Christmas in Denmark

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God Jul (Merry Christmas),

I'm currently sitting at John and Ingrid's house and the Christmas festivities have all died down for the moment. I had originally planned to stay here for only a few short days before going back to Zealand but I have run into a bitter sweet predicament that I didn't quite plan for. The Immigration Service had sent John and Ingrid a letter on the 15th of December and - since the letter was in my name - John decided to wait until I arrived in Esbjerg on the 23rd to open it. I arrived in Esbjerg at around 7:00pm and opened the letter to find that the Immigration Service had accepted my application to stay in Denmark until December of 2009 (they said it would take 2 months, instead, it took 2 weeks). Unfortunately, the letter also requested that I have a picture and passport ready within 7-14 days for the Esbjerg Police Department. This is slightly problematic because of the Christmas Season so we're unsure if I can get everything done in time (getting a professional picture taken at a picture shop is a bit hard to accomplish). We can wait and see.

Other than this, things are going just fine. We went to Trina and Peter's house for Christmas and had wonderful Danish food and all danced around the Christmas Tree (a Danish tradition). Everyone got me some type of gift which was very unexpected since I only brought a bouquet of flowers for Ingrid when I first arrived and didn't expect that we would be exchanging gifts. Either way, it was the best Christmas a backpacker could ask for. Much better than a box of Kraft Dinner at a Youth Hostel in Copenhagen.

I'm really looking forward for New Years in Copenhagen. Everyone has been shooting off fireworks on almost a daily basis since about the 20th of December, so I can't imagine what the 31st will be like. The parties. The beer. And those Copenhagen girls. Oh god. How can I ever go back to those grumpy mountain giants back in Canada? How will I ever be content with brown eyes and back hair now that I've seen blonde, blue eyed girls that speak 3 languages and play violin? For those of you who are more math oriented, an 8 in Canada is a 5 in Denmark. Lucky for me I look like George Clooney. Oh, and did I mention that the girls in Denmark don't wear tops at the beach?

I really should be a lobbyist for the Danish Tourist Department in Canada, people don't know what they're missing.

I'm off to practice my Danish. I hope everything back home has gone well over the Christmas Season. All the best!

Skål,
Nicholas

Esbjerg, Jutland, Danmark

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