Day 100 of 100, Nordjylland, Danmark
This is it, the last post of this Hundred Day Diary.
I’m not sure what comes after this yet.
I’ve discovered that I quite enjoy small blogging projects. I’ve been keeping one blog or another since 1998. You’d think that at some point, I would have at least tried topical writing, which bloggers have been doing since day one. But why join the crowd when you can make that realization decades later?
I digress though.
I tossed around writing about living on the road from these lenses:
#1 Unglamorous digital nomadhood.
The idea of the digital nomad being young, successful, good looking, lithe and bikini-clad (if one is a woman) tapping away on the beach by day, and partying till the wee hours is one I come across very often. Sadly, that doesn’t describe me at all. Also, I’m not a beach person. And I can’t see crap on my screen in sunlight. Being someone who spills things, risking the office (heavy ass laptop) to sand / salt water just doesn’t seem like a good idea. And parties? Parties are a special kind of hell for people like me.
What does nomad living look like when one doesn’t look, work, travel, or has the personality of the Instagram / Hollywood travel star?
#2 Seeking quiet across the world
An absorbing, ongoing mission. Sometimes I find it, sometimes I don’t.
#3 Language learning.
I’ve been lazily learning Danish for the past couple of years, as mentioned here and here. When I go back to Singapore, I am reacquainted with the Mandarin I haven’t spoken for almost 2 decades, after escaping the tyranny of Chinese examinations (YAY). I need to pick it up again. I spent a month learning Spanish in Mexico City back in 2013, and would love to keep going.
Funny things always happen when you try out an unfamiliar tongue for size.
As I was writing this post, the neighbour across the road walked in looking for his friend (people don’t lock doors in the country, everyone is welcome). The menfolk have gone to watch the younger generation’s soccer game in the big smoke, so I attempted to convey this in broken Danish.
“He drives to Aalborg with Flemming” was the intended message.
I might have accidentally said “He walks to Aalborg with Flemming.”
“Gå” can be “go” or “walk.” (I forgot “køre” in the excitement, which is “drive”) I have no idea which applies here. Either way, neighbour said, after unfreezing from surprise “Ah, Aalborg!” He’s from Western Jutland, doesn’t understand a word of English, and speaks a dialect that doesn’t sound at all like Danish to me.
We were both a bit shocked at the mutual comprehension.
Weird brown girl learning foreign language. What could possibly go wrong every single day?
In the zeal of writing, all of these, and more, are things I see myself writing about.
But I don’t know.
Right now, I am going to take a break for a couple of weeks, say a proper goodbye to this hyggelig house in the country that has been a sanctuary for the past 2 or 3 months, and get ready to move again.
Thank you for coming along on this journey!