Middelfart, Denmark

Dick is back in working mode, so it's up early and get off by 7:30. Of course I don't need to tag along, but sometimes it's easier than catching a train and meeting him somewhere down the line. 


We spent the evening in Middelfart, yes, I know it is a funny name, west of Copenhagen. Denmark is a bunch of islands connected either by ferry or more recently by bridges. Even the connection to Sweden is by a never ending bridge, which by train travels first above ground and then miles underground. Like everything else in Denmark, the bridge is a modern, simple steel structure, which will, I'm sure,  last for centuries. Unlike the road in front of Dick's office in Florence, that started taking on water. When the road was opened, one of the barrels was missing. Just imagine if this road with so much traffic had suddenly collapsed. 


I ask you, how could you tar over a road with out all the barrels underneath, or did the Italians just forget one at the end of the road and thought, "oh well, who will know?" never thinking that after a few years the barrels could move and leave a space in the middle. You have to love the Italians!!!!!


We stayed in a fabulous hotel in Middelfart, with wide hallways the size of those in palaces with a rug that is red and green and yellow with a braid running down the side, a big room with two beds pushed together, a big TV, a Danish modern desk and a sitting area of red velvet sofa and chairs. Wow the first time I have liked a hotel in Denmark. Usually the rooms are so tiny, you have to crawl over the bed to get from one side to the other. So this was a real treat. Naturally we are only staying one night. Who knows what tomorrow brings!!!!!


There was a wonderful restaurant with white table cloths and black chairs, a huge window to look out of and a bar, fairly well stocked with even grand marnier, which we had a couple of glasses. . We sat at the window and looked out on the parking lot. The hotel is built in a circle with five buildings of red brick, trimmed in white painted wood. The roofs are gable peaked and the windows are very large and beautiful.  We were told that the buildings was at one time a hospital. One building held those with infectious diseases and the others held only those who are sick but not infectious.  The cars are packed in two lines, silver, black, clean shiny, very new, as if they were up for sale.


We had a buffet of salad, a beautiful salad only at Pizza Hut have I seen one better, potatoes, fried, scalloped, chicken fried with pineapple and the neck of the beef, done rare. The dessert was cake and homemade ice cream. All in all a very nice meal. 

Leaving Malmoe for Denmark.

This morning we are off again to Denmark. We got up early, because of course, Dick is now in work mode, which means he runs like a kangaroo from place to place. I heard him humming in the bathroom as he showered, turned over and slept another hour and when I awoke he was gone. I know he means well, but it is very annoying for him to run to breakfast without telling me and then if there is time he will go with me. In any case I got up, washed and finished packing the few things I have taken with me. He returned and I must admit I was pissed, but what can you do? If there is change it comes slowly.


We put all our clothes, shoes and toiletries in our suitcases (I only take a carry on) and at 8, I go down to breakfast. Dick comes and sits not eating, not drinking anything while I eat. So comradely, Then we quickly go up to the room and take a second look.  Under the bed, in the bathroom and out the door. When we checked out, I made a complaint. We arrived on Thursday night, and on Friday and Saturday the room was "cleaned?" The woman did not wipe down the counter tops in the bathroom, did not change the glasses, threw the bed cover on the floor and left everything as is. I had spent an hour making sure everything was tucked away so she could do her job, but alas to no avail.  Sunday the room was finally cleaned properly, but I noticed that a boss with a long list of duties was following the girls around. 


When I told the guy at the desk, the young man who made slighting remarks about the Spanish, he said they use a cleaning company and I laughed and said "wow, that's why."  Aside from Tina, who follows her people around, I have never seen a cleaning company who does a good job.  Why should they?  Their personal reputation is not on the line. But the Mayfair is a four star hotel and we had the deluxe room. One would think that the administration itself would look into how the company does its job. It is the hotel's reputation on the line not the cleaning company's. 

