GUYS! I arrived in Denmark! (I’m alive, for all those who have been waiting to hear from me.) I started flying Thursday morning and was either in a plane or airport until Friday afternoon. After arriving in Iceland I tried to quickly make myself look vaguely presentable to meet Henry coming off my last plane. The tiny, gorgeous and very quiet airport in Reykjavik had a tiny, gorgeous, quiet (and did I mention, TINY) bathroom where I was unable to undress and put on the extra clothes I had shoved in my backpack for this purpose.
I got on the last plane in my window seat next to a very nice man who looked annoyed (though not towards us) at the fact that he was stuck in the middle seat between two women who didn’t take up much space. After anxiously listening to the same song on repeat for an hour, I sort of slept before the announcement that we were getting ready to land.
Looking out the window I saw the terrifying bridge that leaves Denmark, goes halfway into the water, disappears and opens up again into Sweden.
I’ve been preparing for this trip for months. After Henry and I had been dating for maybe a few weeks, he asked me to come to Copenhagen with him. We had our time together in Seattle while he prepared to go, about a week of him being there before I bought my ticket and then three months to prepare myself mentally to be there. It didn’t hit me until I saw that bridge that I was actually IN DENMARK.
I got off the plane, went to the bathroom and sighed discontentedly at the sweaty, exhausted person in the mirror across from me and decided to just go wait for my luggage. I found it and got incredibly nervous as I walked through customs (wait – don’t you need to see my passport? is this the place he told me to meet him? is some Danish officer going to arrest me for not being Danish enough? but really, why haven’t you stamped my passport?) and looked around trying to see where I might find the tall gingery man I’d been waiting to long to see.
He came right up to me as I walked through the gates and my heart skipped a beat to see the man (even taller and more handsome than I remembered) I’d been apart from for so long (I’m reading this in your voices, dear readers, and am also disgusted…but oh so happy). We got out of the way and he obliged me as I clung on to him in a never ending hug. Exhausted, overwhelmed and a little in disbelief, I followed him to pick up his bike and together we walked towards the metro station, off two steps later and then a 15 minute walk towards a new home. My host parents (what I call them in my head…they are something between landlords and surrogate Danish parents) were not home and Henry cooked some food for me before I passed out from absolute exhaustion.
I’m here; jet lagged, sick and terrible at speaking Danish, but I’m here.