Found in Translation – Issue nr.1

Hej, hvordan går det? Or, some introductions!

The day I spoke to LWID’s Executive Editor, Narcis, about writing this column, I’d just had what I considered a significant cultural breakthrough in my new life in Denmark. I was in Espresso House – my Place of Comfort (more on that in a future column!). I had ordered my usual – a latte and an kanelsnurre – in Danish. The very friendly woman serving me actually understood my poor pronunciation! She asked me, in Danish, if I wanted the kanelsnurre warmed, and I understood her! I replied, in Danish, “Yes, please”. Then I asked for the bathroom code, in Danish again, and she told me the number in Danish, and again I understood! I successfully unlocked the bathroom door, but it also felt like I’d unlocked something far bigger. I had lived in Denmark for almost eight months but this was the first end-to-end conversation I had managed to have in the language of my new country, with a native speaker, without resorting to English or the Google Translate app, which I open more often these days than Instagram or Gmail. Language is so central to everything – our identity, our sense of belonging. When you can’t readily understand or speak the language of the country you live in, you do feel pretty lost.

You might be shaking your head incredulously, thinking, “Eight months and that’s all she’s managed?” Maybe you’re more like the lovely American guy in my Danish class, who remains the only person I know to have actually finished Dualingo. I didn’t know that was possible. If you’re more like him than me, I salute you and if you want to come round and give me some additional lessons, or maybe just follow me about in my everyday life and act as my general guide, brilliant. If you’re more on my kind of level, you have to count the little steps. Eventually they’ll add up to something massive.

Moving country is a huge culture shock. I expected this, even though I’d never done it. I think I went into this whole adventure with my eyes open, but I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. In April last year, the four of us came on vacation to Copenhagen with a side adventure to Billund so my wife (possibly LEGO’s biggest fan amongst its own employees) could experience her dream of visiting LEGOLAND and the LEGO House. We brought our two sons, aged 12 and 10. We walked past the LEGO Campus with its bright yellow bricks and giant LEGO ducks that still make me smile, she looked up at the windows and said wistfully, “I’m going to work there one day…” We all laughed and kept on walking. Then later I said to her, “How could you make that happen?” Conversations started. Initially we thought if she was offered a job (we still thought this was as likely as Taylor Swift agreeing to put on a private concert for the 10-year old, his ultimate dream). Then we thought she’d just commute from Scotland, where we lived just outside Edinburgh, to Billund and come back at weekends. I still have a message I wrote in a group chat of our local Scottish friends that reads “I am NOT moving to Denmark”. All I can say is, things change. I started to think: If not now, when? I was nearly 44 at the time. I had always lived in the same area. It’s beautiful – the Danish dentist I took my kids to today nearly cried, telling me (in English – I’m not that good yet) how much she loved her vacation to Scotland last year. But it was all I’d ever known. I had started to feel my world-view was quite small.

I was also aware of Denmark’s status as the happiest nation in the world, where people worked to live rather than the other way around, social justice wasn’t just a utopian ideal and women and LGBTQ+-identifying people like us had long had rights that increasingly seemed on shaky ground in the UK. I wondered what growing up in a country like this might be like for our boys. I dug out my copy of Helen Russell’s “The Year of Living Danishly” that my globe-trotting friend Kathryn had made me buy in a charity shop three years before and I actually read it. Suddenly, moving to Denmark started to seem like quite a good idea. It all seems like fate now.

This fortnightly column will be about our journey, as an international family, settling into life in Denmark. I hope that if you’re new to Denmark too, no matter where you come from, what age you are, whether you’re single, partnered, a parent or not, there will be something you’ll resonate with.

I named this column “Found in Translation” after the 2003 Sofia Coppola film “Lost in Translation” in which Scarlett Johansson travels to Japan for her husband’s work and finds herself completely lost in all senses in Japan. I’m a whole lot less glamorous than Scarlett Johansson and my life is more about washing everyone’s underwear, and washing in general, than lounging about looking hot in them. I also don’t have Bill Murray to sing karaoke and drink cocktails in bars with – how cool would that be? But eight months in, my life feels more and more about finding out things, including about myself, than being lost. Google Translate remains an essential part of my daily life, though. In that sense, I’m still constantly found in the act of translation. 

Appropriately as well, September is Welcome Month for Internationals in Denmark. So whatever stage of your journey you’re at, welcome! See you in two weeks!