10 clues...

10 clues that I'm not a Dane and still a Californian (mishmashing two current memes here)

1) I hate licorice. HATE it. Can't stand the flavor, the smell, the feel. Ugh. I was told that eating licorice would make me a "real" Dane... like I needed another excuse to stay away from it! YUCK!

My nightmare!

2) I'm always cold. Really really cold. Summer in Denmark is like spring in CA. While Danes are passed out from the heat, collapsing on sidewalks in puddles of vanilla ice cream (pst, Denmark, it comes in more than three flavors, you know... no, Turkish Pepper is NOT a flavor, that's an abomination and I think the Turks are offended that you'd name that stuff after them) I'm thinking it may be time to take off my sweater.

Spicy salty licorice flavored ice cream... Never mind the above, THIS is my nightmare!

3) I never thought of myself as a vegetable nut. But I can't get over the lack of greens on many dining tables. Where're the veggies, folks? Boiled potatoes and iceberg lettuce are close, but sorry, you only get an E for effort.

Danish Food Pyramid

4) I don't "do" Danish modern. I think it looks like some form of antiseptic hell from which there is no escape. Arne Jacobsen chairs? Please tell me the decimal point on that price tag is misplaced, it looks like a reject from a failed Jetsons movie and I am not going to have that in my house. Homes should reflect your personality and by the look of your two-toned empty bland existence, we aren't going to have much to say to one another.

Blame the other 5.3 million people who bought the EXACT SAME THING!

5) I laugh loud. And often. Even when I'm alone in front of the computer.

6) A three hour car ride is NOTHING. Back in the day, we'd drive that far just to hang out in San Francisco for a few hours and then drive three hours home. I once drove 6 hours to buy a cake from the Madonna Inn and then 6 hours back again.

Madonna Inn cakes: total sugar overload

I love to drive. I love to sing along with the radio as I drive. I love being driven somewhere so I can look out the window and shout excitedly about what I just saw. And I love driving on freeways. Proper freeways. If I can, I'll change 5 lanes of traffic just because I can.

7) I heart Disneyland. The original Disneyland. All other theme parks pale in comparison. I can't explain it. Other parks have bigger faster rides - but for me, nothing beats the Jungle Cruise and the terrible terrible jokes therein. This is the epitome of my childhood.

8) I hate public transportation. Scares the crap out of me. Did you know there are no homeless people in LA? There's just people waiting for the BUS! Ha! Something like 50% of the bus drivers in San Francisco are drunk while on the job and at least one little old woman gets run over by the bus she just alighted from ever year.

Muni vs. Porn Shop... seriously.

9) I am not comfortable being naked, especially around people I don't know. Don't ask me to go to a sauna or to anywhere that involves communal showers and group nudity. And I will not be naked in front of men I am not having intimate relations with. ABSO-FREAKIN'-LUTELY NOT.

Trying to find a picture to sum up this sentiment made me glad I don't work in a shared space. Definitely *not* work friendly.

10) The sun sets IN THE OCEAN, darn it. And it's not a wimpy ocean, either. While I've put my feet in many so-called "oceans" and "seas" the Pacific is still the only REAL ocean. Want to gain a healthy respect for the ocean? Go stand on a Fort Bragg beach during a storm. (Actually, stand a healthy distance from the water, that sh*t'll kill you.)

Yeah, you know you wish you lived here too. Wait... I don't live there any more! *Sob* Now I'm homesick! Thanks internet meme. Thanks a lot.

Free!... Okay "free-er"...

So today I arranged to take time off from Danish. I've even contacted my case worker to see if I can extend my 3 years of free Danish for 5 months (since that's the amount of time I'll be out of the country - I'm just going to have to suck up the loss of this month since I don't really have that good of an excuse for missing). I can now reset my alarm for 8 am instead of 6:45.

Now I just have to get myself up and out of bed and off to "work."

But I also get to stay up late working because I don't have to get up early if I stay up late working. Does that make sense?

Example: I have had to stop working at 7 or 8 so that I have time to eat, so I have time to do homework, talk to the husband via skype and get to bed at a reasonable hour.

This means that even if I'm in the middle of a thought or an article, I've had to put it down and walk away. I hate that. If I'm having an intellectual moment DO NOT BREAK MY CONCENTRATION!!

Interrupted thoughts at the computer lead to sleeplessness. But I couldn't get up and work because I needed to get up early for Danish! Vicious cycle at play there.

I think I'll scan my Danish study books into my computer, though. Just in case I get bored in Qatar.

Do you think I need a doctor's note?

So I've got this job in Qatar, which will whisk me out of the country on October 31st and keep me gainfully employed until the end of March. I also have a dissertation to complete... which alas, according to my readers is NOWHERE NEAR COMPLETION. Thanks, guys, thanks a lot. I have a chapter for a book due October 1st. I also have Danish class.

I think Danish class is going to have to go. For the time being.

If I'm supposed to spend every waking moment at the library, which SOME people think I ought, then I can't very well spend my mornings in Danish. Especially if I want to spend more than just a few hours in the library, since it closes and they kick people out. Unless I go to the other library, but then I do want to be able to go home and eat and sleep and stuff.

And why do I have to spend all this time in the library anyway? I can't eat in there. I can't talk to myself or print out articles I'm interested in, I can't go on-line because the stupid internets is blocked (gotta talk to the secretary about that), and I get annoyed with other people making noise. I'm the only one allowed to make noise!!

