Travellin'

Hello to all the people in the Internet that are STILL willing to read this silly blog... which hasn't been updated in over a month.
Yeah, I'm a bad person. I know this!
But my life has tres tres busy, because I am, of course, a woman in demand, being the foreign type in the new land that needs THOROUGH exploring. So this is what I have been doing!

For example:
Several tidings ago, I was in Odense with my niglets (read: exchange friends) for a weekend of resto-relaxo hyggeligt catchings up. After months of learning the native tongue of Planet Denmark, attempting to understand their culture, and eating their strange foods, it was comforting (and slightly horrific when we realise how bad our accents are becoming) to hang out, bag out a certain redheaded Prime Minister, and indulge in Vegemite without being judged by suspicious natives.

Odense is a tres pretty city, with much to see. We were in H.C Andersen's house,

Hot to trot!

We were in the park,

Not sure what's going on here...

and we ate wayyyy too much.

Before this, we ate pizza, and after this, we ate ice cream. And then nachos. And more ice cream.

I also found myself in Copenhagen for the ANZAC day ceremony, because I am a fantastic Australian.
Well, to be honest, the biggest draw for me was that I might, finally, get to meet the elusive expat Kronprinsesse Mary. My previous attempts of standing outside her house had, so far, proved fruitless. According to my secretive sources, she is often at the ceremony.
This is the ultimate chance, to send the photo I would take with her to everyone back in Australia, and win every bet ever. Simply because, Mary.

NSW or QLD in State of Origin? Mary photo.

Who's going to win the Melbourne cup? Mary photo.

Or other situations:
"What makes you think you're qualified for this job?" Mary photo.

"I can't grant you this home loan..." Mary photo. "Actually, we can grant you this with 0% interest and 50 years to pay it off if you require it..."

"Calculate the mass of the sun and then square it to the power of 79 and than take the potential circumference and apply it to this cake recipe..." Mary photo. A+.

The invite to the ceremony said to be there no later than 9.50am, for a 10.00am start. Oh, of course, this is Denmark. We cannot be late. WE CANNOT BE LATE.

So, when the train arrived at 9.40, minus one friend, we were forced to abandon her as we ran for our lives, and stripping ourselves of our dignity. WE CANNOT BE LATE.
But, upon collapsing in the front garden of the ambassador's house at 9.53am, we were greeted with a big, Aussie smile, and handed a welcome pamphlet.

"Sorry we're late! Oh no, tell us we can still get in!"
"It's all good, girls! No worries!"

Ahhhh, that sound. Yes, Aussies. 

Denmark, you've changed us. Worried about being late to an Australian thing? Psshh. We weren't even the last to arrive, and our friend made it too! (By the skin of her teeth).

After a gorgey-porgey ceremony, we were invited for nibbles. Little did we know that nibbles meant lamingtons, ANZAC biscuits and sausage rolls. Holy Crapola. Stuffing of the face is on the agenda.

We ate it ALL.

Not mention that the ambassador's house was schmicko as all get out. Possible dream job: ambassador to Denmark. Yes, that would be nice.

Pretty house; pretty girls.

We spent the rest of the day kickin' back in pretty, pretty Nyhavn, and were home in time for tea.

Back home in Lolland, it was time to rep it for my class in the school volleyball tournament. My singular beach volleyball lesson back home in mind, I happily signed up for it, in the hope that I would be useful to my class in something.

But... no.

We lost. Every match.
It was safe to say that I was not the only one that completely sucked, though.
With shattered dreams of joining the Brazilian beach volleyball squad one day, I retired to the showers and contemplated my utter defeat.

Next thing you know: bip bam boom, it's time to move.
One of the most equally heartbreaking and great things about rotary: 3 families, 3 months at a time. Last week, I found myself packing up my whole life, yet again. It was truly dreadful to leave the Petersens after 3 months with them... I felt like I finally had a proper home again, and as soon as that feeling sunk in, I was ripped up like a weed and replanted someplace else.

I guess it's a good thing if you and your family don't get along, but everything was peachy with mine... sigh.

My new family are super sweet to me. I have the type of mum that hugs me when I'm going to bed, and the type of dad that will help me with anything (like when I was freaking out about my Northside tickets that were lost in the mail). I have two sisters, an older and a younger, and a younger brother. It's like having a dynamic of my old family combined with the dynamic of my real family. Of course, this is just a parallel drawn to make some familiarity in the situation. I ride to school now, and the luxury of having the bike is just awesome. Not to mention the temperature's rising... time for shorts! (still gotta have at least a light jacket on though)

Anyway onto my biggest news:
EUROTOUR!
In three days, I will be bussin' it around Europe for 18 days with 50 or so other exchange students! Look out Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Lido di Jesolo, Venice, Verona, San Remo, Monaco, Avignon, Paris, Bruxelles, Amsterdam and Hamburg!!

