Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Contemplating Denmark

I'm not sure why it has taken me 18 months to come up with this idea, but it suddenly occurred to me last week that rather than mixing my cultural observations on Denmark in with my normal blog, it would make for an interesting archive if I actually dedicated a separate blog to comparing life in Scotland and Denmark. To that effect, I thought I'd trawl trough my posts on Phylsblog since our move and move them over to the new site. Thereafter, I will try to keep my musings on the two very similar and yet very different countries to this site, so I end up with a real-time guide to becoming Danish. 😉

Let's see if that works!



 

Saturday, February 20, 2021

More winter photos

I think I have also managed to take the best shot of my house so far, though I'm not sure whether I prefer the first one, taken during a blizzard, or the second, in the spectacular sun the morning after!



Another frozen sea walk

Last Saturday we went for a second walk at the coast. Temperatures had been hitting -10 all week with a windchill of -19, but even I was amazed to see the sea was frozen, not just for a few metres but way out to Æbelø which is fully 4km off the north coast of Funen! The moving 'non-frozen' water only starts on this photo at the darkest blue line out at the island! It was astounding. I expect it will be a number of years before we have a winter this spectaclar again. 



And just to prove the sea was fully frozen, here's a video of Thomas on the surface. (We know 
the sea on this beach is shallow enough to walk out to Æbelø, so figured the walk would be safe enough!)

Tuesday, February 09, 2021

An immigrant life


Denmark is a country of contradictions. It is both a welcoming country and a rather exclusive one. Since I moved here in 2019, I have found the Danish people to be very kind and helpful, if so painfully shy at times that it really is difficult to make new friends, especially if you are the one with the linguistic disadvantage. They will all smile or nod to you but they want you to make the first move, as far as I can tell, so if you are a bit of an introvert and a bit worse at Danish than they are😂, it could take a lifetime to get somewhere... and that is of course without analysing how detrimental the timing of the current pandemic has been on our integration. 

Thomas had been away from Denmark for almost two decades. The financial crash, my less than reliable child maintenance payments and Thomas's parents' immigration to Italy after retirement meant that as a couple we made it to Denmark for less than four weeks in total in the decade before we moved here. So not only was I moving to the unknown, to a certain extent, he was too. 

Originally from rural Jutland with some study years in Aarhus and all his family now in Copenhagen, Funen has been an affordable but lonely option. We know almost no one on Funen island other than the odd friend I made on my Lærdansk Danish course, and they, of course are a godsend. And as soon as this pandemic is under control, I dearly hope we can meet up for a walk in Munkemose or a meal somewhere.

Danes can be incredibly generous people and I have met a volunteer through my college course, a 'frivillig' who has given up many hours of his time, with no expectation of anything in return, to help me with my spoken Danish. He rings me on Googlemeet without fail at least once a week. He helps me practise speaking. He helps me through the cultural maze of understanding Denmark, which again is something Thomas feels almost as lost with as me. Thomas is a Dane who isn't wholly a Dane. He was brought up in Denmark but half of his norms from childhood were German, much of the food, many of the traditions. He lived in a village, but as the minister's son, was always on the outside rather than the inside of the life led by the other kids at his school and of course, he left Denmark before ever having worked here properly so he's as foreign as me in that respect. But he has the disadvantage of sounding Danish, so everyone takes it completely for granted that he knows what is expected of him, when often he has no idea. So now we have Jens, who I can ask if I am not sure 'what a Dane would do!' Over and above the linguistic help, I genuinely feel he's become a friend I can ask for advice or even make laugh with the odd silly anecdote from my immigrant life. He recommends books I should read, programmes I should watch, places worth visiting in the vicinity and more. It's a bit odd that I've never actually met him, because of Corona we only know each other on screen! But that's Corona for you!

But I said it was also a rather exclusive place. And by that I don't mean classy and expensive, I mean that sadly you can be left a bit on the outside. A very obvious example of this is the tradition of Protestant religious confirmation. Don't get me wrong, Denmark isn't by any stretch of the imagination what I would consider a very religious country. In fact Léon and Anna have both attested to the fact that only one child in each of their classes claims to be religious, with the majority going as far as saying they do not believe in any form of God. So all in all that seems to correlate with their experience of Protestantism back home too. 