We walked to the station, which was about 10 minutes. We walked down an alley, and over a canal, where the thousands of bikes are parked, and into the station. This station is very different than other railway stations. There are sandwich shops, salads with seafood, noodle shops, all lined up like a market place. And behind all this is a supermarket with orange carrots, red and green peppers, all sparkling in the distance. It's a great place to eat on a Sunday. On top of all this a huge Starbucks, which opens from the outside and into  the railway station interior.

Unlike Denmark, which has their stations on one level and the tracks on a different level, each stair only accomadating two lines, which is bothersome of you have a lot of luggage and have to race up one stair and down the other. Here there are only the international trains underground and each track has an elevator and escalator.  So that is less stressful. 

Thoughts on My Birthday

Leaving for Dinner

This is the second time I've turned 27.  I don't think I'll see it a third time.  But I had a great time telling the receptionist, the people in the lobby that I had just turned 27. At first they looked quite confused and startled then laughed.  At the restaurant the waiter said I didn't look a day over 26, and when I told him I couldn't eat a huge portion like I used to, he said, Big change from 26 to 27. So unlike the Germans these people have a sense of humor even if it is done in a very quiet manner.

We went to a restaurant called the Arstiderma, the best restaurant in Malmoe. It is one of the caves or as they call them, the Tunnels, under the city. These were built in the 14th Century.

Doesn't look too great, but it tasted fabulously. that pie like thing on the right is the  potato

I ordered a filet, rare  and it came with a potato shaped like a pie and lentils in a sauice. Dick had the entrecote. Then we had Giracondas wine, one of the Cote du Rhone series. It was wonderful. But you really don't want to have a dinner in Scandinavia, where the prices are beyond belief. It makes Paris look cheap.


When you're young and you have a birthday, it is the thrill of looking forward to the next year, a new beginning so to speak. When you arrive in the years of your retirement, you celebrate the fact that you are having a birthday at all and let next year take care of itself.


But I am quite happy. The receptionist asked me if I would do anything differently in my life. I thought a minute and said that if I knew what I know now, I would do some things differently. But even taking that into consideration, I have no regrets: I had the life I wanted, my children turned out well and I have a husband who is loyal and responsibile and eight healthy, spunky grandchildren. Who could ask for more.

Talking to the Swedes

Aside from the 20 steps to the reception, and a young man did help me with my luggage. The hotel is more than adequate. Yes there are hallways that go on forever, turns like a maze in England and the room is nice but too small for Dick. He likes the speciousness of the Udaipur palace. Then who wouldn't? But the bed is nice. There are two pushed together, which makes getting up and down easier because you don't bother your partner.


The first evening we needed a drink. So we first went into the screaming bar, singers singing American songs from the 1960s protesting anything and everything. Then a guy got up and blathered a poem about the fiscal crisis, which is all very nice, but really? This is your form of entertainment? Everyone clapped and hooted and thought they had just heard the queen say she would step down and let the homeless lady down the street take her place.


So we took our drink and sat in the lobby, which we were told is against the law. Maybe a kid could grab our drink and take a taste.  Really that's what the man behind the reception told us. Of course we ignored the silly rule to save our ears from the noise.


We talked to the the Swedish receptionist about Sweden's place in Scandinavia, and he said that Denmark and Norway were jealous of Sweden and wanted to be just like the Swedes. The Swedes would never copy or sing songs, never read books  from Denmark and Norway, but those two countries were Swedish wannabes. I decided not to say that the Swedes were profiting from both sides of the war, while Denmark and Norway suffered under the heels of the Nazis.


Then we started talking about the US Government and he said that Obama was like a big balloon, full of hot air, which burst sometime after the election living him limp and lifeless. "But let's face it," he said," there is nothing more disgusting than the American form of government and their politicians." It never does any good to jump to our defense, because even if we feel the same way, we don't want to hear some ninny from a pissant country talk about us that way, because they really have no clue how anything works in the US.


The Swedes are considered very tolerant people. For years their welfare system was so extensive, that there was up to 18% absenteeism at work. So the crisis hit them early and they cleaned up their act. Now they are booming, so what does one say to that.


