Don't Park Too Close to Old Danes

Tobias and I are staying in a friend's flat while we nail down some more permanent digs.  It is a nice basement apartment in the center of Aarhus, right next to the university.  There are grand villas and cozy gardens all along Emil Aarstrups Vej that smack of old money and the hyggeligt glory that obessesses the Danish psyche. Hyggelight, for those who are in the dark, is pronounced HUE/HOO-guh-lee and means, very simply "fucking cozy as shit".  That's really cozy.

Cars line the sidewalks and people push strollers up and down at a leisurely pace.  It was a perfect afternoon to go to the store and then clean out the car.  I got in the car and drove it away from the space it had occupied for less than 24 hours. 

The shopping trip was a rousing success and I even got a chance to politely refuse to be signed up for some shopper program, in Danish. "Nej, tak." High on the fumes of my Danish mastery, I returned home and parked close to the rubbish container.  The car is a disaster due to our numerous moves and generally small inhabitations. 

My astrology reading playing in my ears, I happily started throwing crap around and an organizational free-for-all.  It wasn't five minutes later, that I spied an old man creaking towards me. He appeared to be talking in my general direction. I took out my ear phone.  He was definitely talking.  At me.

Well, I was so pleased with myself that I just tried to understand what he was saying without my customary, "Undskyld, jeg taler englsk."  ...I'm sorry, I speak English.  I defaulted quickly to my normal phrase as it seemed like he had a very important message he was trying to convey.

"Where are you from?"

Smile from me. Be charming.

"The USA, from Portland, Oregon."

"Oh no."

um.  smile again. be nice.

"Yep, sure am."

"You are living in the basement."

"Yes, we are staying in a friend's flat while we look for another place to live."

No change in facial expression on his part. Just stares.

"I have a Danish boyfriend."

He shakes his head at me.

"You're a bad woman."

Sorry? Did I just hear that right? Ok, I'm a bad woman. Always agree. First rule of improv.

"Well, I can't help it. They are very nice you know."

He smirks.

"You need to park not so close to me when you drive this car.  It is no good."

Was I close to him? I can't even remember.





"Oh god. I'm really sorry.  I will definitely park further away. Could you not get out?"

He laughs.

"It is just lucky I am a nice one. Some others will not like that parking so much."

"Ok. Wow. Well, thanks for telling me."

He stands there and looks at me like I've lost my marbles.  Several seconds pass awkwardly.

"You keep doing what you are doing now."

Yes. I am cleaning out the car. Good idea. Is that goodbye?

"Alright, have a good day."  Smile again. Nice Jaime. Nice Dane.

Dane looks at me oddly and walks to his car.

There was no one in front of his car when I parked behind it on Sunday. There was still nothing except a tiny lip where a tiny driveway connected house to street.

But hey, sometimes it's the little things that make a big difference right?

As he drove by me I waved.
He stared straight ahead.

My astrologer was saying at that moment, "Relationship are really your joy in life."

Hehehehe. Yep. They sure are.