Dansk humor: a matter of mastery

If I had to say what it is the most difficult thing of living in Denmark as a foreigner coming from Spain, I would say the humor. Oh, yeah, it is easy everyone can make some fun using irony but it’s not the kind of irony Alanis Morissette sang about. Believe or not, you’ll never find such a way of twisting words and meanings as here.

Poster in Nørrebro (Copenhagen). Picture taken from pernille.typad.com

Is it bad? No, it’s other way of interacting. I must confess that sometimes is hard to realize if Danes are just trying to be nice or they are simply rude. It’s like a play-role. One takes the role of the joker and you, as foreigner, play the role of the stupid who doesn’t understand.

In the south we are more direct. Of course we use sarcasm but we are amateurs in front of that levels achieved by centuries of practice. My advice is, if you come to Denmark, to be yourself and try to fit in little by little.

I remember one night when a group of Spaniards we were having dinner with a Dane. In some moment he yelled “Arriba España” (Up Spain or long live Spain). It had been nice if we wouldn’t have these problems of identifying national pride with fascism in Spain. All of us stared at him in shock expecting that such a sign of inappropriate free expression was caused by his lack of awareness. The thing is that the Dane he did know about that and he made it on purpose. Days after, when we were informed about that, we yelled “what kind of humor is that? It’s not funny if you don’t share it”. Well, maybe it’s the Danish humor way.

Anyway, I think I’d like to know all the tips and keys behind this way of making fun and impress people around the world with such a humor. In the meantime I’m just trying to learn the grassroots in order to mingle with more Danish people. And, for sure, it’s not like to put foreigners on the line and make them to say rødgrød med fløde, the national tongue-twister.

Nobody said it'd be easy - II

13:15. That was the expected hour for the plane to take off.

21:30. That’s the hour when I eventually got aboard on the plane.

23:27. When I’m writing these lines.

Flight Malaga - Madrid - Copenhagen. Fifth capture after other passengers appeared on the previous ones 

I’ve just had my last meal of the day. In fact I don’t know if it was dinner or, as the Danes say, natsmad. I must recognize the fact that SAS (Scandinavian Airlines is not cool enough) provided us with food and drinks all the time. Not only the whole lunch, but also during the afternoon: Snacks (e.g. chicken sandwich) and drinks. SAS is not cheap at all, neither bighearted for sure.

Nevertheless two meals it’s not enough to kill that much time. I think I checked all the stores at least once, some twice and others even three times. My bag is full of testers for perfumes and in an irrational impulse I deceive myself. My last acquisition is Luna Rosa by Prada. A 50ml bottle of pure good smell for sportsmen and, why not, for me.

Ok, I’m cheating myself. I forgot that my last acquisition is a magazine I hadn’t bought before I thought it was too frivolous and lacked of any interest apart from the give-hopes-to-fatty-people field. It’s “Men’s Health’. Worldwide known and for my surprise the Spanish edition is good enough. Something uncommon in print media.

Spanish edition of the magazine Men's Health. It's quite good.

And it’s because not only deal with fitness and diet as the very only topics –there are an uncountable number of them-, and neither because it includes style, personal care and leisure. It’s due to the fresh and unserious, journalistic way of writing. I’ve found more journalistic key skills its pages than in the Danish tabloid BT that I read this noon while I was wondering why the plane wasn’t taking off.

Now, relocated in a flight from Malaga to Copenhagen with stop in Madrid and surrounded by Danes, Swedes, Spaniards and some expatriates, I’m finishing my last lines. But I bear in mind that we’re expected to arrive at one o’clock. I didn’t know that Denmark was still awake at that time. Maybe I knew that, but I forgot it because of the last three weeks in Madrid. “La ciudad más divertida del mundo”.

Danes make fun and laugh at the airport assistant because they don’t know how to pronounce their efternavner in a proper way, without keeping in mind that they have such a difficult language. Swedes just speak their funny language and ask all the time how will arrive to Stockholm if they have already lost the connection. Spaniards… Well, they behave as always. We recognize each other. It’s easy for us. And the expatriates carry with noisy children. I’m so desolated. TGTS – Thanks God They are Sleeping.

PS. I must confess that some minutes ago I was a little sneaky. The flight attendants handed out some sandwiches. Since I read they have a vegetarian menu, I decided to test SAS service. I received a lomo sandwich (is there any real English word for that back meat?). I don’t like it at all and, concerned about my shape –fatty food– and conscious of my hate to cheese, I asked the flight attendant for a vegan sandwich, which means non-coming from an animal food. So, I would avoid lomo and cheese at once and I could eat something healthier. She just answered “let me check it”. Three minutes later, she’s back with a vegetarian, including cheese, sandwich. Afterwards not even the sandwich could’ve been under my control today.

