3 Curiosities Without Visual Documentation

1. At my local Møntvask (coin wash), you can lie in their sunbed while you're waiting for the machine to finish. That's right! Tanning salon + laundromat in one. My British friend, Ray, says that the Danes look orange in wintertime from tanning too much; Paul says artificial tanning causes cancer. I say: What else could you possibly do while you're waiting for your laundry?

2. Danes love gossip magazines. And Danish gossip magazines feed on scandals from Austria: right-wing politicians racing to their deaths; insane sex-offenders locking their incest prisoners in their basements for decades... Danes are more than well-informed about and ever so intrigued by those mountain folk down there. For me, this adds to the complexity of how to answer the question "Where are you from?"

3. So far, several Danes have insisted that I'm Swedish. Clearly, I don't sound Danish, but apparently, I can speak pretend-Danish well enough to come across as one of their tall, blond neighbors whom they can sort of understand even though we Swedes roll our Rs in a funny way (while Danish Rs and Ds are best pronounced with marbles in your mouth -- "infant talk," some would say). People have this imperialist image of me that I can't seem to shake: An invading German in Austria; a domineering American in England; and now an enunciating Swede in Denmark. Hey, I didn't name that rug "Helsingör," okay??