Bad Farten near the "Open-Air" Museum

We went to an Open-Air museum this weekend and it is right next to the town of Badfarten. I kid you not. Insert your own inappropriate joke here...



The open air museum is called Firlandsmuseet and it has all these cute little houses from hundreds of years ago and you can walk around in them. It is really neat.




Remember how I told you Danes were super short in those days....




We would have had a lot of headaches if we lived back then.

Running for the Gold

I have some fun pictures to post but this dang blogger website is driving me nuts!! ARRRRRrrrggghhhh! I cannot post pictures properly tonight so it will have to wait until I can muster up the patience to figure it out.

Speaking of lacking patience, everyday when I leave work I have to walk 10 minutes down a straight highway to the bus stop. The bus runs every 10 minutes so chances are I can see the bus coming or I can see it leaving. Although disappointed when I can see I missed it, it is also a relief that I don't have to make a split second decision of whether or not to sprint for it. Even though it runs so often and I never have to wait that long for the next one, I hate the feeling of walking down the street and having the bus fly by me. As of lately, if I can see it coming in the distance I cannot help but take off running as fast as I can. I can't help it. It might be a pride thing, or an anxiety thing, or an OCD thing, but I think it's also just entertaining to test yourself. I have been getting better and better at catching the bus closer and closer.

Today I was in a particular mood. Trevor left this morning. Work was empty (everyone is taking off early for easter vacation). The facilities staff brought in a big basket of chocolate for everyone. I was close to the last person at work. Went to the break room to rinse out my coffee mug. Notice the basket of easter candy. No one is around. Hmmm. I feel slightly guilty but I tell myself the sign on the basket says "Happy Easter, help yourself." It probably does say something like that, but I still feel like I am stealing. I snag the biggest chocolate egg I can find and head for the door. On my way out I'm thinking to myself: today I am going to take it easy. I am not going to look for that bus or care where it is. I am going to quiet my inner indecisive demons by pre-determining that I will not run for the bus today no matter where it is. I am in no rush to get home or get anywhere. I am going to slow my pace and savor this delicious chocolate egg bite by bite. I walk out the back gate and unwrap the egg as I stroll through the wooded area that is now starting to sprout little yellow wild flowers. How pretty. I take a bite out of the egg and I can see the highway now. I look to the left and DANGIT the bus is right at the light!!! I've never made the bus when it was this close before. Oh well. Good thing I'm not moving fast today .........hmmmmmmmm.....should I? ummm....no....hmmmm.jfnvjknfosib... Screw it. I shove the entire chocolate egg in my mouth at once and take off sprinting faster than my legs have moved in forever! The bus flies by me but luckily it is stopping anyway to let people off. I am a block away and my legs are burning. The traffic is heavy... The bus driver can't pull out right away. I make it to the door, huffing and puffing. I feel like vomiting. The bus driver is hysterical and wild with enthusiasm, blabbing on and on in Danish. He's flexing his muscles, mimicking running arm movements; poking fun I suppose. I don't have the energy or the ambition to let on I don't understand him at all. I don't really care. I smile at him, give an awkward giggle, and find a seat. Although disappointed that I ruined a perfectly sweet chocolate experience and annoyed at myself for not being able to make a decision and stick with it, I feel a lame but satisfying sense of pride and accomplishment that I caught the bus when I thought for sure I wouldn't. I avoid some curious stares on the bus. I wonder what they think I was running for....

Quarters, Kroners, & Euros

10 beers + 18 coins + 1 cup + 1 stopwatch = Friday night fun

My turn: First try = 1 minute 41 seconds




Trevor's turn


Best time of the night: 21 seconds

Motorcycle Mayhem

I'm not sure if I previously mentioned the major differences between Danish and American dining experiences... Back home the waiter/ress seats you, gets your drink order, comes back for your food order, fills up your water quicker than you can drink it, and is back with the bill before you're done eating. In Denmark, you can walk into a restaurant and no one shows you to your seat you can usually just pick one. If you want food it's not uncommon to go up to the bar to order it or flag down a waitress. You better make sure you tell them everything you want because they won't often come back on their own. Getting the bill takes forever! A little cultural tidbit I learned to speed up the process is to lay the knife and fork together at the 4-5 o'clock angle. This signals the wait staff to clean your plate. Otherwise it is considered rude for a waiter to touch your plate if your knife and fork are not aligned properly. Good to know.



Today was the first day of the season at the oldest amusement park in the world, Bakken (opened in 1583). The park is a little north of Copenhagen and is in the middle of the woods. You don't have to pay to get in you just walk right in. You do have to pay for the rides though. We didn't go on any. But we did get to see this great motorcycle procession that drives up from downtown and comes streaming into the park on the opening and closing days of the season. Something like 5-10,000 motorcycles participate. It lasted for a solid 45 minutes.

Back in the Blogosphere

We have returned from the Land O' Leprechauns! I apologize for the brief blogging hiatus. It just does not work in another country. Back to business....

Cultural Observations:
#1 The major difference between the Danes and the Irish is the noise level. In both visual and auditory respects, the Irish have the Danes beat. Danes are plain and quiet. The Irish are bold, colorful and natural chatter boxes. Danes were recently ranked as happiest people on earth, but I personally felt much happier in Ireland! Not that I am unhappy here. Just want to emphasize how much fun Ireland is. Moving on...
#2 Danes love coffee. Irish love tea.

