Our Aarhus Adventure

Since we arrived at the end of August we’ve led such a temporary existence, which we have coped with surprisingly well.

I don’t know how we managed to live an ordinary life, including getting Daisy to school, cooking proper food rather than take-aways and running two businesses. Not to mention paying thousands of pounds in deposits and rental fees. But we did it. In a country where we don’t speak the language at not the most glamorous time of year.

Moving out of the Air B&B was a joy compared to our previous…experience.

The owner, Flemming, returned from his trip to South America while we were still in the apartment. He was just dropping off bags before going to his partner’s place to sleep off his jet lag.

I was worried sick about the broken kitchen door but he told us it had been a repeated problem. The previous guests from Belgium had probably jammed things up.

That was a phew.

We left flowers and a thank you note. The place was spotless. We later received a thank you note.

Coordinating the final move was tricky because the car was full to the brim with IKEA stuff, to the extent that there was only one passenger seat available. And whoever sat there would be forced to duck under the boxes packed from behind.

The car was also parked ten minutes away near Daisy’s school. And we had all our stuff from the Air B&B to move, too.

Somehow, we ferried stuff to the new place and left it in the bike shed.

Then we went for lunch to kill some minutes before it was time to get the keys - which clashed with Daisy’s school finishing time.

Sarah and I went to a lovely little cafe near school and had a shared plate of wonderful tapas and two small bottles of water.

£22.

Mikael, our diminutive landlord, met me with the keys and showed me round the second floor apartment. It was a perfect white box with gorgeous sanded floors. Three rooms, a kitchen and a tiny wet room with toilet and shower.

In the middle of the lounge was a pile of all the stuff we’d bought from the previous tenant.

What a blessed relief. I couldn’t quite believe it when I was given the keys and Mikael said “I look forward to working with you guys".

When the girls got back from school the box shifting began.

We’d bought Daisy a cabin bed with built in desk from IKEA. Or rather we’d bought six boxes which were incredibly heavy to move and get around tight corners.

With every box, our disjointed life began to jig-saw itself together.

We reunited Sarah with the blades from the NutriBullet. We found this and that that we knew we’d packed in the car but we thought we’d lost. And we didn’t find things we knew we had but had sadly been left at one of our previous locations.

It was a physical slog but finally the last box entered the apartment and we shut the door on our road trip.

Daisy launches on YouTube.

Yesterday was difficult.

We couldn’t get the car anywhere near the flat so I had to walk about 100 metres with all the bags and boxes for the move.

We filled the car and took it to Trojborg - the new apartment - where we stored everything we could downstairs underneath the building, in the room people use to dry their washing.

Sarah nearly knocked herself out coming up the steps at one point.

Then it was back to the first apartment to do the final tidy up.

The original plan was to move into the next place with just a suitcase each. We had a car-full.

Just after lunch it was time to take Daisy to a birthday party. She’s been to a birthday party each time we’ve moved so far.

At 2pm we met the Air B&B’s stepson to get the keys to an apartment very close to the railway station.

It was like a show house. So tasteful.

Within five minutes I’d broken one of the kitchen doors by pushing it open, continuing my journey of culinary devastation.

It all felt very strange. Like we had to be careful to tidy up after ourselves all the time.

We’re just five minutes walk from school now. Having begun our trip 30 minutes away by car.

The calm before the storm.

All is going well with the clean up operation.

Except I have just cracked the ceramic glass top on the cooker.

It was already cracked but now it is practically useless.

On my way to the office this morning, which involves me walking from Daisy’s school, through the railway station and down through the main shopping street in Aarhus, I spotted a man walking towards me in quite distinctive running gear.

Orange and green camouflage, with a beanie hat and jazzy trainers.

As he drew towards me, the bearded runner gave me a friendly smile.

Friendly smiles are nothing unusual here but he looked strangely familiar.

Within a split second I realised.

I turned around and said, ‘Excuse me, are you the mayor?'

He laughed and shook hands, confirming that he was indeed the mayor.

I’d seen him give a talk at Daisy’s school when the Princess did the opening ceremony.

We chatted briefly and then he wished me well and was on his way.

Not your normal fatty mayor with a gold chain around his neck.

Following our visit to Godsbanen, we decided to go for coffee at ARoS. ARoS is perhaps Aarhus’ most iconic building. It features a huge multi-coloured, flying saucer shaped, walk-around gallery on the roof. Downstairs is the art gallery. Monet is on at the moment.

When we entered the building by one of its imposing revolving doors, the huge cafe looked unusually busy. But we’d never visited it on a Saturday afternoon.

We were drawn to the glass box that is the book and gift shop.

I decided to try on some new reading glasses.

Sarah liked a particular pair and encouraged me to look at myself in a mirror.

There were no mirrors so I had the idea of looking at myself using my iPhone camera.

