Jul

A Danish post once more, for pretty much the same reasons as the previous ones: There's enough specific Danish concepts and ideas mentioned to make it strange to write in English. For anyone curious, the post is about Christmas.

Man hører meget om julen rundt omkring, nu hvor den er ved at nærme sig. Noget, der irriterer mig lidt, er, når fortæller om ting, de gerne vil undvære eller gøre andreledes, fordi de synes, der er noget galt med den sædvanlige måde. Ikke fordi der som sådan er noget galt i det; tværtimod, såmænd, for hvis man er træt af, at noget gøres på en bestemt måde, skal man da endelig lave det om, så man bliver gladere. Naturligvis.
Det, der generer mig, er, når folk ofte formulerer sig, som om deres måde nødvendigvis er bedre i absolut forstand, ikke bare bedre for dem. Min jul er ret traditionel, og det er den, fordi jeg kan lide den sådan. Hvis andre ikke kan lide den, skal de være velkomne til at lave deres jul anderledes, men jeg kan altså lide den.

Noget af det, folk ofte kritiserer julen for, er, at den angiveligt er for kommerciel. Det hele handler jo bare om gaver og penge, og gaverne er jo bare af pligt, siger de. Ægte værdi mener de, man finder i spontane gaver, for de er jo givet af ren og skær lyst. En anden, men lignende kritik så jeg for nylig i forhold til typen af gaver. Købte gaver er noget pjat, blev der sagt; de er ikke spor personlige. En ordentlig gave er noget, man selv har lavet. Og en tredje relateret påstand er påstanden om, at rigtige gaver er noget, man har fundet på selv, ikke noget taget fra en ønskeseddel. For det er jo mere personligt, mens gaver ud fra ønskesedler bare er en slags upersonlige bestillingsvarer. Det, der virkelig generer mig ved den slags påstande er, at jeg i bund og grund synes, der er noget om dem. Selvfølgelig kan der let blive noget pligtmæssigt over at give julegaver, eftersom det er en ting, der forventes. Selvfølgelig er der noget virkelig personligt i at have brugt af sin tid og kreativitet til at fremstille noget til andre. Og naturligvis kan der være noget helt specielt ved at få en gave, man ikke selv havde tænkt på at ønske sig, men som lige rammer plet. Men det betyder bare ikke, at julegaver ikke kan handle om andet end pligt, eller at købte gaver valgt ud fra en ønskeseddel ikke kan være personlige.
Som det gamle udtryk siger, så er det tanken, der tæller. Når jeg holder af min familie og mine venner og nyder at give dem julegaver, fordi jeg ved, de vil være glade for det, jeg giver dem, så er det ikke kommercielt og pligtpræget, bare fordi jeg gør det på et tidspunkt, hvor det almindeligvis forventes, at jeg gør det. Hvis jeg i virkeligheden helst ville være fri, var det en anden sag, men jeg nyder at gøre det og glæder mig til at se folks glæde, når de åbner mine gaver (eller når jeg ser dem første gang efter juleaften, hvis jeg ikke fejrer jul sammen med dem).
Og når jeg kigger på ønskesedler og går ud i en butik og køber noget af det, der står på dem, er det ikke bare udtryk for, at jeg ikke er god nok til at finde på noget fantastisk og fremstille det selv. Hvis jeg faktisk får en genial idé, så følger jeg den da, men hvis ikke, hvad skulle der så være så forfærdeligt i at spørge folk, hvad de ville blive glade for, og så forsøge at gøre dem glade ved at give dem netop noget af det. Hvis jeg gik ud og købte noget tilfældigt, var det upersonligt og ligegyldigt, ja, men det gør jeg jo ikke. Jeg går ud og køber noget, jeg regner med, vil gøre nogen glad.

