Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Canterbury!!

So we made it and so far so good!










Here's our car... note the steering wheel is on the wrong side. This has led my husband to say, whilst driving, "This is sooooooo weird!" We're glad to have the GPS, so that we aren't entirely relying on my navigation skills (normally excellent but I keep staring at stuff and then shout, "hey, did that sign just say exit 8??!!??"). We also had a toll bridge to cross that had my husband a bit worried (his wallet with British pounds was in the back) until I whipped out my little wallet of foreign coins (in this case UK/EU) and handed him £2. He asked, "Do you just keep wallets of foreign currency?" And I replied, "Why, yes. Yes I do. I have one for Israel, one for Jordan, one for the US and one for the UK and the EU." "How often do we go to England that you need a wallet for it?!" He was amazed and, I think, quite a bit pleased that I am prepared for ALL kinds of things.

We were last in England in March 2008. I think the trip before was in 2005 or 06. That's often enough for me to keep my spare change. Besides, you never know when you might have a trip somewhere else that might go through London.





We saw the cathedral... which I couldn't get all into one shot. I'll go through my husband's photos later, but you get the idea... It was VERY big and VERY cool. It's surrounded by ruins because stupid Henry VIII went and knocked the abby and surrounding buildings down when he broke away from the Catholic Church. I will admit, it does make for some very lovely gardens and pictures.









I am not the photographer my husband is. But I did take this one fantastic (in my mind) photo through sheer not-understanding-basic-photography-101: I took a picture INTO the sun.



It's purple... and ghosty. Whoooo!!!! Anyone else feel the ghost of St. Thomas Becket lurking behind them? BOO!








Right, time to run off and get in a museum before we head to Dover, where I will endevor NOT to fall off the White Cliffs.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Some more on Islam and Denmark and then I'll find something else to write about....

I take the following from the article I found through the Wikipedia site Sigurt (a commenter on the post below) suggested... and I happen to know one of the authors. :-)

LINK to article

Some quotes:

"Currently, although more than twenty informal mosques exist in Copenhagen, in classrooms and basements spread throughout the city, there is no single gathering place for Muslims in Denmark. On Eid and other important holidays that necessitate large groups of Muslims worshipping together, they must resort to renting out conference halls or stadiums, Walliat Khan of the Copenhagen City Council explained in “Amager Bladet” on April 3, 2001."

(The only purpose built mosque is Nusrat Djahan, built in 1967. As Wikipedia states: "Other mosques exist but are not built for the explicit purpose. It is not forbidden to build mosques or any other religious buildings in Denmark but there are very strict zoning laws. ")

“The Constitution guarantees freedom of religion, but not religious equality,” writes Jørgen Bæk Simonsen (Simonsen 2001: 3).

“There should be freedom of religion but not equality of religion. Denmark is first and foremost a Christian country, and we should support our religion,” he [Peter Skaarup, DF member] says.

Jørgen Bæk Simonsen of the Carsten Niebuhr Institute of Near Eastern Studies at the University of Copenhagen sees the lack of a mosque in Denmark as an embarrassment for Danes. “There definitely should be a mosque – it’s depressing that we’ve had Muslims for thirty years and we’re still denying them this basic respect,” he says.



The article also details the ongoing problems the Danish Muslim community has - lack of unity, for one. This makes sense if you think about the various different Islams that make up Greater Islam, in the same way that there are many Christianities that make up Greater Christendom. Example: I am NOT a Lutheran. Don't expect me to Lutheranize and don't expect me to frequent a Lutheran church. I've opted out of participating in church taxes, every fiber of my being cries out for separation of church and state, but it does rankle a bit that were I to decide to take part in organized religion, I would have a heck of a time getting to the one and only Anglican Church, which is in Copenhagen (but hey, 8 times a year the priest comes to Århus!).

Now I'm pretty laid back about churchy things. I was married by a Lutheran minister in a Lutheran church because the options were very limited (my father-in-law is a Lutheran minister, ponder that for a moment). But not everyone is and so trying to get various factions of Islam to work together is like asking the Irish Protestants and Catholics to build ONE church that will satisfy BOTH their needs.

A little crazy, if you ask me.

So what is the solution? I'd say the big one is changing what "integration" means in Danish. I'll wait until you all stop laughing. I can tell you what won't work: maintaining the status quo. The way we're headed will only continue to polarize the two sides and driver deeper divisions between nye Dansker and, for lack of a better term (and I approve the irony of my new term) gammel Dansker.

