Seasonal Adjustment

My second semester at the University of Southern Denmark is underway, and its beginning happened to coincide with the arrival and subsequent hasty departure of the Danish winter.

As something of a contrast to the otherwise idyllic lifestyle I enjoy in Denmark, my timetable begins on a Monday morning at 8am with six straight hours of lectures followed by a one hour cycle home. Most of my lectures take place in dingy classrooms with no windows, so I always feel a little bit mole-like when I emerge blinking into the daylight afterwards.

Although the long days leave me mentally drained, the cycle home always re-invigorates me, regardless of the weather. My journey home last Monday was particularly invigorating, as heavily falling snow lashed by a relentless north wind resulted in treacherous conditions, blotting out the frozen muddy ruts of the path underneath. It was anyone’s guess where the path actually was…Fortunately, parts of the cycle path are on paved roads which, thanks to Danish tax-payers, are cleared regularly and efficiently.

 My trusty bicycle and I are quite robust, though, and up to to coping with most types of terrain, although I did need to de-ice the old girl once I got home.

Happily, the wintry conditions departed almost as soon as they had arrived, and over the weekend all the snow melted and today’s journey home was a different story altogether.

Hints of spring are suddenly in the air and the days somehow seem at once to be longer. It’s almost as if winter didn’t exist and I’m already counting down to summer…

Sunshine and Shooting Stars

January is a dreary month, with the sparkle of Christmas a distant memory and only the continuing dreariness of February to look forward to. Forgive me, but I’m suffering from seasonal lack-of-adjustment disorder: I want it to be spring! As early as the 8th of January there was some evidence of the much wished for change in season, snowdrops and erantis were well under way in our garden and the blackbirds were having some territorial disputes – a sure sign of spring, but so far it hasn’t come to much.

The month started brightly enough, with a backdrop of  blue skies and sunshine for a girls’ day out to the beautiful harbour town of Kerteminde, situated on the north east coast of Fyn, and home to the Johannes Larsen Museum.

 I’m beginning to get quite a taste for Danish art galleries, and the Johannes Larsen Museum is no exception. I wasn’t sure what to expect, perhaps a slightly faded, small-town collection of mildewy paintings and a  few token knick-knacks scattered around. Not so! Instead it was like some kind of religious epiphany as I entered a gleaming white, fresh, modern building with the morning light streaming in through the huge windows.

  I must confess that Larsen’s style is not really to my taste, but seeing his work displayed in surroundings such as these, I could begin to appreciate what the man was about, and his very special use of light.

The highlight of the Museum for me, though, was to be able to visit Larsen’s house, where he lived and particularly where he worked. I was greatly inspired by his studio: The notion of having such a space for creativity in one’s own house, in such peaceful surroundings, is deeply appealing.

After taking care of our appetite for culture, our attention tuned to appetites of a more practical nature and settled on Tornøes Hotel for lunch. Since Kerteminde has a strong fishing tradition I felt it appropriate to order stjerneskud (shooting star), a dish which consists of a piece of white bread covered with boiled white fish, fried breaded white fish, salmon, prawns and caviar, with a bit of salad on the side. I’ve only ever had the supermarket version of stjerneskud before, which although tasty would at best come under the category of ‘light lunch’, so the mountainous heap of fish which was set down before me came as quite a surprise!

Food is actually a central theme in our household these days. My husband and I have set ourselves the challenge of eating a different meal every night, with strictly no repetition permitted! It has proved to be a very enjoyable way of  passing the dark evenings, and has given rise to the discovery of new recipes such as beetroot risotto. It may look garish, but it tastes fantastic!The urge to stay indoors and eat nice food and watch old films has become almost primal. Being deprived of snow in our part of Denmark*, the whole landscape has a woeful air and the lack of sun is doing little to help combat the lethargy which is seeping into my bones. Being as I don’t wish to slide into a full-blown depression, I’m trying to come up with ways to be outside and active. When it’s been raining for days, sometimes you just have to say: if you can’t beat it, join it.

Other than that I’m being sure to make the most of  the rare occasions when the sun does make an appearance, and hopefully it will soon be spring for real.