So I have to quit Danish to spend time in a library, which I do not want to do, because it is not as fruitful as some professors imagine in order to finish a dissertation that has quickly spun out of control and is no longer the least bit interesting to me, having veered off into art history which was something I never got a degree in, not liking it all that much and all, and continues to evolve into a larger more horrible beast than ever discussed years ago when I took on this madness.

Yup, I'm miserable and depressed. I think I'm over my cold, for the most part, but the throbbing pain between my shoulder blades refuses to let up. Is that you, Stress? I thought as much.

Anyway, I made my decision to drop Danish AFTER I'd bought plane tickets to see my husband. Vacation was originally planed around my Danish vacation time, which now seems a bit silly. BUT on the other hand, it's also Århus University vacation, so library hours will be shortened and I should be able to get a week away from the library RIGHT?? I'll be taking my crap with me, so it's not like a proper vacation, but I don't have time for that stuff. I'll probably end up in a library in Holland anyway.

I'm so sick and tired of this crap. I've been working for years on this thing and any time I think I get close to being done, there comes an email saying "no, you just need to change ALL OF IT to WHAT I'M INTERESTED IN and THEN it'll be okay."

It's really hard to listen to people saying "stick with it, it'll be done soon" when it won't be soon. No, I'm not stopping and dropping out YET. I've got to see what is wanted NOW for this demonic document first.

Gah, I should have dropped out five years ago when it all started going wrong. I could have learned Danish and been half way to a degree in veterinary medicine by now. Now I don't even have time to learn frekking Danish!!

Finding pleasure in simple pursuits

This is made slightly more difficult because I think I may be getting a cold. Sore throat and buzzy ears. I think today's simple pursuit will be ice cream and hot tea. Not together, mind you. 'Cause that would be gross. But I'd love other suggestions for simple sick-day remedies (except for chicken noodle soup. I hate chicken noodle soup. Unless I've been vomiting, because chicken noodle soup tastes the same coming up as going down, so I don't mind eating it.)

Updates and things

Boy it's been a while! I managed to post a quiz and I've run around commenting on some blogs, but otherwise it's been all anxiety, highs, and lows in the archaeogoddess universe. I've written about a gazillion blog posts in my head... often at 2 am when I trying to get myself to sleep and I'm too tired to get up and write them down, but it doesn't keep the brain from type type typing away behind my sandpaper eyes.

News:

• I am going to Qatar for 5 months, beginning Oct. 31st for a PAID archaeology gig. This is excellent because I need the money and I need to start building a career, neither of which is happening because I spend all my time researching for a never-ending dissertation. (See below)
• Because I'm going off to work and contribute to the mortgage, my advisors on my dissertation don't think I'll finish any time soon. In fact, they've suggested that I've got so much work to do that I should go live in the library. Somehow I've got to balance Danish class with research. Somethings going to give. I wonder if I can take a break from Danish not just for the time I'll be out of the country, but also now that I need those extra hours every day....
• Suggestions from my advisors have included the following vague and scary bits: "...you may need to change the title of your dissertation and your focus." Since the title is a very exact description of what I am doing, not a nice vague sexy title with jargon, I am very worried. Focus... eh, I knew that was coming. Like I ever had a chance to write an anthropological dissertation when I've got art historians for readers! And they are all asking me to dump the economic section and I want to scream "I TOLD YOU IT WAS F**KING POINTLESS YOU STUPID NAVEL GAZERS! BUT OH NO YOU KEPT QUOTING BILL CLINTON AT ME 'it's the economy, stupid' AND I TOLD YOU IT DIDN'T WORK BUT YOU SAID 'I'M THE PERSON WHO KNOWS THINGS AND I SAY YOU DO THIS' AND SO I DID AND NOW YOU ARE ALL PRETENDING LIKE IT WAS ALL ME WHO'S BEEN FORCING THIS POINTLESS SECTION FORWARD!!" But that's why I blog this stuff. So I don't end up killing little old men.

Things done:

• The laundry.
• The Twilight series from start to finish in a little over two days. Heh.
• A haircut.

Things left undone:

• Knitting. I've got to start knitting while watching tv. I should watch more tv.

Evidence of love in an increasingly cold world:

• My birthday was a few days ago and my husband, who has been in Holland since the last week of August, had bought my birthday present and hid it in his sock drawer before he left. He called and told me where it was so I would have a present from him on my birthday (well, actually a day late since I was out with friends on my birthday and nowhere near the sock drawer). He rocks my world, that man.
• Say what you will about Facebook, getting happy birthday wishes from people you know from all over the world is fan-freakin'-tastic. Having people checking up on you from time to time to make sure you haven't gone crazy or dropped into a spiral of depression = awesome!

Completely random crap from my head:

• I finally figured out how to make pre-made frozen pan-fried spring rolls that don't suck. Fry them in oil. I think my husband burns them in butter. Ugh. I love him dearly, but WTF? Then they are all soft and mushy on the outside, completely lacking in the crunch that one needs. And I bought kick ass sweet chili sauce that I would drink if I could. Instead I'm just putting it on everything. Oh, and if you are going to drop frozen spring rolls into hot oil... hold the lid of the pan like a shield in front of you and have a pair of long handled tongs to reach around to flip them. Because ice meets hot oil is a terrible thing. Why some idiot thought that it would be a good idea to make frozen spring rolls that must be fried is beyond me. Obviously someone who doesn't cook at home.
• Going to Qatar means Projekt Dejlig will require some alterations. No American Thanksgiving at my place. Sorry!! I figured by this late in the year there'd be no way we were going to be leaving before December, but I figured wrong. Well, that frozen pumpkin mash will still be good for a non-Thanksgiving pie, right? Also means severe cuts in Christmassing. I'll get a Christmas vacation, but it's not going to be the overthetop extravaganza I was fantasizing about. But finally, after all these years, I am going to be a real, paid, archaeologist.

