Wednesday, January 28
I've just finished gym class, and today was our last day of learning the Lanciers before the dance on Friday. How we are going to pull that dance off in high heels and fancy dresses is beyond my comprehension. The Lanciers is a lot like square dancing. You have a partner, usually of the opposite sex, and four couples form a square. The music is old-fashioned, but lively, and there are words that we sing loudly to help us remember the moves, like "O, til VEN-stre compliMENT, O, til HØ-jre compliMENT! OOOOO, et sache til højre! OOOOO, et sache til venstre! OOOOO, med ejen pardner, RUNDT!"
That was just an example, and it meant, "O, to the left compliment, O, to the right compliment! OOOOO, one sache to the right! OOOOO, one sache to the left! OOOOO, with your own partner, around!" (A sache is just a move with your feet.) It's actually kind of fun, but I'm not sure my ankles will be able to stand it on Friday.
On Saturday I met a girl named Karina at KBH (Københavns Hovedbanegård--Copenhagen's main station). She's also 16 and from Alaska, and we got in touch through mutual exchange student friends via email. We'd been emailing for quite some time, and decided we wanted to meet. I took her to Fisketorvej, one of the largest shopping malls in Denmark, though we didn't shop as much as just walk and talk. We found we had a lot in common. She spent the night at my house that night, and left Sunday afternoon. Then I met with Niels Erik and Ulla, and we talked about a tentative itinerary for my mom and I while she's here, including visiting the Crown Jewels, the Lille Havfrue (Little Mermaid), and Hamlet's Castle in Helsingør.
Since I have been here in Denmark for over six months, I have a better idea of what meals are like, so here are some average Danish meals. For breakfast, there's always bread, both white bread and rolls. You can have the bread with butter, marmelade (usually raspberry or strawberry), honey, or these thin slices of chocolate, either milk or dark. You could also choose to have some yogurt (peach, raspberry, or strawberry), and sprinkle "musli" on top, which is a mix of oatmeal, raisins, and dried fruit. The only kind of cereal I've encountered is regular cornflakes, which is usually eaten with sugar on top. Sometimes on weekends we'll have a larger, special breakfast, with scrambled eggs and bacon, just like in the States. And to drink there's milk, orange or apple juice, and coffee.
The Danes eat very, very small lunches. I remember at home I could never have enough food in my lunch bag, but here they usually only have a small sandwich on ryebread, with cucumbers, or small shrimps, or Danish salami or pepperoni, or egg salad in the sandwich. Then maybe one piece of fruit, a banana or an apple or an orange, and a juicebox. This is a typical high-schoolers lunch, because that's where I eat lunch the most currently. But they have a large cafeteria in my school, and you can buy all sorts of things there, like Danish pizza. Danish pizza has a very thin, very crispy crust, and they use ketchup instead of tomato sauce. They put broccoli, pineapple, mushrooms, ham, lettuce, and more on their pizza. The cheese they use is different, too.
At least four days out of a week you're guarenteed to have potatoes for dinner. Almost never mashed, though. Boiled potatoes, with a tasty brown gravy poured over it. Then we have some sort of meat, sometimes steak, sometimes pork, sometimes venison, sometimes pheasant (when in season). Then there's always some sort of vegetable, like broccoli or peas or salad, which is always shredded lettuce. Sometimes we have this strange mix of grated carrots, raisins, and pineapple. Once in awhile we'll have soup, and I love all Danish soup. I wouldn't be able to tell you what's in each soup, but they're really good. To drink, usually just water, but sometimes milk.
One thing I've noticed about dinnertime. They almost never use napkins. I realized that they really don't have to, because their fingers never touch their food, except at fast food restaurants. I've learned not to touch my food much now, because it's embarrassing to have to get up from the dinner table in order to wipe your hands.
Danish spoons are really, really big. The bowl-part is almost as large as the bowl-part on a wooden cooking spoon. Danish tea spoons (spoons for tea, not measuring spoons) are normal-sized.
Ice cream! Or, "is." There are two kinds of is; soft is, and vaffle is. The soft is is whipped, and usually dipped in chocolate powder, and eaten in a regular cone. Vaffle ("waffle") is isn't whipped, and you can have it with all sorts of toppings: jam, whipped cream, sprinkles, warmed chocolate or caramel syrup, and with a little cookie on top, and they are eaten in waffle cones.
