Aaah Austria

I have never had any desire to visit Austria. I'm not sure why, but it just wasn't on my list of vacation destinations. Perhaps the recent history of World War II had me a bit soured on the country? Who knows. But Neil was traveling there for work and Riley and I tagged along and I am so glad I did. Vienna is a beautiful city with a rich history and cultural scene. Riley and I spent two days just walking around and enjoying the fantastic weather and when Neil was done working for the weekend we had a great day at the zoo.

The weather was amazing, the people were friendly and it was incredibly refreshing to be on vacation for a couple days, especially after being holed up in our home and sick for more than a week.

I expected people to be a bit cold and unfriendly in Vienna, but to my surprise, I met many friendly locals. Several people struck up conversations with me - usually about Riley - and when I told them that I only spoke English, they switched right over. One taxi driver I had was particularly friendly and pointed out sights along our drive, told me about the soccer game he was attending that night, and about several funny cab customers he'd had. He even laughed when Riley giggled. The man working at the desk at our hotel was also quite friendly and when we asked for directions one day he said, "Would you like to go the quick way or the wonderful way?" Who wouldn't want to go the wonderful way right?

A highlight of our time in Vienna was on our second day at the Albertina museum in the Mel Ramos exhibit. The paintings in this exhibit are essentially large oil paintings of playboy centerfolds - lots of naked women. As I walked through the gallery, I felt a little guilty for taking my child to such an inappropriate exhibit when all of a sudden, Riley started waving to the naked women in the paintings. I couldn't stop myself from laughing out loud. I'm sure it was quite a sight for the other museum goers. But, I didn't understand anything they may have said because it was all in German.

I was relieved when Riley also waved at the animals at the zoo the following day.

While in Austria, I had a few realizations about being American and about Europe.

1. I realized that there are a bunch of countries that all speak their own languages and then when people from those countries get together, they communicate in English. But nearly everyone is bilingual.

2. I became even more embarrassed that I only speak one language fluently and sad for our country that we can't get our act together to better educate our children.

3. I realized that playgrounds in Denmark and Austria (and probably other places, too) are MUCH more fun and much less safe because people here clearly don't file law suits at the drop of a hat. A playground I saw in Austria had a zip line! My American- ness saw it and initially thought, "That's just a lawsuit waiting to happen." Later I began thinking, "Cool!"

I hope to return to Vienna, but for now, Riley says, "Bye Vienna."

The One Where We Got a Grown Man to Cluck Like a Chicken in The Freezer Aisle

For the past two weeks, we have been wanting chicken soup. I was too sick to actually figure out how to make it from scratch and Neil had no luck locating it at the grocery store the first couple of times he went searching for it. On Thursday, however, we went to the store in an attempt to get Riley to take a nap and get some much-needed sleep and we stumbled upon a bunch of frozen soup. Neil had looked for canned soup, but hadn't checked the freezer aisle.

We found two soups that looked like they might be chicken and Neil flagged over the nearest Dane to ask what kinds of soup they were. The man he found was a little older, probably in his 70s and we've found that older Danes tend to be less proficient in English.

This man was no exception. He knew we wanted to know what the food item was and first told us that it was soup. "Ah yes," we explained, "We know it's soup but what kind?" So the man pointed to one and put his index fingers up to his head like horns and based on the word on the packaging and his pantomimes we determined it was ox soup. "It's good," he said. Maybe, but not exactly what we were looking for.

I then  asked him about the other soup I was holding and he said, "You know, bock, bock, bock?" Eureka! We thanked him and threw the chicken soup in our cart. Later we reflected on the hilariousness of the fact that we had an older Danish man clucking like a chicken in the freezer aisle. He was very nice to humor us and go out on a limb to try to explain even though we lacked common language. Plus, he gave us something to giggle about.

It turns out that it was to be a day of bountiful chicken soup because our new friend Norah came to visit and brought us a magical box of Manischewitz Matzoball soup mix - something I could not believe I neglected to pack before our move. I am sure it's no coincidence that Thursday marked a major health turnaround for us all. Thank you Norah! Thank you random man in the freezer section. Sipping once, sipping twice, sipping chicken soup (no rice).

"Some Americans, they look nice, they dress up in grown up clothes, but they act like they are five years old."

In the past week we met two Danish doctors as we paraded Riley around the Danish medical system because we are first-time parents and had no clue what to do when our baby got a fever and moaned for four days nonstop.

On Sunday, we got to visit our local hospital and the on-call doctor for the urgent-care type service. The waiting room was sparse with uncomfortable wooden chairs and no paintings on the walls, but it was very clean. After a short wait, we were called into a room that was half doctor's office with desk and half exam table. The doctor was nice, but stern. He made sure to charge us 300 kroner first (about $60) before talking to us about our infant. Hospitals and doctors are not used to billing anyone because the government covers health expenses, but since we have diplomatic status, we have to pay cash for our doctor visits. They aren't equipped to process any other form of payment.

In the US, the first thing they would have done at the doctor's office is take Riley's temperature. Not here. The man took my word for it that Riley had a fever. He looked in his ears, nose and throat, said he thought it was viral and sent us home after examining our infant Tylenol and saying they don't use that here in Denmark, but he had heard of it. At some point during our exchange, he said something about us being first time parents. And there was some Googling of the conversion of Fahrenheit to Celsius.