So what is the issue, you ask? The issue is that for want of an alternative the Danish confirmation has become their version of a Coming of Age ceremony. For an hour a week for the whole of year 7 (kids aged 13-14), the class goes off to the local minister for some religious instruction. And how can you convince kids that age to participate? At the end of the year they get a confirmation party, some lovely clothes to wear, a great meal and everyone who has watched the child grow up, not their own friends, but their extended family and their parents' friends turn up with a cash present for the child. Afterwards they feel that they are accepted into the adult world and they will be treated as a grown up. It's a win win - the kids get money and get to feel grown up and the church gets to perpetuate its existence. 

To all intents and purposes the Danish confirmation ceremony functions more like the Bar and Bat Mitzvahs we saw many of back home at Mearns Castle. Back home only truly religious Protestant teenagers get confirmed, and they do it for the religious experience and nothing else. Anna was brought up a Scot. She will always culturally be Scottish and as a Scottish child of no faith, she could not live with what she would feel to be the hypocrisy of taking part in confirmation into a religion that is not her own, especially for financial rather than spiritual gains. She can see that to the Danish children, it is a tradition that they expect to take part in, and she accepts their enjoyment in that but just as they are happy and comfortable with it, she finds it alien and against everything she has been brought up to expect. 

The problem is that they now get so much money from their confirmation party, there is no incentive not to perpetuate it. The schools even give their pupils a day off after the ceremony 'Blå Mandag' to hit the town to splash some of their new-found cash on clothes, food and similar. To give you an idea of the sums we are talking about, Léon joined his Danish class about an month after this ceremony had taken place in his year group (and the kids were already proclaiming in RE lessons that there was no God, I might add!), and while three of the girls had used some of their money to buy themselves a horse, most of the boys were looking at mopeds for theirs. On top of this they had the cash to go into town to the cinema, McDonalds or similar every week last year. Obviously Léon could not begin to keep up, so was doubly at a disadvantage on arrival here. He was not only the new kid and the foreign kid, he was also the kid who didn't have the financial means to participate in any of the social gatherings in his year group. And as a family who are still trying to live on one income in a two income country, we were in no position to help him out. Things had just started to look up when he managed to get himself a weekend job, only to find that route shut down by the pandemic. Restaurants don't need dishwashers when they are forced to become Take Away only during an extended lockdown.

So now it's Anna's class's turn. A few traditionalists have suggested we simply sign her up to participate like the others but it really isn't that simple. You wouldn't say that to a Muslim kid or a Hindu one, and quite frankly that is how unchristian Anna's upbringing has been till now. She says it would be hypocritical to have herself confirmed in a religion she doesn't belong to or believe in for the sake of some cash and a party. She would happily get herself confirmed if she found God, but not for any other reason. 

This is obviously an issue for immigrants of other faiths in Denmark too. Every week when the minister comes to teach her class, Anna sits out the lessons with a girl from Vietnam and a boy from Syria, as none of them can realistically be included in this tradition either. On a positive note, the three have become firm friends, but on a negative one, they are excluded as this is done in class time.

Obviously in large cities, where there are more immigrants, it is less of an issue. In cities the lessons are often outwith school hours and many kids then have the option to take part in a Humanist confirmation instead. And had we been here longer so Anna actually knew her way about a bit and felt more confident, and of course, had there been no pandemic, we might have gone down that road. But there are no Humanist options in our council area, so having her take extra time off school, especially when she's trying to catch up on five missed years of Danish, to travel further and alone during a pandemic so she can still be the odd man out, the foreign weirdo, is a bit much. 

And quite frankly, if it is mainly so she can keep up financially, that would not work. Ninety percent of the adults and family who know Anna are in Scotland, so would have no notion that they would be meant to attend a confirmation (religious or Humanist) party, let alone give cash. Scottish kids don't usually get confirmed and when they do, cash really isn't the obvious present. They'd be more likely to be sent a pretty psalm book or a golden crucifix! 

Thomas has been away 20 years and there's been a pandemic almost since we arrived here so he sadly hasn't managed to reconnect with the majority of his old friends. But even if he had, they have, for the most part, never even met me, let alone Anna, so inviting them to her confirmation would be a seriously odd first get-together after two decades, especially given almost none of them live within two hours drive of us. 