It's time we all became nye Dansker: Amerikaner-Dansker, Englænder-Dansker, Pakistaner-Dansker, etc.

Join me Danes, be part of New Denmark!

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Ah the humor of it all...

So in order to understand why this is so funny, you must first be aware of Denmark's newest brilliant move to counter extreme Islam.

Take away the passports of Muslim children so they can't be sent back for "reeducation." Best line: "I think it’s strange for these people to have chosen to come to Denmark and then, when their child becomes too Danish, they send them back to be re-educated in the parents’ culture, religion and traditions." Henrik Dam Kristensen, Social Democrats' spokesman on integration.

Because, you know, god forbid that muslim children learn about their parents' culture.

Okay, I'll bite. There are those who are sent back for intensive Islamic training and there are those who are sent back to get married. But can someone tell me how many children visit the "old country" every year? If there are 14 cases of re-education, how many are completely banal? You know, meet the family, see the sights, learn to speak Arabic without that stupid Danish accent, etc. Is that worth stripping the right to freedom of movement for an entire section of society? Many of these children are Danish citizens for crying out loud! Is Denmark saying, yeah, they're citizens, but only second class, so they don't get to have the rights *real* Danish citizens enjoy.

And now the irony: read about what happened at the international summer school in Funen?

See, a bunch of Danish parents, living abroad, sent their children TO DENMARK, AND I QUOTE, "to learn more about their heritage." (And they now might have swine flu. But that's not the purpose of this story.)

So, it's okay for Danish parents to send their child for Danish re-education because it's about learning about their heritage. But GOD FORBID that immigrants to Denmark do the same, because they've chosen to come to Denmark and so should be dropping all things related to their past, including culture, religion, and traditions (ie HERITAGE).

The comment at the bottom of the second article had me in hysterics. Seasonticket, you make me laugh my ass off.

Here's an idea for you, Denmark. Let your muslim minorities open some damn mosques and schools HERE. Then children wouldn't have to leave the country to learn about their heritage and you could, theoretically, keep a watch over what they are learning. Maybe, *GASP* some of you could even go and learn something about the culture that lives alongside of yours! Stop forcing us all the pretend that we had no culture or heritage before we washed up on the shores of this cold misbegotten country. (Oh, I'm an American and so I don't have culture or heritage? Well, let me strip those Levi's and Nike's off you, take your hot dogs, potatoes [yes, you idiot, they come from the Americas and if you deny the US culture and heritage, you are denying the rest of the Americas too, seeing how we were all settled at the same time by a bunch of loser immigrants from Europe], tomatoes [sorry, that too], and leave. Oh, and shut down your movie theaters, because we invented the motion picture industry and even your damn Lars von Trier would have been stuck depressed and alone if it wasn't for Kodak [American!!].)

Sometimes the hypocrisy of it all really stings.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Procrastination

I have to go up to the library and get two books. I've put it off for days. In fact I've put it off for so long that if I don't go and get the books, they'll put them BACK and I'll have to do the whole rigamarole of ordering the books all over again.

I SHOULD have gone yesterday, when my husband was in the throws of computer insanity and rather touchy and therefore not much fun, and the SUN was out. The current blackness of the clouds means my lights are on.

MY LIGHTS ARE ON IN DENMARK AT 4pm IN THE SUMMER!!

Horrors they are black looming clouds.

So it's going to rain.

Well, I don't really want to walk up and back to the library in the rain. My excuse is that the books will get wet, but mostly I just don't want to walk 20 minutes there and 20 minutes back in the warm and wet. Yes, to make things worse, it's rather warm. Have I mentioned that the University is UPHILL?? So I'll be hot and wet and SWEATY??

Therefore.... I think I'm going to take the bus.

*full body shiver*

I'm terrified. What if I get on the wrong bus? What if I get on the bus going the WRONG WAY??

This has happened. Quite a lot, in fact. I'd go so far as to say that I've spent more time on the WRONG buses than I have on the RIGHT busses.

I've checked the rejseplannen twice. And they make less sense than ever. I can't seem to get a simple map showing me what busses go where and the rejseplanner wants me to walk half way across town to catch a bus that may go right next to my home... but the map provided seems to indicate that the bus will FLY through parts of down town. Have the folks at rejseplanner been reading too much Harry Potter?