On Thursday, at the Rotary meeting, they served anchovies. Whole anchovies, with the heads, and the tails, and scales, everything. They had a deep red sheen to them, and a salty, very unpleasant smell. It was all I could do not to lose my lunch. Sometimes for special dinners, they'll serve herring, sardines, or anchovies, and though I will try all kinds of traditional Danish foods, I draw the line at small fish. Coming from Alaska, those kind of fish are bait we use to catch real fish, so they're fish-food, not people-food.
That was just an example, and it meant, "O, to the left compliment, O, to the right compliment! OOOOO, one sache to the right! OOOOO, one sache to the left! OOOOO, with your own partner, around!" (A sache is just a move with your feet.) It's actually kind of fun, but I'm not sure my ankles will be able to stand it on Friday.
On Saturday I met a girl named Karina at KBH (Københavns Hovedbanegård--Copenhagen's main station). She's also 16 and from Alaska, and we got in touch through mutual exchange student friends via email. We'd been emailing for quite some time, and decided we wanted to meet. I took her to Fisketorvej, one of the largest shopping malls in Denmark, though we didn't shop as much as just walk and talk. We found we had a lot in common. She spent the night at my house that night, and left Sunday afternoon. Then I met with Niels Erik and Ulla, and we talked about a tentative itinerary for my mom and I while she's here, including visiting the Crown Jewels, the Lille Havfrue (Little Mermaid), and Hamlet's Castle in Helsingør.
Since I have been here in Denmark for over six months, I have a better idea of what meals are like, so here are some average Danish meals. For breakfast, there's always bread, both white bread and rolls. You can have the bread with butter, marmelade (usually raspberry or strawberry), honey, or these thin slices of chocolate, either milk or dark. You could also choose to have some yogurt (peach, raspberry, or strawberry), and sprinkle "musli" on top, which is a mix of oatmeal, raisins, and dried fruit. The only kind of cereal I've encountered is regular cornflakes, which is usually eaten with sugar on top. Sometimes on weekends we'll have a larger, special breakfast, with scrambled eggs and bacon, just like in the States. And to drink there's milk, orange or apple juice, and coffee.
The Danes eat very, very small lunches. I remember at home I could never have enough food in my lunch bag, but here they usually only have a small sandwich on ryebread, with cucumbers, or small shrimps, or Danish salami or pepperoni, or egg salad in the sandwich. Then maybe one piece of fruit, a banana or an apple or an orange, and a juicebox. This is a typical high-schoolers lunch, because that's where I eat lunch the most currently. But they have a large cafeteria in my school, and you can buy all sorts of things there, like Danish pizza. Danish pizza has a very thin, very crispy crust, and they use ketchup instead of tomato sauce. They put broccoli, pineapple, mushrooms, ham, lettuce, and more on their pizza. The cheese they use is different, too.
At least four days out of a week you're guarenteed to have potatoes for dinner. Almost never mashed, though. Boiled potatoes, with a tasty brown gravy poured over it. Then we have some sort of meat, sometimes steak, sometimes pork, sometimes venison, sometimes pheasant (when in season). Then there's always some sort of vegetable, like broccoli or peas or salad, which is always shredded lettuce. Sometimes we have this strange mix of grated carrots, raisins, and pineapple. Once in awhile we'll have soup, and I love all Danish soup. I wouldn't be able to tell you what's in each soup, but they're really good. To drink, usually just water, but sometimes milk.
One thing I've noticed about dinnertime. They almost never use napkins. I realized that they really don't have to, because their fingers never touch their food, except at fast food restaurants. I've learned not to touch my food much now, because it's embarrassing to have to get up from the dinner table in order to wipe your hands.
Danish spoons are really, really big. The bowl-part is almost as large as the bowl-part on a wooden cooking spoon. Danish tea spoons (spoons for tea, not measuring spoons) are normal-sized.
Ice cream! Or, "is." There are two kinds of is; soft is, and vaffle is. The soft is is whipped, and usually dipped in chocolate powder, and eaten in a regular cone. Vaffle ("waffle") is isn't whipped, and you can have it with all sorts of toppings: jam, whipped cream, sprinkles, warmed chocolate or caramel syrup, and with a little cookie on top, and they are eaten in waffle cones.
On Thursday, at the Rotary meeting, they served anchovies. Whole anchovies, with the heads, and the tails, and scales, everything. They had a deep red sheen to them, and a salty, very unpleasant smell. It was all I could do not to lose my lunch. Sometimes for special dinners, they'll serve herring, sardines, or anchovies, and though I will try all kinds of traditional Danish foods, I draw the line at small fish. Coming from Alaska, those kind of fish are bait we use to catch real fish, so they're fish-food, not people-food.