Quiz!!

You Dance Through Life

Your journey through life is inspired, creative, and optimistic. You are an engaging, positive person - and you're always looking for the possibilities in life. You hope to motivate and uplift other people. You want to change the world in your own little way. You are confident and expressive. You're happy with who you are, as unique and different as you might be.

How Do You Travel Through Life?

Blogthings: Free Quizzes for Everyone

Thanks All About Me and a Bag of Chips!

My own projekt dejlig

Projekt Dejlig was started by another expat living and working in Denmark. It pretty much focuses on doing things to make the time you are here happier and better than it currently is.

There are no rules for projekt dejlig, because things that make you happy vary from person to person.

So anyway, I was reading through the blogs as I do, now that I've run out of images to sort and organize and I really need to get my butt up the hill to the library but once again today is NOT that day, and I saw on Moving at the Speed of Life some pictures of the Minnesota State Fair. And can I tell you what sort of homesickness that caused? Wait, why am I asking, it's MY FREAKIN' BLOG!

***CORRECTION: Not "Moving at the Speed of Life" but Melissa Barrett, seeing at Jacki lives in VIRGINIA! How embarrassing! Thanks Jacki for pointing out that I am completely insane!***

Okay, I don't come from MN, though I have relatives that live there. But really, American state fairs and many county fairs are really similar. Take the arts and crafts barn/building/tent. You will find some really nice stuff and some stuff where you think to yourself "An Obama portrait made of BEANS?? I hope they've hospitalized this poor woman and the neighbor is feeding her cats, 'cause WHOA!" And I'm looking at these pictures and, since I'm a very imaginative person, I completely lose myself in the memory of county fairs and summer in California and I can TASTE the ice cream and FEEL the hot nights when you pray for a breeze and I can even HEAR the dogs barking at the cats. (Wait, that's the neighbor downstairs walking the pomeranians.) And this wave of homesickness washed over me. It's also a wave of nostalgia, because now if I went to the county fair I'd be worried I'd run into my ex and his family, since at least one cousin will be entering a cow or a pig and so spend my time ducking around corners, not sitting on benches, kicking my heels in the dust and wondering if I should spend my last tickets on the ferris wheel or the graviton.

Feeling rather maudlin, I wandered next to the blog of the original inventor of Projekt Dejlig and realized that, yes, Virginia, it really is September and that means Fall and then the march to Christmas! And this is one of my favorite times of the year, because APPLES and CHRISTMAS! Every year I have great goals to really whip out a fantastic Christmas (last year's dinner for two rocked, but was slightly marred by the fact that we still had two of the former horrible tenants living with us and the house was a wreck and my Dane was driving the taxi that night and we'd not gotten each other presents because we really couldn't afford it and I couldn't go home and visit my family) and there's always something to sort of keep it from happening. Like a dissertation. Or work. Or Christmas suddenly sneaking up on me. I am LOUSY at sending out cards and I am ALWAYS putting off shopping until the last minute (even though I do love to buy people presents, I just never get around to it).

So my projekt dejlig for the moment is to have a hygge fall. Not necessarily a Danish hygge fall, but my own Americana version of it. Apple pie, apple cakes, applesauce. Big bulky scarves. Weird rain boots. (I need to get a pair of weird rain boots, but that's all part of the projekt.) Wool hats and mittens. If I do not suddenly hear that I'm going to Qatar for a dig, I will invite everyone to a Thanksgiving meal, American style with SWEET POTATOES WITH MARSHMALLOWS and an oversized turkey to feed twenty. The Christmas season will then commence and I am going to celebrate the hell out of it. Christmas music until I'm sick. Eggnog until I get e. coli or whatever is in raw egg. Mulled wine!! And I'm going to wear a Santa hat at inappropriate locations. (Adds to list: buy santa hat.)

In other news:

As you can see, this is my progress. Despite my best attempts, it has decided that it is 10 stitches across, not eight. I try to narrow it back down and then the next row, there they are: 10 stitches! Since it gets lumpy every time I try to fix it and since it seems intent on being 10 no matter what, I've decided to give in to it's wants. I've also decided it is NOT a bookmark, it is a scarf for my penguin. It'll match her little hat that's stitched onto her head. And since this is the nicer wool, it will feel soft when we cuddle (whut? why are you looking at me funny?).

And now I'm off to read Calvin and Hobbs in Danish to a friend. I sorta missed Danish class today as I was rocking out to the 90's until late last night and it hurt so bad this morning! I think I'm getting old.

This is my day

This pretty much sums up how I am feeling today.

Meanwhile I am knitting a... well.... it was going to be a scarf, only it is much thinner than I intended. There was a casting on issue. I could cast on then as I did the first row I kept dropping stitches. The time I finally got it to work I had only made it 8 stitches wide. Schtupid. Anyway, now it's a bookmark. DON'T BE TELLING ME YOU SHOULDN'T KNIT BOOKMARKS AND THAT MY BOOKS WON'T CLOSE PROPERLY! DO YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT? My goal is to finish it and try something a bit WIDER.

(Actually it's a fairly good doll scarf, maybe my stuffed penguin would like it instead? I'll ask her tonight.)

Comedy wise, I'm going to investigate Russell Peters a bit more.



Hopefully I'll be able to knit and watch without poking myself in the eye.