Gone onto the midttrafik web-site, and they want me to take completely different busses. However, as they have proper maps and I can see that I can take either of two busses from RIGHT next to my home that will drop me off RIGHT next to the University... I think. I will go with this option.

All I have to do is find my bus tickets.

Can you tell I am procrastinating? I really don't want to take the bus. I REALLY REALLY am afraid of busses.

Oh geez.... here I go.

***UPDATE: I did it!! I took the bus there and back again! Without help from my husband, so I feel quite triumphant. I bought clip card from the supermarket (the only one I had was for Copenhagen, not so helpful here) without any trouble. I knew I needed a two zone card and I had just enough money. I did stand at the wrong bus stop for 5 minutes (the construction in downtown Århus is a NIGHTMARE) but noticed the "Obs" sign (Danish for "hey, you, stupid, notice THIS") and since it contained words I do not know I grabbed the first passing Dane who looked between 20 and 30 years old (more like to speak English and be comfortable with it) and I grabbed the right one. Not only did he tell me I was at the wrong stop, he gave me directions to find the right stop for the bus I was trying to take (I don't know all the street names so this was INCREDIBLY helpful). Caught the bus. Got off at the correct stop. Had a bit of a problem finding the bus stop for the way home, but after a bit of looking, I found it. No Danes had to be accosted. Got on the right bus. Got off at the right stop. YES!! And instead of two books waiting for me, I had 6, so I'm glad I took the bus. Why must I keep ordering such hefty books?? I still ended up sweaty because it is very humid and I was terribly stressed. My knees are still shaking!! But I did it!!***

Monday, July 20, 2009

Drug seeking

Ah, those allergies. Just when you think you've got the balance of drugs to tissue right, something will change.

It's been raining here in Denmark. Rain normally minimizes the allergies. You know, smashes the pollen into the ground. But not this year. This year I think my allergies have decided to be proactive and behave as if I'm always being subjected to pollen, just to save time.

What is it with my immune system? Why does it hate pollen so? It's not like pollen is out lurking behind some bush getting ready to leap out, steal my purse and knife me in the bargain. Why can't we get along?

I've tried having a stern talk with my immune system. But it keeps insisting that the pollen is a virus attempting to invade my body. It says that I'll be glad for it overreacting when the body snatchers come and only those with overactive immune systems will be prepared and only the sneezers will survive.

I think it's being a little over dramatic. And having a stuffy head already makes me feel like a pod person.

But I must say I am getting very good at getting allergy medication in different countries. It helps if you have the box with the drug in question written on the side. Because no everyone can say "pseudoephedrine hydrochloride" let alone SPELL it.

Pseudoephedrine is a fabulous drug. It clears up the sinus like nothing else and can take a barely functioning archaeogoddess dying of sinus congestion in the field to a perky alert and downright spunky archaeogoddess digging machine in just over half an hour. In the US, where they worry about these things, pseudoephedrine is a controlled substance... by controlled I mean you have to show identification and fill out a little book just to get a small packet of the damn things. I can tell you, when your head is going to fall off your shoulders and go rolling down the street, the last thing you want to do is bend over and sign a form saying that you will not make methamphedamines with said medication. Dude! You think I may waste this precious product on making something that I couldn't snort up THIS NOSE if I wanted to!?! Honestly!!

Israel was pretty nice about it. No signing anything, but I couldn't buy more than 30 pills at a go. I didn't bother to ask for more than one pack in Denmark, I was just ecstatic that I could get 24 pills for 64 dkk!!

Bless you Denmark and your generic medication!!

I really ought to go see the doctor and have a little chat about my options allergy-wise. Shots? Different medication? Holes in the head? Hypnosis?? But if they want to take blood for an allergy test it means I have to go...er... dry.... for two days. Gnugh. Why don't you just ask me to stop drinking coffee while you are at it!? Kill me, go on!!

Until then, I'll just continue to trot down to the pharmacy every month for my pill popping needs. At least until winter when I have 5 blessed months sans sneezing (except those weeks around Christmas because I am rather allergic to Christmas trees).

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Marriage: a year later

Here's something I didn't expect: to be called by all and sundry to be wished a happy anniversary.

