A sense of time and spontaneity is a good thing. We were supposed to go to Jylland today, but this idea (which was kept loose anyways) dissolved over the course of yesterday evening. We decided instead to rent bikes and head north. Took a train to Klampenborg then biked up to Ålsgarde via Helsingør. By 6pm it was a fine idea to take a train to Gilleleje for a dinner of rødspætter and fiskefrikadeller in the harbour. Return train via Hillerød.
Many Chinese tourists at Kronborg in Helsingør. I crashed on the grassy ramparts for a bit, and it seemed there was an unending parade of Chinese tourists. I noticed also at the airport in Copenhagen for the first time signs in both Chinese and Japanese. And on both flights, I recall being addressed (i.e. by my first name, or by Ms. X), and there was a female Chinese stewardess (is there a better word?). One of them spoke in English on the PA system, but the effect on me was to listen to the French announcements.
A full day, all in all, and most days since Monday have been full, filled to the brim with the best the late summer offers here. Nice to see Danes being Danish in Denmark. My hostess has just told me she baked a new bread for tomorrow, with oil, egg, pecans, almonds, and hazelnuts. What's not to like?
Thursday, 4 September 2014
Wednesday, 3 September 2014
The details of life
Quite ensconced in Frederiksberg, here in Copenhagen. I just let my hostess know that yesterday, I met with a friend whose colleague lives here in the same building. And that another friend I met up with was in a class here with her daughter. Whereas in other places there are perhaps five or six degrees of separation, here I think here must be about two. Should I be adopted here, I would conceivably be related to a wide swath of the population here. And divorce seems to build upon this phenomenon. The rate is comparatively high here, but this really only results in widening the circle of those to whom one is related. A friend was recently invited to a wedding. It was to his father's third wife's daughter of her first husband. Everyone's either a relative or about to be.
I have now been here a week. As many know, this is not my first time here, though I certainly notice many changes. Some small details, some large. Nørrebro Station has seemingly been under continual construction, and this observation stands. There is a different voice on the Øresunds train up to Nordsjælland, and I miss the way the former voice said the station names 'Kokkedal' and 'Nivå'. Outside of errands, such as seeing a doctor for preventative asthma medication, exchanging bills my mother had from her visit here in the 70s, and buying a very nice Bourgogne truffel cheese, I have simply been visiting friends, barely skimming the edges of the city. Yesterday involved petting a cat in the afternoon, and picking hyldebær fruit around a lake to make a homemade drink. While one friend is studying 'sjælens sorg', the sorrows of the soul (he is a priest), this week is simply about rekindling connections, and filling the soul with light and gladness.
I have now been here a week. As many know, this is not my first time here, though I certainly notice many changes. Some small details, some large. Nørrebro Station has seemingly been under continual construction, and this observation stands. There is a different voice on the Øresunds train up to Nordsjælland, and I miss the way the former voice said the station names 'Kokkedal' and 'Nivå'. Outside of errands, such as seeing a doctor for preventative asthma medication, exchanging bills my mother had from her visit here in the 70s, and buying a very nice Bourgogne truffel cheese, I have simply been visiting friends, barely skimming the edges of the city. Yesterday involved petting a cat in the afternoon, and picking hyldebær fruit around a lake to make a homemade drink. While one friend is studying 'sjælens sorg', the sorrows of the soul (he is a priest), this week is simply about rekindling connections, and filling the soul with light and gladness.
Friday, 29 August 2014
Redemption
At Toronto Pearson, bottle of ice wine in hand from the duty free. How could I resist, with all the Chinese marketing?
The is the hub of Air Canada, our national airline that has progressively declined over the years. They started a new airline calle 'Rouge' and 'being rouged' has become part of our modern lexicon.
But I remember flying with them when I departed for Copenhagen for a year. I brought some long drawing tubes and it was going to cost a fortune. I told the special baggage guy, an older man with probably a history with AC, that I wad going to study abroad for a year. And we both got excited together about the prospect, of furthering a young girl's life, and international relations. He put a tag on my tubes and said 'we'll call them skis.'
And now, some years later,I am going yet again on AC to CPH. A Lufthansa flight but operated by AC, and I complain to a friend by text, and he commiserates with the downgrade. I couldn't check in online, nor could I use their machines. Forced to encounter a real human being, I get a smile.
And I starve on this flight. I probably didn't hear when lunch could be purchased. So with about 45 minutes before landing, I ask for a hot meal tray. Nothing was for sale, so they go up to first class and get me probably the best meal I've ever had on AC. On the house, so to speak. And upon deplaning, they even asked how it was, they were concerned that a meal late in the flight might not have been acceptable.
O Air Canada, step by step, your humanity is returning.
The is the hub of Air Canada, our national airline that has progressively declined over the years. They started a new airline calle 'Rouge' and 'being rouged' has become part of our modern lexicon.
But I remember flying with them when I departed for Copenhagen for a year. I brought some long drawing tubes and it was going to cost a fortune. I told the special baggage guy, an older man with probably a history with AC, that I wad going to study abroad for a year. And we both got excited together about the prospect, of furthering a young girl's life, and international relations. He put a tag on my tubes and said 'we'll call them skis.'
