Oh, how the wine flowed...

This is Horne Kirke (Horne Church), on South Fyn, where my friends Karina and Andrew were married on Saturday, July twenty-third.

I've covered my travels up until arriving in Denmark on the morning of July twenty-second. I'd taken the CNL (City Night Line) from Frankfurt all the way north, over the border, into Denmark and across the water east to the island of Fyn. I'd slept most of the way, it being a night train. We pulled into the Odense train station about eight o'clock on Friday morning.

It was in the train station, groggily walking towards the ticket counter to see when the next bus to Faaborg left, that I passed an advertisement for chocolate milk. In the fog of my fatigued and travel-weary brain, I slowly realized that I could understand the poster. The poster was all in Danish. I stopped... slowly looked around... and read every written word in sight. It hit me like a bolt of lightning that I could understand most everything in the train station! Danish! I could speak this! That realization was like a shot of adrenaline. I approached the ticket counter wide-awake and bold as brass. The words appeared suddenly from somewhere dusty and almost-forgotten in my brain, as if they'd been waiting for me to return to their native country. "Jeg vil gerne gå til Hvedholm Slottet. Hvornår den næste bus?" Which, honestly, was pretty broken Danish. Translated, I'd unabashedly said, "I would like to Hvedholm Castle. When the next bus?" But that was immaterial. I felt untouchable. Looking back, I strongly suspect that sleep-deprivation had a lot to do with this newfound feeling of linguistic invincibility. But the extremely polite woman behind the counter simply smiled and printed out my ticket. I grinned triumphantly and made my way to the bus stop.

This excitement of being back in Denmark and of reading and hearing Danish everywhere, and the resulting energy, slowly seeped away on the two-hour bus ride across Fyn to Faaborg. Hvedholm is situated in a very rural area of Fyn. I had to walk for ten minutes down a dirt road in the rain, having been dropped off at an unmarked busstop. The castle, which by my standards was actually a very, very nice estate, was hidden by trees. The bus ride and muddy walk had completely extinguished my previous ardor, leaving me even more grumpy and exhausted than I had been before. I checked in (the "castle" includes a hotel and restaurant), got my room key, found my room, and collapsed into my canopy bed and slept for six hours.

Luckily, I woke up just in time for dinner. I went downstairs (having showered and changed) and found the dining room full of people. The bride- and groom-to-be, Karina and Andrew, greeted me enthusiastically. I had met them both in Denmark eight years ago. Andrew had been a Rotary exchange student, like me, but from New Zealand. Karina happened to be studying in Denmark for the same stretch of time, and had started attending Rotary exchange student functions (despite her not actually being an exchange student), and a mutual friend introduced Karina to me because we were both from Alaska. Andrew and Karina began dating at the time, and never stopped, despite her going back to Alaska and his going back to New Zealand. I've kept in touch with the two of them since we met, and we've managed several visits in Juneau and Portland, and most recently, Vancouver in May. But they're moving to Denmark (like me!) to study at the university in Aalborg.

I met countless people that evening during dinner, including the girl with whom I would share the room that night, Sarah, a very sweet American studying in Norway. I recognized several people I'd met in Vancouver; Danish friends of Andrew and Karina, notably Lisa, a Danish girl with whom I'd especially hit it off. She and I were both nannies, and had bonded in Vancouver over au pair horror stories. She and I were super-tight for the duration of the festivities, and even after the wedding (more on that later). That evening, in the castle tearoom over coffee and dessert, the kids my age attending the wedding slowly coalesced and we began recounting how we each knew the bride and groom. Annika from Germany had been an exchange student in New Zealand and met Andrew. Sarah, my roommate, had been friends with Karina since elementary school. Melissa, who had traveled all the way from Zimbabwe, had met Karina in Denmark two years ago. Altogether there were over 150 wedding guests, from eleven different countries.


This is Sarah, my roommate at the castle. She was fantastic.

The next day was the wedding, and, like all momentous occasions that one would like to be forever distinct and memorable, is a complete blur. What I remember most? Wine, and lots of it. But because my mother would kill me if I simply ended there, I will do my best. The ceremony itself was a traditional Danish wedding, with no bridesmaids or groomsmen. The pastor, a wonderful lady named Bodil whom I'd also met in Vancouver, performed half the ceremony in English and half in Danish. But the best part was dinner. Ah, dinner... a fabulous five-hour, three-course affair it was, with wine glasses that were always full. Speeches, toasts, and lustily-sang national anthems of three different countries (America, Denmark, and New Zealand) were performed with zeal. I was seated, fortuitously, next to the people I had gotten to know the most: Lisa, Annika, Melissa, and Josh, and we had a grand time. By the time dessert (wedding cake) was finished, the band was ready for the bride and groom's waltz. And right after that, everyone, young and old, started to dance. The band was phenomenal. Dancing lasted until two in the morning.

This is one of the only pictures I have of me at Hvedholm. This guy was standing guard outside my hotel room, and he did an outstanding job.

As for pictures, I'm sorry for the lack of such. The hotel was gorgeous and looking back, I do regret not having taken more pictures. But the time I might have spent snapping photos was spent having a great time with new friends and old. Lisa and I had an especially fantastic time together, after having only met each other once in a restaurant in Vancouver a few months ago. The morning after the wedding, having stayed up until two-thirty am the night before, I missed my noon train from Odense. Lisa kindly offered to let me spend the night at her house with her parents in South Jutland. But that day and night is worth a post for another day!

As far as the last few days are concerned, everything is lovely. Brittany and I are taking it easy, with small day trips here and there. Today we went to Flossenbürg, to the concentration camp, which was very sobering. Yesterday we went to the outdoor farmer's market in the center of Weiden, and in the afternoon while I worked on writing, Brittany designed the fantastic header for this blog. The day before that we took the train to Nuremberg to see Harry Potter, which caused me to fall deeply in love with my soulmate all over again. As soon as the weather improves, we (Brittany and I, not Neville and I) plan on taking a small trip later this week somewhere south, perhaps Garmisch or Salzburg, Austria.

I'll end this post with the only picture I managed to take of the bride and groom (hence the poor quality). Andrew and Karina are two of the sweetest people I know, and I was so happy to be able to attend their wedding. There is a good reason why my friendship with the two of them has lasted this long, despite such distances between us. I wish them both the best of luck!