Not that I'm complaining, no one called before noon and the fact that we were still sound asleep when people did call, because my Dane worked the night shift at the taxi, is no one's fault but my own for forgetting to turn off the phone.

But how was I to know that people call and wish you a happy anniversary? We don't do that where I come from. Well, at least not in my family.

****UPDATE: My family did call to wish me a happy anniversary. Good heavens! I guess this is something one is supposed to do!! I now feel incredible guilt for not contacting friends and family to wish them happy anniversaries. To all of you out there who have an anniversary to celebrate, no matter what it is or when: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!****



The Dane is working taxi today, but has called and informed me that he's gotten us a table at my favorite Mexican restaurant, because he knows me and my stomach.

That's love.

I imagine that had we more money, he'd be taking me somewhere fancy, but we are currently holding back on spending because we are finally taking a honeymoon.

Sorta.

Is it a honeymoon when one person gets to go see a bunch of archaeological sites that interest her and the other person is along for the ride? I'm not sure. But the Dane has indicated that we should take this extended weekend vacation because we have yet to honeymoon.... so I'm thinking this may count as it.

Does that mean I should buy something sexy?? Not that he'd care, particularly. This is the man who can't figure out why I bother to shave as it is time consuming and sometimes bloody and he doesn't mind either way.

But back to the "honeymoon." We have a wedding to attend in the UK. Cambridge, no less. Yes, I move in exalted circles. Or know too many academics. And I may have mentioned before my Anglophilic tendencies. My one regret in life is that I never went to school in England. (Really, is that all I regret? Yeah, cause if I'd gone when I wanted to go I would have saved myself much heart ache and stress... but then I wouldn't be married to this lovely man.... but then I wouldn't have to be learning to speak Danish.... but then.... screw it, no regrets! I regret NOTHING!! You hear me?? NOTHING!!)

Lost my train of thought... Speaking of which, have I told you the story of the time I was on a train in England and it got lost?? Yeah, totally went down the wrong track at a switch and instead of going to Birmingham we went to Shrewsbury. (Great set of mystery novels set in medieval Shrewsbury. Brother Cadfael. Played by the delightful Sir Derek Jacobi, who was a GENIUS in "I, Claudius" and possibly the reason I decided to go into Roman archaeology.) Had I not be completely confounded by this change of events I might have wandered off to have a look at the cathedral, but I was trying to get to Wales that day. Got there eventually. But, seriously, who heard of a train getting lost??

So my darling husband, who knows that I have this small obsession, suggested we take a few days and go see some things in England that I may have always wanted to see.

Does he have any idea how many things I want to see? Yes, he does. Now. Poor thing.

He started it! He asked me if I could go to England for a week, with a car, what would I like to see? I said: Roman stuff.

Now, in a week, I suppose I could go from Dover to Hadrian's Wall, but that sounded a little intense. And there are LOADS of Roman remains spread all over England. So I opted for Roman England - South. Or as it is entitled on my itinerary: From Canterbury to Cambridge.

We'll be seeing:

It's actually a combination of Iron Age and Roman and Medieval sites, heavy British history pre-Tudors. (Sorry Laura, I am not going to any Tudor castles. Maybe some other time.)

I'm thrilled to bits and ever so excited. My passport has returned with new name and snazzy photo. Of course, now my name on my passport does not match the one on my license, so I hope they'll let me drive the car anyway. They might not on principle, I am a little too eager to get behind the wheel on the wrong side of the road!

So there it is. I've been married for a year and THIS time I don't need heavy medication or therapy. I'm going out for Mexican food tonight and I'm off to look at old piles of rock and eat mountains of fish and chips in a week! Best of all, I'm married to a man who finds all of this not only acceptable, but enjoyable and encourages my habit.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Dear Denmark... A series of open letters to the authorities

Dear Denmark,

What is with all the bugs? No, seriously. Gnats up the nose, in the eyes, down the cleavage (of which, yes, there is not so much, but still), what gives?

Love,
Archaeogoddess



Dear Denmark,

Would you please train your men to STOP PEEING ON EVERYTHING??

Case in point: today one of your road workers working on the road right in the middle of Vesterport Torv decided to relieve himself on his vehicle. Presumably he was not intoxicated (although, I am noticing that many of your men often are). Presumably he could read (you pride yourself on your education system). Why did he not avail himself of the public toilet located not 10 meters from his work zone? Why did he not avail himself of the restaurant toilet that I am SURE the manager of said location would have let him use without purchase of goods? Why would you pee in the street, in front of God and Country, on your own vehicle? WHY???