Wednesday, January 21
I realize that I skimmed the finer details of my Danish Christmas, so let me retrospect ...
In Denmark, they celebrate Christmas on the 24th instead of the 25th. Like the States, it is a family holiday, so on the afternoon of the 24th, we packed up the car (I brought along the box filled with my presents sent from home), and we drove to Michael's parent's house. There, we had an enormous, traditional dinner. The first course is always a piece of raw salmon (they insist that it's smoked, but as an Alaskan, I think I know smoked salmon when I see it, and believe me, this salmon was almost raw), with a little bit of scrambled egg, on top of some lettuce, all on a slice of white bread. After that comes the main course, pork and ham with brown potatoes (these are whole potatoes boiled in brown sugar), and salad. Then comes dessert, and during Christmastime, it's always a sweet, almond paste called "ris a la mande." There are slivers of almond mixed into it, and only one or two whole almonds. The person or persons who finds the whole almond in their portion receives a prize.
It's tradition to decorate the tree, not with Christmas lights, but with actual candles. They have special candle-holders made for Christmas trees, and fires never seem to be a problem, depending on where you place the candle on the tree. They are only lit when we're dancing around the tree and opening presents. In my opinion, using real candles is much prettier than using lights. Then comes the dancing around the the "juletræ." Actually, we don't really dance as much as hold hands and walk in a circle around the tree, while singing. But they always call it dancing. They sang their Danish Christmas carols, and I played along, either humming if I knew the melody or just listening. After the dancing (and only then) are we allowed to dive for the presents. This is a chaotic stage, in which everyone unwraps presents at the same time. By now, I was pretty depressed (I was celebrating Christmasthe season to be jolly, in a house I had never been in before, with people I didn't know, eating raw salmon and having to pretend to like it), so I took my presents sort of into a corner and opened them on my own. Annette had been really great and had given me a new pair of jeans (that, when I tried them on later, fit perfectly), and I received glass-blown candle-holders from Micheal's sister and her husband, and a Royal Danish teacup from Michael's parents. I received a lot of socks (that's what I told everyone when they asked me what I would like), and some books from home. My best friend had sent me Play-Doh, by far the most fun present, and something my host brothers had never seen before. They didn't like it, claiming it "smelled funny."
In Denmark, they celebrate Christmas on the 24th instead of the 25th. Like the States, it is a family holiday, so on the afternoon of the 24th, we packed up the car (I brought along the box filled with my presents sent from home), and we drove to Michael's parent's house. There, we had an enormous, traditional dinner. The first course is always a piece of raw salmon (they insist that it's smoked, but as an Alaskan, I think I know smoked salmon when I see it, and believe me, this salmon was almost raw), with a little bit of scrambled egg, on top of some lettuce, all on a slice of white bread. After that comes the main course, pork and ham with brown potatoes (these are whole potatoes boiled in brown sugar), and salad. Then comes dessert, and during Christmastime, it's always a sweet, almond paste called "ris a la mande." There are slivers of almond mixed into it, and only one or two whole almonds. The person or persons who finds the whole almond in their portion receives a prize.
It's tradition to decorate the tree, not with Christmas lights, but with actual candles. They have special candle-holders made for Christmas trees, and fires never seem to be a problem, depending on where you place the candle on the tree. They are only lit when we're dancing around the tree and opening presents. In my opinion, using real candles is much prettier than using lights. Then comes the dancing around the the "juletræ." Actually, we don't really dance as much as hold hands and walk in a circle around the tree, while singing. But they always call it dancing. They sang their Danish Christmas carols, and I played along, either humming if I knew the melody or just listening. After the dancing (and only then) are we allowed to dive for the presents. This is a chaotic stage, in which everyone unwraps presents at the same time. By now, I was pretty depressed (I was celebrating Christmasthe season to be jolly, in a house I had never been in before, with people I didn't know, eating raw salmon and having to pretend to like it), so I took my presents sort of into a corner and opened them on my own. Annette had been really great and had given me a new pair of jeans (that, when I tried them on later, fit perfectly), and I received glass-blown candle-holders from Micheal's sister and her husband, and a Royal Danish teacup from Michael's parents. I received a lot of socks (that's what I told everyone when they asked me what I would like), and some books from home. My best friend had sent me Play-Doh, by far the most fun present, and something my host brothers had never seen before. They didn't like it, claiming it "smelled funny."
Friday, January 16
My mom is coming to visit Denmark in the second week of February, so she and I are madly trying to work out where she'll stay and what we'll do. Fortunately Niels Erik and Ulla have enthusiastically offered to help with an itinerary, so I'll be ringing them in the near future begging for ideas.