Anna has been more reserved than Léon since we got here, so the idea of her whole year group socialising next year post-Corona together and her not having the financial means to integrate is upsetting. It won't help her feel this is home, nor will it help her Danish skills. Quite frankly, it is the last thing she needs, but sadly it isn't some kind of party that will solve that given we know almost no one here we could invite anyway. And until there's a lull in this pandemic long enough for me to get a job, we won't be able to compensate her so she can participate in her class activities. 

So much as she is happy for her classmates and also her cousin, who are getting to take part in something they have looked forward to forever, this very alien ceremony just isn't for her and she feels much more of an affinity with the other foreign kids. I imagine many immigrant kids feel quite out of their depth when puberty coincides with your entire year group participating in a tradition that you are not part of. But you can't suddenly take on a new religion just because you've moved to a new country. I guess sometimes it is hard living somewhere where the culture is so alien to you.


Two school systems

I happened to upload a photo today of Amaia taking her sledge to school. Maybe I'm just getting too Danish to notice but of course, I was immediately reminded by a friend in Scotland of the fact that back home there would be no point because we cage kids in the classrooms in case they fall whenever the weather is bad.

I'd say, having experienced both, the biggest difference between the two school systems is the level of risk aversion. Here the kids are told to bring their ski suit and then sent out to play no matter the weather - in snow boots and a ski suit you can slide down a hill happily without the weather affecting you. Amaia's school has a forest behind it where the kids have tree houses with rope ladders. She get 'tech' at school and has so far brought home things like a baseball bat, a set of coat hooks etc that she's been allowed to make using tools - eg a saw, a file, a drill - they teach them to use them then supervise them using them. She's in the 5th year of the Danish primary system (called class 4 cos they start school later here and there's a p0 (weirdly)). In home economics they use real knives to cut stuff - I remember my biggies ranting they were only allowed butter knives for cutting up to S2 in high school. They also expect them to cycle to school alone and from there to the local sports hall for various activities and they are also meant to navigate the bus system alone from the age of 7. Amaia takes the bus to school alone with her own bus card. And when they go on school trips to a new city, they allow 13 year olds in groups of 3 or 4 to go for an hour long walk alone (without following them on a google map using an Ipad) the way our high school do even in S4. Léon went on a trip to the Danish parliament last year and at lunch time was sent out with two friends to explore the capital city, alone and trusted. 

I know so many parents who would crap themselves back home but from what I can see, it simply leads to sensible capable young adults here. But I never really fitted into the Scottish helicopter mould anyway, so for me it is a big plus! And of course, given they don't do uniforms, kids can dress appropriately for all activities at all times.

And I would also say, I have not seen any more kids with casts on broken limbs here than at home, so maybe snow and ice is just a natural phenomenon!!

Back to school

Late last week we got notice from the Danish government that class 0 - class 4  (equivalent of p1-p6 in Scotland) would be allowed back to school on February 8. They haven't been in school since December 18. Amaia was ecstatic. It's odd because she's not really complained about lockdown or looked particularly put out by it. Unlike Léon who is really struggling with motivation and missing seeing his friends and generally looking like he's been in solitary confinement for over a year and Anna who is now constantly wandering around in pyjamas looking somewhat sloth-like, Amaia had seemingly been coping fine with online school. Unlike what I am hearing from back home, online schooling here actually is that - they log on at 8am and stay on with various teachers and all their classmates every day till just before 2pm. They have the same breaks as they usually do at real school, when they are encouraged to go outside to play. They occasionally have a free period or get sent out for PE but their day is well-structured and interactive. It definitely isn't a case of one lesson with a specific teacher then loads of homework being supervised by stressed parents. So it was only really when it was finally over, that Amaia came clean about how much she has been missing physically meeting up with friends.

So Sunday night she had clothes laid out, had washed her hair and made her lunch. After Thomas's birthday brekkie she was out the door like a shot for the school bus. Given the two biggies were still home I accompanied her to the bus stop. It isn't far but the roads are slippy and cold so I wandered up with her. She didn't even complain about the early start (the bus comes at 7:44) or the RealFeel temperature - I'm including photographic proof in case you don't fully believe me!


And she had so much fun yesterday, she's away in today with her sledge for break time!


I just can't wait till the other two join her, not only so I don't need to walk her to the bus in a Siberian wind but for the sake of their mental health too.

Frozen seas

I've lived the majority of my life less than an hour from the sea. The sea is my favourite place. Now I'm even closer - just under twenty minutes away. One thing I have never done before, however, is to go to the beach on a snowy day. I've never seen a snowy beach, nor have I seen a frozen sea. The driving conditions never really lent themselves to getting down to the coast on the snowiest of days in Scotland. 

