Medievil Markets and Plugs

Hopefully this will be short and sweet, the last one was painfully long winded!

At the moment I'm back in England, I arrived late on Monday night and I'm leaving on Thursday evening. I'm trying to pack everything I forgot last time before I to drive back to Denmark - like warm clothes and shoes without holes in. I've tried to compile a list of things that aren't obtainable in Denmark; Marmite, jelly and of course chilli (scotch bonnet) and hope to fill my car to bursting point so that I never need to buy anything in Denmark for my full two years of study.



Over the weekend Ringsted played host to a medieval festival. The surrounds of the historical church (the oldest brick church in Denmark, dating back to to 1170) were transformed, with tents, stalls and straw on the floor, into a ye olde market place complete with a hog roast.



You could buy weapons, specialist teas and of course fox skins and boars' heads. Unfortunately we managed to miss the jousting, but I managed to see some sword fighting, although if I'm honest it didn't look like they were really trying. 









The event culminated in a display of falconry. The falconist spent a short time describing the bird and the art of falconry before raising his arm and letting the beast take to the sky. As soon as it was airborne the bird made a beeline over the church and disappeared over the horizon. The crowd waited with hushed expectation as the falconist whirled a ball of rags on a piece of string to lure the bird back. Clearly the bird was much more cleaver than he anticipated and grabbed it's chance for freedom with both wings.



We all stood, neck craned, heads tilted to the skies. "Was that it?" - "No it was just a pigeon". As the uncomfortable tension built the falconist tried to fill time with interesting facts and explanations, it was a wild bird, falcons are never pets and hence sometimes they play up. Eventually he admitted that this particular bird had gone AWOL at least two times previously. While we all waited, scanning skies, the king and queen (not Queen Margaret and Count Henri de Laborde de Monpeza) looked on from their throwns with growing unease and embarrassment.



Sadly the bird never came back, the above photo is the last sighting of the creature.
I believe it's now living feral on Fyn, surviving on stolen Danish pastries.

In other news I saw a moth emerge from a pupa, he it is all new and shiny getting used to the big wide world.



And on the train to the airport I noticed that Danish trains have really happy plugs on them so that people can charge their phones/computers/food blenders.



I also found a place to live... but I'll write more about that when I get some photos.

On Monday night I flew back to England to pack up a car with literally tonnes of things to drive back to Denmark. I flew back on Norwegian air, which was surprisingly cheaper than Easyjet. There are several advantages to flying with Norwegian air, the nauseating orange of Easyjet is replaced with a much more demure crimson, seats are allocated so boarding the aircraft doesn't have that "running of the bulls" feeling of elbow swinging intensity and all announcements are read out in Danish, Norwegian (or possibly Swedish) and English - 3 languages!

The tail of my plane was garnished with Kristian Birkeland the nitrogen fixing, nineteenth century Norwegian physicist.



Please note this is an internet photo of the plane I was on, I didn't manage to get any external photos while I was on board.

Anyway, that's enough of that. Join me next week for the tail of one man (aged 26), one 12 year old car and one 1 and a bit year old tarantula on an epic journey. They'll (I me we'll) either triumphantly traverse four countries by two separate modes of transport (get that Charlie Borman!) or break down, be arrested, drown or get lost. There's only one way to find out... Join me for my most ambitious blog yet: Blog 5!

A Journey of a 814 miles starts with a single Blog

Trains, Rains and Visas

Last time I left you when I had just arrived in Denmark, all wide eyed and wet behind my ears (literally).

I spent much of the Sunday relaxing and recuperating after my journey. I also experienced a Danish phenomenon; kebab pizza! it’s donna kebab meat with limp lettuce on a pizza, covered in mayonnaise dressing... Umm I don’t really know how to describe it, except it tastes exactly as it sounds.

On Monday morning I awoke early to go to the University to try and enrol on the pre-course course that started that day at 9:30 sharp. Apparently I was meant to have registered before 2nd August, but the university hadn’t sent me the form explaining that. So I didn’t hear about it until Friday evening, via a slightly confusing email, just as the University offices were closing. At about a quarter past 5 I had left several rushed messages and emails asking for information about it, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get a reply from them before the course started. My only hope was to turn up and find someone who had heard my plight and had taken pity on this dishevelled, lost and confused English alien.

