Thursday, August 14, 2003
It's strange, this expat-thing.It's amazing how different countries are, even though they from the outside look fairly similar. Okay, so England has hooligans and Denmark has 'roligans'. (Translates to something like 'calm-igans' or 'peaceful-igans', something we have taken pride in for many, many years now. We don't get into fights at football-games. Hu-f*cking-rrah.) The English have cottages and the Danish have summerhouses. Other than that it doesn't look that different at all. Both countries are part of the so-called western civilisation, fond of democracy and designer fashion and beer.
But there is such a big difference, when you get to peel layer after layer and see what people really are like, outside the holiday resorts and the celebrities and the one-week school trips. One thing I've noticed about myself whenever I go home, is that I'm wildly suspicious of other people. The so-called 'stranger' hasn't got a chance with me.
I visited friends in the second-largest city in Denmark. They live on the third floor of a house downtown - not a rough area, but still - downtown. And they leave their windows open in summer. Always. Also when they go out.
- Are you not going to close the windows?
- Nooo - nobody's going to climb up the wall here!
- Are you sure?
- Don't be stupid.
The things is that clearly, anyone in his/her right mind would never climb up a very exposed wall on an ordinary sunny afternoon. However, many people in London are not in their right minds.
Exhibit A: The week we moved into this flat, my boyfriends bike was stolen off our balcony, which is very exposed, on an ordinary sunny Friday afternoon.
Exhibit B: The guy upstairs from a couple of friends of mine was burgled by people who climbed upon scaffolding 500 metres down the road and climbed the roof all the way down to his open window.
There are many things like that. I never accept anything from anyone in the street, even though they claim it's free, because it usually never is, in the end. I feel guilty, though, when I then go back home and dismiss kind people who only want to bring me a bit of joy. But we don't believe in free joy here.
That said, I do like living in London. My Danish friends, who are sweet, sweet people, keep asking me when I'm going to come back 'home'. What they don't realise is that this is home. however much I complain about it. I have been living here for so long and so intensely now that I do things the way they are done here, and going back to Denmark is a bigger deal than just deciding to return. I'm not just off on a gap-year trip or a flight of fancy, I live here. I don't see myself as being 'away' - I just am. Here. Now. But thanks for wanting me back, people - and I miss you too.
But there is such a big difference, when you get to peel layer after layer and see what people really are like, outside the holiday resorts and the celebrities and the one-week school trips. One thing I've noticed about myself whenever I go home, is that I'm wildly suspicious of other people. The so-called 'stranger' hasn't got a chance with me.
I visited friends in the second-largest city in Denmark. They live on the third floor of a house downtown - not a rough area, but still - downtown. And they leave their windows open in summer. Always. Also when they go out.
- Are you not going to close the windows?
- Nooo - nobody's going to climb up the wall here!
- Are you sure?
- Don't be stupid.
The things is that clearly, anyone in his/her right mind would never climb up a very exposed wall on an ordinary sunny afternoon. However, many people in London are not in their right minds.
Exhibit A: The week we moved into this flat, my boyfriends bike was stolen off our balcony, which is very exposed, on an ordinary sunny Friday afternoon.
Exhibit B: The guy upstairs from a couple of friends of mine was burgled by people who climbed upon scaffolding 500 metres down the road and climbed the roof all the way down to his open window.
There are many things like that. I never accept anything from anyone in the street, even though they claim it's free, because it usually never is, in the end. I feel guilty, though, when I then go back home and dismiss kind people who only want to bring me a bit of joy. But we don't believe in free joy here.
That said, I do like living in London. My Danish friends, who are sweet, sweet people, keep asking me when I'm going to come back 'home'. What they don't realise is that this is home. however much I complain about it. I have been living here for so long and so intensely now that I do things the way they are done here, and going back to Denmark is a bigger deal than just deciding to return. I'm not just off on a gap-year trip or a flight of fancy, I live here. I don't see myself as being 'away' - I just am. Here. Now. But thanks for wanting me back, people - and I miss you too.
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