GOODBYE AND HELLO

We said goodbye this month to our friends and neighbors, the Parkers, who returned home to Provo. They were serving as YSA and were much appreciated and loved by two stakes of young adults.  The Parkers were wonderful, helpful, dedicated missionaries.  Brother Parker, an avid genealogist, shared his Danish research skills with me.  A cheerful, whistling, handyman, he carried a Swiss army knife on his belt.   Just in case.  Sister Parker was a natural organizer and manager.  She could whip all us women into an efficient kitchen crew in no time when we were floundering trying to feed 75 missionaries. She also had a map in her head, and was the navigator in the car.  She was never lost. They are home catching up with grand kids and planning their travels.

President and Sister O'Bryant, the Parkers, and us.  Farewell dinner.

The couple replacing them, but going over to Jylland,  are the Larsens from Washington State. Energetic couple.  We volunteered to escort them over to the ferry which would take them to Århus. The Odden ferry is located almost at the end of a small spit of land northwest of Copenhagen. This massive boat carries a hundred cars and is the quickest way to Jylland.  (Then, a few days later, we went again to trade cars.  A confusing story involving car registration and parking legalities in Århus. So the weather in the pictures is dark and dreary or sunny, depending on the day.)

This sign hangs in the harbor on the north shore, next to the road which curls down from the highway.

We headed out on a cold, blustery day following the main road meandering through the spit, the two-lanes brushing close to the ocean and then jumping back to the center.  You would think this area would be commercialized and lined with hotels and ocean-front touristy stuff.  Not so.  This narrow strip  is mostly farmland, surprisingly.  Before the spit, we drove past sleek, white windmills like those lining the freeway across Wyoming.  Further in, gentle hills spread out from the road ending at the ocean on both sides.  You could see coast to coast in the narrower spots.  Half way down the spit, the north side boasted a small harbor clinging to the edge of the sea, with far more boats than the locals could own. Rusted, fishing tubs rubbing shoulders with sleek sailing sloops.   So, summer must bring some tourists.  A few closed tackle shops, eateries and souvenir shops looked tired and defeated in the cold.

Small harbor on the north side about half way down the spit.  At the bottom of this road is the sign shown above.

The coast to coast farm fields are separated by rock walls, long-needled pine trees or tangles of shrubs and are still green.   Farmsteads lay scattered here and there between little red-roofed villages with names like Gudmindrup or Højby; each with the white, stair-step church tower peculiar to Denmark, rising above the red tiles.  A few pastured horses graze near fences,  and geese and swans nest on the frost-stiffened grass.

Second trip, better weather.  You can see the ocean in the background and the frost on the grass.

The main building on these farms is u-shaped with living quarters, barn and feed storage all connected.  I guess the idea years ago was to be able to take care of all the needs of the animals and people without having to go outside.  Other outbuildings huddle close to the main house as if for warmth, or are sometimes attached to the main building like extra limbs.  In the past these farms would have upwards of 70 people.  (I have found whole families of ancestors in the 1736 census living on farms such as these, listed as farm help.) Some folks had tiny plots of land to til, to supplement the food, but owed most of the working time to the landlord.   Children as young as six had chores and jobs.  Everyone worked.  Generations of the same peasant family stayed on the same farm.

This main house has a thatched roof.  You can see two legs of the "U."

I was curious to see just how close to the sea the farms could stretch, so we drove off on a muddy track on the south side.  The sea and the farms were separated by a lane, and a strip of soggy coast with stunted, wind- blown trees common to coastal shores.  

Our first trip, a blustery day with dark clouds scudding across the horizon.  Faded row-boats lay abandoned on the shore.

Apparently the farms are not allowed to run right to the ocean, but come pretty close.  Eventually we ran into a gaggle of little summer homes stretched out along the shore and in toward the center.  Mostly tiny with windows and porches facing the sea, overgrown yards, and abandoned canvas flapping on clotheslines.

Heading back, we couldn't resist stopping at an old church surrounded by a well-tended graveyard. We entered the yard through a curious, celtic-looking gate and found Christmas greens still decorating the graves.  Inside, we found  the chapel complete with a miniature viking ship hung from the ceiling - a common sight in the old Danish churches.

All in all, this little side trip was a fine change from the office.

Burial plots outside the church.  Danes lay pine branches everywhere at Christmas:  at the base of real trees, in planters, window boxes and on graves.  They stay marvelously green because of the cold weather and moisture.