And if you were wondering, although you probably weren't, I am still cooking like a mad woman. There have just been a severe lack of kitchen disasters to write about. I may have even perfected risotto. Or at least gotten pretty good at it. I just now need to learn to make less than 8 servings at a go. I *am* cooking for one while my Dane studies abroad in Holland. Yeah, and WTF, I'm stuck here in Denmark and he's off camping in the woods and chillin' in coffee houses? Well, it's only fair, I get to head off to warm and exotic locations in the summer... But still, I'm stuck in DENMARK without a DANE!!??!!

Skillz, I has dem.

In case anyone ever wonders if Kel D is a capable teacher, may I just say for the record: Yes, she is!

After a fun expat meet up, I dragged Kel D back to my lair, plied her with wine and forced her to teach me to knit. Okay, not so forced, she totally volunteered.

Ladies and gentlemen, having had half a bottle of wine, Kel taught the Archaeogoddess, also under the influence of half a bottle of wine, to move pointy sticks in complicated motions, moving yarn from ball to hand to stick to other stick, causing intricate not quite knot formations to grow and grow and...

Look, she taught me to knit, okay? Evidence?


See??!!?? Knitted stuff!! It's not perfect, but if you've ever seen me trip over nothing or suddenly fall sideways into walls, you will know that this requires manual dexterity long thought to be beyond my capabilities.

Yesterday being Sunday I could not go to the yarn store... but today. I will sally forth and try to knit all on my own. Should you never hear from me again, it is because I've either accidently killed myself with a knitting needle or knitted myself to a chair. In any case, send help.

Because I can't help myself...

In case not everyone noticed that yesterday's image included "no PUBIC option" (damn it, if congress doesn't put free Brazilian waxes for everyone in the new health care plan, I ain't voting for it!) I give you LOLPolitics. (Actually brought to you by Pundit Kitchen aka LOL News.)

Brings ignorant to a whole new level!

Meanwhile in America....

...things are getting really nasty on the universal health care front.

Now, I'm often asked by non-Americans what in the hell we're doing over in the US, denying people basic health care and sending people bills that were obviously typed on defective typewriters because there is no way that's a real number, and honestly, I can't explain it to you. Because it doesn't really make a lot of sense to me either.

Tragically, after reading some of the tripe that is put out about the death squads sent out to kill your mother and her dog by forcing her (your mother, but maybe also your mother's dog) to stand in line for her (again, not only your mother but your mother's DOG too) botox shots for, like, an hour or something, but *IN THE SUN* and possibly near an ugly faux palm tree, and the evil socialist fascist commie bastards who want to force *YOU* to have an *ABORTION* even if you aren't pregnant, or are a guy and probably don't have a uterus, unless you are one of those gay people, because we all know you have uteruses in your well decorated apartments, and in which case we the True Believers in Christ's Mercy aka Fox News Followers will kill you with our own death squads, but *WE* are not going to make *YOU* wait in line, (quick go back to the start of this sentence to pick up the original thread of this thought) you realize why American's are becoming increasingly stupid.

I went to the Fox News website to get you a link, but then the world went black and my computer started to flicker and I realized that my soul was being sucked into a vortex of evil and filth and so I Force Quit the internet.

Partially recovered, but needing a stiff drink, I returned to the intertubes and reloaded the page that had started my quest. I'm sure she didn't want me to go to... That Place... to look for a good link. I'm sure if she was in the neighborhood she'd even bring me a gin and... more gin. That would be Aaryn Belfer who writes from time to time for The Woman's Colony and wrote this FABULOUS piece (it's a link!!) that kept me smiling in a time of partisan woe. I stole that picture from her too! I'm a commie bastard at heart. I BLEED RED. Um. Yeah.

Whenever I want to remind myself why Denmark is really not that bad of a place to be downtrodden and marginalized, I can just check out Fox Noise and remember that I could be where the *liberal majority* is downtrodden and marginalized by a few fat white male pundits.

Denmark? ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???

This just in from an article in the Copenhagen Post. <-----Link, in case you don't know. Go, read it. I'll wait.

Okay, for those of you too busy or getting this via email: In increasingly desperate measures, Denmark continues to try to keep out the "darkies" without saying, "whites only." Their new ploy - charge people who come to Denmark for Family Reunification 3,000 kr to take a Danish language and culture test.

I better start taking donations so I can pay for my test, because wouldn't you know, I'm here on a Family Reunification Visa!!

I am not so worried about taking the test, because I'm already required by the government to learn Danish and I have to pass a series of tests ALREADY in order to stay, so what's one more... but dude, YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE ME PAY FOR A GOVERNMENT REQUIRED TEST??? WAS THE $10,000 I HAVE TO KEEP IN A SEALED BANK VAULT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU PEOPLE???

I really hope this leads to a Danish brain drain as Danes who fall in love with foreigners realize that really, they should just stay with their foreign spouse and contribute to that foreign country's economy rather than bring said spouse back to DK where we are treated like second-class citizens.

And the first person who suggests that we give North Americans an exemption will be shot. That is just disgusting and degrading that you would think that I would want to use my skin color or my religion or my so-called race to step in front of people who are fleeing for their lives or looking for somewhere where they can make something of themselves.

Either require the test of EVERYONE: highly skilled workers, asylum seekers, family reunification-ators, residency and citizenship; or NO ONE.

This is SO not worth the free health care.

A rather eventful day

Yesterday was rather eventful. There was the obligatory 3 1/2 hours of Danish, followed by a power nap. My Dane and I then headed off to look at this camper that he'd seen on the side of the road.

