A Viking's welcome

The Vikings turned out in droves to welcome my parents on their first full day in Denmark. There may or may not have also been an annual Viking Moot (festival) to attract them to the Moesgård beaches, but I am confident that that really was secondary.

My parents received a full viking welcome on their first full day in town.

Beware the Viking Battle! (photo courtesy of Tibor)

The Moesgård Viking Moot began in the 1970s as a place for people to take lessons in Viking crafts. It rapidly expanded, drawing crowds and picnickers. In 1977, the first Viking market was held. Today, Moesgård hosts the world's largest Viking festival, falling around Saint Olai Day (July 29), when Aarhus historically hosted a market. 

The Viking Moot crafts fair (photos courtesy of Tibor)

The Viking Moot is open to the public on Saturday and Sunday, but lasts all day and night, with Viking participants living only on Viking technologies for the weekend (including ocean bathing, which they weren't ashamed to do right in front of the day-time visitors!).

The Vikings camped on the seashore all weekend. (Photo courtesy of Tibor)

Though despite the not particularly welcome boldness of some of them, some of the Vikings were quite the charmers!

Viking babies! (Photos courtesy of Tibor and my mom)

The only word of advice for future visitors is to not show up in heels. But as a recent Paris transplant, what's a girl to do?

Hats (or Viking hoods) off to the Moesgård crowd for a perfectly Danish welcome to my mom and dad!

Bienvenue chez Nicolas et Emilienne

81 landlords contacted, 2 ½ apartment visits, and 1 offer led me to my new home on the first of the month. It took another three weeks of bumbling around a half empty apartment while scouring used furniture sites, negotiating with local delivery men and the world's worst set of movers, and waiting for packages to arrive from every corner of the globe before we were officially chez nous.

At long last, the apartment is ready and waiting for its first set of official house guests: my parents! As we wait for their train to bring them to town, I figured I'd show off with a few before and after shots.

Ta da! Our nearly finished masterpiece that we call home. 

And it's no Eiffel Tower, but the view's not half bad, to boot.

Let's pretend that summer made it to Denmark...

Burn the witches!

The solstice may fall on the 21st, but in Denmark, Midsummer's Eve is June 23, also known as Sankt Hans Aften (Sankt Hans for short), the eve of Saint John's Day. As legend has it, the shortest night of the year is filled with evil forces and tension between light and dark. On this night, witches fly by on their way to Brocken, though my Danish friends weren't quite sure where that is. To keep them away, a scarecrow-esque witch is burned on a large bonfire. (I was relieved to read that the midsummer's eve witch burning is only a late-19th/early-20th century addition to the festivities, not a carry-over from a time when real women were burned as such.)

The university took part in the annual tradition, so my new friends and I gathered after work to join in. Supposedly Sankt Hans also involves singing of the traditional Midsommervisen song, but all I saw of that was a few students clustered around an iphone looking for the lyrics and stumbling over a melody. Overall, the setting looked more like Hollywood's interpretation of a college campus than anything I'd actually seen on an American campus. And the bonfire, scarecrow witch and all, was massive and very impressive, though I could have done without the rain of ashes. Overall, kudos to Denmark on a pretty cool national tradition.

Sankt Hans, or Midsummer's Eve, at Aarhus University. In the bottom left panel, you can barely see the scarecrow witch's head, the only part of her not yet consumed in the traditional midsummer's eve bonfire.

A balancing act

Lately I've been learning some neat tricks in my new pole dancing studio. It's been particularly challenging as this school emphasizes different positions, so I'm still in a transitional period. I'm finally beginning to stabilize in this new position: the one-handed handstand. We start by putting one hand on the floor and one on the pole, then we flip upside-down and catch the pole with one leg. Pretty cool, huh?

Ta da!

Graduation Day

Many months after the fact, and hailing now from not just France but the US, Canada, and Denmark, we made it! It was fantastic to get one last (unexpected) chance to see some familiar faces from my PhD days in the Ecole des Neurosciences de Paris, as well as, of course, to see Nicolas without all that last-minute packing pre-move stress.

My PhD graduation

The French didn't quite seem to get just how a graduation ceremony is supposed to work. For one thing, having never given their high schoolers nor undergrads a graduation any sort of ceremony, they didn't realize that doctors shouldn't be wearing mortarboards. (That said, I think you would have seriously let down a lot of French grads had they shown up to find themselves given soft, squishy doctoral hats and hoods instead of the classic graduation cap and gown from the movies.)

Though they didn't quite know the ropes, to their credit, the organizers clearly put a lot of effort into making the day memorable for us. The ceremony began with a fifteen minute classical music concert performed by a full orchestra. Then a parade of professors in full regalia, including someone who seemed to be carrying some sort of scepter, marched up the aisles. After a couple of introductory talks, the keynote speaker, French Académie des Sciences member Ghislain de Marsily, gave an amusingly left-wing political call-to-action speech. He recounted his days fighting during the May '68 student rebellions which nearly toppled the French government, and he went on a brief anti-creationism rant. He argued for better gender equality, questioned how we define "the greater good," commended the class for including so many foreigners, and encouraged us to use our imaginations, creativity, and originality to go out and change the world together. (He later explained to me that he was inspired by Steve Jobs's 2005 Stanford commencement speech, though he wanted a more group-oriented, less individualistic, perspective.) He actually dared to finish his speech with a quote not only from an American president (JFK), but spoken in English. He may have been an old man in full academician regalia, but he was not bound by French tradition. Coming from the Parisians, it was a really heart-warming note on which to send off the new PhDs into the world.

