated by a different local artist (the owners are also artists, who themselves have decorated the common areas). Lots of photos were taken, and at some point soon, there will be a post all about it.

But in the meantime, it has been brought to my attention that that man we saw there wandering around with the video equipment and tripod was not just playing around. Apparently, he has started and runs a local television station (or video-based website, I'm not sure), and was covering the opening 'for the media'. Which means that all the guests, including Thor and me, are television stars. Sort of.

The story itself has everything there is to love about local t.v. The total lack of polish, the odd placing of shots, weird camera angles, an announcer with a non-distinctive voiceover voice, a clearly amateur script. Which is what makes it so watchable. Thor and I can be seen in the crowd watching the owners' inagural speech (where you can see them officially christen the pension with white paint). To help you find us, I'm the pregnant woman having a really bad hair day. Thor is the suave man in the matching jacket standing next to me. Along the way, you'll get a good view of the place, and can soak in the strangeness that is the Danish language.

The link is http://tv-moen.dk/bakkegaardindvielsen.wmv. To any Mac users, do yourself a favor, and don't try to open it in Safari (trust me, it's really not worth the effort). It worked fine in Firefox.

My toothmeat is bleeding.

According to Thor (who has decided that he will stay next to me and watch me until I am in this way nagged into going to bed), I cannot say that my toothmeat is bleeding. But I just did, in writing even. And it's true. My toothmeat is bleeding. A symptom of pregnancy apparently.

Which is to say, I am growing quite fond of this over-literal language that I have been learning for the past few years. Some words which I especially like:

Danish word literally translated/real English translation

breast wart (this is one of the classic examples)/nipple

dust sucker (this is the other classic example)/vacuum cleaner

and of course toothmeat/gums

And don't get me started on farting. By which I mean the Danish word 'fart', which of course means 'speed'. Which is not really so funny...but all the compounds using it are. Like:

fart pilot/cruise control

hyperfart/warp drive (as in the first Star Wars, where Han Solo takes the Millenium Falcon into 'hyper-fart'

fart stripes/racing stripes (as found on the sides of racing cars)

fart control/an area of road with speed measuring devices

Now, if I could think of more, I'd have an excuse to stay up. Not having any more, I'll just end here and 'go look at covers' (English real translation, go to bed).

Hip, hip, hurra!

I don't go to museums enough anymore. Or do enough to find out about the artists and groups of artists that most intrigue me. For example, P. S. Krøyer. I once had to suffer through an 'easy-reading' book about his erstwhile wife, Marie Krøyer. The book was the suffering part (it was part of studying for one of the many exams one has to go through in order to show that one is learning Danish, and was really quite tedious), but the silver lining was that these people led interesting lives (in the case of Marie, it included a torrid affair; in the case of P. S., well, he was basically insane.) And produced attention-getting art.

The painting above is, of course, Hip, hip, hurra! and is normally housed in Gothenburg. But for now, it's closer to me, in Arken. With many other paintings from the 'Skagen painters'. I'd say come to the Copenhagen area to see it, though maybe not on a Sunday afternoon, as the place was packed (only this part of the museum; the other exhibits were conspicuously empty).

Altered meme states: a holiday post

O.K., before I change them, let me repeat the rules for the original meme, which the prolifically entrancing Smiler so kindly requested. Though apparently, it's not a 'meme', but a 'hoopla', as the original 'm' word is perhaps overrated, or wrong, or maybe just a wee bit annoying. Smiler has tagged me in order that I might give my own insights on what it is to celebrate Christmas in Denmark.

The Rules Of The Hoopla
1. List 12 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas.
2. Please refer to it as a ‘hoopla’ and not the dreaded ‘m’-word.
3. You have to specifically tag people when you’re done. None of this “if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged” stuff is allowed…then nobody ends up actually doing it. The number of people who you tag is really up to you — but the more, the merrier to get this ‘hoopla’ circulating through the Blog-o-sphere.
4. Don't forget to link back to the person who tagged you.
5. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it.

