The Danish PHRASE of the day is: slapper af (to relax). Which is rather counterintuitive if you think about it...erm, well I guess the "intuitive" part implies the thinking. So, if a Dane asks what you do during the weekend, you'd respond with "Jeg slapper af." You will feel like you're saying "I slapped eh?" but good news you're not.
Ole's non politically correct saying of the week:
"No, I don't have anything against gay people. I think everyone should have one."
"Findley can you come help set the table...lazy bastard."
"Yep he's a good friend of mine. What a schmuck."
Highlights from this week:
1-Wore my most Danish outfit on Sunday--only to bike down the wrong side of the road.
2-Went to Tivoli--the "theme park" that inspired Disney World. It's been a long time (i.e. 6 hours) since I felt like 7-year-old Findley again. Of course this was abruptly interrupted by Jocelyn's howling cackle in my ear during the Odin Express roller coaster. I think the employees thought we were drunk. We weren't.
3-I babysat Dagmar on Tuesday. She shrieked during the first half until she feel asleep on my lap in front of the TV. I sat with my left arm dead for 2 hours while the weight of her head cut off the circulation. But I think I chose the lesser of two evils.
4-On a similar note, Francy and I enjoyed a good bonding moment last night. She got to curl up on my lap. I got to feel her untrimmed claws as she made my lap "suitable" for her needs.
My thoughts yesterday:
"Man it's cold."
"Does the wind really have to blow so hard."
"Brr it's cold."
"#*%$! it's cold!"
And now to my shenanigan of the week
Key actors:
Findley Merritt
Frenchman
Coffeehouse barista
Findley and the Frenchman, Prologue
Two households, both alike in dignity...(erm, well maybe one with a little more so than the other...)
In fair Copenhagen, where we lay our scene
From drunken antics break to new soberness
Where southern charm makes pompous language unclean
From forth the fatal loins--Uh, no no. Nothing about our loins Billy Shakespeare.
Well I think you get the picture
Act I, Scene I
(Findley enters stage left approaching Cafe looking uber Euro-chic. French Man remains mesmerized as she flicks her bangs out of her face. He leans in to plant a wet one square on the mouth.)
Findley thinking: I'm sorry, I missed the part where we transitioned from shaking hands to shaking tongues.
(Many have seen her hamster face, and many have seen her deer-in-the-headlights look. But few have seen the combination of both. French Man and three Danish onlookers witness "the face" as her reaction to his facial invasion. They enter together awkwardly.)
F: Um, so what was it you wanted to be again?
FM: Vell, I work wis zeez financial marketz. How you say…investment bankeur? And you? Lawyer you say?
F: Journalist.
FM: Ah. Not a lot of money in zat position non? But international finance…(chuckles)
Findley's thoughts: Who does he think he is?! My father?!
(She suppresses the urge to reach right across the table (avoiding the candle obvi) and make a noose out of his Hermes silk twill scarf.)
*Awkward Pause
F: So how many people are in your school?
FM: Sorry what?
F: Like students?
FM: I’m in my school.
F: Yeah…erm…I mean like total students…people…things.
FM: You mean like zis current second?
F: God nevermind.
*Awkward Pause
F: So…are French fries really French?
And that is about the nub and gist of it all. I actually resorted to asking him about French fries, French toast, AND if Belgium waffles were actually from Belgium.
*Interestingly (not) enough, French fries are not, French toast he’s not sure, and Belgium waffles are actually from Belgium.
He also thought my experience on Bastille Day where I was almost trampled by French immigrants on the Champs de Mars was hysterical. It wasn’t.
The rest of the conversation was a lot of zis and a lot of zat on his part…a lot of smiling and nodding on my part. Thank God for my innate ability at making small talk—even if there’s a language barrier throwing off my groove. Overall, I learned very two important things: 1-He's not fond of nature. 2-He hates Harry Potter. The former I could have forgiven as a simple character flaw. But the latter just makes him my sworn enemy. Thus when Ole asked if I'd be inviting FM over for dinner, the answer was no, no, and no.
And now I must leave you darlings to study for my two midterms. And pack for Brussels and Amsterdam. Oh woe is me.
I love you all honestly.
Vi Ses!
F
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