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.

I'm not happy with this photo, but it was the best one under the strange lights.

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.