[Insert flashback special effects]

My husband, who leaves WEDNESDAY, for Holland (I have part II of my Danish test that day, how unfair of the universe is THAT?) had still not found a place he was willing to live. Most of the places that were almost affordable were shared rooms or in a dormitory-like environment. My husband, bless him, is a little old for returning to college life. I could see him coming out of his dorm room and shaking his fist at the noisy kids. Or giving the evil eye to a roommate. He only puts up with me because I'm cute and I show him my boobies.

(Off topic note: He is forbidden to call them anything other than "breasts." I hate when people refer to someone else's breasts with some stupid pet name or childish term, but I also retain the right to call my breasts whatever the heck I want if it will imbue a story with a bit of levity. I'll stop talking about breasts now. This could be the post where my parents finally get around to reading my blog and I would hate to embarrass them.)

Anyway, so on the topic of husband travelling/lacking a home, he'd made cracks about living in the car. I, however, do not get Danish humor, and so promptly pointed out that if he were to live in the car, he'd have to live at a campsite so that he would have bathing and toilet facilities. I'm really big on people not peeing freely. I'm not sure who pointed out that the most sane idea for staying at a campsite would be to have a camper, but it came up as a frighteningly good idea. He did a bit of research and discovered that campers are insanely expensive in Denmark. I swear, you could put wheels on a dog turd and sell it for millions. He even went to a used camper dealership, where they were selling campers held together with duct tape for 50,000 kr. Heck, I'm going to start putting wheels on my OWN poop!

(Toilet humor getting to you? Sorry, blame the mad storm of yesterday, I may have been struck by lighting.)

That would have been the end of it, except that while driving home from Grenaa the other day, he saw a camper for sale on the side of the road. He looked it over, called the guy, poked, prodded, did whatever two men do when they contemplate an exchange of wheeled objects (my poop not included) (SORRY) and came home to talk with me about it.

Ever so practical, I asked him if there EVEN WERE campsites near his school. That's what I'm here for, killing the joy. Oh yes, I can kill the joy. [Insert lots of boring details here that I won't... er... bore you with.] Yes, Virginia, there is a campsite... open until Oct. 4th and in the woods. After that he might have to get creative, but that will be his anxiety, not mine. He decides it will be a great adventure, I see it as a way to go camping in France. I hear they have good wine. So, because it was under 15,000 kr., and in good condition, we bought it. It's little. It's bitty. It dates from 1980-something and so goes great with the Volvo station wagon. (I tried to find a comparable one on-line... but I couldn't.) It's got a bed, a table area that could become a second bed, sink, two gas burners, a fridge, a toilet (an empty yourself kind), and an attachable tent with walls (thereby doubling your living space... when it's warm outside). It's very brown and green, but doesn't smell at ALL. This is vitally important.

I swear we are now the perfect middle-class American family... without the kids. Lousy Danish family though. We lack privet hedges and a summer house.

Right. So, now we've caught up with where I started (and slightly overshot, but do I look like a hollywood director?). We had a date with some friends back in Århus, but since we were running late, we took the camper with. It was a hit and our friends' adorable little girls declared that mum and dad should buy one with their DanKort (think Debit Card meets Visa).

And then it started raining. Whoa boy, did it start raining. And there was the lighting and the thunder and all in all it was a very impressive summer storm. We thought it was over by the time we parked the car and camper half a mile from our home (free parallel parking where you don't actually have to maneuver between two other parked objects is not that easy to find in Århus). We were mistaken. We took shelter in the doorway of a lonely store in the middle of nowhere.

Note to all: It is acceptable to pee freely when it is pouring rain, you are far from home, and surrounded by closed non-residential buildings, provided that you pee somewhere where it will be washed away by morning. Also, always accept an umbrella from friends. Always.

Just as we were starting to wonder if we'd have to swim home, my husband saw a bus. I couldn't see the bus stop, but my Dane said there was. We actually chatted about this as the bus pulled up on the other side of the road and sat at the stop. Realizing that we'd be kicking ourselves if we didn't take it, no matter where it went, it had to be drier than this, right? We ran across the road. Correction, we splashed across the river that just happened to be partially navigable by car, and got on the bus. Bless that bus driver, he'd seen us and waited. We determined that he was actually going to go right by the street our house is on (yippee!) and we were so grateful we bought bus tickets. (Note: in Århus, you buy the tickets in the back of the bus at a little automatic ticket booth. Think of it as a strange honors system. The bus drivers do not check the tickets. But there are special bus police that do, so you do have to watch yourself.)

Where was I? Tickets! Okay, so we bought tickets. Then the bus driver dropped us as close to our house as possible, not where there was a bus stop (the closest bus stop being farther away). What service!! We were impressed. We were soaked. We were having a ridiculously good time for people caught out in the rain with only a borrowed umbrella to protect us from pneumonia.

I think it was the excitement of purchasing a camper, eating a good meal with friends, drinking wine with friends, and that it was not that cold out which made it so much fun. The thunder and lightning didn't bother me a bit! I think if we hadn't had a loaf of fresh homemade rudbrød (SO YUMMY), a bag full of important papers, and the fancy camera we would have pulled a "Singing in the Rain."

Or at least I would have. I'm kind of a freak like that.

I love stupid news stories

The best way to make yourself embarrassed to be part of the human race is to read some of the "news" articles on MSN. Seriously people, is journalism dead? People pay you for this crap??

I point to: Can Your Flip Flops Kill You?

This goes to show that not only did this journalist get the short end of the stick during the morning meeting, but that there are scientists out there getting MY GRANT MONEY to research STUPID things.

I mean, the shocker of the article? There are GERMS on your flip-flops. AND FECES! Because we all know that regular shoes are germ free and have never stepped in dog poop.

