Another lazy and relaxed day awaits me here in Homer Simpson land, and so I'll take this opportunity to relay some more stories from this part of the world, a task that (as Ive been reminded countless times now) is long overdue.  100.80 Danish Kroners an hour are pouring in to my Danish back account as I type, so sit back, crack a cold VB (If this is reaching the hallowed shores of Australia, otherwise crack a beer that's not quite as good anywhere else in the world) and read on.  This may be long.

A rather large regional city called Utrecht in Holland was decided to be my first major adventure away from Denmark at the start of this month.  To get to the Netherlands takes a 12 hour train ride, or an hour flight so being an impatient bugger I decided to fly.  This, in retrospect may have been the wrong decision. 

Firstly I arrived at Kastrup airport, Copenhagens award winning airport.  I have no bloody idea whats so good about it, but the locals rave about it.  Its got a check in area, planes, hurrying hostesses, announcements in Danish monotone voices, overpriced shops and bars.  So does every other airport.  Im not sure what the fuss is about.  Anyway, I checked in a mile too early for some reason and decided to go the way of our Aboriginal forefathers and go walkabout.  I ended up at a Sony promotional area where you could play free games.  I reckon computer games are shit boring at the best of times, but I kept playing this rally game until I actually got quite good at it to kill time. 

I was in a particularly smart arse mood when some 10 year old American kid came down and asked if he can play.  I told him yeah, no worries as long as he realises hes playing for his countrys pride.  Before the start I made him stand up and sing the US national anthem, and then I drilled him about exactly what was on the line for him. 

Anyway, about 2 minutes into the race with the young chap is was quite clear, like every Australian worldwide who plays any competition, that the green and gold were was going to bring home the honours.  I crossed the line, stood up, took a bow and started walking off. 

And then I heard it.  Sulking.  Oh fuck, I had made the kid cry. 

I didnt know whether the slap the kid or hug him, but as it turned out I challenged him to a re-race, ensured that I lost this time and left it at that.  I was just waiting for a whack over the back of the head from a concerned father, but it never happened thankfully. 

I made my way to the departure area and heard some announcement in Danish that seemed to cause a stir amongst the other passengers.  Then the announcement was in Norwegian.  Then Dutch, then probably Swahili.  Eventually when English came around it was revealed that the best airport in the world was on strike.  No bags were going onto planes, no planes were getting refuelled.  The end of the announcement however was interesting saying that the SAS plane we had was refuelled, and 5 bags did make it, so they were going anyway. 

Well, there is this British TV program I have seen which is called airport, and it essentially is BBCs cameras following people around airports who have been shafted and who are really really pissed off.  I think I saw enough material for a whole season of that show in that departure lounge.  The reactions varied amongst the passengers upon the realisation that their bags wouldnt arrive with them.  Some shrugged their shoulders and couldnt give a shit.  Some were slightly concerned, and then there was a bloke from Bombay in India.  Mr. Bombay was going right off, exclaiming that all he had was the clothes he was wearing and then he made a point of getting the attendant to have a good smell of his t-shirt just to bring his point home.  It was quite entertaining to watch.

Anyway, we flew out and arrived at Shithole airport in Amsterdam.  Thats not the real name of it, but in English thats what it sounds like.  We made our way down to the baggage claim and it was more exciting than a meat raffle at the local pub back home.  200 or so passengers waited in great anticipation for their bags to miraculously be one of the 5 that were on the plane.  The first one popped out, and some fat lady screamed, dived on the conveyor and took it away with a smile from ear to ear that only winning a years supply of free muffins would have equalled.

The second one belonged to this great looking chick with dreadlocks.  The third I didnt see come out, and then number 4.  I made my way through the crowd in a relaxed manner, picked the bag nonchalantly off the conveyor and then, all bottled up excitement broke out.  Like the AFL trophy on grand final day back home, I held my bag above my head and shook it in celebration, making sure everyone got a good look at my salute to the now very disappointed crowd of fellow travellers. 

