The Handyman's Accomplice

Today’s Danish lesson: ‘Måske forstår jeg dansk om fjorten dage’ --  ’Perhaps I will understand Danish in two weeks.’  I am doubtful.

Last week, however, I learned an extremely useful Danish phrase: Jeg arbejder på en fabrik i Vanløse.  This means, ‘I work in a factory in Vanløse’ (which is a suburb of Copenhagen).  I do not find many occasions to use this phrase; however, I might be able to use the other phrase we have learned – Jeg er kemiker (I am a chemist).  Well, it’s close enough.  In any event, should I ever decide to work in a factory, I will be well prepared with Danish vocabulary.  My favorite word in Danish that we have learned so far, however, is altmuligmand –  handyman.  One of the students in my class was utterly confused when he heard the meaning of this word, as he was convinced that another word meant ‘handyman.’  We found out later that he had mixed up the word for handyman with the word for ‘accomplice,’ which is håndlanger. 

Yesterday was the Danish holiday of Fastelavn.  Over the past few days, I have been able to gather together several facts about this holiday, which no one I ask seems to be able to explain satisfactorily.   As far as I can tell, it is the Danish pre-Lent celebration, somewhat like Carnival or Mardi Gras.  It somehow involves kids dressing up and some sort of trick-or-treat like tradition.  And then there’s this thing with a suspended barrel that people beat with a stick and break open.  Apparently, historically, the barrel used to be filled with cats.  Now the barrel is usually filled with candy.  This has a song associated with it, but it is all in Danish, of course; something about getting rid of evil spirits.  The candy concept, however, seems somewhat piñata-like.  (It has taken me a week to piece together this much of the story.  One complicating factor is that no one I’ve talked to has ever heard of Mardi Gras or a piñata.)  But once I figured out that the holiday was Fastelavn (faste meaning fast) and not festelavn (fest meaning party), things started coming together. 

On my floor in the dorm, Fastelavn was an excuse for a party.  As usual, we cooked a large, elaborate dinner; this dinner had a Mediterranean theme.  I was in charge of the salads and the yogurt sauce for the meatballs.  The salad was easy.  However, the recipe for the yogurt sauce was, of course, in Danish.  I am happy to report that my Danish has progressed to the point that I could understand the sentence that read ‘Let the yogurt mixture simmer for 5 minutes or until the sauce has begun to….’ Then there was a word that I did not know.   What complicated things slightly was that no one else in the kitchen knew how to translate that term (clearly, some sort of technical cooking term) into English.  The best someone could come up with was: “Well, it’s sort of like ‘separate,’ but not really.”  Things turned out all right, however, since I took the strategy of calling over a Danish speaker every couple of minutes and asking them if the sauce had begun to… whatever.  Eventually it did. 

I am getting to know the neighborhood around my Danish class very well.  My class is in Nørrebro, which is a popular and very diverse area, full of interesting shops and restaurants.  The little grocery store next to my class (where we buy chocolate during breaks) sells items labeled in English and Arabic.  I have become a regular at the new Thai take-out place; today, they even gave me a big bag of shrimp chips (the ones that taste like Styrofoam) to go with my standard nummer toogtyve (number 22).  I even had a conversation in somewhat stilted Danish.  (Well, it was more like Denglish, but I tried.)   And on my way home, I am consistently amused when passing the hair salon called – I am not making this up – “Fungus.”

Meanwhile, I spend my days muttering random Danish sentences to myself, in an attempt to memorize words before the next class, and collecting ideas for a Danish screenplay entitled Altmuligmandens Håndlanger (The Handyman’s Accomplice). Måske forstår jeg dansk næste måned (next month). …

 

All the President's Men

Just a week ago, I was getting my daily fix of CNN, when suddenly the channel changed.  Occasionally, because my television is possessed, it decides to change its channel to a randomly selected Danish station.  This does not happen, as would be the obvious explanation, because I have unknowingly sat on the remote control.  My television (which mysteriously came with my room) appears as if it was manufactured well before the idea of the remote control had emerged in the television establishment.  However, it is a ‘colour’ model (as it proudly proclaims on the front), and seems to work, except on the random and infrequent occasions when the channel changes itself. 

Usually, this is my cue to walk up to the television and change the channel back.  (I do not ask questions about this phenomenon, or about anything having to do with television.  It seems my television has not been properly “registered” with the authorities.  Whoops.)  On this occasion, however, the random channel change was fortuitous.   Just as I was about to stand up, I caught sight of President Jed Bartlet walking through the halls of the White House.

For those of you who do not know President Bartlet (aka Martin Sheen), he is the President on The West Wing, which just so happens to be the only television show in America that is worth watching.    Now, it is in Denmark.  My glimpse of President Bartlet was an ad for the series, which has just begun to be shown here.  Now, there are a few differences between the U.S. and the Danish versions.  Instead of being called “The West Wing,” in Denmark the show is called “Præsidentens mænd” (President’s Men).   Whereas in the U.S. it is shown on Wednesdays on NBC at 9 pm, in Denmark it is on Tuesdays at 9 on TVDanmark 2.  And though the U.S. show is well into its second season, the Denmark version started at the beginning only a few short weeks ago.  Last week, Præsidentens mænd showed the episode called “Mr. Willis of Ohio,” in which a congressman casts a critical vote on the census.   Of course, the American version doesn’t have Danish subtitles, either!

I am now able to read more and more of the Danish subtitles, because, at long last, I started Danish classes last week.  I have joined the “intensive” language school, which is somewhat like Danish boot camp.  We attend class three evenings a week, for three hours each time.  For each lesson, we must memorize fifteen Danish sentences, and be able to recite them and write them correctly.  Failure is not an option – we are tested every day, and failing the daily test twice out of nine classes means that you must repeat the level.  We must memorize sentences like “Jeg hedder Jens Jensen” (my name is Jens Jensen).  For some reason, no one seems to care that no one in the class is named Jens Jensen.  As far as the class is concerned, everyone’s name is Jens, everyone’s sister’s name is Eva, and everyone’s brother’s name is Jørgen.  I also know how to say “I have a question” (Jeg har et spørgsmål), but the only question I know so far is “When do we get to lesson 3?” 

My Danish class is populated by a very interesting and fun cast of characters.  The only other American is a consultant who graduated a few years ago from Berkeley and moved to Denmark because she married a Dane.  She speaks no Danish whatsoever, can’t communicate very well with her in-laws, and had to ask the teacher to explain how to pronounce her new last name.  There are people in the class from Estonia, Kenya, Morocco, Portugal, and Spain, and many other countries.  One guy from Argentina works here in Denmark cooking eggs (just eggs); another is British but has lived in several different countries including Hong Kong and South Africa.   The eighteen people in the class speak dozens of languages – though the class is conducted in English, and everyone speaks at least basic English,  the instructions are often whispered along a chain through Arabic, then French, then Spanish, so everyone understands completely what’s going on.  And the in-class conversations are conducted in an unpredictable mix of languages.  The Iraqi mathematician, for example, began chatting in Russian with the Estonian when it was revealed that the former did his PhD studies during eight years in Moscow.  The general consensus so far, however, is that Danish will be the most difficult language to learn.   Despite my utterly embarrassing lack of another language, I am nonetheless able to serve some purpose by answering questions about English.  As one member of the class noted, he knew right away that I was American because, and I quote, “You talk like TV.”

I am making some progress, though – for example, I can often read the subtitles and predict the next line on a television show.  Mr. Willis of Ohio?  Mr. Willis of Ohio votes ja.