Now, here are some alterations. I'm no expert on Danish Christmas, having only been in Denmark for one of them, which was rather hazy and jetlaggy (I'd only just moved to Denmark two days previously, after a month visit to California). I have been around both before and after the twenty-erm, somethingth of December (more on this in item #1), so will be blogging about the holiday season (broadly speaking) in Denmark, from Christmas preparations to the New Year, which should also help make it all a bit more timely. And I really prefer 'meme' to 'hoopla'. Not sure why that is (well, actually I am sure, but it would take a post of it's own to explain), but there you have it. Otherwise, I'm following all the rules exactly as they are.

1. As I never tire of telling the Danes, they celebrate Christmas on the wrong day. By which I mean the 24th. Because who can resist sparring over something where both sides are convinced they are right, knowing that no one will ever be converted? When a Dane says Christmas, they mean the 24th, and not the 25th. Which is 1st Christmas Day (logical as it comes before the 26th, which is 2nd Christmas Day).

2. It's not Christmas without Christmas eating events with each and every circle of one's life, events called by the name 'Christmas Lunch' (julefrokost...more on that here). They can be simple or elaborate, and can happen as early as November, or increasingly, as late as January, just because all the good eating places book up for December. My small section of my work hasn't had one, but we are to start (this January) thanks to the efforts of a colleague who successfully made a connection between access to a work julefrokost and basic human rights. And she's not really that far off, in a Danish cultural context.

3. There are as many traditions for New Year's Eve as for Christmas Eve (erm, make that Christmas). My favorite is coming to be the Queen's speech. Margrethe II isn't the only monarch to make a yearly speech, but I believe she is the only one who does so live. Which leads to some interesting gaffes (from last night, apparently, this is time not only to greet 2008, but also to bid farewell to 2006...the subtitles said 2007, but she definitely said otherwise). I have come to believe that the New Year cannot be brought in without that 6 o'clock speech, and will even go so far as to borrow a television in order to watch it.

4. The other big reason to have a television on New Year's Eve is the (in my non-Danish opinion) not very exciting Dinner for One. This is always on right before midnight. 'The same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?' 'The same procedure as every year, James.' The best part is the extent to which everyone in the room (particularly the guys) knows every line, every drunken gaffe, and every interaction with the tiger-skin rug, discussing every move many seconds in advance.

5. I know of very few Danes who will allow themselves to pick a Christmas present at random; most people seem to make wish lists. Though I haven't for the past couple of years, and it seems to have worked out o.k. for me. Maybe this isn't the oddity, maybe the oddity is that my family doesn't make such lists.

6. It's all about food. I know that is true for any holiday (well, it is to me anyway), but especially for New Year's Eve. There seems to be a rule that the 31st of December is about decadence in food and drink, multiple courses, amazing desserts, alcohol in both quantity and quality. Which leads to all the effects you might imagine from such over-indulgence. This year's menu consisted of whole roasted sirloin accompanied by roasted red onions (marinated with a star anise and balsamic vinegar dressing), olive-infused mashed potatoes, parsley root salad with sun-dried tomatoes, and parsley pesto. That was just the main course. The only complaint was that I couldn't have all of the dessert (I'm of course not drinking at the moment, only tasting, so had to settle for only a spoonful of the homemade gin and tonic sorbet, which was really really good).


7. Christmas is also always about food, but the menu is pretty standardized. Roast duck or roast pork (with the skin). Various sidings. And risalamande with kirsebærsovs (erm, rice pudding with almonds topped with a cherry sauce). There should be a whole almond in the pudding, only one. The one who finds the almond gets a special 'almond present'. Apparently in some households, it's rigged so that each child gets an almond, and thus, a present. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that, but I suppose I still have a few short years to think about it.

8. On the other hand, Christmas in Denmark is all about kids. Maybe this is true everywhere, but I didn't grow up with Christmas (well, I didn't grow up without it, but as a non-Christian from a non-Christian family, it's not my holiday), so I'm not sure. Here, it is. I have lots of (adult) students who say that only the kids in their family get presents for example. Which I cannot countenance...adults need presents, too! Though I find no fault if the kids get more presents, or more elaborate ones. This says nothing about Denmark, but Thor and I have sort-of accepted that we may never be able to travel outside of Denmark over Christmas again. Something about grandparents, quality time with the new granddaughter, and vague threats of mafia hit men, I'm not sure I understand exactly what it's all about, but I have an understanding of the end result. Namely, that I'll have more to say about Christmas in Denmark after next year.

