K-Blog

I think I feel bored. And in no small couple-of-hours-to-kill-way. No, I feel bored in a big want-something-to-happen-or-I-might-make-it-happen-myself-way. It has been a while that I have been feeling restless, not really doing anything with my spare time. Not that I have much more of it than the next person, but my spare time starts when I wake up in the morning and stretches out in front of me 'till around 16 in the afternoon. This means that on a normal day I have approximately 7 or 8 leisure hours in a row. I wake up rested, and there I am; 8 hours in front of me, in which to do stuff. It really seems a lot. And I do rest, and lounge around - I am now working fulltime at the restaurant and lulling around doing nothing is important too, I go to work rested and happy most days, looking forwards to get in. My life in Denmark has settled quite a bit since I came back from Italy last year in September. I live where I love to live; I thought a lot about getting an appartment of...

I stepped outside in the early morning. The tiles of the terrace cool under my bare feet. The grass was yet moist, the lake was sparkling in the sun, birds were singing and the insects were buzzing. The light was bright, but yellow, the sky was blue as it gets only in Denmark. The early morning light, the promising warmth in the air, a fresh breeze caressing my legs. Scent of the coffee my mum brought to wake me up, and of fresh bread. The little table already set with butter and cheese, bees already buzzing busily around the marmalade. Coming home from Italy after spending 15 years there, still takes me by surprise. Sometimes I feel like I'll never get used to it all, and that I will always be Italian inside. I still talk too loud when I get excited or passionate about something, and I still use my hands a lot while talking. I also expect people to understand my sign-language and often will try to explain what I am saying. Those are moments when I feel like a stranger in a fore...

I am feeling very lazy these days. Actually I felt lazy for some time now, and I am still waiting for my energy to surprise me; for my need to do stuff, to resurface. But it doesn't really happen. I am still not painting. I am still not photographing a lot, I am still not learning French (again) and my sewing machine is gathering dust under my bed. I started doing my design-reel but I really am not working a lot on it; I bought books today and feel more like taking them out in the sun, lounge around with cold beverages, eat cake and just sleep a lot. I sleep so very well this last week, and wake up feeling happy and sensual, surrounded by images of nice dreams I had. But I don't really sleep a lot, the sun is not warm enough for me (yet), my days slip away through my fingers and I really am enjoying myself. Same with work. I want to organize things, make the restaurant even better, translate our menus into English and so on. But I never really get 'round to it. We...

I keep coming up with (but not publishing) little snippets of posts, little descriptions of moments, things I have seen, lingering life I have lived. Life lived hectically in Italy while I was there; bathed in memories, friends' love and my innate Italian language. The brutally-honest-and-too-rough hurried conversations with best friends *there*, due to lack of time to tell the nuances of everything *here*. The sun on my skin, the familiar scents of my best friends, wonderful wines drunk over dinner in favourite restaurants, feeling as if I had so much to tell, but not enough time. Loss of nuances, of wondering what it all is, what it all means. Thoughts idly wandering to experiment new points of view, to discover new patterns.  Life lived here in Denmark. Moments lived as apparent-but-not-quite-clones of how I always lived them, repeating themselves in the loop of my days. And moments that look like nothing I have lived before. I don't always recognise myself these days a...

She's a friend of my brothers wife and I have met her at different family-get-togethers through the years. I always liked her, she's my own age, we have a lot of things in common. I have wanted to see her more now that I am home, but I haven't called her as much as I would like to. She called me yesterday evening and we went out for a few drinks, ended up touring around town and finished with breakfast at KFC at 4 in the morning. She slept over and we had breakfast then lunch as the hours went by and we just kept on talking; skipping effortlessly between deep and shallow,  laughing and generally having a good time. I enjoyed it  *so* much and am so happy today. It feels like I have found a new friend. I talk to my closest Italian friends a lot but they're far away, and while friendships thrive even long-distance, I miss them and would like to share this adventure with them. Not only by phone, but IRL. I would like to share my newfound love for Copenhagen, the cooking ...

I walk and walk, getting to know this beautiful city more and more. I still wake up some days, not able to see the point in going nowhere, but when I, like today, get myself out there, I love it. I search the faces of people walking the streets. I watch what people wear and make up little stories in my head, as to where they are going, who they're meeting, and what their lives are like. I see evening dresses worn as daywear, big ugly boots and impossibly high heels, tartan, lace, torn nylons, bikerjackets, homemade knit scarves and finally sunglasses. I wonder at the way people walk, run, linger and stop to greet friends, eyes lighting up. I look into eyes of strangers passing, trying to fathom whether they're happy or sad.  Mindful ?  Awake ? Observant ? I roam the streets, seeking out the sunniest spots, feeling the wind play with my hair, dress and with *my* homemade knit scarf. Wander around Nyhavn, smell the salt in the air and feel the warmth of the sun on my face a...