After a week of snow, the roads had been cleared here but the temperature was still constantly below zero so I decided to venture up to Thomas's office by the sea and check it out. The drive up was 90% fine, 10% scary as hell, where drifting from the open fields had left the road indistinguishable from the fields themselves but we got there and it was wonderful.

I got to see snow on the beach.



I'd never realised before that the ice that forms at the extremities of the waves breaks off in thick, almost hexagonal chunks and leaves a pile on the beach, in much the same way as you usually find shells in piles on a beach.


Later on my walk I got to see the frozen sea, with the waves continuing under the ice sheets, causing the ice to undulate and creek.

Rounding the corner I met a completely frozen harbour, thick at the quayside and beautifully patterned where the open sea comes in to the harbour area. 




I got to take photos of piles of snow where last year I had taken the girls lying in the water to cool down.








And finally I walked round the enclosed bay to the west of Bogense marina where the water was shallow enough that the waves had frozen and the edge of the water had become an expanse of glistening ice crystals.


Amusingly enough, it is the first time I have been up there in winter and not seen any of the crazy pensioners who can usually be seen running from the quayside sauna to the little wooden bridge and jumping into the sea, but I expect that the reason for their absence was not in fact the frozen sea but more the current Corona restrictions!


The bottom line is that it was magical and I am so lucky to live so close to the sea!

Monday, February 01, 2021

There's been an incident

What is it with boys? Or my younger one at least? 

He's been stir-crazy for a month with this lockdown, so we suggested some fresh air in the form of a 2 metre distanced walk round Langesø with two school friends might be in order to calm his nerves. After all, we'd been round it twice last week and it is looking particularly beautiful in the crisp winter sunshine.



So, off he set to Morud on his bike. Two hours later the phone went. It was about twenty minutes before dusk, when the temperature was due to fall from a balmy 2 degrees to -3... He laughed nervously.

"Hi mum! You're not going anywhere by any chance are you?" 

As it happened, I was on my way out to buy ingredients for tonight's biryani. 

"I thought you had your bike with you?"

"Emmm, there's kinda been an incident...emm hahaha"

"What the hell did you do to your bike?"

"Oh, it's not my bike, it's fine, it's chained up outside Brugsen (Co-op)"

"So?"

"Well, I would just kinda like a lift home because, well I was testing to see how frozen the lake was, and it turns out it isn't as frozen as it looks so it's a bit cold to cycle home as I'm a bit wet... kinda up to the top of my legs and my shoes are full of ice!"

Oh, for crying out loud. Who stands on the edge of a frozen lake 5km from home at dusk just to test how frozen it is? Give me strength. He's now been given a talking to, some dry clothes and is planning to walk the 3 km tomorrow to retrieve his bike, stupid child!

Some kind of hawk thing

This little chap has taken to hanging about the neighbour's lake. Hopefully next time I seen him, I will have time to dig out my tripod and get an even clearer shot. Any idea what kind of bird of prey he is?




Wednesday, January 27, 2021

What a sight!


Hahaha - you see the funniest sights sometimes! Léon's 'furloughed' from his dishwasher job at the local restaurant at the moment because it is only doing takeaway. Desperate for some income, Thomas has given him some gardening jobs, but to keep out the climate (it's 2 degrees today), he's out digging, dressed up like some seriously dodgy bank robber, and that's without even mentioning the cute 'glasses on the outside' of the ski mask and headphones for music!

Thomas's haggis

 


Last year we brought haggis back from Scotland at New Year for our Burns supper, but between Covid banning us from travel and Brexit banning us from bringing any food into the EU, I'd assumed our annual haggis-fest was off and off for good... I should have realised who I was married to! Ready to content myself with a plate of neep mash (bought in the immigrant bazar!) on Monday, Thomas suddenly decided that making haggis from scratch was far from daunting. I was dubious, but having tasted the end product I have to say I'm impressed. It was slightly too salty compared to the shop ones and a little less greasy but had I been served it at a Burns supper in Scotland, I would have been in no doubt as to what I was eating. It definitely isn't the worst haggis I've ever had so I think with a tweak or two, we might just have found a way round Brexit... it's just another on a long list of things that we won't need to get from the UK going forward.