Ud over påstande om gaver er der også påstande om stress og jag og alt for mange traditioner, der skal leves op til. Enig, siger jeg, men nogle gange kommer der lidt for meget fokus på de tilfælde, hvor traditioner og forventninger er et problem. Traditioner og forventninger kan også være hyggelige; det er mine. Hvert år glæder jeg mig inderligt over æbleskiver og glögg til min mors fødselsdag 10. december, til at hænge de gode gamle kravlenisser op, til at lave konfekt, til at pynte juletræet lillejuleaften og derefter for første gang det år at få serveret slik og konfekt i en helt bestemt skål, til at fordele gaverne under træet sammen med mine to brødre, og til at mandelgaven er en pakke After Eight pakket pænt ind og med et til-og-fra-kort, hvorpå der står "Til ? Fra mandlen". Det er alt sammen glædelige gensyn med ting, der minder mig om en tid, hvor hygge og samvær og det at glæde hinanden er i højsædet. Selve traditionerne er måske ligegyldige, og det kunne gøres lige så godt på andre måder. Men i kraft af deres historie har de fået en betydningsbærende funktion og minder om og bidrager til al den gode stemning, julen altid har været forbundet med for mig.
I år skal jeg for første gang holde juleaften væk fra mine forældre og søskende, eftersom vi skal være hos Stefans familie. Dermed går jeg glip af nogle af traditionerne. Det er også helt i orden. Selvom de betyder noget for mig, ved jeg godt, at det ikke som sådan er i dem, alt det gode ligger. Når de gerne skal være der hos min familie, er det, fordi vi nu engang har en historie med dem og ved at holde fast i dem anerkender og hylder vi den betydning, de har fået. Selvfølgelig ikke fuldstændigt slavisk - hvis der er gode grunde til, at det ville være smart at gøre noget anderledes, skal det naturligvis have lov at være sådan. Sidste år, da min mor blev 50, ville hun f.eks. gerne gøre noget lidt andet ud af det end at få æbleskiver og glögg, og det var naturligvis helt i orden. Men i det omfang der ikke er gode grunde til at lade være, så er traditionerne en god måde at vise, at vi gerne vil værne om vores jul, med den gode og dejlige stemning, den har.
I år glæder jeg mig til at være med til nogle af forberedelserne sammen med min svigerfamilie og også bare sammen med Stefan. Det er helt fint, at det ikke bliver helt de samme traditioner, som jeg plejer at opleve, for deres historie ligger et andet sted. Men det betyder noget for mig, at der er en eller anden form for fælles samlingspunkter, så vi har aftalt, at Stefan og jeg skal være med til at pynte juletræet, og at vi alle sammen, også Stefans søskendes kærester, som ikke skal være med juleaften, skal holde en julehyggedag. Stefan og jeg har også pyntet lejligheden op sammen derhjemme, og vi har afholdt en af hans juletraditioner, nemlig at se "The nightmare before Christmas" sammen med nogle af hans venner, mens vi spiste æbleskiver og drak glögg og juleøl. Vi har opfundet os en store-julegave-indkøbsdag med hyggelig frokost på café midt på dagen. Og vi skal også bage julesmåkager. Nye traditioner, der kan få sig en historie med tiden.
Alt i alt så er de konkrete traditioner ikke så vigtige i sig selv. Men det er vigtigt, at der er traditioner, for det ligger i den menneskelige natur at bruge ritualer til at markere særlige lejligheder og de værdier, disse lejligheder gerne skulle fremme. Og når først en tradition har fået sig en historie, så ligger der også en værdi i at blive ved at bruge netop den, fordi den derved har de tidligere gode oplevelser indlejret i sig. Alt med måde, naturligvis, og hvis omstændighederne ikke er til det, bør man naturligvis huske på, at man sagtens kan have det hyggeligt og dejligt sammen uden de sædvanlige traditioner. Men det ændrer ikke på, at de faktisk kan udføre en vigtig funktion.

Wedding - Part 3: The rest

Well, I was right in saying you should take my promise of a new installment soon with a grain of salt. But finally, here we are.