I was just about to flip the camera into selfie mode when I suddenly saw what you would have thought I’d have seen straight away.

Through the glass wall of the bookshop there must have been over a hundred people sitting in chairs taking part in a huge life drawing class.

To begin with, a twenty-something girl, wearing only her tattoos, bent over on a podium in the middle of what was usually the cafe.

Behind her, a slightly more challenging female was reclining, legs akimbo, while row upon row of eager artists put charcoal to paper.

A mature looking woman was doing the rounds of the room, occasionally showcasing someone’s work by holding it above her head, giving commentary via a wireless microphone.

In the far corner, there was a stuffed bear on a stage covered by black fabric.

The cafe had been made artificially small, partitioned off for the event. But because the remaining part of the seating area featured stools and high tables, everyone having their lunch was treated to a view of the nudists.

As we began drinking our coffee, a man appeared near the bear, wearing a mustard coloured towel around his waist.

Upon the command from the master of ceremonies woman, the two girls changed their poses and he popped up on stage, making a kind of muscle man move, before narrowly missing falling into the bear.

As he regained his composure, we lost ours.

His first pose involved him thrusting out his waist, hands on hips, giving all and sundry a commanding view of his not inconsiderable, shaved, gentleman’s log cabin.

Sarah, at this point was getting the titters. Big time.

Minutes later, it was time for another change of pose.

This time, our gent is bending over as if riding a motorbike, scratching the backs of his legs. Meat and two veg swinging artistically, creating a kind of Balinese shadow puppet show shadow against the backdrop.

We quizzed one of the sweet teenage waitresses about the spectacle - the show, not his appendage - and she told us it was a special event put on by the design college.

As the tattooed one thrust out her boobs in another change of artistic shape, we left the building and walked home along the river, in a way permanently affected by what we’d just seen.

Today we went to see Godsbanen. This place is almost impossible to describe or do justice to. It’s about five minutes walk from the city centre of Aarhus. Down the hill and back a bit from ARoS (the city modern art gallery with the flying saucer observatory on the roof). It used to be the garage for the trains. Now it’s a kind of metropolis for the creative/art/theatre/construction industries. You can come here to watch a play or go to a gig. Or you can print your own letter headings. Or learn about fabric design. Or hire some tools and make things out of wood. There is even an outside area filled with yurts, summer houses and sheds where people hang out and make things. Or fix old tape-to-tape recorders. We even found a family who were looking after half a dozen giant rabbits. Here are some photos of the morning’s outing

It was great to get an email from Helen Russell last night.

I’d got in touch with her to tell her how her book is now given out to all incoming employees of my bakery client in Horsens.

So it was great to get an email with thanks and good luck for our Danishly adventure.

I have to say I have bought kokken ruller instead of toilet papir in the past.

Well, we’ve all done it, haven’t we?

On Saturday, me and the girls decided to have lunch in town. There are some relatively inexpensive bistros near my office. Sarah spotted one with checkered table cloths and candles. It all looked very cosy inside and the food sounded good.

Inside, we were greeted by the person who seemed like he owned the place. A rather odd little man. We asked if we could have a table for three. To which he replied ‘Yes’ and he waltzed off into the kitchen, leaving us to find our own place.

Strange, we thought.

There were no menus anywhere to be seen.

Mr Charm returns and this is pretty much what he said: “Look, I’ll tell you what we have. Don’t ask me too many questions because I don’t have time. We have cod or rabbit. Do you want a starter?"

We’d actually come in for mussels and when we told him this he screwed up his face and repeated the menu again.

This wasn’t going terribly well but eventually we got him to agree to two plates of mussels. We asked for some chips, to complete the ‘moules frites’ ensemble but he appeared irritated and said he’d just bring us two plates of mussels.

Drinks time. I ordered a glass of red. Daisy asked for something a bit like coke. But when Sarah said she didn’t want anything to drink, he told her she had to have a drink because otherwise he wouldn’t make any money.

He then asked us where we were from. We told him we were English but we lived in Aarhus.

Then, in French, he told us we should learn Danish.

The penny then dropped - he was French. He spoke to other customers in French. He greeted people in French. And, had I got this from the start, we could have conversed in French. Although he spoke to his staff in English.

The mussels arrived. They were cold and un-drained. So they were sitting in the water they had been cooked in, rather than in a sauce. There was a blob of garlic butter dropped on the top.

I had to ask again for my wine.

We daren’t ask for the chips.

It wasn’t just us singled out for his French charm. Some new customers arrived and he, well…, waved them away.

Then he started smiling at me and winking at Daisy, which made us just think he was having a bad day.

We left to hear him shout ‘Au revoir, les Anglais!’.

I asked around at work yesterday and this guy is famous for this kind of behaviour. He is often very drunk. Often quite abusive - doing things like not letting you change your mind when you order your food - and then often very pleasant.

His name’s Olivier if you fancy having lunch there.