9. All holiday events may be marked by the giving of really silly gag gifts. Sometimes, games are played in order to win these silly gifts. Although I no longer remember the rules, I do remember a memorable julefrokost where two of Thor's relatives (well, a relative and the girlfriend of a relative) engaged in a game-long feud over who would end up with the present that Thor and I brought (which wasn't any less silly than any other gift, but it was the biggest, and so maybe seemed more likely to not be quite as silly). But that was the exception. Normally, silly gifts can be fun. We're still working out how to use that apple slicer/peeler/corer we got at our last Christmas occasion. We have not yet found a use for the plastic-broccoli topped knives stuck in the plastic broccoli sculpture...any ideas?

10. I miss eggnog, but I am somewhat contented with having gløgg. And especially æbleskiver. No, especially the combination. Thor's mom has a gløgg party every December, with homemade everything, and it is a highlight of the season. I could describe them in depth, but I might end up having to make some myself, and the stores aren't open today. So, it's best not to risk it.

11. The third reason to have a television for New Year's Eve is of course to know when it is officially midnight. And then, to see a live broadcast of a chorus of young women who sing a couple of hymns. The same hymns every year. As far as I can see, it's an excuse for everyone to sing along (the hymns are subtitled, and after a while, I suppose one learns the tunes) drunkenly and off-key. It's also a time for unattached men to comment on which of the singers seems particularly nice-looking.

12. After 'Dinner for One', after the clocks have struck midnight and the hymns have been sung (and to some extent before), everyone goes out and lights fireworks. Everyone. Thousands of fireworks. It's the most amazing thing. Even in the suburbs, even out in the boonies. It goes on for hours. Then the next day, the newspapers report on whether it was a good or a bad year for firework related death and destruction (this year, apparently there weren't as many eye injuries as in the past). You can see something that is in fact fireworks in the photo at the top of this post. The deeper message of this photo is that I got my first 'real' camera for Christmas, and clearly don't know what to do with it. The food photo is from the same camera, but not taken by me, which might explain the obvious difference in quality.

So, that's about it. For more traditions and such, please look here. And now, to the tagging. I hereby tag the following bloggers to blog about the holiday of your choice in the form of 12 facts. You may choose to label it a hoopla or a meme, and can of course blog about Christmas or something more timely. I look forward to seeing what you come up with, Devil Mood, Scholiast, Roro, Dok Holocaust, and Vanessa.

Might not make any sense if you've never heard a Dane talk about Denmark

At a crossing of paths, during a walk in Dyrehaven:

Thor: So, which way should we go...this way is to Bakken, and this way is to the great plain.

Me: I'll go for the great plain. And when you say 'great plain', what exactly do you mean by this?

Thor: I mean it's big, hence the name 'great plain'.

Kim: Yes, but is it really great in a universal way, or only in the same Danish way that makes Himmelbjerget into an actual mountain.

Thor: Well, you know the Serengeti? Well, it's...

Me: ...totally different from this place?

Thor: ...well, apart from the lions? It's basically the same thing.

Kim: O.K., so you're saying it's great in the sense that, Everest, yeah, it's tall all right, but nothing that could remotely compare to Rundetårn, right?

Thor: (wiping fake tears from his eyes) I'm so proud. You're finally becoming integrated.

*Photo: a view of the great plain. There are animals in the far distance (my camera was not quite up to capturing them), but they appear to be deer, not lions. NB: To a Dane, all objects of size in the world are inevitably compared to either Himmelbjerget, Rundetårn, or more likely, both.*

More places I might take you if you visit me: Odense

A week or so after our drip to Dragør, Annemarie and I went a bit farther afield, to the neighboring island of Funen, and it's main city, Odense.


Odense's main claim to fame is as the birthplace of H. C. Andersen, famed as a writer of fairy tales, along with multiple other lesser-known talents (poetry, paper-cutting, theater come to mind). And though he didn't live his whole life here by any means, he's everywhere in this town, starting from a sculpture across from the train station, where a trio of H. C. Andersen figures play a mystical game of twister surrounded by a variety of motifs from H. C.'s original stories.