We ended installment 2 right after the ceremony. After the congratulations from the mayor, everyone else went to congratulate us too, and with that done, it was time for cake! So here are some pictures of us cutting (and eating) it:





























People ate cake and some fruit, and luckily they liked my cake. We had some time before the photographer was to arrive, and as we'd planned, we spent some of it unwrapping presents. They were very lovely presents, and there were lots of them! Plenty of things and plenty of money too! A picture of the unwrapping process:















After a while of talking and unwrapping, the photographer showed up. We went for a walk around the neighbourhood to take pictures at various nice locations including a large rock I climbed onto, some stairs and concrete bridge were we sought shelter while it rained. my mum accompanied us to help out a bit with stuff like making sure my dress was arranged properly. At one point we met an elderly man who was carrying some roses to put on his late wife's grave, and he gave me one which was a very nice gesture. When my feet had started hurting very very much, we went back, and people awaited us with lots of rice which the photographer took some nice pics of too. We also had a group photo taken, and a photo with us and our parents. Some assorted pictures:




















































































































When the photographer left, there was time for a little more talking, and then dinner was ready. Stefan's friend Kevin who is a really good cook (as a hobby) had very generously offered to make the dinner for free (we gave him a present, of course, but no actual payment), and he did a fantastic job. The dessert especially was phenomenal.
During the dinner there were speeches from my dad, Stefan, me, Stefan's mum, my uncle on behalf of my grandmother (my paternal grandparents could not be at the wedding because their health is not compatible with the long trip they'd have to take to get there), Stefan's friend and witness Martin, and our toast master Christian. There was also a song from Stefan's mum. I'll just show a picture of me speaking and one of Stefan speaking:


































According to tradition the guests also made us stand on our chairs and crawl under the table and kiss. And when one of us left the table, people went to kiss the remaining one. Pictures:










































After the dinner, it was time for the wedding dance:





























By then it had been a long day, and people slowly started to leave (a few had left earlier for various reasons), but still it took some hours before the last bunch (including us) decided to call it a day. I could barely stand, I was so tired - but very happy too! So we called some taxis and all went home.
When Stefan and I got home, this sight awaited us:











































Some of our friends had gone in and wreaked the traditional havoc in our flat. They'd been nice enough to listen to our request not to put rice in the bed, though, so after examining the mess, and removing the few items on the bed (candles, chocolate, plastic champagne glasses - and actually rice, but still in the bag, so it wasn't rice in the bed in the way we had asked to be spared from) and the 60 or so hair pins in my hair, we could go to bed.

The next day we exchanged our presents for each other; I got a beautiful bracelet and Stefan got a bicycle (well, he didn't actually get it then since I'd stowed it in his mum's shed, but still). And then we went to clean the place where the party was held with the help of my family. It took all the time we had and a bit more, but it was nice to have some time with my family before they went back home. Stefan's sister and her boyfriend came to pick us up in their car, and then we went to Korsør where Stefan's father's grave is, to put the bouquet on it. Here it is:















And that's pretty much the end of my wedding posts - there's still the honeymoon to write about, though. With luck I might finish before it's half a year since we got back from that honeymoon!

At tilegne sig København

(Apologies to English readers; this post will be in Danish. It's about different Danish regions and my own feelings about having moved from one place in Denmark to another, and it just feels more appropriate to write about it in Danish.)

Min far, hans forældre og min morfar dyrker slægtsforskning. Jeg kender derfor noget til mine forfædre, hvad de var for en slags mennesker, og hvor de kom fra. Der er ikke noget særligt fint over min slægt; det er jævne folk, ingen herremænd eller fine fruer. Og så er langt størstedelen fra Jylland.

Denne tendens til at være bosat i Jylland har holdt godt ved. Gennem hele min opvækst har Sjælland og Fyn været sjældent besøgte steder, og landets hovedstad, København, en fjern og ukendt storby. Slægtninge i København var der ingen af (i hvert fald ingen, vi kendte godt nok til at besøge dem) Jeg skal ikke kunne udelukke, at jeg har været i København som lille, uden at kunne huske noget om det, men den første gang, jeg kan huske at have besøgt byen, var i 7. klasse. Der var et eller andet stort atletikstævne for skoler fra hele landet, og det skulle altså foregå i København, så vi fik os en værtsklasse i Avedøre, hvis elever vi blev indkvarteret hos, og så tilbragte vi nogle dage i hovedstaden. Det meste af tiden gik vist med at deltage i selve atletikarrangementet, en fest for deltagerne, samt nogle sociale aktiviteter med værtsklassen, så det var ikke meget af København vi fik set. Såvidt jeg husker, virkede byen stor og forvirrende, og jeg var glad for bare at blive dirigeret rundt af lærerne.