No, he was not a "dirty foreigner" and I take offense at that supposition.

Love,
Archaeogoddess



Dear Denmark,

You tried to foil my attempts to fill out your convoluted paperwork required for all manner of bureaucratic business. You asked me to provide paperwork I did not need. You asked me to provide paperwork I did not have. You asked me to spend money to do something you ought to have let me do last year FOR FREE. You asked me to spend said money without the guarantee that this would all work out.

But I triumphed nevertheless!

You have failed this time.

Until we meet again for temporary residence permit renewal, I remain respectfully yours,
Archaeogoddess

Friday, July 10, 2009

[Expletive deleted] Rice!!

Boy is it hard to get back in the cooking saddle. I'd been enjoying not cooking for a month and then suddenly here I am, nothing to do but try to smash 3 chapters of dissertation into one, shorter, streamlined chapter, research iconography of elite art in the 2nd-3rd centuries, see if there is a class distinction between Roman cults (anyone? anyone?), find two German articles I *know* I've translated, translate some other stupid German encyclopedia entries that will only vex, write an intelligent chapter on some Roman coins, and cook. Seriously, I have OODLES of time on my hands. Look, I'm blogging!!

Whipped up a darned good curry last night, having discovered at some point in the past that one can use one's immersion blender as a food processor, even without the special "food processor" attachment. Just remember to wrap plastic wrap around the top of the bowl, 'cause that stuff flies and stings if you get it in your eyes.

And because I am SO used to making rice, I didn't need to look at the package, I just dumped 6 dl rice into 4 dl of boiling water.

Result: not quite cooked rice.

It's 4 dl of rice to 6 dl boiling water.

Oh.... darn! Darnation! Tarnation! Consternation! Antimatterization!!

Undercooked rice is chewy. And not in a good way. The curry helped. It was a little wetter than it should have been. But if the rice had been properly cooked it would have been a brilliant meal. As it was, three stars for effort.

Want to know another brilliant idea that has been less than stellar in it's realization? Changing my name. Last name. Couldn't do it when I got married because I needed a CPR number to officially change my name. And now I do. Sooooo, my passport is expiring and therefore so is my visa. I think to myself, hey, clever idea this, lets do all that paperwork NOW, seeing how you only have to leave the country again in... less than three weeks.

Yeah, I'm a flippin' genius. Husband thinks so too. Full of pride for his brilliant wife.

Anyway, you know in America, when we get married, that little piece of paper is all we need to show to change our names? (If you didn't, now you do.) Not so in Denmark. I have to fill out forms and bring 440 kr to some biddy in a church office down the road, a church mind you that I was NOT married in and do not pay taxes for and apart from one evening sneaking in to see what it looked like have never been to... Hold it, I've lost my train of thought.

Okay... blah blah blah... and take these papers there along with my money... and see if she'll let me change my name so that I can take another piece of paper and send it to the Embassy so that they can finish my passport with correct name.

And with a kick ass photo, by the way. Ought to be, I paid a fortune for it, just to make sure it was done right and I didn't have to have a discussion about it. American passport photos are different from Danish ones making life a bit more difficult when trying to find someone who can do it without making a huge issue out of it. I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. Please don't trim the photo for me. You gotta step closer, I need to be bigger that that. No, it must be in color. No, I have to face forward. No I am NOT tucking my hair behind my ears, it's a stupid thing to ask people to do, honestly, EARS? And, yes, I am going to gently smile with no teeth because this is not a mug shot, people, I have not broken any laws that you know of.

Have you seen the new American passports? Blah! Lame-o! And they feel cheap. My freedom was paid for with the blood of patriots and that guy who stood up too fast to ask his general "is it over?" I expect a little more of my official documentation. Some gravitas. And better lamination.

If you happen to be wondering why on god's green earth am I changing my name... well, I've googled myself and did you know I am also an OB/GYN, a photographer, a softball player, and married to a bald guy named Ryan? I've become an Episcopal deacon too... but that might conflict with the Ugandan mission I am on for the Mormon's. Makes sense I am a Mormon, seeing how my other husband Ed is with me in Africa. Wonder where I left Ryan?

