Not a Sitcom Postman

Considering my proclivity for frugality, my basket equipped lady's bike has been building up quite a few miles lately. School is a bit too far to walk, which means a nice forty minute ride in the morning, and another in the afternoon. I wouldn't have it any other way.

But some days, or most, the weather gets pretty rough. Denmark is rainy and windy all winter. And we even get the occasional snow. That was the case last week. I was just getting over a cold, and then it got all frigid and snowy for my ride to school. In the morning there wasn't too much, just some flurries, but by the afternoon, there was a good six inches covering everything. So beautiful. Yeah it's not much compared to what I've seen in the news lately back home, but it's still nice. Well, nice as long as you're not biking.

I didn't have a choice though, and honestly, I was kind of excited about it. Maybe it's just the reckless teenager in me, but the idea of riding fast and losing control is more than moderately appealing. At first it wasn't too bad, but then it started getting so that I couldn't see. That sucked. Then the bike path wasn't plowed and it was covered with ice, making it nearly impossible to ride on. For a while I had to ride on the sidewalk. Every once in a while I'd hit this rough spot and lose control. I imagine I looked like quite the ass. Towards the end of my ride, while trying to maneuver around a light post, my bike slipped out from under me a bit, and before I could catch it, I went right into a bush. It wouldn't have been so bad, but there was this cute Danish girl walking right towards me as it happened. Ah well, she gave me a big smile when I got back on and road past. I smiled back, and then realized that I had an hours worth of frozen snot and ice in my halfbeard. But man is it worth it, such a great insulator.

And there's no better feeling than getting home on a cold snowy afternoon and realizing that you don't have to leave again till the next day.


Home

Wednesday Nights

Wednesday night is garbage night. They come to pick it up Thursday morning. In Denmark, they put out more than just garbage. That means Guillermo and I put on our dankest sweat pants and play shopping spree hobo style. But since we're both sick, the first night is limited to 20 minutes. In that short amount of time we brought back:

• Clothes hangers
• Microwave
• Scanner
• Fancy take apart cake pan
• Dish Drainer (there were actually two that would have worked but we took the new looking one)
  

Things of mention that were not gleefully taken:

• Mattress
• Foldable cot
• Computer monitor w/ keyboard
• Kitchen table
• Multiple shelf assemblies
• Toaster
• Mini refrigerator
  
• Large cuddly looking teddy bear

3 and 1/2 Weeks

That's all it takes apparently. That's all it takes to fully move into an apartment in a foreign country.

It's not as simple as you might think. You come to a country where you don't speak the language, and you move into an empty apartment. Any belongings that didn't fit in a hiking pack are thousands of miles away. We literally started with nothing. What was left from before was a kick ass fridge, a stove, and some small speakers screwed into the walls. After receiving some gifts from our friends in the containers, we were well on our way to glorious plates of pasta. So we had the whole eating issue secured at least. Really though, there wasn't much else. Actually, they took all the damn lights out of the living room. Not just the lights, the sockets as well. You pull off this plastic plate and there are just wires; ones that don't tickle if you forget to turn off the switch and complete the circuit with your fingers. Anyways, for about a week we functioned at night with candles. In a sense it was romantic, but then the sun would come up and I'd realize that I'm living with a hairy Spaniard.


Candles

So far, both times that I've flown to Denmark it hasn't been easy. It's not the long flight in a cramped seat. It's not even the airport security that's become so strangely sensual among other things. It's something else. You know when you get so tired that you begin to romanticize about sleep, and being in a big comfy bed. Especially after traveling, you get to your destination with one thing on your mind. If it's not home, you can compromise, a nap on grandma's couch, or even a hotel room. You get so tired that you disregard how absolutely filthy the room must be. Hell, for frisbee tournaments we'd drive 10 hours through the night only to sleep 20 to a room. Even on the crusty floor, positioned bitch between two snoring, farting teammates, I'd sleep like a baby.

But with Denmark, when I finally arrive, it's never that simple. First semester, DTU's oh so useless international office decided to postpone my check in for a day. And this time all I could think about was how impossible it'd be to move all my crap on a bike. As soon as I turn on my phone, I get these messages from Guillermo trying to explain where I could rent a car. It was the last thing I wanted to think about. As soon as I got to the apartment I used my dirty clothes as a bed and took a big long nap on the floor.

Later that night Frank drove us to the containers with his trailer. It took a half hour. It was nothing. He was more than happy to do it. I can't imagine how much of a pain in the ass the whole ordeal would have been without him. Anyways, by the end of the night we were "home". And with all of our belongings there, we look around at the dark dirty emptiness and think, shit, we have a lot of work to do in the next few weeks. And with that, approaching midnight on a Tuesday, we take a short and wonderful ride to the city center for some pizza.

On the way back, nearly home, we spot something amazing and wonderful sitting out on the sidewalk: an elegant red couch and a nice round dining table. The two most coveted pieces of furniture, sitting on the side of the road free for anyone who has a car or whoever is desperate enough to try to carry it 800 meters. So for the moment, we set the pizza aside. About an hour later we are sitting on our nice new couch, eating pizza, and watching a movie.

Four days later, more furniture from a second hand store. Five days, a Peruvian dinner party. A week, light. Three weeks later, a Danish friend brings us to her grandma's house. We go there with wine and fresh bread, come back with another couch, a huge entertainment center type thing without the place for a tv, one of those fancy stone tables, two closet dealies, all sorts of crap for the kitchen... we barely fit it all. We are now legally fully furnished. And then, yesterday, get this, I went and finally bought a comforter for my bed. I am no longer sleeping in a sleeping bag. I know it's a bit luxurious for me, but hell, it's my first apartment.



Light

We did it cheap, we did it in style. When we're away, we miss it. We're married to it. After dinner we put our feet up and watch Top Chef, which is by the way one of the most addictive and amazing shows I've ever seen. But it's become that cozy little place. Maybe it's only my home for six months, but maybe, just maybe, I can land a job out here and figure out a way to stay. Damn that'd be nice.