Sidenhen tog jeg turen nogle gange, primært til koncerter, til en fest eller to og en enkelt gang på sightseeing-tur med min ven Rasmus, som heller ikke havde været der særlig meget. Men mine besøg kunne stadig tælles på to hænder, og København var stadig en stor uoverskuelig by og jeg en lille provinspige, der lige var kommet ind med fire-toget og gik rundt med store øjne.

Og så var det jo, at kærligheden slog til. Pludselig dukkede en Stefan op i mit liv, en Stefan bosat derovre på Sjælland - faktisk i København, sådan som København defineres af dem, der ikke kommer til Sjælland ret tit (dvs. som udgangspunkt hele Sjælland, men hårdt presset inskrænket til det, der mere korrekt betegnes Storkøbenhavn). Pludselig skulle jeg ind imellem tilbringe en weekend i hovedstadsområdet, så endda en måned af min sommerferie, og før jeg så mig om, havde jeg indvilget i at flytte derover - herover, hvor jeg stadig bor og nu sidder og skriver et blogindlæg, mens jeg egentlig burde arbejde på mit speciale.

Og hvordan er det så for én, hvis verden i høj grad har ligget i Jylland hele livet, at flytte til en af Københavns forstæder?
Tja, en større begivenhed, end man umiddelbart skulle tro, når man tænker på, hvor lille et land, Danmark er, og hvor få reelle forskelle, der egentlig er mellem landsdelene. Og en mindre begivenhed, end man som tryghedselskende, genert særling med stærke bånd til sin familie kunne have frygtet.

Jeg nægter altid at være sjællænder. Jeg er stadig jyde, er jeg. Det kan godt være, jeg bor herovre, men min familie er fra Jylland, størstedelen af min slægt har boet der nærmest altid, og det er den del af verden, jeg har kendt hele mit liv. Jeg har brug for det bånd til min familie, det er at være jyde. Ikke fordi jeg har noget imod sjællændere (hele ideen med at finde bestemte befolkningsgrupper bedre eller værre end andre er dybt latterlig), men fordi jeg af en eller anden grund har ladet Jylland blive en del af min og min families identitet. Hvorfor jeg har inkorporeret vores geografiske placering i min opfattelse af os, ved jeg egentlig ikke. Måske fordi kendskab til de steder, jeg befinder mig, eksistensen af trygge baser, jeg kender godt, er noget vigtigt for mig. Ikke at jeg på nogen måde kender hele Jylland særlig godt, men hvis man plotter de steder, jeg har besøgt, ind på et kort, så ville kortet indtil for relativt nylig have haft en nogenlunde samlet, omend noget tynd sky af prikker hen over Jylland (med den største koncentration og de mest velkendte steder i Midt- og Østjylland) og så nogle få ensomme prikker andre steder.

København er trods alt det sted uden for "skyen", jeg har besøgt flest gange, vil jeg tro (de fleste udliggere er steder, jeg kun har været en enkelt gang), men den har stadig formået at virke meget anderledes og fremmed alene pga. sin størrelse. Den største by, jeg har kendt mere grundigt, er Århus, og hvor glade de end er for at kalde den verdens mindste storby i turistbrochurer, så føles den ikke som én. Der er et godt udvalg af tilbud, jovist, men den har på ingen måde den fornemmelse, jeg forbinder med en storby, nemlig fornemmelsen af en stor samling af forskellige lokaliteter med hver deres stemning. Århus føles (for mig) alt for meget som en enhed til at være storbyagtig. København, derimod, opfylder bestemt kriteriet. Og det fik den til at blive ved at føles fremmed og ukendt; dels fordi jeg kun havde kendskab til ganske få facetter af den; dels fordi jeg simpelthen har været meget lidt vant til storbyfornemmelsen.

