Every Day is a Holiday in July

When I worked for the Tribune Company back in the States, we knew not to expect a response from our Danish technology vendor during the month of July due to the fact that everyone went on vacation. However, experiencing it while living in the country is an entirely different experience altogether.

I'm certainly not complaining, as I have enjoyed every minute of the fact that everyone is allowed 3 weeks of vacation during the summer by law, but trying to get anything accomplished during the weeks you are not on vacation is next to impossible. For example, after my parents left I had two weeks of normal daily life before I hit the vacation highway again.

During that time I tried to get some necessary tasks checked off the list. I contacted two doctors, two teachers, two business people, and one beautician for appointments or information which is of importance to me, and no joke. They were all on vacation. Again, I respect the law and really enjoy the work-life balance in Denmark, but I sometimes wonder how the country gets anything done.

Of course this is coming from an American raised in a culture where there is little to no balance between work and life, so this post should of course be taken with a grain of salt. Hopefully I'll have better luck in August! (When I'm back from my vacation in the States, that is).

Trip of a Lifetime

For as long as I can remember, my Dad has talked about taking a trip to the Netherlands to look up where the Timmermans originated. To research the family history and explore where the ancestors lived before they came to the US in 1880. That trip happened in July of 2011...the summer month of my Mom and Dad's 49th wedding anniversary. The fact that I am now living in Europe gave them the push they needed to make the dream a reality and I am glad they did. I was incredibly honored to be able to share this trip with them and the impressions that were left of Dutch people were well worth the trip.

We needed to drive through Germany before we could get to the Province of Limburg however, and that gave us an opportunity to explore that country as well. The minute we crossed the border of Denmark into Germany it was time for lunch so we stopped at the closest eating exit we could find. We left one foreign country for another, but what made this stop memorable was the fact that people spoke fluent English on one side, and just a few kilometers over the border, not a word of English was spoken. The lunch ladies were very friendly and with a few points and smiles we managed to get our food order in, but it was definitely a culture shock. That theme continued throughout Germany, at dinner that night and at the hotel we stayed in, but with the help of my very smiley Danish husband who also knows a little German, we made it through.

Day 2 on the road we crossed the border to the Netherlands and I could feel the excitement in the backseat of the car. My Dad was asking even more questions about the buildings and fields, to which my husband and I had to kindly say once again: "We don't know." The minute we arrived in the beautiful white town of Thorn, we knew our stay was going to be pleasant. Surrounded by such beauty it was hard to not have a good time. The homes, the gardens, the cobblestone streets, and buildings were all impeccably manicured and well taken care of. They had been preserved since 990 and it was a sight to see.

Day 3 we began the search for the Timmermans gone by and struck some luck at the tourist information center of Thorn who decided to go above and beyond their call of duty and start digging into some archives in order to find out more information for us. We drove a short distance through the towns of Heel, and Beegden, before reaching the tiny town of Horn, where we have been told it all began. To the church and cemetery we went, where traces of Timmermans were found. Walking through the town we found a printing business with our name on it and I could feel my Dad's pulse quicken with excitement as he spoke to the receptionist.

Lucky for him English was spoken fluently, as if we were still in Denmark, and the customer service and friendliness of people was incredible. In addition to the beauty of the town and gardens, I think the memory that will stick most in my mind was the fact that the people of the Netherlands made a point to make us feel like we were at home. Little did they know it was a trip about coming home for my Father.

The Immigration Experience

Living as an American Expat in a foreign country has opened up my eyes to many experiences. Some good, some bad, but all educational. Most of all, it has allowed me to empathize with those who have experienced this when trying to come to my country. The land of opportunity.

When moving to Denmark two years ago the immigration process was pretty straightforward and fairly easy. The longest wait at the immigration office was our very first visit submitting my application to enter the country, and it was only for a couple of hours if I remember correctly. After I was approved, I had to go back to the immigration office and receive a stamp in my passport indicating my temporary residency status. I was given instructions to go wait in a certain line so that it wouldn't take very long and I remember being in and out in 30 minutes on my second visit.

However, after applying for a renewal of this residency in early May, I am still waiting for the approval in July. My temporary residency expired June 26, 2011. Since it is summer and I have travels planned, and since the stamp that once allowed me back into the country has now expired, I had to go back to the immigration office and get a temporary stamp that would allow me back in the country, while I wait for my residency to be renewed. This time, this visit, was far different than any I have experienced before.