When I google my soon to be new name... I discover I'm already mentioned in my own grandfather's obituary. Odd. Way to go Mom and Dad!

But other than that, there isn't anyone by that name. I'll be unique!!

There were other considerations, my heritage, my utter lack of publications, my evolving views of feminism, blah blah blah. But being the only person on the world wide web with my name was pretty much the kicker.

Tonight, when you are NOT BURNING YOUR RICE because you have now LEARNED FROM MY ERRORS, google yourself and see who else you are.

It's WAAAAY too much fun.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Back in Denmark

I would write about how much I hate traveling, but love arriving (especially when my Dane comes to pick me up at the airport as a SURPRISE!) except that there is a PHENOMENAL summer storm going on.

I love summer storms.

I am not so big on thunder... but for some reason, when I know I am safe and sound in my home, I can really enjoy it (although as I sit here I keep jumping at every crash and boom).

I'm not the most romantic person I know, but when I was little I used to dress in my mom's nylon nightgowns (you know, the clingy ones) and run around outside in the summer rain while flailing my arms in dramatic gestures. I'd often call out to the cats, having no "lost love" to search for. I was more into the drama than the romance, I think. And I really liked the summer mud between my toes.

I was a weird child.

Now I have the urge to go stand in the rain, barefoot, and laugh at the sky.

But I am totally going to skip the nightgown bit.

Friday, July 03, 2009

Research, the Beach, and the fruitless search for hair cream

It's been a few days, but I've been researching. Not really much to write about on that front.

Although, what is with moldy books?? Are libraries furious with me for not following in my mother's footsteps (she's a librarian) or for abandoning research for the joys of fieldwork? Of all the molds I'm allergic to, the mold that grows in British Museum catalogues is possibly the worst. Right up there with back-filled squares of molding hay, if nothing else.

But what can you do?

'Round these parts a hermetically sealed library is a great idea, but impractical. The cost of trying to suck the humidity out of the air would put you in the poor house. I was in a humidity controlled room the other day and the SOUND the machine made when it came on was incredible. The intake vent could have sucked my head right into it if I hadn't made sure to stand well clear. But at least the humidity was at 18%. I've spent longer periods of time in a dryer storage facility and my knuckles cracked and my lips bled afterwards. Ugh, who knew you needed to bring lip balm and hand lotion when viewing old stuff??

Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked. I was pouring over books and sneezing wildly for a few days. Then found everything else I needed on the internet. I then confirmed my findings with a known professional, always a good plan. Finally, I am spending some time doing the odds and ends that one has to do when doing research. Like turn notes that say "see M for #388, BMC??" into English. And delete all the "WHAT THE F(*#&$ IS THIS S#*$U???" which often turns up in my drafts.

Is the excitement wearing you out? You look tired.... oh, no, that's just boredom, my mistake.

Anyway, I'm flying out on Sunday, back to Denmark, where I will decompress and then once again shift brain gears. At the moment I can't even think about the things I have to do when I get back, as I'm too busy thinking about the things I need to do here.

I did, however, get in a trip to the beach. Woot! I put on a bathing suit, but didn't go in. I'm not really one for getting into the water. I much prefer to play in the sand. And people watch. Here's the beach, with ancient ruins (the whole hill there is a ruin, it's a tel site, one of those places where superimposed cities create a hill over time) and modern power plant, and some beach folk who thought it was a good idea to pitch tents on a windy beach. They must be well staked (THE TENTS you weirdos!), because those tents didn't move an inch over the hours we were there. Nor did the wind die down. (We were behind a wave breaker further up and so didn't have the gale these guys did.)

It was a good break before the last push to get stuff done. Tonight we feast! Tomorrow I do more meet-and-compare-notes and then I pack up and leave the hot. Back to the cold. Back to pork and cheese-and-meat and my beloved Dane, who will not be getting his favorite brand of hair cream, which I have lovingly brought back for him for years now, because it cannot be found in all the places I have looked and I am out of time to look in other places.

My favorite moment in the hair cream search: talking to a lovely young scarfed pharmacist if she carried this cream. "Why not this cream?" she said, holding up the bottle. "No," I said, "I'm buying this for my husband and he was most specific." She gave me the most knowing nod EVER. Husbands, the impossible species.

Anyone know a good hair cream in Denmark for short VERY thick, wavy hair that seems to be a tad on the dry side?