Det var således med en følelse af at flytte langt væk og til noget meget nyt, jeg flyttede herover. Ikke på en skidt måde, for jeg havde Stefan og Mensa som gode faste holdepunkter herovre, og jeg havde taget turen frem og tilbage mellem Jylland og Sjælland tit nok til, at det føltes som nogenlunde let lige at smutte tilbage på besøg. Så det var spændende snarere end skræmmende, men det var stadig noget af en omvæltning.

Og så begyndte jeg at lære det nye og fremmede at kende. Med nysgerrighed, men også med en vis skepsis. Jeg ville gerne gøre København til min, men jeg ville helst ikke gøres til dens. Og langsomt, men sikkert, er jeg blevet mere og mere hjemmevant herovre. Jeg har styr på de buslinjer, jeg bruger mest, er blevet gode venner med s-togene og zonesystemet og kan finde rundt mellem de steder, jeg kommer mest. Jeg har fået en fornemmelse af, hvordan ting vender og ligger i forhold til hinanden (en meget vigtig del af at føle sig hjemme for mig), og når folk taler om steder i byen, har jeg ganske ofte en idé om, nogenlunde hvor de befinder sig.

Min vurdering: Jeg kan godt lide København. Jeg er glad for at bo ude i forstæderne, hvor en by føles som en enhed og ikke som et kludetæppe af forskellige områder, men jeg holder af at tage ind til det københavnske kludetæppe. Jeg kender langtfra de forskellige lapper af tæppet endnu, men jeg har da fået en fornemmelse af nogle af dem, og jeg føler mig tilstrækkeligt hjemme til, at det ikke føles som et stort sted, jeg ikke har ordentligt styr på, men som steder, jeg ikke kender endnu, og steder, jeg kender godt, spredt rundt mellem hinanden. København begynder også at være min by. Måske vil jeg endda godt være lidt dens også. Ikke rigtigt københavner, fordi jeg trods alt ikke bor inde i selve byen - men sådan lidt omegns-københavner-jyde. Hvem ved, hvis jeg får lært resten af Sjælland at kende, vil jeg måske også have lyst til at kalde mig Sjællænder. Dog uden af den grund at holde op med at være jyde.

Spøjs!

It's about time that I wrote about our new cat. We got her a little more than a month ago from one of those places that take in cats people don't want anymore or cats found wandering about. She's about 9 months old and a mixture of black, orange and white.
We have named her Spøjs, based on a silly pun which I'd better explain for English readers. The Danish word "spøjs" means something like "strange", perhaps "strange in a sort of funny way". Another Danish word which means approximately the same is "pudsig". "Pudsig" is pronounced like the English word "pussy", and "cat" in Danish is spelled with a k instead of a c, but pronounced the same way. So when we call her Spøjs, we can tell people that we do so because she is a "pudsig kat" which of course just means a strange funny cat, but sounds like the English "pussycat". Besides, she is kinda strange and funny, partly because of her interesting colour mixture, partly because, well, she is a cat, and cats tend to be strange and funny.

And now to the important part. Pictures! Here we go:

Spøjs at her scratching post:















Spøjs likes computers (she loves my laptop bag too, and loves to lie on it, btw):















Spøjs sleeps in a chair:















And finally - Spøjs wants to participate in a game:

Wedding - Part 2: The wedding day up to and including the ceremony

Saturday 28/6:

On Saturday, we got up early, because I had to be at the hairdresser's at 8. The reason my appointment was that early is my very smooth, straight and long hair. In order to put it up in nice curls and twirls as I wanted, it first had to be curled, of course, and that would take time. Its straightness meant that it would require lots of some hairspray that helps keep the curls in it, and its longness meant that once it was rolled up on curlers with lots of this hairspray on, it would take a while for it to dry so they could be taken out again and the curls appear. And then of course, there'd still be the actual putting it up to do.

