Les Hannah, day 11, part final

Following that meal, I walked just around the corner to where I rented the bike, which is the same place the school rented the house for me, and I told the manager of the issues with the laundry washer. She made a phone call and assured me someone would be out later today to examine the situation.

Assured of clean laundry sometime today I decided to treat myself; after all this was my birthday. So I rode the bike to the city centre and went into some of the shops. Nothing in particular in mind to buy, just looking. I did pick up a few small things, such as batteries for the TV remote (hope that fixes it) and a couple of other small items. Four triple A batteries cost the equivalent of $11.23.

But those were not the treats I promised myself. I bought an ice cream cone. Out of curiosity more than anything else. The ice cream here does not at all look like what I see in Braums when Lex and I go. I looks much more creamery, almost like a parfait. I had strawberry, naturally. Guess I reverted to my Stilwell roots. Well, let me tell you that the strawberry ice cream here is fantastic. If the ice cream is more creamery then the berries are more berriery (is that really a word?). Well, it is now. People have told me that the growing season for many fruits here is much longer than most other places in the world, much slower, and the fruits have more flavor than many other regions. So far that is holding true. The apples I have had are smaller than those in the US, but have much more flavor. So too with the berries in the ice cream I had. WOW!

Guess what I did after that. Just guess. I went into a tobacco shop and purchased some cigars; one was a genuine Cuban, the first one of those I have had in a very long time. What? It was my birthday. So yes, it was expensive. That Cuban cigar, about four inches long, cost the equivalent of $28.00. So that is probably the last one of those I will have for quite another long stretch of time.

I spent about two hours walking around the city centre before returning to school for a planning meeting. The meeting was to plan examinations which will take place next week; I was to help plan my part in the exams. That really did not take long; I am to act as a consultant to the students who are working on American culture projects. That is quite a few, so I may be very busy next week.

Following the meeting was the not-so-long bike ride to the house. As I suspected it took less time get back than it did get to school this time the wind was at my back, and the return trip is the more downhill side. I timed this, and I shaved over seven minutes off my morning time. It began raining on me in the last few hundred meters (I am already thinking in meters), but not hard so I was able to make it and remain relatively dry.

It was not long before a really nice fellow showed up to examine the washer. Turns out it was something very simple, a loose drain hose that had fallen to a point where the washer could not drain properly. Took him about fifteen minutes to fix it. During conversation he told me his daughter was in the States attending a university in New York somewhere. We discussed the differences between American and Danish schools. Turns out the guy had a Masters Degree in education, and here he is a plumber/washer repairman. I have heard this about the Danes, that there are many very well educated citizens working in jobs that Americans would tend to look down on as less-educated, second-class workers. I did read some literature at the school that notes several garbage workers, the people who ride around holding onto the backs of trucks and picking up people’s trash, many of them have PhDs. Why? – Because they wanted to. Why pick up trash? – Because they want to. They see it as a necessary service to their fellow human beings, and in the quasi-socialist government of Denmark they feel no desire to make lots of money. Medical is free; dental is almost free. Most university or trade school tuition and support is free – but selective. Though it seems I may be complaining about the cost of so many things here, I am reminded that most of it is taxes; 60% for certain things. However, those taxes come back almost immediately to the people. More on this in a forthcoming post.

I had the rest of the evening to myself. I smoked my Cuban cigar and enjoyed a couple of Tuborgs, a local beer, and spent the remainder of the evening watching that German and Danish language TV I have no choice but to watch. After all, I am in Denmark.