On my departure from Denmark, I remember sitting with my parents in the
airport lounge. My mom and dad and the last photo I have of the three of us
together. I didn't know at the time, that it would be one of the last times I
would see my dad. I left in the middle of the night, still in the wake of what
happened in New York and security was strict. Shoes were removed to be swabbed.
Soldiers in uniformed armed with rifles. Baggage checked and my carry on
searched. The telling features of our time was the frantic check for anything
that could cause somebody harm while in the air. Everyone was suspect and
little could, we though at the time, escape the barriers between those who
would harm innocent people and the plane headed to Denmark. My thoughts at the
time lead me to believe I would see my parents again just after a year. I would
return and apply for a job with Jade Dragon Tattoo in Chicago, earn a GED and
live a some what normal life. Oh how naive I was.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreery weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequetly. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearence demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreery, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alchohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greated by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stella from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greated by a south african man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south africa placed his had on Stella’s breast and fondled her infront of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me.
More will come later.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreery weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequetly. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearence demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreery, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alchohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greated by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stella from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greated by a south african man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south africa placed his had on Stella’s breast and fondled her infront of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me.
More will come later.