So an early start it was. I took a shower with my hair carefully put into a knot and covered with a towel because it would have taken even longer to dry later on with the curlers in unless it was completely dry when I got to the hairdresser's. I'd also had to make sure not to wash it with shampoo later than Thursday evening - again because it's very straight and smooth, and some natural oil in it was necessary to make my hairdo hold all night. I'd prepared for this by getting used to wash it with shampoo only every third day (and just rinse it with water otherwise) - good thing, too; before when I used shampoo every day, it would feel sort of itchy if I skipped the shampoo a day once in a while. By letting it get used to less shampoo, that itchiness disappeared. And it's supposed to be much better for the hair and scalp as well.
Anyway, enough of that and back to Saturday morning. I had a bit of breakfast, and went by bus to Albertslund centre where I carefully kept my hair under the hood of my raincoat while I waited for my mum to meet me so she could keep my company while I got my hair done. She arrived, and after waiting a bit more since it was still a little earlier than 8, we went into the hairdresser's shop where we took out the cherries, chocolate and orange juice I'd brought and got some coffee. Then the hairdresser asked if we'd remembered the veil - and I'd forgotten it! I'd laid it out so as to be sure to remember, and still forgotten it. So I called Stefan who promised to bring it, and we got started on the process of curling my hair. While I was sitting under the drying helmet thing they use, Stefan appeared with the veil. After he left, I read some magazines, talked to my mum, and looked over my speech. After about an hour, my hair was finally dry, and the curlers were taken out. I looked ridiculous with all those wild curls, of course, and it was funny to see myself like that. Then the hairdresser started putting it all up and putting the veil in. It ended up very nice, I think - here are some pictures:

From the front:














From the left side:














From the right side:















From the back:














When my hair was done and we had paid, the hairdresser called a taxi for us and was told there was one already parked at the nearest parking place. But when we went there, no taxi was anywhere to be seen. My mum called once more, and we discovered that someone must have misunderstood something when the hairdresser called, since the taxi had been at the right place, but had been sent somewhere else (very close by, so he got back to the right place fast).
We got home, and had a little time just to relax. Then we had some lunch, and I put on my makeup. I wanted it to be festive, but not too unlike my normal look. Normally I wear eyeliner and beige eyeshadow, so for this occassion I had exchanged the beige eyeshadow for green and gold, and added mascara, mineral foundation and a little lipgloss to what I'm used to. I was quite satisfied with the result. The eye shadow didn't stay perfect all night, but it stayed well enough that I didn't bother to apply more at any point; I just smoothed it out a bit at one point when it had started to gather in the eyelid fold, and I think I looked just fine all night. Here's the best pic tures I could find of the makeup:





































After putting on the makeup, I started getting dressed. First, of course, stockings and underwear, then my skirt, and finally, with my mum's help, the dress. I suppose a full figure foto of me in the dress is in order here:




















After getting on the dress, I put on my jewellery, and we waited a bit before it was time to go to the party place. Stefan had ordered a taxi earlier so we'd be sure it was there on time. We walked all the way through the area where we live to got to the parking lot where the taxi would pick us up, me with my dress lifted above my knees to make sure it didn't get dirty. It must have been quite a sight; unfortunately there were very few people around to see it.
Well, the taxi arrived, we got me into it with a little trouble (big dress!), and my mum and Stefan with no trouble at all (no big dresses on them). And a short taxi ride later, we were at the party place where a couple of guests had already arrived (we weren't late, they were early) and stood outside waiting. I went inside, and all the others seemed to want to stay outside, including the other guests who started to arrive. When some more had gotten there, I went and asked them to come inside and talk to me, since I didn't want to walk around outside with my dress (I knew it would get dirty during the day, but I'd like to postpone it as much as possible, at least till after the ceremony and the official photos being shot). So people came inside (one must please the bride! ;)), and we spent about an hour talking to people. It was very nice to see everyone. A few pics of people talking:



