Utrecht for me has always been like a home away from home, or a mini-australia.  For some reason a large number of friends from my University days in Melbourne have moved there, usually following Dutch people who they fell in love with after 20 beers at the pub.  After being there twice last year, this trip again was a time of catching up with everyone, drinking a little too much and kicking the footy around the beach down at Den Haag, on the west coast of Holland.  Great times, and Ill certainly be back.

I planned to be back here at the power station by 9am on the particular Tuesday morning.  It seemed this was never deemed to be the case. 

Things started to go pear shaped at about midnight on the Monday night.  Knowing I had to get up early, we finished final beers then and went to bed.  As it seems, the Dutch economy isnt as great as it always was, like the rest of Europe theyre feeling the effects of the downturn of the German economy.  As a result desperate crime has risen appreciably.  Even this shittiest of bikes will have 3 big locks on them, and as one my mates there, Andrew, said, the average Dutch person spends 200 days of their lives locking their bikes

I was awoken at 1am by a large Dutch man, my mate, running in his underpants through the living room where I was sleeping cursing and swearing.  It seems that some desperate fella had broke into the house while we were all asleep and knocked off a bike.  Naturally, he couldnt run and catch the bugger, because he now had a bike. 

We sat around for a while sort of in shock really, amazed at the balls of a bloke wholl break into a house with people in it.  Not long after we were all asleep again, and then at about 2am, I was awoken to see the same large Dutch man clambering through the living room, swearing and cursing.  It seems the same bloke who broke in was back for a second go.  Again, unbelievable.  The Moroccan looking bloke must have seen something he wanted (next to me was my digi camera and passport) and came back.  Anyway, he had a bike, so he got away again, this time empty handed. 

At 4am, as planned, I made my way back to Shithole airport.  The train was slow, I was tired, and it was quite cold.  We were going under a bridge when I saw everyone sit up, and the train started stopping.  I had my walkman on, so I couldnt hear a thing.  I asked one of the other travellers what was going on and its seemed that some fella decided that he had spent too much of his life locking and unlocking his bike so he jumped off the bridge head first in front of my train.  It took half an hour to scrape the bloke up with shovels or whatever they use, and we were on our way again. 

At Shithole airport I was quickly informed that my flight had been cancelled, and the only way I could get home was to fly half way up Sweden to Stockholm, then down to Copenhagen.  I arrived back at 4pm, a little late for work

Not that anyone seemed to care.  I seem to have found myself possibly the most laid back workplace in the world.  I am surrounded by very busy, very smart and very important people in my department.  They have millions of kroners at their disposal, and their phones ring constantly.  They have very little time to organise tasks for the Australian trainee, and thats the way I like it. 

As a result, I have found many inventive ways to entertain myself around this massive place.  The first one was the chair challenge.  The roof of the building here is one of the highest points in Denmark (no shit!), and there is a decking on the roof where you can look all over the island of Sjæeland that were on here, and across well into Sweden.  I have made a point of going up there at least once a day to relax and look around, however I decided that I wanted a chair.  I set out ambitiously, scouring the plant for any random chair that might be laying around.  I wasnt fussy, office chair, plastic school style chair, anything.  It fully took over an hour to find my chair, an old office one.  I took it 74 metres up the lift, then a further 100 or so stairs, broke up onto the roof, set the chair up, put the sunnys on and relaxed.  Yep, its the life. 

Theres going to be some workers here scratching their heads when they see the chair up there.  It might be Denmarks greatest mystery for years to come.

I am supposed to start at 7am every day, and leave at 3:30pm.  However, over time this has evolved into 9:30am through to 2:30pm, a much more favourable arrangement.  How is this possible?  Its all about the hard hat. 

You see, after observing people in this office, if they come in with a hard hat, theyve been somewhere, fixing stuff.  If they leave with a hard hat, theyre going off, to fix stuff.  I cottoned on to this quite fast, and now every day I come in with a hard hat on, plans in my pocket, pencils in the other one, and I put the hard hat down with confidence as if to say well, thankfully thats fixed!. 

Then, at about 2:30pm, I will set the computer so it stays on plans of a steam silencer or whatever it is Im working on, I will make a face that suggests Im going to go and fix that bloody thing, Ill put the hard hat on and wont be seen until the next day.

