“Brian is one of those English names—Tommy, Johnny, Brian—that working-class parents favored after the war,” he said. If there was a Brian in a class, the teacher would smack him on the first day and get it out of the way.” I drove up to Skagen, where the turn-of-the-century artists Michael and Anna Ancher add P. Krøyer painted fishermen and garden parties and ladies in white strolling along a beach under the midnight sun. I visited Gilleleje, the vacation village on the north coast of Zealand from which, to escape the Germans in October 1943, Danish Jews were smuggled by fishing boat over the sound to Sweden.
I swam in the sea there with friends, which I wasn’t going to do, being skittish about nudity and knowing how cold the water is, until my friends said, “Of course, you don’t have to if you’d rather not,” and then, of course, I had to.
It lasts about 12 minutes and ends with her greetings to the people of Greenland and the Faroe Islands and to the people who work on the sea.
I step into a bakery, and when the girl behind the counter says, “,” I say. A major thrill for me, to be asked for directions by a Dane, in Danish, and I tell her in Danish where the S-train station is, and add, “And thank you for your navel.” It is a very handsome navel.It would be a shock to land in a Great Lake, but the Danes would study the situation and work out the best deal they could, keeping their queen and flag, their chirpy language, their generous health and unemployment benefits, their 37-hour work-week, their five weeks of annual vacation plus assorted holidays, their nine political parties (Social Democrats on the left, Radikale in the center, Venstre, or Left, on the right).They might ban the so-called Danish pastry too gooey).And I hiked around Copenhagen, along earthworks and remains of moats and along the pier where cruise ships tie up, to the statue of the Little Mermaid, sitting on her rock, looking small and forlorn, and beyond her to the magnificent fountain of Gefion, the goddess at the plow, lashing her oxen, water spraying from their nostrils, and great plumes arching up from the plowshare.I sat at outdoor cafés in Grabrodretory and Kultorvet and spoke my pitiful rusty Danish to waiters and ate my herring and studied the passersby. They keep a stolid public expression, like Buster Keaton, and are masters of the raised eyebrow.
Dating sider for gifte Langeland
You disembark onto a shopping concourse, and past the mink coats and crystal a sign points you to customs.You parade through, a little surprised at how casually the Danish police glance at your passport.Life in Denmark is divided into two parts, the Golden Summer and the Great Murk, which extends from late fall to mid-spring.The months of youth and beauty, when the sky is light until almost 11 p.m.The entire country is a little smaller than Lake Michigan, and if it were slipped in there, between Wisconsin and Michigan, it would not be such a bad fit culturally.
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