The immigration office opens at 8:30am and you have to take a number to wait your turn to be called. On the website it indicated the doors open at 8am so you can pull a number and be first in line once the office opens, which was my intention on the day I planned to go. However, it took me longer to get there than I had intended and I arrived at 8:30am instead of 8 and took my number. Which was already 111... and the office had just opened. After talking to several people I found out the doors open as early as 7am, and even at that time the person I talked to was only able to pull number 14. At 8am, when the doors are supposed to open and number taking is supposed to begin for the very first time, the number pulled was 58.

When I realized it would take me close to 3 hours I was immediately impatient, thinking there had to be another way. Surely, a temporary travel stamp for someone who was already approved to be in the country shouldn't take that long. I looked around, heard an announcement in Danish about people who only needed a residency renewal card should go to line 2, so I waited in line to see if that was me. Afterall, once my residency was renewed I would get a card, and not have to worry about the stamp in my passport business anymore. After waiting in a relatively short line for 45 minutes, I was turned away, and told to get back in the regular line, like everybody else. Which essentially meant take a seat and wait for your number to be called. My fighting spirit had been diminished and I succumbed to my fate. I was patient up until about hour 3, as that was the amount of time the office counter had indicated it would take me to get through given my time of arrival. How mistaken they were.

5 hours later, my number was finally called. Long after my friend Beth who was there to give me company (while we were supposed to be celebrating our last day in Denmark together) had gone home for some lunch. My number was also called an hour or so after they had locked the front doors so no new people could get in. Which meant if you went outside to get some air you were locked out, unless someone let you in at the exit. Air being the operative word. There were no windows or fans, and it was a hot sunny day. We were left breathing the same stale air which became filled with body odor as the day wore on.

My final thoughts of the day and the entire experience was that of Ellis Island. I wondered how long they had to wait after a long journey by boat across the Atlantic....in the 1800's. And then my thoughts moved to cattle. It felt like we were trapped and in cages, just like animals. No sunlight or fresh air. My rage was in-explainable. So much so, I couldn't even talk to my husband after the experience. I needed to calm down before I shared any words with him. Amazingly enough, after a walk to clear my head, lunch with my friend Beth, and a glass of wine to finally celebrate our last day in DK, the anger had subsided and I was just grateful to be done with it. I can finally travel now and enjoy my summer, while I wait for immigration to make a decision on whether Denmark will allow me to live in their country for another two years.

Nice Paint Job

Prior to our trip to the South of France I decided to treat myself to a mani/pedi in CPH. This is a regular ritual for many females living in major cities all across the US (well, at least in Chicago) and was always something I would be sure to schedule prior to any vacation or trip. A regular pedi is particularly important for the summer sandal season.

However, soon after I moved to Denmark I realized this would be one of those luxuries I would have to give up. A $12 manicure can easily be justified on a whim and a $40 mani/pedi could be worked into any monthly budget under the 'maintenance' category in the US, but at approximately 40% more the cost, this was something that would be put in the 'special occassion' category while living in Denmark.

Like, at my wedding. That was my first wake up call at how much more expensive this treatment was in Denmark and how much better the service was in the US for half the price. However, I chalked up that encounter to my lack of experience in knowing where to go, and took into account the fact that the little island of Møn might not exactly represent the rest of Denmark as far as beauty services go.

Fast forward two years later after meeting many foreign women experiencing this same dilemma, I finally got wind of a place that came highly recommended in Copenhagen, so I saved my Kroner and waited to book the treasured mani/pedi for this very trip. The overall experience was pleasant. But once again, I paid much more for less service. I got a great nail job, but if wanted the nice extras I am used to (like hand soaking and pumice removal) that would have cost more.

Så jeg siger nej tak for nu! When you're used to great quality at less cost, it's hard to justify doing the opposite.

Summer is just around the Corner

The Memorial Day weekend in the US, or the last weekend in May always used to mark the beginning of summer to me. School was out, or nearly at the end, (high school that is) and the days were beginning to get hot and humid in the Midwest.

This year marks my third summer without celebrating that holiday and I find myself still adjusting to when summer will begin. The first summer I arrived in DK was actually Memorial Day weekend, but my head was in wedding and moving mode. Last year I was busy preparing for summer school so it slipped right underneath my fingers but this year I found myself consciously aware of its presence, or lack thereof. Probably because I have been counting down the days for school to end.