Of course, there are other things in town besides the fairy tales, but I, at least signed up for the journey in order to go to the H. C. Andersen Museum, in what may or may not have been the building in which he was born. O.K., truth be told, I used to work in Fredericia, which is on the other side of the island of Funen from Zealand, the island where one can find Copenhagen, and my house. Which is to say that I passed through Odense multiple times a week for many months...without ever leaving the train there. And it seemed time to see what I had been missing. And I was, in fact, missing lots of H. C. Andersen imagery.


Even Hans Christian himself is there, waiting outside of a big hotel, always ready to talk to visitors. Here he is schmoozing with Annemarie. I got to schmooze with him as well, but we'll save that photo for another day, shall we? I have the idea that he is sitting there still, waiting for you to visit me, so that we can together make the pilgrimage to pay homage to the man directly, where you and he can sit a spell and converse.

Places I might take you if you visit me: Dragør

This weekend I am away, enjoying a delightful weekend break with a delightful friend. Which means that I won't have so much time to blog. Which isn't to say that I would dream of stopping with the daily blog posting. It just means I get to work a bit in advance. As this weekend is an Annemarie weekend, I'm posting with this theme, each day a post about a different place where Annemarie and I were over the summer...you know, that time of year with sun and warmth.


For this day trip, we chose a leisurely bike ride to the coastal town of Dragør . Getting there was relatively straightforward if a bit boring, taking us a bit less than an hour. To get back, we ended up taking a slightly more scenic route than we had perhaps intended, lasting well over 2 hours, basically circling the island of Amager. I wouldn't recommend it, except maybe I would; it was very picturesque (though the actual pictures turned out a bit blurry...just imagine fields with cows, and the vague outline of water in the far distance).


You don't have to wander far from Copenhagen to get to total countryside, with farms and horses, and just past those farms is Dragør, right by the sound, complete with view to Sweden. It has been in the past a fishing town, but is more a tourist town nowadays, not a place to see a lot of sites, but more to hang out in a downtown cafe and watch the other tourists. Oh, and there is also a fort.


After exploring the fort (such as there is to explore...but the view from the top is worth the climb), and once you've had your fill of people watching, then it's all about getting lost (well, sort of...it's not that big a town) in the narrow residential streets. It's very quaint, with bright buildings and just typical small-down Denmark.


We were also there in the middle of flower season. Brilliant colors, and even a butterfly or two. If you visit in the winter, I can't guarantee the flowers, but I can pretty much guarantee the quaint Danish charm.

Happy Thanksgiving!

This Thanksgiving greeting is being given to you by someone who spent almost the whole of the month convinced that Thanksgiving was next week. Only after seeing some posts in honor of the occasion earlier this week did it hit me. Today is actually the 4th Thursday in the month (I had to really sit down and do the math on this one, 'cause it seemed pretty early to me), and therefore...Thanksgiving.

It's a sign of how expat I have become that I'm so out of tune with this. A couple of years ago, I blogged about how I had tried to keep the Thanksgiving spirit alive wherever I was living, because it is in fact my favorite holiday. But clearly it was already too late. Last year I didn't do anything for it, not even a ceremonial blog post. This evening I will be dining with Thor and select family, but I've been told that the menu is hamburger. To be precise, it's fresh free-range hamburger, actually...the result of some shady meat-buying deal of the sort which apparently happens a lot in Denmark around this time of year, and which will happen for us this afternoon (actually for the second time...the first time leaving us with some obscene amount of lamb parts in the freezer...which would be more exciting for me if I actually liked lamb). I wasn't in on the original dealing, but I imagine something on the lines of 'Hey, you know my cousin's friend's daughter's co-worker at the bank...did you know her uncle in Jutland raises his own calves/goats/chickens/ducks? He'll be slaughtering some of them, cutting them up, and then selling the pieces from the back of a van from all sorts of obscure places all around Denmark...wanna go in on a cow/goat/chicken/duck with me? We can pick it up between the hours of 4:36 and 5:12 at the following location....'