And apparently the scientist is also a weirdo who likes to fondle his flip-flops... he says you touch them more often than regular shoes because you often need to adjust them. Uh, I don't know about you lot, but I don't readjust my slip-on sandals with my hands. They're SLIP ON. I slide my foot around until it's all working. Heck, if I get a rock in my sandal I just slip my foot out and use my toes to remove offending object. And yes, I do wash my feet before going to bed if I've been wearing open shoes. Feet get dusty and dirty in those things. It happens. The world is a dirty place. Not that he suggests this clever way of avoiding Certain Death. Certain Death being what you are facing because you just won't wear sneakers ALL THE TIME!! You Barefoot Freaks! Don't you know this is why the dinosaurs went extinct? Because they didn't invent CLOSED FOOTWEAR!!

I bet he has ugly feet and he's afraid of looking like a freak because he won't wear sandals. "Yeah, I can't show you my feet because if I wore flip flops I'd catch a weird disease and DIE, so that's why I'm wearing my combat boots in 100 F weather! And you should do it too before your feet fall off." Yeah.

(If you wonder what journalism is coming to these days, may I suggest http://probablybadnews.com/ as a cure from all your ills - or at least confirm your suspicions that we're headed for hell in a handbasket.)

The Danish language is trying to kill me and I am divorcing my head

Danish is trying to kill me. Yesterday I took part one of my test, the reading and writing bit, and came home emotionally and physically exhausted. There were hysterical tears and I'm well past PMS! Next week I have to do the speaking half and I expect to take to my bed in horror afterwards.

Language is NOT my thing. It just does not stick.

Take for example Tirsdag and Torsdag: Tuesday and Thursday in Danish. Tuesday comes before Thursday and I comes before O so it should be a simple matter of remembering which comes first. Added that I know Torsdag is named after Thor and from which we English speakers also derive Thursday. It even SOUNDS like Thursday for crying out loud.

And yet, every time I see Tirsday or Torsday I get them confused. I stand there and gape and say, what day is that?

Honestly, it's like I'm missing a link in my head.

It doesn't help that I don't really want to speak Danish. I didn't grow up thinking, "you know what would be great? Living in Denmark! Yeah! I want to learn a language that sounds like a throat disease that only 5.2 million people speak, but not to the extent that they can actually understand each other if they grew up in different regions! Cool beans, sign me up!" This lack of desire for Danish language may cause some to say, "ah, see, it is because you are so opposed to it that you are creating a mental block that keeps you from learning it, you horrible Danish hater you!"

What I say back to those people is unpublishable.

So I drag myself though Danish language classes. Pushing myself to learn the grammar rules, trying to pronounce the unpronounceable, and continually repeating to myself "this stupid language is NOT smarter than I am."

My husband, trying to be helpful, asked me why I was learning Danish. Because your stupid country told me to! I cried. But there is also:
- I hate being left out of conversations because I don't understand
- I will not (if we end up raising children here) have my children speaking in a language I don't understand
- I would like to tell people who piss me off exactly why they are pissing me off IN THEIR OWN LANGUAGE (because they just don't take you seriously if you don't)

But I just don't think that learning a language should include making a person cry from frustration and misery. That just doesn't seem right.

---

In other news, I'm divorcing my head.

It's been quite a while now since we've gotten along. Last week my head tried to trick the rest of me into a sinus infection. Inflamed sinuses, aching head and face, neck pain, and a runny nose. I was not fooled however and I have continued to be fever free and my snot is still clear (gross? Yeah, but see it's the color of your snot that will tell you what you have, clear to white is allergies, yellow is a cold or the start of infection, green is VERY BAD). Now my head has decided to clog up my right ear. The pain is immense. Radiates down from my ear to my jaw and my teeth. Is it an ear infection? Probably not, I still have no fever and my ear is not red. It's my head again stuffing up the sinuses in some evil attempt to make me stay in bed and read (which my head likes to do) and not go out and about doing the things that need to get done (like photocopying a vastly overdue interlibrary loan book, which my head does NOT want to read) and enjoying the little sun there is.

My head is also refusing to learn any more Danish until I make more space in my memory and, sorry, but I still need that French and German, thank you very much.

I tried beating my head into submission by continually standing up quickly in the wrong half of my bedroom, where the ceiling slants down to a measly 2.5 feet of head space, but this only resulted in a loss of equilibrium that culminated in stubbed toes as I fought for balance. (Anyone seen the movie "The War of the Roses" because it's like that.)

At the moment we are not speaking to each other, except when I told my head I was out of here and it told me to get a good lawyer because I'd need one. If you could pass along a message to my head, since I am NOT speaking to it AT ALL, could you please tell it that I MIGHT be willing to do some couples therapy, but only if it would stop filling up my sinuses because I am sick and tired of going to the store for more tissue paper.

Festen

Er, not the movie, which I watched last night (in Danish with Danish subtitles, *ugh* but I only had to hit pause a few times to ask my Dane what all had happened/what was said, like the first speech, which must be understood in order to get what is going on for the rest of the movie and had vocabulary that we don't learn in Danish class, you know, words like, "sexual abuse" and "inappropriate fondling" and I must say that the thing that disturbed me the most about the movie, and the movie is SUPPOSED to be disturbing, so it's okay to be disturbed, was not the dark family secret that was revealed in the first five minutes but the fact that the guests CONTINUE THE BIRTHDAY PARTY as if NOTHING had happened! But the good thing about this movie is that you realize that yes, there are more Danes out there who get how f#cked up their culture can be and aren't afraid to point it out in a very disturbing way.)....