Day by day highlights:
Friday - Dinner with the cousins, then watched Cousin Ciaran perform at a local pub! "Your man was class!" "Ah t'was gas!"


Here's a little audio visual for those who missed the show:


Sober Street:


Cousin Aisling and I found a puppy with a bum leg, named Peg.


Saturday - We had grand plans to climb the highest mountain on the island! Fifteen minutes from our destination and the car breaks down. We managed to have a lovely road-side picnic while waiting for the mechanic.


Ear...


Trees...


Instead of mountain climbing we took a stroll through Muckross Gardens in Killarney National Park...












..later found a waterfall...




....and a Lady's View.


Later that night (the night we planned to be our greatest night out) we all fell asleep watching Beauty and the Beast.

Sunday - We slept in, went for a stroll down the Cobh waterfront, then set off to Lismore Castle...






We found an art gallery...




..a glacier-formed lake...




...the Golden Veil....


...an ancient bridge and castle ruins...




...and had some tea.


Monday - We toured the University of Cork with Aisling. She had just finished telling us about this superstitious mural that students avoid stepping on or else risk unwanted pregnancy. I listened to the first part of her speech and immediately started scanning the walls for said mural, drifting from Aisling I hear her yell "JULIE!" Sure enough, as soon as she could finish warning me, I was already standing directly on top of it.

Later that night, more cousins came over and we had a piano induced sing-a-long.

A good night to end a grand holiday.

Airing Out Ma' Dund....Zzz'ss

Hello Copenbloggin. This is Trevor. Julie is working late at the lab tonight, so I will be your substitute blogger. In the spirit of Copenbloggin, I will attempt to recreate my experiences in the first-person, present tense, and in a rather excited and nervous tone. This is part one of a two part series.

While Julie was off at work the other day, I thought it would be nice to clean up the apartment, do the dishes, and do some laundry. She's going to be so happy when she gets home and sees how great the place looks. Maybe I'll even start on dinner! I figure washing some clothes is the best place to start. So I go over to that warsher machine and instantly remember how much trouble it gave Julie the first time. Well that was Julie... Lets see if ol' T-bone can have some better luck... ... ... ... nope, no luck. I need some step-by-step instructions man! Time to bring up Julie's February 23 blog post, a Copenbloggin Classic, "Airing Out Ma' Dundies."

Hmm... This isn't as helpful as I thought. Where are the diagrams Jules? Am I really supposed to jam the hose adapter onto the faucet? Anyway, after a couple of minutes I am finally able to force on the hose in an awkward position and I start the machine. Water is spurting in a few different directions, but judging by Julie's experience, this seems to be normal. ...10 minutes pass by... This is definitely not normal! Water is everywhere! I frantically try to clean up, but I leave the water running because I don't want the machine to stop. So I'm there using a sponge and toilet paper to try and maintain the kitchen while the clothes are washing. I also periodically remove things from the kitchen and place them around the house so they don't get wet (or wetter). After about a half an hour of this lunacy, I decide to shut off the water and see what my prospects are. I open up the washer and take a look at the clothes. The clothes are still covered in laundry detergent powder and completely dry! How is this possible?!? Did absolutely no water get into this machine?!? It is a sad moment.


Baffled, I decide to take a break. I spread out on the couch and figure to watch about 15 minutes of TV and then get back to work. It was about noon at the time.

The next thing I remember is an extremely loud noise. What the hell is that?? It's the doorbell. This doorbell is intense. It reminds me of the sound from Family Feud when you give the wrong answer and a big red X appears on the screen. So imagine that with your TV at max volume. Anyway, I realize that it is Julie at the door! She is home from work and I have somehow slept the rest of the afternoon away! (hey, I'm still adjusting here) Crap! The place is a wreck, the kitchen is undoubtedly still soaked with toilet paper all over the floor, I look like I slept the entire day, and Julie has just walked home in the cold from a full day of work. I hit the button to let her in. She still has 7 flights of stairs until she makes it up here, time to make the place look respectable. I start by cleaning off the coffee table, but I'm still really groggy and I end up knocking stuff on the floor. This is hopeless. The door opens, I turn around... it's Julie... I smile... she kinda smiles....

Sock-er

Did I mention that Trevor is in town? For a little over 2 weeks. Got it? Guess how many socks he packed?.......Two. Not even two pairs, just two socks. They are not even the same color.



At least one says "Ireland" on it and we are indeed going to Ireland. We have already done some sock shopping to fix this situation.

Aside from the socks, the only other issue we are having is trying to keep Trevor awake at the proper time. I know he was exhausted before he got here and that coupled with an extreme time zone difference = one seriously narcaleptic boyfriend. He fell asleep in the art museum, on the train, and even dozed off at the soccer game amid thousands of crazy drunken soccer hooligans chanting, yelling, and lighting things on fire!







Luckily we were far enough away from the visiting team (Brøndby) who have been known to get a little too rowdy:


The outcome of the game:
FCK (the home team) beat Brøndby (the maniacs) 2-0.
About 20 Brøndby fans were arrested afterwards for trying to flip over a police van.
No one was killed.