It has been a long trip. And I am not done doing yet. I sort of waited for things to calm down enough to sit down and write a witty, clever blogpost about coming back to Denmark again, as promised (well the post at least =)). Seems though that things are nowhere close to calming down and I miss writing. I read all your posts but huddle up and hide a bit. Rather be silent than just blurp out some of all the stuff that has happened to me and that is happening. Until now. Things are not calming down (why would they, my life has often seemed a mess) so I might as well write about it. Good ones and less good ones. Good: For one thing; I found a job. I figured I might as well combine my love of food and wine with work *and* avoid the inevitable homesickness for Italy. So I made a list of what seems to be the best and most authentic Italian restaurants in Copenhagen, wrote applications, printed, upped and went out to 10 of them. I sent another 8 applications by email, some restaurants replie...

woke up in my own bed, way too early. But I got up, got dressed, had breakfast and followed M to finish and print out applications.  This is not the best part of moving here, I am tired of sitting down  in front of computer to try and sell myself in a language I do not master anymore and much preferred to move boxes up stairs and decorate room.  But I did 8 of them, for jobs I have no experience doing  sent 3 applications and landed 1 interview.** Friday. Wish me luck. * oh and i helped save a kitten from drowning on the harbour. Well. Somebody else got it out of the water, I just took it home and tortured it with a towel.  So much for feline elegance... ** (my first in Dk)

My staircase smells like mormor. She lived with my morfar here in Frederiksberg. I felt strangely sure about this place, this apartment from the start and I couldn't just dismiss it as a question of taste, (I love these tall rooms, these wooden floors in these beautiful houses, the stucco on the ceilings) it felt like something else.  It just hit me walking up the stairs yesterday; this is why I felt safe here immediately, this is why I trusted my intuition to live here.  My mormor was a very strong woman in a very quiet kind way. She controlled (silently) my morfar totally and he died within a couple of years when she died. I am still convinced he died of sorrow, he had no reason to live when she was not around anymore. He was a loud, bragging, dominating character with a profound passion for food in any form or shape. I am sorry that my passion for food surfaced after he passed away; I am convinced we could have shared some good meals, though his passion was for massive amounts ...

Disclaimer: Nerdy obsessive food-observations follow: I came up with a parallel yesterday that I have been struggling to formulate but just couldn't pinpoint properly. Then I sort of mentally dismissed it as uninteresting stuff (my BF call me nerdy about food and often I shut my trap about my observations), thinking they might be uninteresting to people who isn't so ... obsessed. But then I came upon   Stensamlers tweet and I felt ... comforted. She writes: " de danske sandwiches med alt det der 1000-et-eller-andet-snask, de ALTID putter i ". She lives in Italy (too) but while her observation is almost identical to mine, the parallel I will draw (sooner or later =)) is all mine. Here goes: In my opinion much Danish food is very... abundant in ingredients. My man and I stopped for lunch in a local roadside cafè and ordered the omelette with tomatoes. Nice and simple, I had mouthwatering visions of fluffy eggy omelette, maybe (please please) with small sweet Danish tom...

... my brain can't wrap itself around the fact that everyone around me speak Danish, and that I, who (modest, I know) normally speak very very well and in a very correct manner, am reduced to a spluttering, stammering freak who has not got a proper language.  There is no way I can come up with stuff to cook. My Italian heritage suggest pasta, vegetables and my usual lighter fusion-stuff, but the climate tells me it's time for the heavier soups, pastasauces,  polenta with meat and more meat. None of it makes sense as I cannot shop as usually. I skip the precooked stuff but sorely lacks the basics, the good tomatosauces, the cuts of meat I am used to, the veggies. I know it is just a matter of time and that this will be a lovely challenge to face, to learn to use the lovely Danish veggies, to appreciate the Danish cuisine and hopefully integrate the Italian with the Danish over time. But I still have to put something in my mouth 3 times a day, so I tend to eat a lot of ryebread, ...

A huge steak and Amarone is a miracle cure for everything.  My throat is sore as hell - I'm very psychosomatic - I have been holding back tears all day so obviously now I'm choking on them. Literally. I needed comfort food so I bought the biggest steak I could find and a nice bottle of Amarone; it's about time I give myself a break. And I haven't been eating all day with all those mixed emotions choking me. I realize this is breaking my heart. I feel torn between my love for Italy and my want for Denmark, for more civilized behavior and  mentality, a bit more order. My love for Italy have nothing to do with logic. I love Italy to pieces even knowing that I cannot live here, cannot endure it anymore. But at the same time the sheer amount of hope, of possibilities that seem to open up to me in Denmark seduces me into believing I can actually live there. Yes, I know things might not be so peachy in Denmark, I know things may have changed, that I see it as the promised land...