 

* This was written before this happened:

 

 

Solskin og stjerneskud

Januar er en kedelig måned, når julens glimmer er et fjernt minde, og man kun har den fortsat kedelige måned februar at glæde sig til. Undskyld, men jeg lider en smule af vinterdepression, og jeg vil have, at det er forår! Så tidligt som d. 8. januar var der bevis på det meget ønskede sæsonskift: Vintergækkerne var i blomst i vores have, og solsorterne var oppe at slås – et klart tegn på forår, men indtil videre er det ikke blevet til noget.

Måneden begyndte klart nok og var en pragtfuld kulisse for en tøsetur til den flotte fiskerby, som hedder Kerteminde og er hjem for Johannes Larsen Museet.

Jeg får en smag for danske kunstmuseer og uden undtagelse Johannes Larsen Museet. I forvejen vidste jeg ikke, hvad jeg skulle forvente: måske en trist samling af  mugne malerier, som var lidt falmede, og et par symbolske nipsting hist og pist. Tværtimod! Det var som en slags religiøs åbenbaring, idet jeg gik ind i en strålende hvid, frisk, moderne bygning med morgenlyset stømmende ind gennem de enorme vinduer.

Jeg må indrømme, at Larsens stil ikke er lige til min smag, men det at se hans kunst, udstillet i omgivelser som disse gav mig en forståelse af, hvad mandens ide var, og hans meget specielle brug af lys.

Imidlertid var det besøget i Larsens hus, der var museets højdepunkt for mig, og at få muligheden for at se, hvor han boede, og især hvor han arbejdede. Jeg blev meget inspireret af hans atelier: Idéen om det at have sådan et sted, hvor man kan være kreativ i ens eget hus omgivet af fred og ro, er særlig tiltrækkende.Efter at vi havde opfyldt vores appetit på kultur, drejede vores opmærksomhed til appetitten af et mere praktisk begreb, og vi blev enige om, at vi skulle spise frokost på Tornøes Hotel. Fordi Kerteminde har en stærk fiskeritradition, syntes jeg, at det var passende, at jeg bestilte stjerneskud. Hidtil havde jeg kun fået supermarkedernes udgave af stjerneskud, der, selv om det var velsmagende, kunne beskrives som ‘let frokost’. Så det var en stor overraskelse, da en kæmpe dynge af fisk blev placeret foran mig.

Maden er egentlig et centralt tema hos min mand og mig for tiden. Vi har udfordret os selv til at spise et forskelligt måltid hver aften uden gentagelse. Det har vist sig at være en meget behagelig måde at tilbringe de mørke aftner på og har givet anledning til at opleve nye opskrifter fx rødbede risotto. Det ser nok skrigende ud, men det smager vidunderligt!

Trangen til at blive inde og spise lækker mad og se gamle film er blevet næsten primal. Vores del af Danmark mangler sne, og det hele ser trist ud*. Uden nok solskin er det svært at undgå en nedtur, men jeg prøver at finde på årsager til at være udenfor og aktiv. Når det har været regnvejr i dagevis, skal man nogle gange bare sige: if you can’t beat it, join it.

Bortset fra det vil jeg være sikker på at nyde de sjældne lejligheder, når solen skinner, og forhåbentlig bliver foråret snart til virkelighed.

 

*Dette var skrevet før dette skete:

Merry and Bright

The temptation to hibernate until at least April has been almost irresistable these last few weeks. The weather has been frightful, but not, alas, in a Christmas-spirit-inducing kind of way. Instead of the delightfully low temperatures and mountains of snow which I have experienced in previous Danish winters, we have dismal rain, wind, grey skies and temperatures hovering around 8 degrees, and it doesn’t look set to change any time soon.

Fortunately the Danish sense for hygge is not so easily thwarted and the city centre of Odense is aglow with Christmas cheer.

Throughout the month of December, just as darkness falls, local Scout groups are out in force lighting oil burners positioned in groups around the city’s parks. Walking by after sunset, you encounter pools of flame flickering in the darkness, and I find an earthy reassurance in the combination of fire and night, and the sound of spit and crackle as the wind whips up oily smoke.

Parts of Odense are very olde-worlde, and this feeling is reinforced by the use of only white in the city’s Christmas lights.  Compared to the flashing, blinking, multicoloured riot of lights in Glasgow, the simplicity of Odense’s Christmas lights is very tranquil, to the point where I can almost believe that time is standing still as I wander through the streets.

The whole length of Vintapperstræde is under a canopy of light, and this is my favourite street to walk through at this time of year.

At the crossroads of Kongensgade and Vestergade the Hans Christian Andersen fairytale statue of the Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep have been given a Christmassy backdrop.