I promise to blog about it! It'll be huge, and it'll take forever, but I'LL DO IT!
I'm to excited to think right now!

Vi ses senere!

Georgia :D  

Impressions.

To be fair, I've been here just over a week. Danish friends, you know that this is not personal/directed at you in any way. Hopefully you'll find it funny. If not, go have a Tuborg and a frikadeller and get over it.

These are my impressions of Denmark:

1. Black is most certainly the new black.

If you are a Dane, you must NEVER wear ANY colour. Seriously, it's like funeral central 24/7 around here. I wear my red jeans and get stared at - and not in a good way. Black is the past, present, and future to the Danish people. Why wear colour, when you can wear black?
Personally, I don't get it.
Colours are happy; colours show personality. Why, when the Danes are such warm, friendly people, should they wear black all the time?
"It goes with everything!" My host sisters shall cry. Yes, I think to myself, especially black.

 

Look! A Dane!

But I refuse to cave. I went to H&M and completely avoided the black clothes (which took up about half the shop). I will have my red jeans and I will wear them too! Eff you, black rule!

But let me assure you, this is not handy in my assimilation into Danish society (well, the society at Nakskov Gymnasium). Being the only Aussie in the school with the reddest of red jeans does not help with my current zoo-animal status. I am easy prey for the local wildlife (students & teachers), who see my colourful attire and pounce.
So many people (SO MANY) have approached me at the most inopportune times to bombard me with questions. Here are the most common examples:

"Oh, you're from Australia, right?! Can you please say Dingo?!" (or koala or kangaroo or g'day or mate or something equally as embarrassing).

"Oh. My. God. You're from Australia... DO YOU KNOW CODY SIMPSON??????????? I LOVE HIM!!!"
Uh, he lives on the Gold Coast. That's pretty far away.

"Sorry, are you really from Australia? I thought Australians were tanner than that."
At this point, I look down at my forearm. I'm of Mediterranean descent. I come from the sunniest place on the planet. What more do you want? An aborigine? Cue eyeroll.

"Have you ever seen a real kangaroo?" 
Again with the eyeroll.

And the numero uno most asked question:
"Why the hell did you pick Denmark?"
...
Sigh.

   2. Did someone say Grand Theft Auto? Oh, no, it's just a Danish driver.

Now, It may be -6 and snowing outside, but I assure you, there are people out on bikes. Everywhere in Denmark. Rain, hail, snow or shine, there are people on their bikes. Because of this bike culture, and the lack of designated zones in Nakskov, the cars don't really have right of way. So we have this immense weaving action happening. Forget the slipperiness of the road. There are are bigger issues at hand. Namely, the Dane on the bike with the Fjällräven backpack. Hold onto your Carlsberg, because these little Danish cars are weave machines. And the Viking at the wheel is well equipped with skill, experience, and a BAC of .08. You're in safe hands.

Who has right of way? I don't even know...

    3. Keyboard Smash...Sorry, Danish.

This is a language which involves more larynx gymnastics than I have ever encountered. Heck, even the tribes in Africa with the click language would have a hard time. But Danish is a language I MUST learn, and I am determined to do so. My chief teacher is my lovely host sister Juliane (wooh you got a mention). It is thanks to her that I now know all the colours, and I can describe my feelings (hungry, hungry... and hungry). But do not ask me to say red. IT. IS. IMPOSSIBLE.

But as I sit here in English class, I am reminded of the fact that most of the people here can speak at least basic English, or in the case of the English teacher, perfectly accented British English (and she's a native Dane!)
My Danish, on the other hand, sucks. So yeah, that makes me pretty unhappy with myself. But it's a driving point for me to continue trying my best when it comes to learning Danish. This Thursday, I start my first real Danish lessons in Maribo, about an hour's drive from Nakskov. Next weekend, I am in Bjerringbro in North Jutland for a whole week of into/language camp. These are my doors into the world of the secret language that is Danish.

   4. School

I just- brain does not compute.

I can't even begin to explain this succinctly. In fact, it deserves a whole post to itself.

So next time, it's all about school. That is, if I can fit it in before I go to Bjerringbro. I have a busy week coming up. I move from my counsellor family to my first host family on Wednesday (it is Monday). Then, this weekend, I am off to Bjerringbro. Then my winter holiday begins and I'm back in North Jutland with my host family to see the sights. Then, back to school again. So, it's all up in the air.

Until next time, 
Vi ses,
Georgia