Suddenly, it was around 15, the time when the mayor was supposed to show up to perform the wedding ceremony. And so he did. Stefan suddenly called out to say he was there, and while he helped the mayor put his papers and so on the table we had set up for him to perform the ceremony at, and some chairs for him and us to sit on, I went to the other end of the room, and called out that someone should find my dad (yeah, I know, ordering others around instead of doing it myself :) - but people were all gathering in a big half circle to watch us getting married, and getting through a crowd in a big dress is not the easiest thing). After a short while he got there; I asked if they were ready for us to start walking, and they were. So I took my dad's arm, and we walked up the "aisle", i.e. the floor between two of the dinner tables. Pictures:


































At the mayor table (can't call it the altar when it wasn't a church ceremony, though it served kinda the same purpose, so the mayor table it is), my dad handed me over to Stefan, and the mayor told us to sit down. Then he performed the short ceremony which included some official stuff he had to say, a few words of his own about marriage, exchanging of rings, kissing, signing of papers, congratulations from him, and a present. The mayor seemed oddly stiff and friendly at the same time. A good explanation might have been that he was nervous and didn't remember what he had to say very well so that he had to read it aloud instead of just glancing at his papers now and then. But he has been mayor for ages, 30 years or so - well, perhaps he's just not good at that kind of thing. Anyway, he certainly seemed friendly and happy for us in spite of his sort of mechanic way of speaking, so it was a very nice ceremony (not that anything could have destroyed the experience of getting married). It all felt quite surreal - some words, signing papers and exchanging rings, and suddenly we're married! Well, pictures of the ceremony too, of course (with comments):

The mayor behind the table speaking, and us sitting in front.














We listen to what the mayor says:














We had to stand up when saying "yes", and right after we both did that, we exchanged rings. First I get mine:















And then Stefan gets his:















After that we got to kiss:














Then we had to sign the wedding papers. Me first:















And Stefan:















And here are all the guests looking while Stefan signs:














Two witnesses had to sign too. We chose one each; this is my friend Rasmus:















And Stefan's friend Martin:














The mayor had to sign too:















After alle the signing, he said congratulations to us. We also got a present from the town, a pair of candle holders - the box can just be seen on the picture, right in front of us:















And with those pictures, I'll end this installment. More to follow soon (if you learn from experience at all, you'll probably take that statement with a grain of salt - but perhaps I'll surprise you)!

Moths and mail

The second installment of my wedding description is on its way, but I want to wait until I have the official photos on cd. The photographer has sent them, but they've been lost! It seems most likely that what happened is that someone got the wrong package (ours) by mistake, but for some odd reason just kept it. What someone else can want our wedding photos for is beyond me, but that's apparently the way it is. We wrote to the photographer as soon as we first found out there might be a problem, and he promised not to delete our photos and to send new cds if the first ones never showed up. Since then we talked to the post office again, and found out, as I have just described, that it seems unlikely we'll get them. But since it's their mistake, they will of course pay the extra expenses the photographer has making new ones and sending them. So tonight I'll email him again and ask for new ones, and hopefully we'll have our photos reasonably soon.

So that's one thing which annoys me. Another thing is moths! Some nasty little specimens of this disgusting species have decided that our cupboard with flour, spices, etc. is a good place for them to live and breed. When we first found out, we took everything out of the cupboard and washed it thoroughly, removed any moths and offspring we could find, and threw out anything we though might be infected in spite of not seeming to be. But alas! it was not enough. The nasty little things have returned in full force. So we have now resorted to chemical warfare. Once again everything has been removed and checked for signs of being moth-infected, and anything even remotely suspicious thrown out. But this time it has all been put in well closed big boxes, and the cupboard has been sprayed with poison (the lady who sold it to me assured me that if we washed the cupboard afterwards we would be safe keeping food in it again). So has other places where the moths might reasonably hide, like the edges where the walls and the ceiling join. All moths encountered in the process have been killed. And the food is not going back till we have repeated the process a few times! This time the little invaders are going to be taught never to try taking over our storing space as a breeding ground again.

On a more positive note, we're getting new bookcases today, and soon, probably in the weekend, we're intending to get a cat.

Wedding - Part 1: Preparations

I'm starting the full account of the wedding now. It'll be split up into several parts, and here's the first one.

