Archive for July, 2007

Update: The model of washing machine that we have is also sold in the UK, and I was able to download a PDF of the English-language manual. The numbers refer to the RPMs of the spin cycle. Apparently I have the option of reducing the RPMs if I so desire, though there is no indication of why I may desire it. The maximum RPM is reduced when you choose gentle cycle or hand wash (yes, there’s a hand wash setting on my washing machine) so it’s unclear to me why I’d override that with an even lower setting. But I can, if I figure that out. It’s also a dryer, so that explains a few of the controls too. 

The thing about living in another country is that you can’t take anything for granted anymore. I’ll give a simple example. A couple of nights ago, Thomas and I went with Martin and Cille to have dinner with Stig and his family. You probably don’t realize how many things you take for granted in a simple activity like dinner until you do it in another country where you don’t speak much (or any) of the language. Several plates were passed around which had various vegetables on them. By watching everyone else, I concluded that I should make a salad using some of what was on every plate. I’d never been given a salad split up on so many plates before. Then I looked on the table for salad dressing, and found none. 

My previous experience in America leaves me taking one bowl for the salad, and having salad dressing available, for granted. In Denmark, I can’t do that anymore. Neither can I take it for granted that salad is always served on five plates and without salad dressing, because this is just one dinner. As with anywhere else, one family can do things differently than another, so if I go to dinner next week at Martin and Cille’s place, I can’t assume it will be the same there. Indeed, a few minutes later, Stig jumped up realizing he had forgotten the salad dressing. Thomas told me later that Stig had announced (in Danish) that the salad was on several plates because each of his children disliked different elements of it, and it was easier this way. So, as it turns out, salad in Denmark is pretty much like salad in the US, but even so, I had no way of knowing that beforehand. 

Not all differences resolve themselves into non-differences, of course. I was surprised to see people pouring béarnaise sauce on their french fries, for example. Also of note, though I had run into this before, is that Danes expect everyone to march up and bark out their names to anyone they don’t know, rather than waiting to be introduced. It takes getting used to, but I much prefer it this way, actually. 

Most of the conversation both at that dinner, and last night at dinner with the in-laws, was in Danish, and I surprised myself at how much I could understand. It’s getting easier and easier to pick out words, and occasionally, whole sentences.

I always thought that laundry was pretty simple. I’ve done a lot of laundry before, and it was never that complicated. Put clothes in the washer, press a couple buttons, e.g. “large” and “cold/cold.” There might even be a dial to select how dirty your clothes are, or specify regular, permanent press, or gentle cycle, if it’s a fancy washing machine. 

I’m not sure that knowing Danish would help me figure out our washing machine. It has nine buttons, 23 red lights, one green light, a digital display, and a dial with 24 options. I used a dictionary to figure out most of the words I didn’t know, but it didn’t really help. I still don’t know why I need to pick a number between 400 and 1600 and what that has to do with my laundry. I still don’t know which of the three compartments to put the detergent in. I tried it anyway. We’ll see what happens to my towels.

I’ve decided to add a new category today. I might go edit some older entries to belong to it, too. 

Today, I went out by myself for the first time. No, I’m not turning into a shut-in. It’s just intimidating to not speak the language. But I did it anyway, because T works and I need to be useful without him. I managed to fumble my way through several stores, smiling and nodding and never speaking anything except “tak” and “hej hej.” If it hadn’t been raining I might have shopped some more. 

They don’t have baking soda in Denmark. I had been planning to make my own laundry detergent, dishwasher detergent, and other fun stuff, and the main ingredient in every recipe is baking soda. So it’s back to the drawing board. I did find some online, labeled “baking soda for science experiments” for roughly $5/lb after conversion. Considering that’s about 75¢ in the US, I’m not too keen to do that. Hopefully the organic supermarket has some decent cleaning stuff. 

I did get the cheese cutter I’ve been wanting for two years. It was on sale.

FYI, all previous entries are timestamped for Central (U.S.) time. Starting with this one, they are timestamped for Central European Time. That’s seven hours ahead of most of my current readership. Lest you think I was posting from the future. 