So, anyway, Thanksgiving hamburger. It will be fun, to chat with the folks and such. But I do wonder, is this the Thanksgiving I want? For now it clearly is. But maybe it's time to start thinking about that whole 'happy family at Thanksgiving' thing. The reason that it's still my favorite holiday was because it was a tradition that we followed. Never with too many people, not too hyped up, but just really nice. It's with this holiday that I realize that becoming a mother means setting traditions for the family (yes, I know, Thor will be in on this as well...but in my life, it was my mom who had this role, and I feel it's something I'd like to try out). Leading to the question, is this a tradition I want? I suspect that the answer is yes. I know Thor and his family and his friends would be more than happy to participate in an exotic American holiday based solely around food and drink. But at the same time, I'm not too upset at not cooking up a turkey and all the fixings this year.

*Photo: of course, Norman Rockwell's Freedom from Want. I'd give one link for it, but it seems to be everywhere!*

When stuffed animals let loose

The purple guy with the shocking red hair is Harry, best known for his job as spokespuppet for DSB (Denmark's state rail). The handsome panda with the motorcycle rally red bandana is the eponymously-named Panda, who will surely get a post of his own someday. I'm not sure when I took this photo, or why. But based on Harry's on-screen persona, it somehow doesn't seem so far off. I'm sure he's a nice puppet, but he's, well, a little up-tight. So it makes sense that when he lets loose, he lets really, really loose.

Harry's been around for several years, hanging out with his non-puppet friend Bahnsen (played by well-known Danish actor Søren Pilmark). They are point-counterpoint, Bahnsen sensibly prefering the train, which is proven always to be faster, cheaper, and generally more efficient, over Harry's pig-headed (puppet-headed?) insistence on the supremacy of his old beat-up car. The two friends do everything together. Over dozens of commercials, they have gone on holiday, played tennis with Bahnsen's parents (both played by Søren Pilmark, revealing an eerily realistic looking talent for playing older women), gone out clubbing. Bahnsen has helped a drunken Harry to take the train home from a Christmas lunch, and has cycled Harry to the train station when his car has been out of commission. Despite all of this, the only person who seems to realize that Harry and Bahnsen are clearly more than just friends is me, or at least no one I've shared my theory with has agreed with me (and some have been quite passionate in their disagreement).

I've long had a crush on Harry, even since I first clued in to the fact that this strange-voiced purple fuzzy creature was a repeating character on television. As I've grown to understand what he's saying (though I still find him a bit difficult), I love him even more. And realized that he's probably a few fibers short of being a full-brained puppet. I realize that I share my love for Harry primarily with elementary school aged Danish children, but I don't care. Harry is everywhere...and it will only take a single trip to a Danish train station to realize that I mean that literally...so there is certainly enough of him to go around.

You can see some of Harry's starring roles here. I really do recommend them all. Find a Danish-speaking friend to help you, as there's some pretty funny wordplay, and interesting use of cultural stereotypes. Or just enjoy the visuals, as I spent so much of my first months in Denmark doing.

More election pondering

There's a lot of this election signage going around, outside of train stations, on fences and railings, across bridges. I find it fascinating, to follow the vibe of the election, what the parties are saying, and might be thinking.

I track how the passers-by have clearly interacted with the signs. Right-wing party candidates are far more likely to have their signs vandalized, I've noticed. Defacing the right-wing, anti-immigration Danish People's Party's placards and posters is actually somewhat of an art form, which I will eventually have my camera with me to photograph examples of. Actually, I could create a post just to talk about all the ways in which this party and its values are distasteful. And probably will.

I enjoy how the far left and far right tend to wrap around and meet each other on the other side. For example, the Danish People's Party and far-left Enhedslisten united in their rejection of the European Union.

I savor the headlines after debates between the two candidates for prime-minister, extolling all the errors and possible errors which each candidate made. The tabloids make it very clear, 'Fogh lied!', 'Thorning-Schmidt lied!' Eventually, I hope to make time to watch the debates myself, but for now, the spin is so much more fun.

I find out what the nine major parties are about, and then pontificate about them. Will Asmaa Abdol-Hamid's candidacy split Enhedslisten? Who will the New Alliance party give support to? Why did Helle Thorning-Schmidt ever think she could make an alliance with the Conservative Party?