I am alive, and very very busy. My internet at home isn't working very well, and it just doesn't seem worth the bother to start calling Telecom customer service now. Oxymoron if there ever was one =). Where do I start ? Today is my last day at work- it is hurriedly trickling away through my fingers and I am telling myself it is just work, but I know I might need to cry just a tiny bit tonight when I get home. I am quite tear-prone these days and I have been working here for more than 3 years. I started preparing my departure in earnest on the 1st of September and things have been developing just fine, from my handing in my notice, to the written sorting-out-departure-conditions. I might have found a nice room in Frederiksberg, Copenhagen untill I find my feet and gets around to finding an apartment with my love. I will know tonight and if it *is* the place for me, then I will have a place to send all my stuff to, when I go to the transport-company tomorrow to pick up boxes. The...

ooooh have I been busy these days. I started to make my preparations in earnest on September 1st and I'm exhausted already. My Tadaaaah!list is shorter though: I found the transport company that will ship my shoes, my books, my crystalglasses, my bags and basically everything else I have accumulated in 15 years. They ship once every week, on Thursdays and I can expect my habengut to arrive in Denmark on the following Tuesday. And they will do it for a modest 70 euro per cubic meter. Kind of funny to sum up my life here in cubic meters; but I will =).I found out how to pack my stuff (Vacuum, baby Vacuum) and found the machinery (didn't buy it yet, but I will) that reduces my cubic meters with half =). I dug out my work contract to find out how long a notice I need to give; made the count of dough I need to get, and got a general idea of all the administrative b*ll*cks I need to take care of before I leave. And of course my Tadaaaah!list includes yet another handful of smaller ...

Can't wait to wear my highest heels in Denmark and not look like a tranny or a freak.

I plan to clean out my kitchen cupboards in preparation for Dk. I have kilos and litres of staples; flours, nuts, almonds, sugar, honey, oil, vinegar and canned goods. You name it. As part of the challenge of it all (oh yeah, I'm high!) I would like to leave nothing behind and take nothing with me when I come back. Even though my flatmate ought to be happy to finish anything I fail to use. So from today I will try to cook with what I have got and buy only the strictly necessary - stuff that goes in the fridge. This ought to fun, and as my friend A brought me fresh pumpkin from her little garden patch yesterday, today I'm cooking tepid Pumpkin-soup with almonds and a few Pumpkin scones. I found the recipes here and here (in Italian only, sorry) as I have never cooked with pumpkin. I will let you know how it turns out=)

I tell myself I can already feel the autumn coming, but I know perfectly well that it isn't true. I see a few leaves falling and think happily about long autumn evenings in Denmark, hearing the wind howling outside and reading a good book while nursing a hot cup of tea. Or knitting. Or sowing. Or cooking the favourite foods of my love. It rained all of last night. Was about bloody time too, pressure and humidity in the air has been building up over this past week. Nothing strange about that; I have been waiting and longing for this downpour to freshen up things a bit, it is still 29° at night. But my longing mind hastily jumps to conclusions; autumn is here and I'm late for leaving for Denmark. Fact is I spent the whole day in the swimmingpool, came back now and is still dripping with sweat. Italy is still hot. Fact is I will probably wish I was back here in three months' time; I'll want my Italian food, my Italian wine, my friends and the easygoing charm that Italians ...

I am so so so ready to come home. I am all senses in order to soak up everything these last two months here. I feel like I'm drinking the sunshine, the weather, the sea, the flowers, the trees, the language, the colors and the perfumes. And stowing it away; as much I can take. I know coming back to Denmark will be hard; I'll be leaving my friends (painstakingly collected and cultivated) of 15 years, I'll be leaving a mentality I've gotten used to; a climate that I love and a language that is bound to fall apart little by little from not getting used much. Of course I plan to make new friends, find a lovely job, a lovely apartment and get used to Danish weather. Heck, you've got Hygge when weather's bad right ? Candy, hot chocolate, movies (in English, oh bliss) and I even got someone to share it with. But even if I know it's gonna be tough, I feel like this might be my biggest adventure to date. Who would have thought coming home could be the biggest adventu...

Glaeder mig til at komme hjem og skraale med paa dèn her sang. I KOR med nogen! Anyone ?

Jeg kan ikke vente med at komme ind til KFC paa Raadhuspladsen med M i haanden og blive hilst med "hej M og T, skal det vaere det saedvanlige ?"