I arrived in good spirits after a prompt bus and two late trains.



The walk from Trokener station to the University is nice, you walk over a little bridge crossing a motorway and there’s lake made of flood water. I made my way to the International Student’s office and was greeted (no greeted is the wrong word, what’s the opposite of greeted?) by a lady who looked at me with a “what are you doing here” sort of look. I tried to explain myself and she replied with a “what do you expect me to do about it?” sort of look. Eventually (with a queue forming behind me) I agreed to leave in exchange for a leaflet about how to get a visa and a map of Roskilde town centre.

Roskilde is about 30km (or 20 miles) West (or left) of Copenhagen. It’s by the sea and has a world famous Viking ship museum. The population in January 2010 was 46,701 (thank you Wikipedia) so it’s a bit smaller than Tunbridge Wells!

I spent the rest of the morning wandering around Roskilde. On my travels I saw 3 large vases, a charming glass walkway and a tag by Roskilde’s Banksy.







On the train back I saw some evidence as to why Danish people all seem so happy. As far as I can tell they don’t stop fooling around as they get older. Here’s a photo of the instructions on a walker (I’m not sure if that’s the right word, it was like a zimmer frame with wheels).



I apologise for the poor quality of the photo, I was trying to take it subtly without the stern looking owner noticing. I pretended I was just looking through my photos then acted all surprised when it made a photo taking sound. I also saw this disturbing sign... I didn’t realise there was a place for decapitated dogs on Danish trains.



On Tuesday it rained all day.



Not a lot happened. Everything was wet and cold. Apparently Danish cats don’t like the rain.



On Wednesday I went to Roskilde to sort out my visa. I tried to call the various government offices detailed in the leaflet that I got, but all of the numbers weren’t active so I spent a grumpy hour wandering around the city with a vein hope that I would stumble across the right building. One thing I did find on my travels was the tourist information bureaux (Hallelujah). The man there was lovely really helpful. In two minutes he furnished me with all the directions and advice I could need with regard to obtaining visas.

I then managed to track down the appropriately camouflaged government building (please excuse my reflection in this picture).



I climbed the grotty stairs to the unmarked office.



There I filled out my visa form. To complete my form I had to get some passport photos taken Danish style. I was directed to a camera shop, that had a white walled alcove sandwiched between glass cabinets filled with lenses, filters and tripods. I was directed into the alcove and told to stand still. Then the shop worker unlocked one of the cabinets, pulled out a camera and took a single photo of me. He then put the camera’s memory card into his computer and photoshoped my picture to quadrify it and reduce my massive head to a standard passport sized oval. I got chatting to the man, as he airbrushed out my blemishes and added some pout to my lips, and he explained that in Denmark all you need to be an official passport photo taker was a special cutter that cuts out the image at the end to the right size. He told me there’s no requirement for a certain type or quality of camera, just they need this cutter that costs £600! Still I can see how they make their money, my photos cost nearly £10! It makes the machines in Boots look cheap.

I celebrated by eating a traditional Danish snack. It’s a bit like a horrible hot dog (called a French dog). basically its a scooped out, under-cooked baguette with a frankfurter rammed inside. So far I haven’t experience Noma style cuisine... but I’ll keep looking!



So now my visa application is in. Hopefully in 3 weeks I should get a CPR number (as in resuscitation) and be assigned a Doctor!

One down, now all I have to do is find a place to live, get a bank account, learn Danish and get a degree... it all seems too easy!

Thank you to anyone who's read this far, I know it's been a bit of a slog today, I promise next post will be shorter!

“A single to Copenhagen please”

At precisely 11:45(ish) my cramped Easyjet flight carried me, 21kg of luggage and a £10 lighter wallet to Denmark.

I awoke early and ate a hero’s breakfast of eggs, scrambled, bacon and mushrooms - thanks Dad. After kissing goodbye to Humphry, We drove to Gatwick for the inevitable tearful fair well.



But due to the huge queue to Easyjet’s speedy baggage drop off desk, the goodbye was cut short and pretty soon I found myself negotiating the snaking Mickey Mouse queuing system alone. Hat’s off to Easyjet they’ve really honed this idea of checking in online so that all you have to do is drop off your bags. I literally only queued up for 35 minutes.