And now, some years later,I am going yet again on AC to CPH. A Lufthansa flight but operated by AC, and I complain to a friend by text, and he commiserates with the downgrade. I couldn't check in online, nor could I use their machines. Forced to encounter a real human being, I get a smile.
And I starve on this flight. I probably didn't hear when lunch could be purchased. So with about 45 minutes before landing, I ask for a hot meal tray. Nothing was for sale, so they go up to first class and get me probably the best meal I've ever had on AC. On the house, so to speak. And upon deplaning, they even asked how it was, they were concerned that a meal late in the flight might not have been acceptable.
O Air Canada, step by step, your humanity is returning.
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Everywhere Here is Somewhere Else
Received word that Consulate X in New York issued my visa and sent my passport the day after my flight would have left. Harrumph!
The morning began with touring a farm. The very farm that sustains the people that were doing spring cleaning at the restaurant last weekend. It's a big farm with all the essentials - Joshua at the top, goat kids about to come forth, and happy human kids rambling about. I discover their wood-fired outdoor wooden hot tub and ask lots of questions. We say good-bye, and they pack me two yerba maté bars for the road.
I continue onwards, and the car is propelled not (only) by fuel but by car tunes of course. My thumb dances on top of the steering wheel, in tact with the beat. I stop for lunch in 'Amity Harbor, The Strawberry Capital of the San Juan Islands.' I have a nice veggie focaccia at 'Pacific Grill' and imagine the ocean breeze still some 600 km away.
Drove through a thicket of rosy strip malls before I got into this town where I stay the night. The setting is spectacular, but the town itself exhibits both too little town planning and not enough randomness. Went for a walk this balmy evening on the Kettle Valley Trail, which showcases the extraordinary landscape. Lots of after-work joggers and cyclists trot past, and 'sandy beige' is a beautiful colour in its natural state, enhanced by sunset light.
As I approach the part with the cemetery on one side, I see a man with a green plastic bag looking up. Of course. I ask him about a bird on the fence. 'Gambel's Quail' he says. They're the only ones with a dark spot on their belly, as he pats his own tum-tum. We chat a little. Certainly his demeanour could posit him as curious bird-watcher by day, manager of Bates Motel by night. I continue my way, to have a warning from him: 'Don't go too far that way after dark. Coyotes, you know.'
The morning began with touring a farm. The very farm that sustains the people that were doing spring cleaning at the restaurant last weekend. It's a big farm with all the essentials - Joshua at the top, goat kids about to come forth, and happy human kids rambling about. I discover their wood-fired outdoor wooden hot tub and ask lots of questions. We say good-bye, and they pack me two yerba maté bars for the road.
I continue onwards, and the car is propelled not (only) by fuel but by car tunes of course. My thumb dances on top of the steering wheel, in tact with the beat. I stop for lunch in 'Amity Harbor, The Strawberry Capital of the San Juan Islands.' I have a nice veggie focaccia at 'Pacific Grill' and imagine the ocean breeze still some 600 km away.
Drove through a thicket of rosy strip malls before I got into this town where I stay the night. The setting is spectacular, but the town itself exhibits both too little town planning and not enough randomness. Went for a walk this balmy evening on the Kettle Valley Trail, which showcases the extraordinary landscape. Lots of after-work joggers and cyclists trot past, and 'sandy beige' is a beautiful colour in its natural state, enhanced by sunset light.
As I approach the part with the cemetery on one side, I see a man with a green plastic bag looking up. Of course. I ask him about a bird on the fence. 'Gambel's Quail' he says. They're the only ones with a dark spot on their belly, as he pats his own tum-tum. We chat a little. Certainly his demeanour could posit him as curious bird-watcher by day, manager of Bates Motel by night. I continue my way, to have a warning from him: 'Don't go too far that way after dark. Coyotes, you know.'
Saturday, 5 April 2014
The non-trip
Not on my trip, yet neither at home. I'm in a default place, a place I've been to before. Where I don't need to plan much for, and is always there in my heart. I learn more about it each time I come. A place where I relish in habits and rituals.
Today for instance I go to my regular dinner haunt. Instead, I'm told they are closed for spring cleaning until Monday. Instead of dinner, I am offered the story of their exisrance. Their community, their sheep, their restaurants and mate tea products. Instead, they offer me a roibus tea and mate bar, and a seat from which to hear their story unfold.
As I walk along the main drag, I pass by a man practicing his didgeridoo skills with a black pvc pipe, in a particularly resounding entrance to an otherwise regular insurance office. The shops around here are more upmarket than I remember. But here they put their true self up front, in front of the glass storefronts.
I have my dinner at a place recommended by where I otherwise would have gone. Here, if you were not already on a cleanse, they will help you on that path. There is a fair amount of choosing involved in my order, and the server makes one feel that one has made the perfect choice each step of the way. Cashew ginger dressing? Why that's what everyone gets here. Sure you've never been here before?