Thursday, June 16 marks the official end of my first year at CBS, when summer will finally begin for me. We've been blessed with beautiful weather on and off since the week of Easter in April, but my mind and schedule has been far too busy to truly enjoy it. I have been told the first year of your Masters is the hardest at CBS and I hope they are right. Either way, I intend to fully enjoy the few months of summer that are soon to start.

Beginning with visiting a good friend in the South of France this weekend. Then Mom and Dad arrive for two weeks for fun and travels around Europe. Then it's off to the US to see family and friends and before you know it my good friends Lori, Danielle, and Jacquie will be here, and then all of a sudden it is August. Summer is one of those precious times of year when you await its arrival and before you know it, it's gone. The best way to make it last is to soak up every single moment, which I will be reminding myself of every single day.

Come Smell Our Dairy Air

My friend Beth and I were recently involved in an artistic exhibit featuring immigrants, refugees, and foreigners. The goal was to share an experience of our home country by describing a t-shirt we once owned that represented a sense of identity or belonging. The t-shirts would then be recreated by an artist based on our descriptions of them and be sold in a local consignment shop. The proceeds from the t-shirt sales would then go to assist those in need in Africa. The t-shirt that came to mind for me was one that I bought in Madison, WI. It was green and yellow (Green Bay Packer colors), had the state of Wisconsin on it, with the slogan "Come Smell our Dairy Air."

This of course has a dual meaning which is the reason I bought it. It represented where I come from in the US with good humor, poking fun at the fact that we are known as a "dairy state" with lots of farms and pleasant smells drifting in the air, while at the same time sort of telling the person reading it to "kiss our behind" in the kindest way possible. It made me laugh when I read it. I had hoped it might do the same for others that read it too. I would wear this t-shirt at Organic Valley events where I used to volunteer whenever they were in Chicago which gave me another warm feeling and good memory. Any chance I could get to support a local cooperative farming initiative from the drift-less region had my name written all over it. Particularly given the fact that my nickname with a group of friends is known as "free-range" for a reason. Being socially conscious and environmentally responsible is something I take to heart, so I guess it makes perfect sense that I married a Dane and now live in one of the most sustainable countries in the world.

The part that makes the experience of being involved in this exhibit so interesting is the interpretation of the artist. As I was describing the t-shirt for the artist he asked about the shape of Wisconsin. So, as any Midwesterner does from the great lakes region, you use your left hand to represent Wisconsin, and right for Michigan (with Lake Michigan representing the gap in between). Then you point out where Chicago is and it becomes clear in the persons mind where in the world you are from. Instead of replicating the state from the shape of my left hand however, he used my hands to represent both states and put it in his reinterpretation of the t-shirt which added an additional element of humor all on its own.

To read more about the exhibit, check out the Lokal Global Plan website.

Lessons in Language

It has been a while since I have posted an update and there are several reasons for that. First, I am nearing the end of my first year as a Master student at CBS which is, from what I hear, notoriously one of the hardest/busiest times one encounters on this journey. Lots of preparation for upcoming written and oral exams has consumed most of my energy.

Secondly, I am also balancing 20 hours a week of work which includes updating the company blog once a week. Even though I love writing, all of the writing for school and work has kept me from updating the one piece of writing that is 100% fun, totally personal, and can be about pretty much anything that inspires. My blog here in Denmark!

However one thing has been on my mind for some time that I have been wanting to write about. I have noticed from both educational and professional experience that customer is one of the most commonly misspelled words. I have seen it on websites, in lecture notes, and even in company presentations as 'costumer' which is a person who buys, sells or makes costumes. Not a customer which is also known as a client, buyer, or purchaser. It's an easy enough mistake, as it's a simple switch of the letters u and o, and I am positive I have made plenty Danish spelling mistakes myself, but it's just one of those things that goes unsaid that is pretty common.

Sort of like how native English speakers begin to lose their English the longer they live in a foreign country. Another very strange, interesting side effect I have experienced from living in Denmark for nearly two years, which I can only explain by the following. The less you use or are exposed to your native language, the less you use certain words, which means they escape from memory right when you need them most. I am counting on getting them back one day, along with my emphasis on the right syllables.

So the lessons in language while living in a foreign country extend far beyond learning and comprehending a new language. It also involves getting used to my own language being spoken and written in a very different way. Which in turn I adapt to, that could perhaps prevent me from using my own language in the way it was meant to be used. Strange, but true.