Now before I go on there’s a few points I want to raise about packing. It turns out that 20kg is just not enough to pack a life into. I packed and re-packed my case at least 4 times and eventually gave up. I decided the excess charge of £10 being easier to stomach than working out which hats, pants, glasses and medicines weren’t completely necessary. Also how many socks make a kilo? This is a question that I’ve never asked myself before.

Once my bright blue blimp of a bag was being whisked to the aeroplane by luminous yellow clad Menzies officials, I joined another wonderful queue for the mandatory security checks. I was reduced to audible sniggers and smirks when a lady standing by the x-ray machine stunned Gatwick employees by producing two 2 liter bottles of branded cola from her bag after being asked if she had liquids. She then looked dumbfounded as the official berated her for, firstly not putting the bottles in a clear plastic bag and then for the bottles being larger than 100ml. After a light frisking I was clear to enjoy the South Terminal’s conveniences and amenities.



After only 2 more queues I found myself sitting on the plane reading a thoroughly depressing book about loneliness waiting for the off. I know the above picture is a little confusing but the aeroplane is the large pointy metal plane in the background not the small white van in the foreground. I was sat next to a small family, the mother and approximately 6 year old son sat in my row and the father sat behind with another sprog. I became distracted from my book when the mother, after rummaging through her bag, produced a copy of Cosmopolitan magazine, and whilst next to her son (and literally in front of her husband) read an article entitled “Sex with a new man”.

I boarding a packed train from the airport to Copenhagen (please see the poor quality picture as evidence).



I then took the train from Copenhagen (or København as the locals call it) to Sorø. I’ve included a photo out of the window of the train... as you can see a wet windy Denmark looks remarkably similar to England except with fewer hills and more lakes.



In the evening near a lake there was a large screen showing a concert where a opera singer was singing extracts of “My Fair Lady” but in Danish... luckily this was cut short by the rain!

So I’ve arrived! tomorrow I start my first full day as a Danisher... my to do list still includes finding a place to live, getting a visa, getting a bank account and finding some information out about this university course, still a journey of a thousand miles starts with a flight and two trains.

I’ll blog again during the week, so join me again for another exciting adventure in Hu’s emigration.

Pre-Adventure

Hello,

I'm sorry this is going to be so brief, but I'm drinking coffee and as soon as I'm done I've got a list of things to do that's as long as Jutland.

I fly out tomorrow morning to a new life! I'm going to be a Danelandish student studying Environmental Biology and something I don't fully understand at the University of Roskilde. I have to admit I haven't been sleeping my usual 8 hours or eating my usual 5 meals a day these past few days. I feel like I have some dinural lepidoptera species bouncing around my stomach, but sometimes this feels good and exciting.

I'm looking forward to meeting lots of strange Danish people, with their peculiar attitudes towards tax, fish and curry. So far I'm meant to be starting a pre-course course on Sunday (not sure if that's right) but I haven't been given any information about it at all! so that might not happen. I guess if it doesn't then I'll have more time to sort out my visa, accommodation, bank accounts and learning the language and other minor details.

I'll try to pepper this blog with interesting photos (like this one, but obviously more relevant).



I'll also try and make it funnier... Sorry I guess that I'm just a little pre-occupied right now. Ummm... What's the hardest food to eat with chop sticks? Wan ton because it weighs one ton! hahahaha well you can't complain now, that was technically a joke!

More admin (and yet another apology) for those of you stupid enough to want to actively follow my adventure/demise in Denmark, the first few entries will most probably be short, and infrequent due to me not knowing entirely where I'll be living and also not having a definite internet connection - it's like I won't just be moving to Denmark but also back to 1987! I will endevour to sort this out ASAP and get some highly organised and structured method for getting the stories to the people.

If you are certified insane and want to follow my exploits (and you really would need to be gaga to want to learn more about me based on this child like ramble) you can find me on facebook (Hu Lynn), or twitter (but I don't understand that). Or you can bump into me in Sorø, Roskilde or Copenhagen - I'll be the one with curly hair making a blatant social faux pas.

Well I got to go shower and buy stuff and pack and look for visa forms and copy music from CD's to my computer and learn to speak Danish and stuff.

Bye Bye (or Favel)