Back at home, the gleam of candlelight abounds as I attempt to fend off the December darkness. I love candles anwyay, but add some silver and a couple of poinsettias and it’s instant Christmas!

We haven’t yet got as far as sorting out the lighting in the ongoing rennovation of our house, so it’s a good excuse for me to brighten up the darker corners with some yuletide glow.

There are of course, some traditions in the Danish home associated with Christmas and light. I’m particularly taken with the kalenderlys, which is basically an advent calender in candle form. The trick is to burn the candle down each day to the number corresponding to the date, although I find this quite challenging as it requires close monitoring and I am very easily distracted…

Requiring slightly less intense scrutiny is the adventskrans (advent crown) of four candles,  which are lit successively on each Sunday in advent, and on Christmas day itself. We also have this tradition in Scotland, although my experience was limited to seeing the Blue Peter presenters make one out of coat hangers and tinsel every year. In my Danish home however, my husband and I like to make our own adventskrans, although this year we had to make sure it was portable in order to be removed from the reach of small paws in between uses.

Aside from the very hyggelig atmosphere my lavish use of candlelight is creating, my husband is rejoicing in the extra degrees of warmth resulting from all this naked flame. Well, Scrooge is a part of Christmas too, you know!

Hvor de gyldne stjerner blinke

I de sidste få uger har det været næsten umuligt for mig at modstå fristelsen til at gå i dvale indtil mindste i april. Vejret har været forfærdeligt, men desværre ikke på en julestemningsagtig måde. I stedet for de dejlige lave temperaturer og masser af sne, som vi fik i tidligere vintre, har vi kedeligt regnvejr, blæsevejr, grå himmel og temperaturer, der ligger omkring 8 grader. Ifølge DMI ændrer det sig ikke foreløbig.

Heldigvis har vejret ingen indflydelse på danskernes sans for hygge, og Odense centrum gløder af julestemning.

I løbet af december måned, lige mens mørket falder på, går spejderne ud og tænder olielamperne, som er opstillet i nogle af byens parker. Hvis man går gennem parkerne efter solnedgang, møder man flammer, som flimrer i mørket, og for mig er der en jordisk tryghed i kombinationen af ild og nat og den knitrende lyd af vinden, der pisker fedtet røg op.

Dele af Odense er meget gammeldags, og det er en fornemmelse, som er øget af, at man kun bruger hvidt i byens julelys. Sammenlignet med Glasgows blinkende, flerfarvede udstyrsstykker er Odenses enkle lys meget beroligende, og det er næsten, som om tiden går i stå, mens jeg vandrer gennem gaderne.

Langs Vintapperstræde er der en baldakin af lys, og det er min yndlingsgade at gå i på denne årstid.

Ved krydset mellem  Kongensgade og Vestergade har statuen af H.C. Andersens Hyrdinden og Skorstensfejeren fået en juleagtig kulisse.

Herhjemme er der en glimten af stearinlys til overflod, når jeg prøver at afværge decembers mørke. I forvejen elsker jeg stearinlys, men når man tilføjer sølv og julestjerner, er det ren jul.

I den igangværende renovering af vores hus har vi endnu ikke nået at ordne lys, så jeg bruger julen som undskyldning for at oplyse de mørke hjørner.

Selvfølgelig er der nogle danske traditioner med lys i hjemmet. Jeg er især tiltrukket af kalenderlyset, hvor man brænder stearinlyset ned hver dag til det nummer, der står ud for den tilsvarende dato. For mig er det lidt af en udfordring, fordi det kræver nøje overvågning, og jeg bliver meget nemt distraheret…

Adventskransen er noget, der ikke kræver så megen opmærksomhed, og det er nemmere at tænde et lys hver søndag i advent og naturligvis selve juleaften. Vi har den tradition i Skotland, men min erfaring var begrænset til at se værterne på et børneprogram, der hedder Blue Peter, lave en adventskrans af bøjler og lametta. I mit danske hjem kan min mand og jeg imidlertid godt lide at lave vores egen adventskrans, men i år skulle den være af den bærbare slags, så den ikke kan nås af små poter, når den ikke er i brug.

Bortset fra den hyggelige atmosfære, som er skabt af min overdådige brug af stearinlys, jubler min mand over de få ekstra graders varme, der kommer fra al den åbne ild… Scrooge er jo også en del af jul, ved du!