In short, this election is exciting and interesting to me. It would all be so much more meaningful though, if I had the right to vote.

Two unscientific ways to call the upcoming elections

This post is about the upcoming Danish parliamentary elections (which are on the 13th). I'm entranced by how elections in Europe seem to spring up out of nowhere, whenever the ruling regime feels they are in a good position to keep their mandate. Yes, I know it is actually somewhat predictable, and follows its own logic, but to me, used to knowing when elections will be years, decades, centuries in advance, it always seems more than a bit random, this idea of calling for a vote whenever you feel like it, like some sort of nation-wide dinner party, only without food.

The shortness of the preparation time makes for very intense dynamics: in this instance, there was officially just under three weeks notice before the election date (though of course there are always rumors well beforehand, so it can't have been a total surprise to anyone), which means that Denmark is now in the midst of a 3-week obsessive media frenzy, which will last presumably until the election itself (when there will be equally obsessive spin regarding all aspects of the voting, who's in, who's out, who is working with whom, that kind of thing).

This time, I feel I have some basic idea of the different parties, where they generally stand on the issues (and which issues are important at the moment), some of the key characters, and so I'm really trying to pay attention. At this point, I can honestly say that I have no idea what will untimately happen (though I'd put my money on the current government staying in power, possibly with some change in support parties). However, I have found two prognosticating tools, which I would like to share with you.

1) Use Facebook. There are currently two groups which are relevant here, one attempting to find 100,000 voters who want to get rid of (current prime minister, and head of the middle-right wing Liberal Party) Anders Fogh Rasmussen, and another attempting to find 100,001 voters that do not want Helle Thorning-Schmidt (the head of the main opposition party, the middle-left Social Democrats) to be prime minister. At this point, the 'get rid of Fogh' party has 15,310 members. The 'we don't want Thorning-Schmidt to win' group has only 1,680. Clearly, this shows that either Fogh is in deep trouble, or that stereotypical college-age Facebook users are not representative of the general population.

2) Opinion polls. According to today's edition of free morning paper Urban, of all the 8 main party leaders, voters would most like to have Anders Fogh as their accountant or bank advisor. They would also rather buy a used car from him than from Helle Thorning-Schmidt (though interestingly the party leader they would most trust to sell them a used car is left-wing Socialist People's Party leader Villy Søvndal). But before you feel too sorry for Helle, consider that she is the one that voters would most like to hug. Especially the male voters (Thorning-Schmidt is a very elegant willowy blonde, which might explain this), but also the female voters (she and Villy Søvndal are tied for second behind centrist party New Alliance leader Nasser Khader, who is not horrible looking). Men would also choose to dance with Helle at a party, though women are more likely to dance with Villy or Nasser, or, if they aren't available, then maybe with Anders Fogh. So, what does this bode for the candidates? If the warm fuzzy candidate has an edge, then it might be time for a new government. If it's all about sound financial advice and overall sales, then I'd say that Anders Fogh has timed the election well.

This is not to dismiss other ways of predicting, from tea leaves to more serious polls (which I believe show Anders Fogh ahead, but with Thorning-Schmidt catching up fast). Can you add any techniques to my list? And for the American elections, which candidate would you most like to hug? Or buy a used car from?

*Grafitti in the hip, working-class Nørrebro area of Copenhagen, taken months ago, well before the election. This person clearly does not like Fogh. According to my preconceived notions, the sprayer of this sidewalk statement would vote for a very left-wing party, like maybe Enhedslisten.*

More posts about dogs and Danes

I have always been impressed by the overall high level of English among the Danes...but I've only just learned that they also speak dog. This sign, located at about canine level in front my local supermarket is a message to dogs whose owners are shopping inside, from a Fakta employee named Lone. It is entitled 'dog information', and the translation of the doggish is 'Calm down! It will only take 5 minutes.' What isn't immediately apparent is that the sign is lying...as I seem to keep pointing out (which leads to the question of how many times I can mention a store before I have to start a tag for it), the lines at this store are looooong. One can only hope that these dogs who read don't also have a good sense of time passing...but that being said, this dog seems perfectly o.k. with waiting.

