More Revelations about Denmark

1. The Danish have terrible sense of timing.
2. Black people here are invisible.

In the very first description of the place where I'd be staying, it was described as being five minutes away from the hospital. Mathilda (see previous post) told me it was about a 20 minute walk. So, I gave myself about 30 minutes so that I'd be 'on time' for the hospital today, which I arbitrarily decided would be 9 am, since I hadn't really gotten any instructions otherwise. Guess how long it took me to get there.

You were all very close, but Meg was the closest with 45 minutes. Prize goes to her.

More proof of #1 above was that they weren't expecting me in thoracic surgery until tomorrow (despite the fact that my emails all said to show up today). They also thought I was one of two Mexican students, though, so I'm hoping that the switch from orthopedics to thoracics was actually done. Apparently the (hopefully old) contact I have for ortho is in another hospital which, according to the nice lady at information, is 'not quite on this map'.

So I showed up at the hospital this morning, found my way to the thoracic surgery department, and found the first person I could wearing a white coat (after wandering around the floor and not finding any main-desk-type-area): 'Hi there, I'm an exchange student starting today. Do you know where I'm supposed to go?' Eventually found the guy I was supposed to, though today is apparently not my first day. He seemed very happy with my suggestion that I take the day off to tour the city. I did find a bunch of cool lakes/parks to run through/around on my way to the hospital, and figured out how to get there by bike for tomorrow too. Not very many people here wear bike helmets, so I'm taking that as a sign that the Danish are exceptionally safe drivers. Also, there are bike lanes everywhere here, with their own stop lights and everything.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot: more proof for #1 above. Here the lights go from green to yellow to red. Then they turn both yellow and red before they turn green. Apparently Danes need advanced warning to get ready to hit the accelerator.

In all honesty I could probably use the day off. Last night, I'm guessing, was a big football night for Spain. Through most of the night I could hear 'olEEE! ole ole ole. Oleee ooooollleee', and a bunch of Spanish-sounding cheering. Either that or I live in a Spanish district that really likes to party on Sunday nights. Only time will tell. Between that and jet lag, maybe today wouldn't have been the most productive day anyhow. Probably will end up going to the amusement park down the street.

The apartment building I'm living in is home to 'Africa House' on the main floor/basement level. Was empty yesterday, which I figured was normal for a Sunday, but it's also closed today. Have also passed by not one, but two specialty 'Afro haircut salons' and at least a couple of Ethiopian restaurants. All empty. The only logical conclusion I can come to is that black people are invisible in Denmark. Well ok, I did see one black dude on the train, and another Kenyan-marathoner-type running along the canal today, but still. Two black people in two days? Something is afoot.

Anyhow, just came home to change and grab my camera. Apparently blabbering about my morning was also on the agenda.

cheers,
-lp

ps forgot to mention the most striking thing ever

In the airport (the freaking airport, in international arrivals) when you go into the stalls, there's a separate metal disposal bin with a small slit in the top. On the front of this, there's an official-looking sticker with a picture of a syringe on it. The metal box is locked. Welcome to Denmark!

Starting to wish I'd picked emerg.

Guess who's in Denmark.

Summer so far's been great. Did the wilderness medical elective thing, which was fan-freaking-tastic, spent time cottage-ing (now officially a verb) with family then friends, and blah blah blah who cares Louis? Tell me about Denmark.

Ok, ok, don't be so pushy. I just got here, so I thought I'd throw in some filler.

Anyhow, today's been a pretty fantastic day. Managed to make it from Ottawa to Copenhagen without too many problems (thanks to my nephew, who was nice enough to bring his dad along to drive me to the airport). Was a layover in London, where I had to clear immigration, pick up my shizz, then 'clear' customs, and re-board with a different carrier to get to here. Apparently when you travel with the budget companies, they don't transfer any of your bags for you. No complaints, though, as I definitely was happy with the fare I got. Customs was a bit of a joke, even by Canadian standards. There's a big line with a sign 'nothing to declare' that you walk through, and no one's even there to give you the evil eye. Flight from London to Copenhagen was even better as I didn't have to go through either immigration nor customs. I love Europe.

So I pick up my bags, and leave the customs area, knowing only to look for a girl named Mathilda near the 'DSB' sign. Go to information, it takes too long, so I make the effort of moving my head to the right, then to the left, and see this giant placard advertising DSB. Apparently it's the ttc/oc transpo equivalent. Meet this nice girl who takes me via train to the apartment I'll be staying in. She's also a medical student here, though had what sounded like a romantic date with her boyfriend at a newly renovated castle (plus my flight was late) so she took off.

Most memorable line she spouted was 'they're trying to clean this area of town up a bit, it's known for prostitutes'. Turn the corner, and there's a sex shop right there, followed by another one, and another one. Awesome. Kind of reminds me of Amsterdam minus the red lights; will be interesting to see what it gets like here after dark. The note left to me by the guy who's place I'm staying at also made reference to the 'generally benign junkies and pushers'. Did I mention I don't know who any of these people are? Apparently 'they' found some dude for me to stay with, who is my new hero by the way (I'll get to that) and his two roomates are not around for the first week I'm here. So I decided to break into one of their rooms, hack into their computer, and hence my earlier-than-expected communique with the people from the land of snow and ice in the true north strong and free.

Back to the colourful part of town I'm in: Vesterbro. It's described (in the official tourist map) as 'a traditional working class area...[with] trendy cocktail bars, and clubbing venues'. It is a fair distance from Østerbro (where the hospital I'll be at is), which is described as 'where many families with children choose to move if they can afford the rent'. I think I like this country already.

Speaking of the hospital I'll be at, did I mention I don't really have any idea of with whom, what, where, or when I'm supposed to do anything tomorrow? The last email I got indicated that a thoracic surgery elective had been 'set up', though the only contact info I have is for some dude in orthopædics (ps this is a neat keyboard with symbols such as æ ø ¤, and ½ even has it's own key). I'm sure it'll work out fine, though I see it going something like electives I've set up myself back home, with me taking a while to track the good doctor down, and them greeting me with 'Oh, I didn't know I had a student today. How long are you here for?' Should be good times.

Back to my hero, Emil, who left me a note which starts with 'Dear Perfect Stranger'. After looking around on his bookshelf, I had a bit of a nerdgasm, after coming across such authors/titles as the essential X-men, Gary Larson (Farside), Don Quixote, Darwin, Arthur C. Clark, Douglas Adams, and my personal favorite 'The Game: Penetrating the secret society of pick-up artists'. Between his library and the five books I brought I should be ok for reading material for the next little while.

Sadly, today being Sunday, neither the tourist centre nor the grocery stores were open, so I had to settle for a dinner of cheese, peanuts and fruit. Mental note: Danish cheese is quite good (not that I've ever met many cheeses I disliked).

Oh yeah, I nearly forgot to mention my new best friend. His (her? haven't noticed yet) name is 'the cat' or sometimes just 'cat' as Emil outlined in his note. This cat is the opposite of my older brother's, which is to say that it's the perfect cat (so far anyhow).

Ok, this is probably getting long enough that only ½ (or some other fraction that unfortunately doesn't get it's own key on this keyboard) of you are still reading. That, and the fact that this is my first day and nothing's really happened yet does not bode well for maintaining all of your attentions over the coming weeks. Future posts will include pretty pictures.

cheers from Denmark,
-louis