SPROG KLASSE

I officially enrolled in a Danish language course beginning in January.  I attend 2 days a week for two and a half hours per class. The Danish government sponsors these classes because, hey, if you are going to live here and go to school free, and have free medical,  the least you can do is learn their language.  Because it is a free government program, I was expecting some little, neglected, run-down classroom, and a frazzled, volunteer teacher.  Not so. These classrooms are state-of-the-art with computerized whiteboards, printed workbooks, on-line listening practice, and highly paid, well trained teachers.  I am quite impressed with the organization and the resources.  Let's see.  Last month I could have had "Dinner with a Dane" in someone's home, also, a student social with an "Indian" theme, and some enrichment classes several days a week where you go and practice chatting with others.

They are serious about this "learning the language" business.  And they should be because it is HARD. Learning the Danish language is really learning two languages:  the one you learn for reading and writing, and the one you speak.  What you hear is not what you read.  For instance:  "Jeg kan godt lide........"  ( I like......) .    When you pronounce it, you only say part of the letters and smoosh the whole thing together and say it fast.   Jeg kan godt lide.  So it comes out like yikagoalie. Yikagoalie ice cream or yikagoalie pizza.  These phrases even have a name:  short answers.  That is an understatement!  And then there is this student age thing.   Did I mention that I am older than the rest of the class members by 30 years or so?    Did I mention that I am the only person in class who only speaks one language?  And, that most speak more than two? INTIMIDATING.  So we have very young, very bright students from all over the world.  And a grandma.  There are 10 nationalities in a class of 11-17, depending on who shows:   France, England, Croatia, Mexico, Spain, Latvia, Italy, Slovakia, Poland, Denmark (teacher) and CJ and me, Americans.  CJ is from Chicago and speaks Spanish as well.  Of course he does.

I keep praying for the Gift of Tongues.

WARD REPORT

Our grand-daughter, McKenzie, was asked to give a  report on our mission, on the 5th Sunday in church in Mendon,  and I sent the following for her to share.  I though it would be a good thing to share on the blog.  Sincere apologies if you have heard this before.

We’ve really enjoyed our mission and even though we miss our friends and family, it has been the place we know we should be.  We are constantly amazed at what happens behind the scenes to run a mission.  We have about 100 missionaries and it takes 2 full-time and 3 part-time older missionaries to keep things going.  And to think this is repeated in hundreds of missions in the world! 

Our Danish experts:  (top) Elder Bryner (apartments)  and Elder Warnsdorf (phones, cars and language test);  (above) Sister Warnsdorf (immigration and VISAs),  and Elder Buxton,( finance)

We have had some wonderful experiences especially with the young missionaries.  They come to us as young as 18, but they seem much older than that, especially spiritually.  We have attended conferences with them, fed them, gathered materials for them, prayed with them, given them blessings,  and rejoiced in their progress as missionaries and young adults.  They have such positive attitudes and want to spread the gospel to all they meet, and even though they don’t get as many opportunities as they want in Denmark, they remain faithful and committed.  In addition, we have literally seen the Gift of Tongues poured out on these young people. 

Our Grandson, Elder Long,  is serving simultaneously in Ft. Lauderdale, FL and we have been uplifted by his very spiritual letters to our family.  We see that same spirituality in the missionaries here, and even though we are not "actively" proselyting, we feel of their spirit and enjoy having them teach in our home, and discuss gospel topics with us.  The mission is producing some outstanding teachers and leaders.  It is hard to see them leave, but we feel they will add so much to wherever they land "on the other side."

They sometimes look a little goofy, but don't let that fool you.  Turn them loose, and watch out.

We belong to a small branch here in Denmark and have 2 missionaries assigned there with us and two other couples.  We have 1 young man, 3 young women and 5 primary-age children.  The ages range from elderly down to 1 year old Elliot, the “branch’s baby.”  Elder Buxton is the Young Men’s President and Sister Buxton is the 2nd counselor in the Relief Society.  The testimonies of these branch members is strong and firm which is amazing living in a culture which is very permissive.  Many of them have few of their family who are active or even members of the church, yet they continue to hold fast to their testimonies.  We have several professional genealogists in our little branch and have been blessed by them generously sharing their knowledge every third Sunday when the whole ward stays for SOS:  “sandwich og slægtsforskning” (sandwiches and genealogy).  We have been blessed to take names of Danish ancestors to the Copenhagen Temple which is one block from the mission office.

The center picture on the top is President Olsen and his wife, Hannah.  This branch can really put on a dinner!

We are also blessed by the  other couples serving here.  They are wonderful, caring couples who love working for the Lord.  Our mission president is a powerful, spiritual leader as well,  and is wife is also tremendous.  They are the spiritual core of the mission here in Denmark.

Two couples work in record preservation for Family History and the center couple is YSA, and our neighbors.  From the left:  Ottleys, us, Parkers, Brookes.