Er, yeah, so like I was saying before I interrupted myself. The birthday party I went to over the weekend ended up being quite bearable, once everything got going (or I had just enough to drink, I'm not really sure on that one). First of all, we were met with vodka mimosas at the door, so I had something to hold on to while I trotted behind my husband as we did the go-around-and-say-hello-introduce-yourself-to-everyone thing. This is a danish thing that I find very hard. I mean, what's with all the hand shaking? It means I have the embarrassing moment where I say "hej" and introduce myself to someone who is all "Dude, we met last year, I totally remember you!" and I'm all, "Oh, yeah, sorry about that, how's it going?" and then have to sidle up to husband later and be "um, that lady there in the green skirt - *panicked whisper* WHO THE HELL IS SHE AND HOW DOES SHE KNOW MY NAME!!??" This is why following behind my Dane has it's advantages, he'll introduce me as his wife to people we don't know and he'll chat with the people I am supposed to remember and thus saves me from embarrassment for a while.

There was a lot of the gentle racism inherent in Denmark, where people were incensed on my behalf that it takes so long for me to get a visa, seeing as I'm one of the good immigrants and I married a real Dane (they don't use quite those words, but there is plenty of discussion on how I ought to be given preferential treatment because of who I am and who I married without using the words "white" or "Christian" but we all know what we mean - I usually will try to say something that will point out that it's an unfair system for EVERYONE and that I don't think I should have preferential treatment, but sometimes it's just not worth discussing with someone who is obviously just making small talk with you until the next round of appetizers float by).

Seating was arranged but the dining was buffet, so you could get up and stretch your legs when needed and eating wasn't inturrupted by speeches. Those came after we had plenty of food in our bellies to absorb the wine. Still cannot understand people when they are giving speeches. Too fast, too many references to things that I probably ought to know, but don't, lots of jokes that I just can't get, oh well. Sat with folks who were great at chatting with me in English with a bit of odd Danish from time to time.

Later I got into a lovely discussion of religion, politics being something I steered away from so as not to get into trouble. But religion is okay. Especially when you discuss it with a Danish minister and so can do weighty subjects like Lutheranism vs. Episcopalianism and the place of religion in America vs. Denmark. Hey we were drunk, okay? And I am a nerd and a freak who knows too much about too many things that I never get to talk about with people who also know too much about the same esoteric subjects.

After the food and the toasts we got to dance. I love to dance. We danced from about midnight until 5 am. The midnight meal was served around 3 am, but because it was Danish hotdogs (hotdogs with remoulade, pickles, and dried onions) I couldn't stand anywhere near the table. That stuff smells AWFUL. I started gulping water at that point, realizing that I needed to start sobering up and in the hopes that it would keep me from vomiting. It worked on both accounts, but I still had to avoid the dining room at all costs. But I love dancing with Danes. We all suck. We dance like a bunch of idiots and it's OKAY because we all SUCK TOGETHER. And it's one of the few places where you can see men singing the words of Abba or the soundtrack to Grease outside of a gay bar. In fact, dancing with Danes reminds me a lot of when I used to go to gay bars in California. No inappropriate touching, no getting hit on, and lots of people dancing their hearts out.

Many thanks to Patti for texting me and I hope the drunk text I sent at 2 am or something did not wake you up. I was darned proud of myself for being able to type on the phone at all.

All in all, it was a good party, as far as Danish parties go.

Pity party at the Archaeogoddess

I'm bloated, bleeding, suffering the fallout of yesterday's PMS, cramping, and suffering from the most horrendous headache.

This is not made any better by reading the news that Denmark sucks more than ever (Raid on Asylum Seekers Sparks Riot and Despite Protests Most Assholes Support Police). I got an email from the American Embassy, under no circumstances am I or other Americans to get ourselves arrested at a demonstration (best accomplished by not going to one... demonstration abstinence, heh). I missed the one last night (I didn't know one was going on until my Dane told me), which considering my mood, was probably a good thing. Today, I'm too worried that I'm going to explode, bleed to death, or collapse under waves of pain to go anywhere.

The ray of hope in my life is that while yesterday's Danish class SUCKED (I swear my teacher was speaking in tongues, not Danish) and I didn't understand AT ALL what was going on (I thought my homework had been UP TO lecture 21 not INCLUDING 21, drat), today we did reading comprehension which I ROCK at, hands down. Maybe I won't fail my module two test next week.

Provided that I survive the next few days.

Not only must I survive my monthly contribution to Tampax stockholders, but also the birthday party I am attending in Copenhagen. Anyone want me to drunk dial them? I can totally drunk dial you if you'd like. Only you have to live in Denmark because I can't dial foreign countries when I'm drunk. Too many numbers. How do people manage to send drunk text messages? I'd probably manage to write "You are so yuarpfhruing" SEND. (For those of you not in the know, Danish birthday parties for adults include speeches and songs and a LOT of toasting. I'm getting better at the not actually drinking the toasts, but I find clutching a glass of wine is much better than bunching up the tablecloth or fiddling with the knives when you get bored and/or stressed. You worry less people that way.) Gah if I have to sit through speeches and songs while cramping and aching, then someone really will get hurt.

Will someone please take my head and my uterus for a walk? They seem to be overly excited and could use some exercise while I have a lay down.

Conversation stoppers

When my younger brother was much younger than he is now, he had this really adorable habit of answering the phone, "Hello," and if it wasn't anyone he knew, setting the handset down on the counter and wandering away. I imagine this annoyed telemarketers and charities to no end.