Today for instance I go to my regular dinner haunt. Instead, I'm told they are closed for spring cleaning until Monday. Instead of dinner, I am offered the story of their exisrance. Their community, their sheep, their restaurants and mate tea products. Instead, they offer me a roibus tea and mate bar, and a seat from which to hear their story unfold.
As I walk along the main drag, I pass by a man practicing his didgeridoo skills with a black pvc pipe, in a particularly resounding entrance to an otherwise regular insurance office. The shops around here are more upmarket than I remember. But here they put their true self up front, in front of the glass storefronts.
I have my dinner at a place recommended by where I otherwise would have gone. Here, if you were not already on a cleanse, they will help you on that path. There is a fair amount of choosing involved in my order, and the server makes one feel that one has made the perfect choice each step of the way. Cashew ginger dressing? Why that's what everyone gets here. Sure you've never been here before?
Thursday, 3 April 2014
Grounded
Well! This is going to be a rather short travel blog this time around.
Two days ago, the plan for tonight would have been a bit of packing and fridge cleaning. However, I have just finished putting together my travel cancellation insurance claim, and am about to hunt for a veggie burger and beer somewhere. I might even unpack a little.
The main story is that, despite the new passport, I still need 4 visas, 3 of which need new Letters of Invitation (referencing my new passport number) which, I have been told now, take 3-4 weeks to obtain. This does not even include the 'great game' of applying for each visa as a non-national enroute. My travel agent said that I am the 2nd who cancelled on this basis in her 30 years of experience.
Needless to say, there is not much difference between finding that this mountain has risen too high, and discovering that I've fallen off a cliff.
To top if off, the Lufthansa flight I would have been on tomorrow has been cancelled due to the pilot union's April 2-4 strike.
So one way or another, I was not meant to fly tomorrow, or go on this trip. Instead, I'll be getting a neck massage to sort out some strain which has developed of late. And taking some time off to recover from all this travel admin, which is a bit twisted...
Two days ago, the plan for tonight would have been a bit of packing and fridge cleaning. However, I have just finished putting together my travel cancellation insurance claim, and am about to hunt for a veggie burger and beer somewhere. I might even unpack a little.
The main story is that, despite the new passport, I still need 4 visas, 3 of which need new Letters of Invitation (referencing my new passport number) which, I have been told now, take 3-4 weeks to obtain. This does not even include the 'great game' of applying for each visa as a non-national enroute. My travel agent said that I am the 2nd who cancelled on this basis in her 30 years of experience.
Needless to say, there is not much difference between finding that this mountain has risen too high, and discovering that I've fallen off a cliff.
To top if off, the Lufthansa flight I would have been on tomorrow has been cancelled due to the pilot union's April 2-4 strike.
So one way or another, I was not meant to fly tomorrow, or go on this trip. Instead, I'll be getting a neck massage to sort out some strain which has developed of late. And taking some time off to recover from all this travel admin, which is a bit twisted...
Tuesday, 1 April 2014
No joke!
A beautiful warm sunny day, and a warm evening too. First day that people were sunning themselves in the park.
Just back from a talk by Arundhati Roy. She repeated a talk I saw online from last year, but there was a part she mentioned about the Armenian Genocide in Turkey (1915) that was worth remembering. I recall my first exposure to that in a film screened at an Armenian Orthodox Church in Damascus. The anniversary of it will be next year. Roy reminds us what price progress. I see this in the water cannons being used on demonstrators in Ankara. As we are invited to "ask Roy" at #askroy, I am reminded that twitter is banned in Turkey just now.
Travel admin moves ever onward. The journey has truly begun, with me going nowhere but with this mini-K2 moving upwards, and the sign always saying just 10 km more. This new passport (that I never should have needed to get in the first place) is now in hand, the other declared "lost" (because I could not prove the Consulate had it), but it was certainly far from certain. Two visits yesterday by myself, and two visits today by my dad, full conversations with my guarantor and 2 references ("250 lbs, green eyes, and red hair") yielded urgent spring fruit from the Passport office tree of life.
Mentioned to someone that with holidays like this, work is a blissful distraction. I can't wait to sit upright and do nothing for 15 hours.
Just back from a talk by Arundhati Roy. She repeated a talk I saw online from last year, but there was a part she mentioned about the Armenian Genocide in Turkey (1915) that was worth remembering. I recall my first exposure to that in a film screened at an Armenian Orthodox Church in Damascus. The anniversary of it will be next year. Roy reminds us what price progress. I see this in the water cannons being used on demonstrators in Ankara. As we are invited to "ask Roy" at #askroy, I am reminded that twitter is banned in Turkey just now.
Travel admin moves ever onward. The journey has truly begun, with me going nowhere but with this mini-K2 moving upwards, and the sign always saying just 10 km more. This new passport (that I never should have needed to get in the first place) is now in hand, the other declared "lost" (because I could not prove the Consulate had it), but it was certainly far from certain. Two visits yesterday by myself, and two visits today by my dad, full conversations with my guarantor and 2 references ("250 lbs, green eyes, and red hair") yielded urgent spring fruit from the Passport office tree of life.
Mentioned to someone that with holidays like this, work is a blissful distraction. I can't wait to sit upright and do nothing for 15 hours.
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