I always liked Copenhagen airport: the large open spaces, warm wood, classic Danish-designed chairs and lamp shades, upmarket shopping – a proper introduction to the modern kingdom of Denmark. This time however we entered the kingdom through another port – Billund. If Copenhagen airport is a good introduction to Denmark, Billund airport is a good introduction to Jutland – the same Danish aesthetics and visually pleasing spaces, only on a smaller scale, and with a simpler and less pretentious feel. And the smell of manure.
We flew from London to Billund so that we can visit my partner’s parents in Jutland before heading off to the capital. A small town in Jutland such as the one they live in is undoubtedly the best introduction to Denmark for anyone wishing to immigrate here. The industrious heartland, if you will. The English equivalent is perhaps the Midlands. The US equivalent – the Midwest? I guess some form of the word ‘middle’ needs to be in there.
In any case, my partner and I have been visiting Jutland regularly over the years, and this is where I learnt most about Danish life. I’ll never forget my introduction to Danish cuisine, and my realization that the English term ‘meat-and-two-veg’ – representing a typical English main course consisting of some sort of meet and two sorts of vegetables – can actually be replaced in Denmark with the term ‘meat-and-two-kinds-of-potatoes’. Yes, potatoes will always be served. And mostly in two different kinds (except in Christmas and other special occasions, when they’re actually served in three different varieties!) I always wondered how the Danes handled this carb-rich diet – is that the reason behind their (much debated) obesity problem? Or their relatively low life expectancy in Europe? Or is it the unbelievable amounts of bacon and beer?
But the real first culture shock in the parents’ place in Jutland came on my first visit there years ago, when I made my first faux-pas at the lunch table, which caused roaring laughter around the table. We were having a typical Danish lunch. Franskbrød, rugbrød, marinerede sild, leverpostej, rullepølse – the works. And then, silly me, I went ahead and put some marinerede sild on a slice of franskbrød. I was a bit baffled by the reaction, and it took some cultural interpretation by my partner for me to learn that marinerede sild goes on rugbrød, and only rugbrød. “Why?” I asked. “Because it tastes better that way” the answer came. Aha.
I soon learned that the rules of the typical Danish lunch are not to be questioned or debated – they are simply to be followed. Like an axiom. In fact, as it turns out, the sanctity of Danish lunch serves as a good introduction to a concept I would be hearing of a lot in the following weeks – “in Denmark, rules are rules”. Whether it’s crossing the street only at a pedestrian crossing and when the light’s green (even if it’s the middle of the night and there’s no car in sight within a hundred miles), or avoiding exchanging a gift because the return policy says 30 days and it’s already been 31 days – the principle is the same: rules cannot be argued with, and should be followed. Perhaps this is how you achieve such extreme order and cleanliness everywhere (which I must admit I like) – but can it go too far? I think I might just have an issue with this one…
But back to reality – we have just arrived and I had a thousand things on my to-do list: get a CPR number, open a bank account, get a local mobile phone, sign up with a GP, start learning Danish, find a flat, find a nursery, find a job… I better get started.
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