We got in at around 7pm and took an expensive taxi ride to Herlev. We had too much luggage to deal with the train, esp. as it would have involved transfers, so I think it was worth it. I wanted to see the condo, check out the neighborhood, etc. and I thought it would be a great idea to drop our bags off, and then take the train to Nivå with just one bag of “overnight” stuff. As the condo has no furniture, food, toiletries, etc. we are staying at T’s parents’ place in Nivå until we get the essentials up and running in Herlev. 

The condo is good. Dirty, in need of some work, but good. It will be workable after a good scrub and some paint, and the rest of the work can be done incrementally as money and time are available. The neighborhood is good. Food and shopping are closeby, including several kebab places, and a thrift store. There’s a pet supply shop, but I reserve excitement until I can go into it. There’s also a sewing place, and thank goodness, a stone mason. I don’t know what I’d do without that. There are also about 43 banks within a 2 block span. There’s a small, yellow, thatched-roof cottage called “Wheel-man’s House” (well, it’s something like Hjulmands Hus, but that doesn’t help most of my readers, does it?) Although we found the hours it’s open, and an affirmation that everyone is welcome, we never found anything indicating what happens there. There’s also a bakery, a cheese shop, a fruit shop, an H&M, a Netto, a Kvicky… hehe. We also passed by a sign that says “FART KONTROL.” Danish will take some getting used to. 

We ate at Herlev Pizza and Kebab. The pita kebabs are smaller than the ones we used to get at Nivå, but still quite tasty. Smoking is allowed inside, but the Nivå kebab place didn’t have an inside at all, and it closed down, so there you go. It’s about a one-and-a-half minute walk from the door, so that’s great. I was a little unimpressed with their drink selection. I’m not really into milk-based products, so the caffeine-free selection was: Fanta orange, Fanta tropical, and Squash orange. I was kinda hoping for a Faxe Kondi but what can you do. We’ll have to check out the other kebab places too. 

We went back to the condo to pick up our overnight bag, but T decided he was too lazy to pick out overnight items, so took his entire hard-sided luggage as well as his backpack. Then on the way to the train station, he complained about how heavy it was and asked me to help him. Men. 

We got to Nivå finally, at something like 10:57pm. I know it ended in a 7. I was dozing off intermittently on the train ride, so cut me some slack. At least I woke up before the stop. Then we got here and yaaaaay my cats are here! I can tell by petting them the food they’ve been eating is not that great. Their silky smoothness is gone. But they are happy and were happy to see me. I woke up to Tycho atop my head, purring and kneading just like he always did before. *sniff* 

So now it’s time to go furniture shopping for the condo. (Or rather, wake T up so we can go shopping time.) I’d like to get the condo in stay-overnight-able condition before T’s parents get back from their summerhouse.

Wireless access at the Bay Point Marriott is $125/day. I kid you not. So that’s why this and the previous entry will be posted sometime later. For $9.95/day, I could use their WebTV-ish internet. In theory at least. The keyboard doesn’t work. I was using the remote control to try to get info about their TV Internet service, and in some fit of highly intuitive and sensible user interface design, I cannot get out of the screen giving me details about this service (which of course I could not tell was a pay service until I got to this screen) by using the remote control. I have to hit the escape key on the keyboard. The keyboard that doesn’t work. Even if I turn off the TV and turn it back on, it’s still at this stupid information screen, and I can’t get out of it. It’s just as well. It probably costs money to watch TV shows too. It’s also worth mentioning that the bed frame is about a foot wider than the mattress. If you’re a klutz like me, you can appreciate why this is noteworthy in addition to just being stupid and ugly. Also, apparently this place is too fancy for a free continental breakfast. It’s $8.95 plus a 20% service charge and state tax. Or at least it would have been, had I had the foresight to determine what I wanted and hang a sign on the door handle before midnight. 

Eventually Thomas will wake up, and I can make him buy me breakfast somewhere.

My wedding was definitely an experience, and although it ended up being enjoyable, I definitely never want to have another one. 