So off we went with our sick infant. On Wednesday, when the fever came back with a vengeance, I decided it was time to go back to the doctor. This time, we went to the practice in our neighborhood that we'd located the week before. We called in the morning and they gave us a 2:15 appointment - a little late for my liking since I was convinced we had a major medical situation on our hands.

The waiting room at our doctor's office is a little nicer than the one at the hospital. The chairs are still not especially comfortable or welcoming, but there are magazines, toys and even a Lego table. We waited with little Riley, who was burning up and whimpering until it was finally our turn. We saw the male doctor as he seemed to be the only one in that day. The first thing he did after instructing us on where to sit was ask us how the socialism was working for us and whether we were afraid of becoming communists yet. Hmm. It was said in a joking way, but seemed a little odd, perhaps a bit anti-American? We told him we were enjoying his country. He then somehow made reference to Sarah Palin.

This was the second time someone I have met here who is not American has brought up she-who-must-not-be-named in conversation with me. It was the second time American politics came up and our friend from Alaska got top billing both times. To me, this is very alarming because it means that her message is somehow being conveyed to the rest of the world more loudly than other American political messages (granted, my sample size is small). The first person to mention her to me (an Icelandic mother in one of our playgroups) thought our first lady was still Hillary Clinton, but could fairly accurately quote Sarah Palin's recent breastfeeding flub. Now our doctor was bringing her up. I was quick to say that I find her to be non-representative of the US and rather embarrassing, to which the good doctor responded: "Some Americans, they look nice, they dress up in grown up clothes, but they act like they are five years old."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

The doctor was very good with Riley, very kind to us as patients, still didn't check his temperature, but said he could tell he had a fever from his rosy cheeks and that the illness should go away in, "some days". He looked over the infant Tylenol and said, "Oh have you been giving him some icky American medicine? We don't have this here." But then told us to keep giving it to him as indicated. Overall, in spite of the clear mocking of our homeland, we like this doctor. He assured us that in another couple of kids, we wouldn't be bringing them in for fevers, but he was also compassionate about our concern and didn't make me feel like an idiot for bringing him in. Nope, not an idiot as a parent, but because I am American, I could tell that for him, the jury is still out.

Postscript: Riley is improving, the fever has been gone for a couple of days and he even laughed and played today. 

Sick

Being sick in any country is unpleasant. Having a sick baby is even more unpleasant than being sick myself. Due to illness, there have been fewer posts on this blog than I would like. We're on the mend and I will be leaving the house and experiencing Denmark more soon.

Stay tuned.

The One You've All Been Waiting For

What question did I get more often than any other once it was announced that we were moving to Denmark?

"Are you going to eat a lot of danishes?" (or some variation of this question)

Honestly, I wasn't even sure if the Danish people were the originators of the danish pastry. When I think of a danish, I think of a round sweet thing with some kind of sugary goo in the center that I don't like.

But according to one definition, a danish pastry is: A sweet buttery pastry made with raised dough.

That leaves things a little more wide open.

Wikipedia tells me that the danish pastry really originated in Austria... This is getting more confusing by the minute.

But who cares about all this history and origins business, the fact is, they have bakeries here. So many bakeries. And the bakeries are important.  So important that there is a symbol for bakeries. The bakery and the post office have symbols in this country. Any business that gets its own symbol is clearly highly valued.


I have come to love the bakery symbol - a little too much.

The bakery symbol

For a brief moment, I entertained the idea of trying a chocolate croissant at every bakery I came across in all of Copenhagen. I made it through two bakeries and realized this was a very foolish thing to do for a couple of reasons. 1) Because each croissant is akin to consuming a pound of butter and 2) because I found the best chocolate croissant ever at Lagkagehuset.  I need not look any further.

Once I established that I lived only a few blocks from the bakery with the best chocolate croissant in the world, I spent one (shameful) week going to said bakery every morning while Riley napped in his stroller and purchasing a latte and a chocolate croissant. This was a lovely routine. I would enjoy my delicious treat while sipping warm milky coffee and looking out the window at one of Copenhagen's frozen canals. Riley would sleep peacefully in his stroller beside me. My arteries would slowly close and my jeans would become a bit tighter. All the while my bank account was shrinking because while pastries are one of the more affordable things here in Copenhagen, the accompanying coffee made my whole "breakfast" a little extravagent.

I knew my Lagkagehuset visits had to stop, or at least taper off. I went cold turkey for an entire week and since then have only been allowing myself a weekly visit.

So the answer is yes. Apparently moving to Denmark means I am eating lots of danishes. I believe Neil is on the quest for the best Kanel Snail (cinnamon roll pastry) in all of Denmark. But you'd have to ask him about that.

Laundry Solved

Thank you Adrienne and Adrienne's Swedish friend Anna for the laundry assistance. I now know how to operate the washer and dryer. I had been putting the detergent in the wrong slot for the last 6 weeks and our clothes weren't quite as clean as normal, but otherwise, no damage was done.

The Laundry

Below find the controls on our washer and dryer. If anyone knows how to go about using these, please tell me.

The dryer

The washer

Where you put the detergent - apparently there are different kinds?