The final skowl (skål)

- Final words

Prelude, dude

So it is down to the last call. The speaker announces that the doors are closing in two minutes for Ashley, Miriam, Peter and Garcia. San Francisco Airport is not the place to be complacent about you time. Therefore, Casper and I are already here, two hours before take off.

Let me start by making one thing clear: It has been a great pleasure. A pleasure of fun, learning experiences and good old plain hygge. I cannot honestly say I remember everything, but I can only blame the fair bartenders of The Velvet Cantina for any lack of memory. I will see you all in hell – the place where your rum “and” coke-drinks will be too tough for the crowd, including the old fire-blazing, tri-fork poking, horned bugger himself. Ach, I am going to miss that place (I am not referring to hell). Apart from these glimpses of nothingness in my memory, I will definitely remember most of the last three month until I become hunted by Alzheimer’s and everything reverts to the 90’s.

Me English speak

In honor of the people with who we have shared the experiences of these last three month, I am trying to write this post in the obscure and inadequate language of English. Why have you people still not invented a word for “hygge”!?

Since this is only my second language, please excuse me. Those of you who have heard me and Casper speak German, might even argue that English is only our third language, JAAAH!? Aber, this post will be written with the grammar of an early school-child, yet also with the overly self-confidence of an early school-child. My only help is the in-build Microsoft Word Dictionary, the well-intentioned but even more childish Google Translate and two free shots at a Danish online-dictionary. Consequently, I know what I am trying to say, but I might not know what I am saying. Use that knowledge well, my friends. Bring it forth in times of reading trouble to explain anything that might sound irrational or just plain stupid. Do not weigh whether it is the language barrier or my actual intelligence that stands to blame. Always blame the language barrier. Please.

Beautiful people are loved by Oprah

Anyway, as go for you people, the Americans of our journey, you are all one or more of the following:

• Above average intelligent
• Above average humorous
• Above average empathetic
• Above average open-minded
• Above average a lot of other things

None of you have been tightfisted, which is a wonderful word I just learned from my dictionary this very moment. Be aware, though, that this is ‘above average’ on an American scale, as everyone in Denmark possesses all good traits of the human repertoire. That is true, because Oprah said so. Or almost said. It could definitely be the reason why we are so happy. Given that it is not that we are just jollying ignorant. And maybe even tightfisted…

Well, there is no reason to be speculating about these kinds of things at this time of day of the year. Or actually, maybe there is, as the darkness and the cold of the autumn slash winter seems to bring people to philosophize, but at least there is no reason to be rambling on about it. Except for failing to stop typing, which I feel obligated to, because this is my only post in English. Still, rambling will be pretty much in line with the content of the Danish posts.

The good part – goodbyes

Another good thing about the rambling is that it postpones the actual purpose of this post. Saying goodbye, good luck, thanks for everything and see you later. Now, with the revelation of the true truth behind the nonsense, let us get down to business.

Someone once said (at least in Danish): Every time you say goodbye, you die a little. For the most parts, that is bullshit. The only reason you might feel like you die a little, is because you have been enriched by something which it hurts to be parted from. So it is actually your feelings telling your mind that this should not be a final goodbye. That is why a sad goodbye is really one to feel happy about. And vice versa, as a happy goodbye is sad in its lacking sadness. At least in retrospect.

Obviously, all of this is simplified, but I am merely a pocket philosopher, not the frickin’ Aristotle. Anyhow, I will enjoy my mood of sadness with the spirit of a pure sadomasochistic mind.

Cheers, salut, skowl (skål) and take care, everyone.