I am always trying to be polite to these people, because we all need jobs and frankly, they are far better than car salesmen (apologies to readers who are, but the next time one of you slimy bastards oozes up to me and tries to sell me something with a sun roof when all I want is to know is the gas milage, I swear on a stack of Danish dictionaries someone is going to learn the definition of "smerte").

Anyway I had the following conversation yesterday:
Phone rings.
Archaeogoddess: "Hello?" (I never answer the phone with the proper Danish greeting, it just does NOT come out of my mouth until after "hello" and most of the time not even then.)
Danish woman: Garble garble garble garble garble....
AG: *interrupting* Oh, um, jeg kan taler lit dansk. ("Oh, um, I can speak little Danish.")
Danish woman: Oh. Kender du Fotex og Bilka? ("Do you know Fotex and Bilka?")
***Quick aside: Fotex and Bilka are Safeway and Walmart-ish stores***
AG: *slightly confused as to where this conversation is leading* Fotex and Bilka? (Interior monologue: crap, if she wants directions she's got another thing coming, I have NO idea where Bilka is other than NOT IN DOWNTOWN ÅRHUS.)
Danish woman: *switching to English in frustration* Did you get the advertisement (pronounced the British way: ad-VERT-is-ment) for Fotex and Bilka this week?
AG: (Interior monologue: why did you lose yours? Is there some sort of mysterious shortage of Fotex and Bilka flyers?) *still confused* I don't know.
Danish woman: *detectable note of rising frustration* You don't KNOW?
AG: *happily, because I am finally able to add something intelligent to the conversation* No, when I get ads I just throw them all away!
Danish woman: *quickly realizing this is a lost cause* Oh, never mind then, thank you! *hangs up*

My husband points out that we have a "no, thank you" on our mailbox so we don't get those ads. The ads I'm throwing away every week are those that come through the mail and are in the newspaper. Don't ask me how we can request that we don't receive ads and then still get ads anyway, I'm a stranger here myself. (And please don't explain to me why this happens in the comment section, this mystery of Danish commercialism is filed under "don't really care.")

Other conversations of note:

After a long day, following a previous night of restless and intermittent sleep, my husband and I, exhausted and quite out of our heads, retired to the bed. As one does, I put my head on his chest.
Danish Boy: Your head is really heavy.
AG: That's because it's full of smarts. *Moves head* You know, a head only weighs 8 pounds, the same as a baby. I'm just trying to toughen you up for when we have one.
***Quick aside: Before you all get excited - NO, I am NOT pregnant and NO we are not trying, so stop bouncing in your seat and waving your hands about excitedly.***
DB: Yes, but a baby is all spread out and not round like a ball.
AG: My head is not round like a ball.
DB: Okay, like a cheese then.

Normally, I do not mock my husband's accent and normally I do not correct his pronunciation as long as it is close enough to be understood. This is because 1) I think it's rude to correct pronunciation if it's just slightly off and 2) I really HATE it when people do it to me. However, it seems I need to work with him on a few small things, like the letter V.
DB: I had some nice people in the cab today.
AG: Oh?
DB: Two women and a little boy. The women were originally from Africa, but now one lives in New York, wore western dress and spoke English, and the other one spoke beautiful Danish and wore a whale.

***These conversations have been approved for posting by my husband, who is beginning to have dreams of me becoming a world famous blogger who will be able to support us both with my cunning wit and mad typing skills.***

Doing my bit

It's long, I'll admit. And it's depressing. It was written by concerned Danes, which goes to show that there are people here who decent human beings who will continue to fight for the rights of everyone and that the expats who point out the rising racism in Denmark are not a bunch of whining wankers.



Spread the word!

Another reason for my husband to look at me askance

I found a random note in one of the travel guides my husband checked out of the library for our trip.

"Apologies for the delay, Kirsten, your email got a little lost in all the

others!!

Where to go:

Jacobite steam railway (Harry Potter)

Jacobite Cruises on Loch Ness (can book those from here)

Glen Coe

Culloden

Mallaig

And more places that you can shake a stick at.

If you are into geology and stuff like that then Natural Treasures in

Corpach near here is a good place to spend a little time

Mountain biking on the hills and trails

Quad bikes at Fersit

Ice Wall at Kinloch Leven

Hows that for starters?"

(I typed that verbatim, do not pester me with spelling, grammar, or punctuation errors.)

These sorts of things mystify, bother, and entertain me all at once. Who wrote it? Why? What's the story? Did it all work out in the end?? Did Kirsten have a good time? Or she still wandering the mountains around Scotland? Did the writer really mean that Kirsten can shake a stick at these sights or is that a typo? I envision Kirsten, a little old woman with a cane, who loves Harry Potter, climbing the mountains around Glencoe so she can shake her stick at the sheep.

I can amuse myself for hours on end filling in the blanks and then because it's only fun if you can share these ideas, I babble at my husband, who would much rather find somewhere to live while he's in Holland for a semester abroad (he leaves in two weeks and may have to sleep in the car if he doesn't find something soon) than listen to me spin yarns about people I don't know and will never meet. (Note: normally he loves to listen to me yammer, but he's a little stressed, you know.)

Anyone else find these notes and wonder about who wrote them? I'm particularly fond of things written inside the covers of used books. Things like: "Dear Bitty, Thanks for all the peaches!" Who the heck is Bitty? Peaches?? Why would you write that in a book?

Then there was the death notice in the Ærø newspaper. Translated from Danish it reads:

"Our dear Annette has suddenly died."

That's it. No dates. Nothing. Some names of whoever placed the obit came after, but no last names and no relationships mentioned. For all I know, Annette was the beloved family fish!

Ah, it doesn't take much to entertain me, does it?