Danish dining

A quick rundown of the culinary side of my recent trip:



Here's a typical spread at the student center. You can see chicken, potatoes, pasta salad, vegetables, and a couple of different fish plates.




The three-course conference banquet was almost ridiculously posh. Here's the meat course, with artfully arranged parsnip and beet.




And this was dessert -- a chocolate cake with ganache topping and ice cream.




Danishes do exist in Denmark, but they are not called Danishes.




I tried to eat as cheaply as possible -- this single-huge-pizza-slice lunch cost me 25 kroner, or about $4.50.




On my last night in Denmark, I treated myself to this delectable plate of spaghetti bolognese. No matter where you go, pasta's usually a safe bet, and sometimes it's truly remarkable.

Scenes from a yarn crawl

Today's main purpose was to visit as many Aarhus yarn stores as I possibly could. My total: 4 1/2. But I'll save that adventure for a Toxophily post sometime in the next week, and instead give you a glimpse of the sightseeing I did in between fiber-fondling.



I started at the Frue Kirke, the Church of Our Lady.




Underneath the church is a crypt church that was built in the 11th century -- the oldest preserved building in Denmark. It was forgotten after the Reformation and only rediscovered during a twentieth-century renovation project. I thought this picture without flash was the best representation of the place. The reproduction of the original Romanesque crucifix is just a bare outline, stern and mysterious.




These small arched windows under the side vaults let in the only light.




Near the end of my afternoon, I finally went into the Cathedral (St. Clemens Kirke or the Domkirke), which is right by my hotel. The number of frescoes that survived the Reformation is remarkable. Here's a detail from a three-level depiction of purgatory, the judgment, and Christ enthroned; check out those angels pulling souls away from such torments as being roasted on a spit!




I loved the intricate brass portals that were created in the 16th century.




A Baroque marble piece in an entrance chapel featured these rather alarming memento mori among the fat cherubs and fashionable depictions of the patron nobility.




My last stop was the Viking Museum that lies underneath a large bank building beside the cathedral. During construction, ninth century artifacts were uncovered, so this museum was built as a basement to house some of the relics. I liked the information displayed on the stairs down to the museum -- walking down equals walking back in time.




And to end this intermittently morbid slideshow on an appropriate note, the skeleton of a Viking in situ, as found on the floor of his pit house.

Pathways

Around every corner in Aarhus, there is an inviting lane beckoning you on.



Shall we take this broad, tree-lined boulevard leading down from the university on the top of the hill to the city below ...



... or turn in at the Botanical Gardens when we see this peaceful scene?



There the grassy hills fairly beg you to lie on your back and watch the passing clouds.



No time to stop, though, when this path meanders downhill nearby.



The autumn color and the slight chill in the air only sharpen the senses.



Head down this steep, sandy trail toward the water, and the scent of spruce that unexpectedly wafts past will bring Christmas unbidden to mind.



Back in town, the broad banks of the river make an ideal spot to pause and people-watch.



Mansfield Park is a fine literary accompaniment for such a moment of leisure.



Round off the day with some rich chocolate gelato.



You'll be glad you took the journey.

I want to shine on in the hearts of men

Today was all about the marathon conferencing. I got up at 7 am, the same time I got up yesterday morning, under the theory that I managed to arrive at the conference at 9 am yesterday, the same time that sessions started today. (So much for theory -- I arrived about 8:20.)

It was cloudy with intermittent spitting rain and mist, not the best day for walking or picture-taking. But I did enjoy a Berliner on the way, a pastry that always reminds me of my undergraduate German teacher, who delighted in telling the story that John Kennedy had erred in his famous "Ich bin ein Berliner" statement; the correct grammar is "Ich bin Berliner," no article. My teacher, who looked like Santa Claus, would say with a jolly laugh that Kennedy had actually said, "I am a jelly doughnut."

Then: conference conference conference. Morning session; plenary; lunch; afternoon session; afternoon session at which I presented a paper. (I thought my paper the best of the bunch in the afternoon, if I do say so myself; but its appearance at the end of such a long day meant that while attendence was good, attentiveness suffered somewhat. At least one attendee right in my line of sight slept through the whole thing.)

Tonight is the banquet at the Aarhus Art Museum, a massive and relatively new cultural project named "Aros" after the original Viking name for the city. I have a cautious expectation that we will not have to purchase our own wine; so far beer and soft drinks have been provided on each table during the conference meals, but at the first dinner last night a group of would-be drinkers was required to pool their kroner for wine.

A few pictures, although weather wasn't conducive to photography as on Day 1:



Ever wonder what the Danish version of Dancing With The Stars looks like?


How about the Danish version of America's Got Talent? (Denmark's Got Talent?)