Nobody said it'd be easy - I

It’s been a long time since I wrote the last post.  At first I wanted to write about why my expectations weren’t completed. And why my initial points of view changed after the first days in Madrid. Anyway my perception blew up last night. Being an expatriate is not easy. You make a change in your life buy your acquaintances don’t. Your life-rhythm is still in evolution if not it reached the top of a different level but your whole surround goes on with their same lives. However you expect something else, something different and you feel disappointed if you aren’t mature enough.

15:08. Now I’m supposed to be on a plane, flying to Copenhagen and full of happiness to be back in Roskilde. Airports, aircraft and all the air things are not as efficient as we would like them to be, so because of that I’m finishing my lunch in a trendy but stinky cafeteria in the Terminal 2. Beef, fries, salad and a rotten apple. That’s my lunch. No, it’s not a good beginning for my way back.

18:16 But the main question is what to do? Just go around the duty free stores. They aren’t as duty free as they presume to be. I can find better bargains outside. The poor Spaniard is back. Perfumes, clothes, chocolates. Nothing interesting at all. If only they would sell a sharp knife to use when you feel self-aggressive whilst waiting for your delayed flight.  That’s because of a terrible headache. A group of fourteen Portuguese people clapping, yelling and noising but also making a drinking beer competition. And don’t mention the children in the short period on the plane. Crying, crying, crying. I didn’t want to fly with damn kids.

Then, just wait. Because if my plane even takes off soon and I get Copenhagen, I will still have a long train-journey from Kastrup Airport to Trekoner, and carry with my suitcase up-hill to Korallen. Danish protestant God why do you hate me so much?

En tyr fra Spanien og to damer fra Danmark

En lo referente a lo Erasmus seré telegráficamente breve:

1. Ya tengo los billetes para Copenhague.

2. Compañía elegida: Scandinavian Airlines

3. Ya pagué el deposito de la residencia, tanto de la Odense como de la de Roskilde.

4. La respuesta de RUC fue: A principios de agosto oirás de nosotros (¡Qué bien!)

Dejando a un lado esto he decir algo importante. El Toro de Osborne se marcha a otras latitudes. Más exactamente, una copia de él ha sido instalada en el Superkilen Park de Copenhague. Es uno de esos parques urbanos con esculturas por doquier que sirven más como atractivo turístico que como lugar de recreo para tí, los niños y el perro.

Los organizadores del proyecto decidieron incluir réplicas de gran tamaño de diversos objetos de países como China, Estados Unidos, Rusia o Israel. La idea fue preguntar a los simpáticos vecinos del barrio de Nørrebro. Conni y Tove, dos pensionistas de la zona pensaron en el toro de tan conocida marca de Brandy y es que España fuera de nuestras fronteras suele ser eso: toros, flamencas y la calle Huertas (a veces también el Real Madrid y el Barcelona).

Tove recuerda sus veranos en la Costa del Sol, territorio plagado de daneses, donde tienen sus propias cadenas de radio y revistas, y de aquella simpática valla publicitaria con la silueta de un toro. Acompañada de Conni, toda una dansk dame que juega de miedo a los bolos, y de un representante de Superflex, la compañía patrocinadora, comienza una aventura por el sur de España en busca del archiconocido símbolo.

Este viaje es una mezcla de Spain... on the road again pero en vez de de Mario Batali, Gwyneth Paltrow y Mark Bittman tenemos a Connie, Tove y Rasmus. Desde el 21 de junio se puede disfrutar de sus aventuras por tierras españolas en busca del toro gracias a YouTube. Reconozco haber caído ante los encantos de estas jubiladas danesas y ser fan de Conni y Tove.

No quiero parecer obvio pero estas amables señoras no aprovecharon la Semana Santa para venir o el puente del Primero de Mayo, sino que fue tiempo a. Véase que vuelan en Spanair.

Ahora con el Superkilen inaugurado unos días atrás, confieso que tengo más ganas de llegar a Dinamarca para hacerme la foto de rigor con el Toro de Osborne y empezar a difundir las bondades del brandy andaluz. Nah, qué va, sólo por no sentirme tan lejos de mi hogar (¿Alguien se lo cree?).