Perfect.

The plight of other fellow trainees also working in København is much more entertaining than my own.  There is a great fella here from Belfast, Ireland who, self confessed, is the worst programmer in the world.  He is here for 6 months and his company, before he arrived, had great expectations.  Upon being given some project and knowing that he had no chance in hell of getting close to doing it he started the destruction of his computer.  When his supervisor(s) would come about he would be exclaiming its goot a fooking virus it has, and I doono whoot the fook is wrong with it and start a process of booting and rebooting it until they were gone, then hed to back to emailing, relaxing, or whatever. 

Also, falling to sleep at work has changed from being a point of embarrassment here amongst the 40 or so trainees here to a point of great pride.  We have invented a competition amongst ourselves to see who can sleep at work for the longest, with the current winner being a Mexican girl who have achieved a time well in excess of 1 and a half hours.  Not bad.  The preferred place of sleep, naturally is the desk with the head in the hands, with the second favourite being on the dunny. 

Two Aussie mates who were working in Switzerland came down for the weekend of the Copenhagen GetTogether, a weekend where 250 trainees from all over Europe converge on Copenhagen for a weekend party.  It was an amazing weekend, with essentially every country in the world being represented, however we were startled to find that around 70% of participants could be safely put in the category of nerds and fat chicks, with the remainder being great, outgoing people. 

As many of you know, Im on an engineering work placement exchange, and again as many of you know, many engineers worldwide would rather make love to their computers than any woman.  Indeed I have never seen so many socially inept people in the one room.  Needless to say, some nerds fulfilled their lifes ambitions and found themselves the fat chick of their dreams, however many didnt and went home bitterly disappointed, vowing to try again next year

One of my Aussie mates, Adam (or Pacey as hes known around Monash circles) was on fire all weekend.  I have never seen a man so incredibly determined to ensure that all 250 particpants had a good hard look at his arse.  He hung it out of buses, off the back of ferries, had it out at the Carlsberg brewery and the final straw, on the dance floor on the final night.  He would drop the strides to the perfect position and then dance in amongst people doing you know that dance when youve got your arse hanging out of your pants?....  Anyway, that one.  Top work.

Denmark is actually made up of well over 400 islands, and last weekend we made our way to the top of the largest one, called Jutland.  The top of this island, just below Norway, is known to be one of the windiest and most barren places on earth, and being there it looks nothing like Denmark should at all.  The wind is the strongest Ive ever experienced, and it always goes in the same direction.  The tales of massive erosion are amazing.  On the website youll see a photo of a cemetery that is on the waters edge, and every year more and more bones become uncovered and fall down to sea.  Whole sand dunes pick up on one side of the island, crawl across the island in a blob of around 1km diameter and move at about 50m a year to the other side.  All residents in its way know its coming, cant to anything about it, and move.  Yeah, amazing place, and well worth the 10 return bus and ferry ride.

On an final note, last night was probably what I will so far refer to as the Denmark golden moment.  Every previous trip Ive been on there is always one moment that will always be remembered as the pinnacle of my time there.  The snowboarding trip in America years ago was snowboarding off the top of the highest mountain at Vail resort, Canada was in the pub on St. Patties day, Europe last year was hiking in Switzerland, and yesterday was Denmarks moment so far. 

Driving a showroom new Audi A4 around with Rage Against the Machine pumping and an Irish chick, British chick, American chick, American bloke and Canadian bloke all in the car.  Lost as fuck, on the wrong side of the road, but amazing fun. 

They really go those cars, it had that tiptronic transmission too where you can touch the transmission up or down and it changes.  The American bloke had hired it to pick up his mother from the airport the following day, and so we naturally made the very most of it. 

Nearly all the photos Ive taken are up on http://engineernath.tripod.com/ (follow links to Denmark) so if time allows, have a look.  And like last time, if it doesnt work, try again later, too many people are on it at the same time.

This weekend sees two mates from Ottawa, Canada come here from when I lived there for a while last year (small world hey).  Another great weekend approaches

I hope all is well in Australia, and abroad!

Cheers,

Nathan