Despite the city's hilly streets, bicycles are the way to get around. Dozens are parked on every sidewalk.



The Danes have a thing for gummi. This display at a convenience store around the corner from my hotel is just the tip of the iceberg. At the theology building where the conference is held, the vending machine contains one row of chocolate candy and three full rows of gummi products. Also some sort of salty licorice is inexplicably popular, with three different brands of the stuff represented in the vending machine. Those crazy Danes!

One awesome thing about the time difference: I'm seven hours ahead of Central Daylight Time, where Noel and the kids are. So when I get up in the morning, it's midnight back home, and when I go to sleep late at night, it's mid-afternoon for them. Last night I got an e-mail from Noel with the kid update news (short version: kids are awesome) in the evening when I got back to my hotel -- the one he wrote the day before. Then when I got up this morning, I turned on the computer and there was another kid update -- the one he wrote just minutes earlier. It's like they're living in a faster timestream than me, one that can fit a whole day into my overnight nap.

Breaking the norms

I woke up in my crazy little 3rd-class-on-the-Queen-Mary-style "economy room" after a refreshing full night's sleep and headed out to find breakfast and the university where the conference was taking place.

Breakfast report: No Danishes were on sale at the coffee shop where I bought a bagel.
Walk report: Here's what I saw.



My hotel is on the left just past the footbridge, right on the river that runs through town.



Everybody wears scarves in Denmark -- knit, pashmina, something. And naturally the modish shop windows are full of scarves. I had to capture this one for the Ravelry folks -- it's actually a tube. If somebody can figure out those cables, I'll whip up a version. (I've got a close-up, no worries.) Naturally I feel quite in fashion with my Clapotis tucked around my neck.



There's a large park in the middle of the University campus, and I kept trying to capture how it looked in the brilliant early morning sunlight. This was as close as I got.



Moon over University of Aarhus. All the buildings are built of yellow brick with simple, clean architectural lines, and few are over two stories. There are 20,000 students enrolled.



Next to the theater building was this steep grass-covered amphitheater. I'd love to see Aristophanes performed here.



Fall is in full swing here -- the scarf-clad Danes are enjoying mild weather of 40-50 degrees Fahrenheit -- and the colors are beautiful, as shown by this deciduous ivy covering one of the economics buildings.



And finally to the conference, in the buildings housing the theological faculty. My paper will be read in this lovely, radically raked auditorium tomorrow, though not with nearly as many people in attendance as were at this opening plenary with Kirsten Nielsen.

Time to turn my tiny bathroom into a shower by means of a rotating curtain. Perhaps I'll sleep on the pulldown bunk over my head, or in the murphy bed underneath. You'll be amazed a room smaller than half the double dorm rooms at my university can sleep a family of three!

One day later, on the other side of the ocean

Eventful travels are not always welcome, especially when one's goal is to reach one's destination rather than have an adventure along the way. I did have some unusual twists and turns to my journey over the last 16 hours. But now I'm sitting in a first class car on the delightful Danish InterCity rail, having by chance made the earliest possible train to Aarhus after my arrival in Copenhagen, and even though it's an hour or so later than I had expected to be clickety-clacking toward my hotel, nothing gives you a sense of relief – that “ah, all is well” feeling – like a seat on a European train. Clean, efficient, on time, smooth as silk. It's travel the way it was meant to be.

Which I cannot say for air travel these days, although to be fair, my last two flights were on time and featured luxurious British service. There were only supposed to be two flights total, you see. I was going to Chicago, then straight to Copenhagen on SAS, then I was going to be on this train – or to be precise, the one that left an hour ago.

But after checking in for my Little Rock to Chicago flight about three hours early, having a leisurely lunch, and catching up on my e-mail, I presented my boarding pass when my group number was called, only to have the machine beep angrily and spit it back out. See, the airline had substituted a smaller plane from the one on whose basis advance tickets were sold. The agent had been searching for 14 volunteers to give up their seats, and had bumped about 7 people after he predictably didn't reach that number. But it turns out he should have been searching for 15 people; I checked in before the change was made, and my seat number was assigned to someone else. After a man gave up his seat but specified that it was for a businessman who was quite insistent, I was the one on the short end of the stick. Denied boarding.

I got a $300 travel voucher out of it, and the agent rebooked me as follows: Little Rock to Dallas/Fort Worth, Dallas/Fort Worth to London Heathrow, London Heathrow to Copenhagen. (He tried to give me a free upgrade to business class on the transatlantic flight – those lay-flat beds, you know? Oh, my Lord – but the system wouldn't let him.)

