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.