And of course, no French ceremony would have been complete without a champagne reception. And so my French education is officially complete. For now.

Now the recipient of-- count 'em-- four PhDs (for just one thesis!)

Getting to know Denmark

I'm two weeks in to life as an adoptive Dane (and already hopping my first weekend flight back to Paris). As I await boarding at my gate, I thought I'd take a moment to give a recap of what I've done and learned so far in Denmark.

In just two weeks, I've gotten

• my national id number and cards
• my residence permit card
• my national health insurance card
• my new apartment (move-in date: July 1)
• my bank account and debit card
• my bike, fully equipped with lights, locks, and basket
• and my new pole dance school

Clearly I'm not in France anymore. On one hand, a health insurance card in two weeks?? Try two years! That's what it took me and many of my foreigner friends back in France. On the other hand, getting the apartment in a mere two weeks was just short of miraculous. Even the steely resolve of someone who faced the Paris housing market is put to the test in Aarhus, where contacting over 80 landlords to visit 3 apartments was very much par for the course. To find that one cat-friendly home, I had to exit the city borders. I'll be calling Aarhus Nord my home soon enough.

My new home in Aarhus Nord starting July 1

I've also made a lot of half-baked observations of the Danes over the past couple of weeks:

• Don't let the fact that a breed of dog is named after them trick you into thinking these people are big animal-lovers. It is next to impossible to rent an apartment as an animal owner here.
• Generally, home renters have no rights here. Landlords demand anywhere from 5 to 9 months' rent to be paid upfront when signing a contract, and at least 3 of those months go straight down the drain here in the form of a security deposit that you'll never see again. All apartment maintenance also comes at the renter's expense. And requiring renters to move out two weeks prior to contract termination is also considered standard, giving the landlord time to plough through that security deposit which he or she has no intention of returning.
• The young people just seem to grow up much faster. In fact, part of the reason that I believe you don't see people up in arms over the total lack of home renter rights is that a lot of people buy homes here at a very young age. It seems that many Danes spend their 20s saving up, settling down, and even starting a family. I am astounded by how many young mothers I have seen biking their babies around the university campus.
• Speaking of campus, Aarhus University, despite its nondescript pale yellow brick architecture, is quite possibly the prettiest campus I have ever seen. With its verdant rolling hills, its lake, and its winding streets filled with bikes that snake through the grounds, I am continually amazed by how beautiful this place is. (Maybe I'll be less enthused come winter.)

Aarhus U campus: you had me as soon as I spotted your cat gutter spout

• If ever a country lived by the saying Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise, it is the Danes. These people seem to enjoy arriving at work between 7 and 8am, some even earlier!, and then leaving between 2 and 4pm. And yes, if you add those hours up, it's not really so much time spent working. I'm not sure how they get anything done here, but I might be cracking their recipe for being the happiest nation on earth.
• Let's add to that Danish happiness recipe their clubs. The Danes all love leaving work early to spend time with their clubs before heading home. Be it jogging, horseback riding, biking, or some other activity (though it seems most of them are sports-related), every Dane has got a club, or so our university orientation leaders taught us. In fact, they stressed the social importance of these clubs so much that they made a surveymonkey online survey to assess your interests and help pair you with a club in case you cannot find your own.
• One stereotype is true: the Danes bike everywhere.
• Breaking another stereotype, the Danes are not all blond (though many are) and they are not so tall such that I feel like I'm walking through a forest when I enter the school cafeteria.
• The Danes are very polite. And I am having an infinitely easier time making friends here than in Paris. And that without even speaking the local language! The Danes are unusually good at English, probably the best in Europe outside of the UK/Ireland. And yet, many of them continue to apologize for their "inadequate English-language skills," which makes me think that they have not traveled much, or that humble-bragging is a national past time.
• Though they have a lot going for them in terms of height, hair and eye color, and general disposition, the Danes are miles behind the French in one domain: fashion. These people just do not seem to be terribly interested in dressing to impress. A woman in heels on her way to work or a day in the city? Not in this country.
• Not only is every day casual Friday, but they act like it too: it is very normal to address everyone by first name in this country.
• Totally random as it may be, licorice is just huge here. You have not explored the multitude of licorice-flavored possibilities until you walk through the candy aisle in a Danish supermarket.
• And finally, Denmark is the proud home of Legos, even boasting an airport in the middle of nowhere (where you can find me now), strategically located right near their theme park attraction: Legoland.

Billund Airport, aka the Legoland airport, has a giant Lego store and a Lego play station.

So Denmark's not so bad, except for their chilly excuse for late spring. Still, I'm really missing Paris, and counting down the minutes 'till I'm back in a city whose language makes sense to me.

Oh, and one last thing. In Denmark, apparently it makes sense (to someone, at least) to erect a fountain of a peeing piglet right outside city hall. It seems I still have a lot to learn before I understand the Danes.

The Pig Fountain in Aarhus's City Hall Square

Ready for Denmark

Now the proud owner of this beauty!

Denmark, bring it. (But really, if "it" could mean summer weather, I'd be ever so grateful.)