Friday 27/6:

Stefan had taken Friday off, so that we could both be there for the last preparations. We started out by packing strawberries, berry mousse, chocolate cream, sugarpaste and several kitchen tools and going to Stefan's mother's place to assemble and decorate the wedding cakes. The cake layers were already there, since they'd been stored in a freezer in the basement, and Stefan's mother had taken them out to thaw the night before.

So we worked away putting mousse, strawberries and chocolate cream between layers of cake. We had brought the form that the layers were baked in so that we could assemble the cakes in it to keep them straight. However, it turned out that we couldn't just take it off immediately after assembling one cake and then use it for the next one; it had to stay on while the cake was in the fridge for a while to harden a bit. So we had to make two extra forms on the spot - luckily we had transported some of the things in a cardboard box and could cut the box up and make forms out of it. After assembling the cakes, they had to be covered in white sugarpaste and then decorated with leaves and flowers made of sugar paste coloured green and blue, respectively. I rolled out the white sugar paste, and Stefan put it on the cakes; I coloured the green and blue paste and rolled it out; we helped each other making the leaves and flowers; and I put them on the cakes. Finally, we left the cakes in the fridge to be picked up later on. Here's a picture of one of the cakes (unfortunately the berry juices flowed out a bit at the bottom as you can see):




















I had planned to iron Stefan's shirt and a little bit of my dress (something would stick out a bit and needed to be pressed with a steam iron to stay in place) after we had finished the cakes, but it had taken much more time than expected, and we had to go get the flowers for the table.

So we went to a bus stop, and took the bus to Alberstlund station where we had to change to another bus. There was, annoyingly, half an hour to wait which we spent eating some kebab for lunch. Then on to the other bus and off at the flower place where we picked up the flowers which were campanulas and looked like this once they were on the table:
















I had my very own little bridezilla moment when we picked up the flowers. The woman who was at the counter was not the same one that we had talked to when we ordered the flowers, and she wasn't quite sure if the flowers standing on the table were ours. However, the note lying by them and the talk I'd had on the phone with the woman we talked to first made it clear that they were ours. This woman kept asking if they were ours about ten times, though, in spite of the fact that I'd said several times that they must be. So in the end I raised my voice and said "yes, they are, I told you so already!" quite angrily. I apologised right away, though, and the woman from when we ordered them came to the counter right at that moment and confirmed that they were indeed ours. I was really stressed, or I'd never have yelled at the woman - even though she was rather annoying.

We got back home and had time to sit down for a short time before my grand parents were to arrive. They hadn't seen our flat, so they were going to come by around 17 and have a little to eat together with us, and then drive us and the table decorations and such to the wedding party place where we had to pick up the key at 18 and start to lay the tables and get everything ready. My parents and brothers were going to meet us there at 18 and help too, but just after we got home from the flower place, my dad sent an sms saying they were stuck in the train at Odense. Someone had left a bag, and of course in these terror frightened times such a thing means the police have to go there and check it out with a robot designed for that purpose - a robot which first has to be transported there. So my family would be delayed quite a bit. I panicked somewhat when I heard it, but my lovely Stefan calmed me down. And then my grandparents arrived and I had something else to think of. We ate a small dinner, packed the things in my grandparents' car, and went to the party place, a sort of village centre at a small village that's actually inside Albertslund (since Albertslund was built around some villages that were there already when they built the town). This is it, from the outside:















Well, we started working, setting up tables and laying and decorating them. The final result was like this:





























My family got there an hour or two late, and Stefan's sister and her boyfriend also arrived during the evening, as they were going to help transport all the food, wine and other things, to the party place in their car. The tables were pretty much finished by then, but there were lots of things to be done yet, going back and forth to our place and Stefan's mother's for things and putting them in fridges, on shelves, etc., so we weren't finished until sometime around 22, I think. A few pictures of preparations:













































When we were done, I still had the ironing that I didn't have time for in the afternoon left. So we went home, I did the ironing, and then we went to bed, setting the alarm clock so that I could get up and be ready to be at the hairdresser's next morning at 8. And as Friday ended, so does part 1. More to follow soon!