Two-year Update: We Still Live In Denmark, and I Finish Language School

I've always wanted to learn a language other than English. After four successful years of high school Spanish with Señora Skagerberg, I thought Spanish would be the language. I dreamed of visiting Spain and of continuing the mastery of Spanish, but then I went to university--and took Japanese. Then I moved to Asia. My marriage to a Dane was the final seal on the fate of learning Spanish. 

DU-3, June 2016

Now after two years of classes, two location moves, six different teachers, countless hours of study (including quite a bit of talking aloud to myself), and numerous tests, I have a piece of paper that proves I can speak Danish, reality notwithstanding. I started knowing everything and finished knowing nothing. I started as a stranger here and finished with six lovely friends from Hungary, Ukraine, Romania, and Israel. DU-3, class of June 2016, we did it. 

Two years ago, I wrote the following: 

We moved to Denmark [...]. It's windy and cold. People are nice but reserved. I ride a bike and am still trying to figure out what life here is all about. 

Two years on, nothing has changed. Nothing. It's almost July, and I'm wearing a sweater. My feet are freezing. I'm about to put on rain gear to get Monkey from the kindergarten on my bike. I will smile at people who may or may not make eye contact with me. Tonight I will contemplate what life after sprogskole is all about. Check back in June 2018 to see if I've cracked the code. 

Reminiscing: School field trip, June 2014

Questionable English and Killer Drops

I spend a lot of time using the online dictionary for translation. It's convenient, current, and has good pronunciation clips. Every once in awhile I run across a translation or an example that causes me to raise an eyebrow, and I've started jotting them down for the sake of amusement. Here are a few I've collected:

• She is wearing some intriguing underwear.
• Their quarrel ended in a fight.
• He elevated his eyebrows in disbelief.
• She glared admiringly at him.
• She glanced at it for hours.
• Excuse me, but you are standing on the hem of my frock.
• Sight lies in the eyes of the beholder. 

Anyway. 

I went into the drugstore the other day to inquire about a product that comes in both drop and spray form. I selected a bottle and asked if it was 'drops'. BUT instead of saying dråber, I said dræber. Dråber means 'drops'. Dræber means 'murderer'. Need I say more? 

And so my language learning progresses.

Blog Spring Cleaning: Dansk Progress, Monkey is Two, Fashion Fails, Irondad Prevails

TV/Midt-Vest visit

In January, my classmates and I passed the test to move to Module 3. Now in addition to our regular classes, we have a group project element in which we make presentations on a central theme. This is a combined effort with Module 4, and we have just begun our second project--Media in Holstebro. My team chose TV, so I arranged for us to visit TV/Midt-Vest, the regional TV station, last week. We were all pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable and interesting it was. We got a personal tour by the redaktionschef through the news rooms and studios, and she graciously sat with us for a short interview. We will give our presentations in a couple of weeks. 

In February, I took the first Dansk Prøve, a test which is required for those on 'Family Reunification' visas. There is only one testing location for the entire country, so it was a very convenient 3 1/2 hour drive for us. I'm still waiting for the results, but the test was easy. 

Monkey Baby turned two in March, so she's not really a baby anymore. But she's definitely still a monkey. She's funny and frustrating and totally charming. Her English and Danish are both developing quickly which is completely fascinating to me as one raised mono-lingually. Currently trending is 'ikke' (not) with everything: 

'Daddy henne?' (Where's Daddy?)

'Daddy's in the living room opening the curtains.'

'Nej, mama, ikke curtains.'

'Well, he is opening the curtains.'

'Ikke curtains!'

'Take it up with Daddy.'

'Time to get ready for bed, Monkey.' 

'Nej, ikke bed.' 

'Yes, and then we'll read some books.' 

'Nej, mama, ikke read books!' 

'But you love books!' 

(pause) 'Yaaaay books!'

So that's fun.

Påske is everywhere right now. Easter. There are familiar themes of eggs and chocolate bunnies, and the ad magazines are full of offers on legs of lamb and pickled herring. 

Easter dresses, c. 1987

This morning my choir sang for the Palm Sunday service out at Mejrup Kirke. Even though I've been to church here before--and to this church in particular--I still decided to wear high heels, dress slacks, and a dry-clean-only top. It must be something ingrained. Growing up, we always dressed up for church. But today, I felt a little out of place in a sea of sensible shoes and no-nonsense attire. 

This is not the first time I've felt inappropriately dressed at an event in Denmark, so I'm considering generating a chart which details occasions and clothing options that can be cross-referenced with times of day.

• Evening birthday in a garden tent: casual with sweater
• Afternoon birthday: nice casual, take along practical shoes for a forest/beach walk
• Confirmation with a nursing infant: squeeze into that one black dress and hope for the best
• Confirmation at a golf resort: GO SHOPPING
• Church: freely choose any of the frumpy clothes in your closet

It's a work in progress.

To finish my spring cleaning, I need to mention my dad. He pops up in my writing now and then, often in conjunction with athletic achievements, and his latest accomplishment is the Melbourne Ironman. 

As with his first Coeur d'Alene Ironman, there was a bit of drama. There was a trip to the ER to deal with recurring gut blockage caused by the radiation several years ago. There was morphine and an IV drip. There was a mad dash to the airport directly from the VA hospital. There was a recurrence of bronchitis. There was dehydration. Ultimately, there was an Ironman, and his name is Dwight Schuh. 

He finished sixth out of seven in the 70-74 age group, sticking it out to the end with fellow American Richard Weinbrandt who came in seventh with 1 1/2 lungs following a lung infection and surgery in December 2014. To quote my sister, 'Sounds like the old guy division isn't for wimps.' You can say that again.

Sorry you didn't get your Kona qualifier, dad. We still think you're alright.

Learning to Drive in Denmark

Around 15 years old, driving on a family camping trip

I took my first driving license when I was fourteen. My mom took me over to Nampa High very early in the mornings before school, and I sat in a class with other fourteen to sixteen year olds to learn the theory of driving. Some mornings I would drive with an instructor in a car with two other kids I didn't know. They swore a lot, but that's beside the point, which is that I got my license.

If I want to drive here in Denmark, which I do, I am required to exchange my US license for a Danish one by way of passing a driving test. I could simply take the test and hope for the best, but a failure and consequent retaking is expensive. Therefore, I have signed up for some theory classes to improve my chances of passing the test the first time.

Once again, then, I find myself sitting in a class with other students, non-Danish speakers of all nationalities, to learn the theory of driving in Denmark. We sit at narrow wooden tables that are covered in doodles and swear words in a third-floor room above the pedestrian street. There is a small fridge full of Coke. A few students are only exchanging licenses from their home countries, but the majority are taking licenses and learning to drive for the first time. A high percentage of the students, including previous license holders, have already taken and failed the test at least once. 

Our instructor is a kind man and true advocate for foreigners trying to pass the test. As the test is visual with audio, it used to be that you had to bring your own translator. Now they actually provide the audio in English, but those who are not proficient enough still struggle with the speed and terminology. The instructor is not allowed to preview the actual tests, so he does his best to anticipate and prepare us accordingly. 

I've attended several classes now, and I don't think I could have passed without any study. The different signage and rules combined with the British terminology make it just confusing enough to invite failure. Terms such as 'shark's teeth', 'give way right', 'standard of the carriageway', and 'built-up area' were all missing from my lexicon. I hope that knowing I have 'absolute give way duty' when I cross a 'pavement' or 'cobbles' will help me pass my test. 

Now I'm off to ride my bike.