Yep, still Christmas

Taken on two separate occasions in the past month at Tivoli.

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.

Eating, drinking, being merry

Here ye, here ye! Let the Christmas festivities commence! In fact, let them commence last week, there's no rush. The opening Christmas salvo? A julefrokost (in English, a Christmas lunch), sort of like the Norwegian julebord which Scholiast describes, except...well, pretty much like the Norwegian julebord which Scholiast describes! It's common for people to have multiple Julefrokosts each year, for example, one with the work as a whole, another for each department or project group, one for each circle of friends, one with each section of their family, one with each social group or club, you get the idea. As a result, the julefrokost season starts in mid-November, and continues well into January, just because everything gets booked up for December.

As I'm a social isolate (well, no, but it can seem that way on occasion) with a rather tangential relation to my employer, I only have the one julefrokost, with a section of Thor's family. We met up, as is the custom, at about 2pm, and spent several hours together eating and drinking and, well, being increasingly merry. This went on a surprisingly short time, until about 8pm, and the general level of sobriety was relatively high. This is comparing to last year, where we were not at all the last ones to leave, at around 11:30, and where at least one participant had to be held upright so that she could say goodnight to us without falling over. This may be just that it was in someone's house last year. This year, we were more traditional, and met in a small, candle-lit (and therefore very hyggelig) restaurant. I've taken some very badly-lit pictures (did I mention the restaurant was dark?) which I will share with you. As I have no one's permission to post their photos on blog, I'll make do with unattractive pictures of very tasty food and drink.

Eating: You can see the overall spread (it was a buffet) at the top of the post. Basically, the traditional Christmas thing, which means smørrebrød. The herring is in the front, along with some other fish dishes. After one has one's fish, then there are the meat dishes in the back. There is also some cheese for the third round, and risalamande with kirsebærsovs (cherry sauce) for dessert.

The star of the show is the flæskesteg, or roast pork. No, I lie, the star of the show is the crackling (flæskesvær in Danish), which is the crispy, incredibly fatty skin of the beast. I'm not kidding about it being fatty. I find the first bite of svær is sublime, the second one is not bad, the third bite is like eating a spoonful of lard. That's when I start offering the rest of mine to others at the table, and that's when I become the most popular person in the room. Until I run out, that is. Those Danes are serious about their crackling.

More eating:Why is it that the best foods look so intrinsically bad? This is the risalamande with kirsebærsovs. It's a rice pudding, with generous addition of slivered almonds. Traditionally, there should be a whole almond thrown into the pudding; the person who gets this whole almond is then given a 'mandelgave' or 'almond gift'. Thankfully this is not done by restaurants. It sounds a great idea for competitive people, but my one experience with it is that you can't enjoy your food, as each and every almond sliver could be 'the one', meaning that you spend several seconds with each spoonful gumming each and every almond to make sure you don't accidently mangle the winning token. Not that any Dane would admit to finding the almond at any point, to let everyone off the hook. Of course, any self-respecting Dane will have a whole almond in their pocket anyway, to show at the end of the pudding course, along with everyone else at the table showing their almonds brought from home...it's amazing anyone can ever actually prove that their's was the real thing. However, take away the needless competition, and what's left is one of the world's classic desserts.

Drinking:Snaps and beer. That's about it. If you're odd like me, and don't like either of these things, then other drinks may be provided. Not drinking alcohol is also perfectly acceptable, though it is harder to get into the spirit of things (pun intended) if everyone is pissed except you.

Being merry: It was the spirit of things that got the 'gående pik' (or walking dick) put in the above photo. This would be the category of being merry...there were different shaped packages waiting for all of us when we got to the table. They all contained a tiny pair of folding scissors, except for Thor's Dad's package, which contained this cute toy. There was also the singing portion of the evening, which was blessedly brief. Though the verse where we were wearing fake buck teeth (made with brown sugar cubes with a line drawn down the middle, surprisingly effective in the dim light) was highly amusing (and too embarassing to even keep, much less post, photos of).

So, that's the opening of the Danish Christmas season...what about you? Has your Christmas begun yet, and if so, how?