Let’s see if I can remember all the things that went wrong. 

our rings

I ordered his ring from the very same people who sized his finger. It was a full size too small. It would not budge past his knuckle. Of course, I had no way of knowing this until a few days before the wedding, when Thomas and the ring were in the same continent. My ring, which I had tried on just a few months before, was also not getting past my knuckle. Extreme kudos to John of Jewelry by John for fixing my ring for free (it had become slightly less circular, but once rounded out, fit fine) and Thomas’ for a mere $20 (amazingly, it stretched a whole size and it looks incredible!).

corsages and bouts

We had assumed that the same woman who was doing the bouquets would also do these, but about a week before the wedding, when I was telling her what I wanted, she apologized, but said she had arthritis and they are just too small for her hands to comfortably work on. The first place I called, I got someone with a thick Asian accent who was just too difficult to communicate with. The next place I called, I said I wanted 5 bouts and 4 corsages. We discussed colors and prices and all was fine. I went in a couple days later to place the order and pay. The man I dealt with at Lynn Haven Florist was… well, I don’t want to say he was rude, but just very much not friendly. I said I wanted the bouts to be green, and he launched into some spiel about how green is hard to come by unless it’s Saint Patrick’s Day, nevermind that the woman on the phone didn’t seem to think it was all that challenging to dye a carnation light green. I didn’t feel like arguing something so unimportant, so I just said to do them in yellow. We picked them up Saturday morning, and the corsages were indeed orange, and the bouts were indeed yellow. With pink speckles. There was pink all over the flowers. Which were left at home and completely unused during the wedding. Fortunately, no one (including me) gives a rip about these things. I only ordered them because Mom said I needed them.

centerpieces

I was under the distinct impression that the bouquet lady was doing these as well. In fact, I very much recall her being excited about doing decorations for the reception. At about noon on Saturday, Mom tells me to get in the car. I ask where we’re going, and she says, “First we’re going to Publix, and we need to get flowers from the little man.” a) I thought these were two separate tasks, due to the way she phrased this. b) She said “the little man” as if I was supposed to know wtf that was. I asked who the little man was, and she angrily explained that it quite obviously refers to the Publix flower dude. I asked what flowers the little man had that we needed to get, and she said centerpieces. But I thought Tracy was doing those. “Well she didn’t.” It was in that tone that I’ve learned means, “do not ask me for more information right now, in no uncertain terms.” The little man had just clocked out, so there was no flower dude on duty. Some other guy, a bit too bewildered to be that friendly, but willing to help nonetheless, ran around the store helping us find things suitable as centerpieces. We ended up with 8 potted floral arrangements, which, especially considering the timeframe and price, were actually pretty fantastic.

bouquets

I asked for orange and yellow silks for the bridesmaids, and orange, green, yellow, and white real flowers for me. I was having pictures done about a week before the wedding, so I also asked for a silk bouquet I could use for those pictures. We had believed, I still believe quite reasonably, that when Tracy came over a few hours before the photo shoot, that she would be dropping off an already-completed silk bouquet in the colors I requested. I had even sent a list of flowers in those colors that I liked and are in season. Instead, she sat at the kitchen table and put it together right in front of us over about half an hour. After a few times asking, she did eventually remove all the pink flowers and replace them with pale yellow flowers that were nothing like the bright yellow flowers I suggested. She did tell me repeatedly that she just loves that pale yellow. I don’t really get hung up on things like this, but it did make me wonder how she’d fare with a normal bride. She had asked if I wanted a round bouquet, or a flowy, drapey kinda deal, and I said round. What I got was more of a kidney. I really was not all that impressed, and I’m pretty sure I could have done it myself in less time, as I would have listened to myself the first time when I said not to use pink. On the day of, Mom said that Tracy was so pleased with the beautiful flowers she acquired, she decided to do the bridesmaids’ in real flowers as well as mine. Sounds great. They were white and yellow, which is not orange and yellow, but again, I don’t really get hung up on these things. My bouquet, on the other hand, was peach and blue. I do know that not a single person at the wedding gave a crap, but seriously, wtf? I didn’t like it at all. It was ugly. And one of the lilies fell out as soon as the bouquet was handed to me. And the stems were covered in satin or some crap and it was extremely difficult to hold.

getting dressed

For weeks, Mom and I had said about a million times that she and I would go to the hotel room where Thomas and I were staying Saturday night, and that’s where I could get dressed and ready without Thomas seeing me before the wedding. On Saturday, I told Thomas that I was leaving with Mom to go do decorations and to get dressed in the hotel room without him seeing me. He asked where he would get dressed, and I told him he’d get dressed there at the house before leaving. My dress is big. His suit is small. It’s much easier for him to do it first. Mom and I get to the hotel room. I get undressed and take a quick shower (more of a rinse, really) as it was pretty hot when we set up the décor. Before I can leave the bathroom, Thomas knocks on the door. My dad sent him up to get dressed. Mom hid the dress in the closet, and I was stuck in the bathroom, naked, for half an hour. If any of you were guests at my wedding, and you were wondering why we started late, this would be it. We hadn’t scheduled for the naked half-hour in the bathroom.