I only have two classes this overcast Friday morning, and plan on running (or rather, walking, as always in Denmark) some errands this afternoon. I have SAT prep-tests to print out, the bank to visit, letters to mail, hotel rates to check, train ticket prices to compare ... oh, and an affordable prom dress to find and purchase. The Danish equivalent of prom, called Lanciers, is on the last Friday of this month, and apparently it's going to be the whole nine yards for the females; professionally-styled hair, flawless make-up, perfect manicures, and ridiculously expensive dresses. Even our gym classes have been transformed into dance classes. I really would politely decline, but all of my girlfriends want me to come, so if I can find a dress that won't completely suck my bank account dry, I might as well go and see what all the fuss is about.
The last week has been uneventful, unless you count Chia Ling and I trying out the metro for the first time (our train passes are also valid for the metro), me paying and registering for Euro-Bus Tour (not without some difficulty), and me receiving a huge Christmas package mostly comprised of food from my friend Connie from home (Oreos, Rice Roni, popcorn, you name it, she stuffed it in there).
I only have two classes this overcast Friday morning, and plan on running (or rather, walking, as always in Denmark) some errands this afternoon. I have SAT prep-tests to print out, the bank to visit, letters to mail, hotel rates to check, train ticket prices to compare ... oh, and an affordable prom dress to find and purchase. The Danish equivalent of prom, called Lanciers, is on the last Friday of this month, and apparently it's going to be the whole nine yards for the females; professionally-styled hair, flawless make-up, perfect manicures, and ridiculously expensive dresses. Even our gym classes have been transformed into dance classes. I really would politely decline, but all of my girlfriends want me to come, so if I can find a dress that won't completely suck my bank account dry, I might as well go and see what all the fuss is about.
The last week has been uneventful, unless you count Chia Ling and I trying out the metro for the first time (our train passes are also valid for the metro), me paying and registering for Euro-Bus Tour (not without some difficulty), and me receiving a huge Christmas package mostly comprised of food from my friend Connie from home (Oreos, Rice Roni, popcorn, you name it, she stuffed it in there).
Monday, January 5
It's not a bad idea to keep up with how much the American dollar ís worth to the Danish krone (daily exchange rates) and, to my horror, it's recently dropped below the 6.0 mark. When I first arrived here, the dollar was worth about 6.8 kroner. Now it's worth a krone less.
The dreaded Monday morning. School has again resumed, and while most students are reluctant to return to the work-load, I am reluctant to return to the complete and utter boredom that is Danish high school for an exchange student. Yes, Danish is becoming less of a problem, but I am by no means anywhere close to fluent, so school is still rather pointless.
The dreaded Monday morning. School has again resumed, and while most students are reluctant to return to the work-load, I am reluctant to return to the complete and utter boredom that is Danish high school for an exchange student. Yes, Danish is becoming less of a problem, but I am by no means anywhere close to fluent, so school is still rather pointless.
Friday, January 2
And suddenly, 2003 is gone, and I have to get used to putting '04 on paperwork instead of '03.
Happy New Year, even though it was more crappy than happy for us exchange students. Ang came over to celebrate with me, so it was nice to have someone to complain with. It was like Christmas - we were spending it with people we barely knew, celebrating it in ways we weren't used to. But a cool part was that here, fireworks aren't illegal, and stepping outside after the clock struck twelve, it was like the Fourth of July times a thousand. The midnight sky was lit up with huge fireworks for miles and miles around. We could hear bangs and booms all night, into the wee hours of the morning.
Today Niels Erik and Ulla came picked me up for my monthly visit, and we drove to Humlebæk, to the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, which was really interesting. An artist named Roy Lichtenstein was being featured, and his work was beautiful. Call me a Danish debutante.
Happy New Year, even though it was more crappy than happy for us exchange students. Ang came over to celebrate with me, so it was nice to have someone to complain with. It was like Christmas - we were spending it with people we barely knew, celebrating it in ways we weren't used to. But a cool part was that here, fireworks aren't illegal, and stepping outside after the clock struck twelve, it was like the Fourth of July times a thousand. The midnight sky was lit up with huge fireworks for miles and miles around. We could hear bangs and booms all night, into the wee hours of the morning.
Today Niels Erik and Ulla came picked me up for my monthly visit, and we drove to Humlebæk, to the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, which was really interesting. An artist named Roy Lichtenstein was being featured, and his work was beautiful. Call me a Danish debutante.