I was skeptical that my bag was going to follow me on this new itinerary. It was pulled off the Chicago flight at the last minute, then instructions were sent down to retag it. The flight to Dallas was about 25 minutes late, and by the time I took the train over to Terminal D, the London flight was already boarding. It seemed like a fifty-fifty shot that my bag made it onto that plane – added to the already uncertain probability that the bag got retagged correctly and was actually intending to follow my route.

My economy class flight to London, back with the tailies, was about as good as such cramped quarters can be; you still get good service on the transatlantic routes, it seems. I didn't catch more than 15 winks, I'd guess, in the eight and a half hours. I watched an episode of Old Christine I don't think I'd seen ("What About Barb?"), an episode of The Office I had enjoyed very much the first time around (“Complaint Resolution”), and the Tina Fey/Amy Poehler vehicle Baby Mama, which is just the kind of lightly amusing fare you need to see on a plane.

After landing in the maze of Heathrow and negotiating the bewildering series of buses needed to get from terminal to terminal, I landed in Terminal 5, where they have a system of departures that I hadn't encountered before. The gates aren't assigned to outgoing flights until 30-90 minutes before they leave. Everyone waits in a big shopping concourse and watches the computerized boards, and when a gate pops up for their flight, they book it – some of the gates are 20 minutes away and require you to take a train! It's a little nerve-racking waiting for that gate to appear, as your flight time draws nearer and nearer, and flights leaving only five minutes before yours show “boarding” or even worse “closing.” I ate a cheddar and pickle sandwich and tried not to think about where my suitcase might be.

The flight to Copenhagen was only half full, and I had a row to myself for a change. As I watched the mist and rain roll by the plane's windows on our descent and heard the temperature on the ground (10 degrees C), I worried more about my bag situation. You see, when I did my final packing yesterday morning, I had intended to put my fleece jacket in my carry-on, along with my usual change of clothes, computer and accessories, knitting, and books (this time in Kindle form). But the jacket was so bulky and made the bag so awkward to carry that I stuffed it in the front pocket of my suitcase instead. Either the suitcase will make it there with me, I reasoned, or the weather (which was supposed to be mild according to the international forecast), wouldn't be so awful early in the evening, when I expected to be walking to my hotel from the Aarhus station – the only outdoor leg of my trip.

But all my fellow passengers had jackets, rain gear, scarves – the whole nine yards. I began to prepare myself for buying a jacket in the Copenhagen airport so I wouldn't freeze in my thin rayon top and jeans.

Miracle of miracles, though – when I arrived in Copenhagen, got through passport control, changed some money, and made my way to the baggage belt – my suitcase came around. I said a silent thank-you to the harried American Airlines agent who had gotten me off on the right foot.

So here I am in the first-class car (the only seats available – an extra 100 Kröner, or about $20, over the normal second-class fare), typing away on my worktable, drinking complimentary water and eating complimentary apples, experiencing Skandinavia the way I would have chosen if I'd had all the modes of transport in the world from which to select. The sun is setting behind the clearing clouds, the car lighting is warm, the illuminated signs and streetlights of the towns we're speeding by are picturesque, even poignant. A little sleep – okay, a lot of sleep – is all I need now. Tomorrow, the conference begins, and today's weariness will be temporarily forgotten.

Cheese pranish

This afternoon, thanks to some generous kidsitting by my generous husband of twelve years today (happy birthday, hubble!), I was able to finish a draft of the paper I'm going to give at the ISRLC conference in Aarhus next Saturday. It's a little on the long side still, and it's not quite as inspired as the piece I wrote for last year's Society for Biblical Literature Forum in San Diego. But cutting it down to a twenty-minute presentation is easier than having to add material. And I'm confident that I can beef it up by about 50% at a later date to submit for publication.

Which means that the period of time I had allotted for preparing the intellectual content of the trip to Denmark is now over. Which means that the period of time -- two days and change -- for preparing the practical side of the trip to Denmark is beginning.

In other words: Time to panic.

What do I pack? What's the weather like? (Note to self: Get a folding umbrella.) How will I get my luggage from airline to airline in Chicago? Can I find the train to Aarhus once I land in Copenhagen? Should I get Danish money in Chicago or Copenhagen? Will I remember to make copies of all my documents and put them in both carry-on and checked baggage? Will I be able to find my hotel once I get to Aarhus? Will I be able to find the conference site at the university the next day? Can I negotiate the public bus system? What if something goes wrong?

Actually, two days of panic is a lot better than my usual week-long panic in the face of overseas travel. Practically relaxing, in fact. As long as I get the car back from the shop by Tuesday, and pick up my new contact lenses, and maybe get my hair cut (not counting on having time), and leave behind instructions for the second paper assignment for the freshmen, and don't forget my passport ...

Deep breath. I'll be fine.