music

I picked the songs I wanted, and Thomas put them in playlists and uploaded them to his iPod, because every stereo worth more than about $20 has a line-in, so no problem, right? The Marriott’s “sound system” (cheap boombox) does not. So in goes the CD, and my aunt is stationed there to hit the track forward button at the right times. I don’t know if she was confused, or dad and I were confused, or if it was because no one anticipated that I’d be walking in from a place where I can’t hear the music (due to a screw-up yet to come on this list), but I walked down the aisle to some song other than the one I wanted. I’m not sure what it was. It doesn’t really matter. It was pretty.

unity sand

There was supposed to be a funnel. There wasn’t. We had to take turns pouring a little bit in at a time, and occasionally spilling it onto the ground or ourselves. Well, it was fun anyway.

weighing fish

This would be the big one. No one at 30º Blue bothered to mention sometime in the last three or four months, much less at the time of booking the date with them, that the Annual Billfish Tournament would be going on at the same time as my wedding. Right next to my wedding. Poor Nic had to conduct the ceremony while competing with comments on very loud loudspeakers, announcing how much each fish weighed, who caught it, who was first mate on the ship, etc. Not to mention the cheering from the thousands of spectators awed and excited about the very large marlins and tuna. We read in the paper that the billfish tournament would be going on at Bay Point, which was news to us. I called Amber at 30º to ask why this was not mentioned before and how this would affect my wedding. She assured me that my wedding was early enough, at 6:30pm, that nothing in the tournament would interfere. No one was showing up until at least 7, she said. Then later she called to mention that she just found out that everyone would be charged $10 to enter the grounds, so she was working on a way to allow my guests to circumvent this charge. She said she would get parking passes for our guests. I asked how I should get these passes to my guests the day before the wedding. Oh, hmm, well. How about I give her a list of guests instead, and then security will get the list and allow those people in. The email to her bounces back. I call to tell her that her email is bouncing, and she says, nevermind, they don’t want a list anyway. Guests can simply say they are coming to the Strother wedding, and they’ll be let in. Amber also suggested several times that we move the entire wedding and reception to the Marriott hotel instead. Not having ever seen the hotel, tasted the food, spoken to anyone there, and all those other things you do when you plan weddings, and not having any way to inform our guests that the location has changed the day before the wedding, neither Mom nor I saw this as an option at all. When my mom and aunt arrived in the morning to set up some of the outdoor décor, instead of finding an open grassy area by the pool, as we’d been planning all along, they found large tents, a pirate ship façade, and about a billion people fishing, talking about fish, and/or drinking beer. After a lot of arguments, threats, tears, and sweat, it was finally decided that I could come out through the dining room of the restaurant, under a large ridiculous tent, and down to the grassy area past the pool. Not quite the original plan, but it will work. Amber, the general manager, and various other people repeatedly reassure us that no one will come until 8:00 for the billfish weigh-in, so there should be no more glitches with the wedding. Imagine my pleasure when I golf-cart from the hotel to 30º and find a billion people cheering in front of a jumbotron screen displaying fish weights. And lest we forget, a giant pirate ship façade. At some point during the ceremony, an announcer blasted on to let us know that a ship called Sweet Release was sailing past in the background. I know all of my guests were dying to know the name of that ship. Well, it was pretty much nothing like it was supposed to go, but it was funny. I enjoyed myself. And Nic made it great, explaining how the ceremony is much like real life, with distractions vying for our attentions. Everyone at the reception said it was truly beautiful and they had a great time. What more can you ask for?

Today is an important day, because Thomas is arriving. People have been asking me, “how’s married life?” I’ve been able to reply, “pretty much the same,” until recently. After all, we were still living in different countries and our lives hadn’t really changed. But now, living in Florida, with my parents, I don’t think I’ve felt less married in a very long time. Long before I was actually married. In addition, Thomas has been working, and I’ve been drug to all ends of town for wedding prep junk, and we’ve hardly been able to even talk online. 

Tonight it ends. He’ll be here and I can feel at least a little married again.