Romsø: Land of Magic and Ticks

Last week, on Ascension Day, we got on a tiny boat with twenty other people and set off into the Baltic/North Sea (I'm not really sure which one it is because we're right in between?).  For a three hour tour (a three hour tourrrrrrr).

[Not really.  It was more like a six hour tour total and only thirty minutes on the tiny boat.]

And after a little journey, the boat totally left us all alone on this completely uninhabited island a few miles off of the completely inhabited island we live on.  For hours.  Just to wander.

It was amazing.

And so we're stomping through the woods and trekking along the coastal cliffs and peeking into old, defunct village schools and cottages...

And crawling over stone fences and through windswept bushes, through tall grasses.  Keeping an eye out for pheasants and swans and the almost-tame herd of deer left on the island...

Spent a good amount of time stalking a huge group of them, trying to get a shot of the awesome albino deer with its usual entourage...

And then, after a bit, sitting down with the rest of the co-workers on the grass and enjoying a nice picnic when someone casually noticed that everyone had their pants tucked into their socks, and then someone else casually noted that there totally were a bazillion ticks everywhere on this island and, oh hey, here are two just right here on my blanket...  so don't even bother tucking in your pants because we're all doomed so have a strawberry and c'est la vie!

TICKS!  I hate ticks.  I hate ticks so much.  I HATE ticks.  And I've spent a good amount of time making sure that I never have had a tick in my life and for some reason I thought that this mystical island would never have anything as bad as ticks on it which I now realize is completely insane but, I mean, there don't really seem to be mosquitoes here so was it really that insane etc.?

When we got home, everyone reported their tick kills -- two on the back, one on the knee, between the toes!

And Paul tick-checked me.  And guess how many ticks I had on my tick-virgin body?!

Not a flippin' single one.  

I am invincible.

The Taste of Satan

Today is a gross day.

Seriously gross.  So gross because I feel like a zombie and I went to Danish class and was like, "Nope, this isn't happening" halfway through.  And because I have to wake up at an ungodly hour tonight to give a proposal presentation to the entire GIS department waaay over there in east-coast-time-land.

So, I'm a frizzy stressball that is simultaneously exhausted (and perhaps a little sick?  I can't tell if it's just being tired or am I tired because I'm sick?).  And I'm sitting in Danish class thinking, "Maybe if I eat some chocolate then I'll get some energy..."

And I go to the vending machine.  And I put in all the tiny bits of change I can find in my sad, sad, exhausted, sad pockets.  And I type in the number to get a Yankie bar (sort of like a Milky Way?).

And the Yankie bar falls, and I reach in, and I pull it out... aaaaaaaand...

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

LAKRIDS!

The danish word that means "satan."

Okay, not really.  Really it means "liquorice" but liquorice in english means "satan" so...

Why is everything here tainted with the sin and horror of lakrids?!  Breath mints, cough drops, gummi bears, cake, gravy (?!).  

So...that's my sad story.  And yes, I did try to "give it a chance."  Nope.  Nope that was a bad idea.  

In happier news, if you're a person who is able to and actually enjoys tasting satan, then Denmark is the country for you.

And we got to go to the zoo for free on Saturday.  

Lisboa

It's pretty cold here still, even though the sun is up at 5am and down at 9pm.  And, we're still taking a break from our usual every-two-month explorations to make up for the beating our bank account took when we moved from Germany.

BUT, we're planning for a short, weekend trip this August to Lisbon and Evora to see us through the chilly spring.

I can't say that Portugal was on our exploration short-list, but now that circumstances have lined up to make this trip possible, we're getting pretty excited.

Portugal really is a mystery to us-- is it like Spain?  Is it like Brazil?  Is it like Greece?  Is it like...whatever Portugal is like?  And what is Portuguese food?  Is there a particular Portuguese architecture?  How did such a relatively small country stick around with such consistent borders for so long?

Has anyone out there been to Portugal?  Any tips?  We're all orelhas.

Great Prayer Day

Store Bededag, or "Great Prayer Day," is tomorrow and it's a day-off-work kind of holiday (woo!).

The history is pretty straight forward--way back in the 17th century, Danish folks were like, "Man, there are sure a lot of prayer days around Easter...I wish that we could streamline this a bit or something."  So they did, by lumping all the prayer days into one Great Prayer day on the fourth Friday after Easter.

Since, you know, Great Prayer Day meant you were making up all your prayers in one day, everything was closed, including the bakeries.

So, tonight, the day before Store Bededag, you traditionally go out and buy some warm wheat rolls and eat them with butter and jam--because, even though you were supposed to buy the bread early and eat it the next day, who can resist a warm roll fresh from the bakery?!

So happy Store Bededag tomorrow.  And enjoy a roll tonight!

Living Small

We live in a pretty small apartment, even for Danish standards, that clocks in around 480 square feet (45 square meters).

But, then again, it's not like we have a lot of stuff.  I mean, we moved to Germany two years ago with just four suitcases.  We literally only brought clothes, one cookbook, two nice chef knives, a set of teaspoons, and a pyrex measuring cup. (Clearly, I was a little nervous about having to convert cooking measurements.)  It's not very hard to keep the stuff to a minimum when you're starting with that.

I was thinking, though, that even though I'm pretty sure most of our American friends would probably think our apartment is insanely small and too quirky to handle (bedroom light switch in the opposite corner from the door?  sure! power outlets literally in the middle of the wall?  why not?), it's not so bad.  And I kind of like livin' small.

For one, there's just less to worry about.  Two, it's hard to lose things--there are usually only two places it can be.  Three, less heating and electricity costs which pans out to one more international trip in a year.  And, living small has also made us think about what we really need, in terms of both things and in terms of space.

So, we'll probably stay put here in Hyggehus for a while.  Because living small isn't so bad.  Oh, and because of that darned couch.