 However, we ran into the manager, who had no love for the owner of the bar and restaurant. He told us the food was horrible, which is not true, so he must have some personal vendetta. In any case, I said I had just come from vacationing in Spain and he asked me if I could get a receipt there. I was a bit confused because I never had any trouble, but I did have to ask. Yes, he said, they don't give receipts, because they don't want to pay taxes. Frankly this is not my problem and I don't care. Not too PC on his part. 

Flying to Copenhagen

Vitoria Plaz

Yesterday I awoke early to repack my bags. I had a terrible premonition that something would go wrong, so decided to put enough clothes to last the weekend into a cloth bag in case Air France lost my luggage. I couldn't find a direct flight, so the chances of losing my luggage in the octopus of Charles De Gaulle Airport  increase. 

My European hairdo

Suzanne and I had tea and bread and cheese for breakfast and talked about meeting again in the early summer. She might come to the US in the late summer or early fall. 


I didn't need to be at the airport until after 1pm, but it is a 2 hour trip by bus from Vitoria-Bilbao-Airport, so I left at 9:25 and caught the 9:30AM bus right down the street from Suzanne's house.   I was lucky, because the bus in Bilbao that goes to the airport was already waiting to leave. So I made it to the airport at 11AM. Took a short coffee in the cafe and then asked Air France if I could check in early, and they said negative, that the desk would open at 1:30PM. 


I relaxed and continued reading "To Siberia" by Per Petterson, a book about two teenagers, a brother and sister, before, during and directly after WWII in Denmark. Occasionally I took a break and walked around the airport. It is small, all the airlines are in a semi-circle in one room. Off this room is quite a large cafe and a shop called Aeroshop, which is advertising Mentos, newspapers and snacks, but it was closed, the shop looking lonely with its empty shelves. 


At 1:30 I was first in line to check in. I gave her my passport and the reservation number. She looked at her computer and started shaking her head.  I had no reservation, she said. I pulled out my computer and showed her the email confirmation. She called Air France and after half an hour, she apologized but there was no reservation. So who knows, I may have been scammed. But at that moment that is not something to debate or look into. Now I needed a ticket to get to Copenhagen. Dick was meeting me and we had a big weekend set up for my birthday in Sweden. So I bought a ticket and was lucky that there were a few seats still open to Paris. 


I got on the flight and next to me was a strange looking man. He reminded me of Doc Martin without hair, the same arrogant look. He had those lips that stick out, typical of the French. But I decided not to try to converse, because he made no attempt to be friendly. Instead I finished "To Siberia," and then began "I curse the river of time" also by Per Petterson. 

I arrived in Paris at the hated airport. Luckily I had more than 2 hours between flights, because I had to move from one building to another and that took an hour. Go out and catch a bus. Then walk half a mile to the gate. One has to remember, I have to be careful about leg pain most of the time, and as long as I don't rush it's bearable. So there is no running down the hallways whether I miss the flight or not.


I had never been to this part of the airport, outbuildings of some sort, like New York was many years ago. Or it may still be like that at JFK, because I never use that airport. 


I got to the gate and yippee a small cafe was open right beside it. So I ate a salad, yogurt. sandwich and a glass of beer. Something new for me. I have always disliked beer, but now it is quite comforting. 


I was put on first class on the flight. I suppose the clerk behind the desk felt sorry for the mixup as I did and decided to give me a treat. It is only an hour, so not much sense really. They gave us a snack of chocolate pudding, some kind of spread for bread. But the bread was cold and chewy, not like French bread at all. So since I was not hungry anyway, I passed.  Then I slept for half an hour.  Luckily I did, because there is an hour's walk in the Copenhagen airport, through many hallways, past dozens of shops and restaurants, which most were closed because of the late hour, and then you get your luggage. The case did arrive, so my premonition was not the lost bag, and I went out to meet Dick. We had a 20 minute train ride to Malmoe and five minutes to the hotel. 

When we opened the door to the hotel at 23:30, there were 20 steps to the reception.