We know that the gospel blesses the lives of all who keep the commandments and strive to live worthily of having the Holy Ghost as a constant companion.  We have felt the Lord’s peace and love especially as we went through the sad and sudden loss of a beautiful grand-daughter.   We learned much about grief, gratitude, love and most of all the importance of family.  Even though it was very painful, it has been a testimony strengthening experience. We know the church is true.  We love the Danish people and we love our mission here.

ARCTIC BLAST

We have had a packed house in the office since Christmas:  new missionaries coming, missionaries leaving,  language tests travelers,  immigration snafu victims,  and Missionary Leadership Council members.  Missionaries crowd into the office from  ferries, trains and planes.  Add big winter coats and backpacks, and our little office fills up fast.  Sometimes it's like negotiating an obstacle course to get down the hall to the supply closet. Missionaries are good to haul back supplies for their areas, so backpacks are crammed to zipper-busting fullness.  These become bulging weapons when the missionaries sling them on.  If you don't watch it, you could be out cold with a hit to the jaw......... Bless.  We love them.
Winter has settled in with an arctic blast.  The lakes are frozen over except for a little puddle on the third lake where all the ducks and swans huddle together against a stone wall.  It's a cozy neighborhood.  I hope they can get along for a month or two in a tiny puddle.  Humans probably wouldn't do so well.

View out the back door.  It's about 9 am on a cloudy, windy day.

Since we've been inside a lot, I thought I would share a trip we took back in the fall.  We hopped a train north to Helsingør; a  beautiful town where Elder Buxton served 50 years ago.  It is home to a famous castle called Kronborg Slot. Built in the 1400's, it was immortalized as Elsinore in Shakespeare's, Hamlet, and is now often referred to as Hamlet's Castle.      

Stan buying tickets.  Quaint ticket booth, ehh?  You can see the moat, spires and the long bridge into the castle.

It dominates the  land jutting out into  a narrow neck of ocean,  just a stone's throw from Sweden.   This fortress originally controlled the entrance to the Baltic Sea and was built so the King could collect dues from anyone entering the strait. Visitors refusing the payment faced  a volley of shots from the cannons which still sit along the sea wall aimed toward Sweden.

The ferry between Helsingør and Sweden.  You can see the coast of Sweden clearly, 4 km away.  The cannons are about where we are standing taking the picture.

This medieval fortress was later rebuilt into a magnificent Renaissance castle, complete with arches, carved columns, nail-studded, thick doors and hidden passages and tunnels for the soldiers. Dungeons included.  Apparently, the king had many dwellings and moved his whole entourage when he got the urge, rolling up rugs and carting furniture and pictures as well, leaving the castle as a huge storage shed for vegetables and building supplies until his next visit.

The inside is sparsely furnished now, but plenty of posturing gentry gaze down from huge framed pictures, and the murals stretch from corner to corner.  The doorways are heavily gilded and garnished with cherubs and gorgoyles and such.  The checker board-floored Great Ballroom stretches the whole length of one floor and was also the site for huge banquets. Guests at the many parties were seated along the walls at opulent banqueting tables loaded with food.  At least 24 main dishes were served including fish, hare and lobster, and the centerpieces would be in the form of wild boar heads and stuffed peacocks with outspread tails. Each feast was accompanied by vast amounts of wine, entertainment, and dancing,  and often lasted several days. The parties at Kronborg were well known and very lavish.  Ah, to be royalty.

The Great Ballroom, left, was the largest such hall in all of Europe.  Missing are the magnificent chandeliers which held a myriad of candles.

Since this is know as Hamlet's Castle, what better place to stage productions of, you guessed it, Shakespeare's Hamlet.  One room has pictures of scenes in the castle and prominent actors who have played the role here, including Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole.  I know. Generation Gap.
One more thing.  In the caverns under the castle, sits a statue of this big guy:  Holger Danske. Legend has it that he knows everything that happens in Denmark, and will wake up one day to protect her when she needs him.

After the castle tour, we wandered around town a bit.  Some of these places  probably haven't changed much since Stan was here half a century ago.  Did I just say half a century?  Does that sound older than 50 years somehow?  Anyway.  We love to peek into inner courtyards like the one on the bottom left which shows the old tudor- style architecture.  And yes, people actually live here. Mustard yellow was definitely "in" back in the day.  Lovely old city.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

The Danes are very passionate about several things:  Danish pastry, good food and drink, socialism,  their Queen, and warm black stockings.  To name a few.  Well, just this week, I have added something else to the list: FIREWORKS!!  Who knew.  Apparently that is The Most Popular way to celebrate the New Year in Copenhagen.  Well this is not unusual, you say.  If you watch TV on New Year's Eve, you'll see countries around the world doing the very same thing.  So?  True, but it's a little different here because there are 5 million pyromaniacs in Copenhagen.  And they are in an all-out  war to see who can shoot the most color in the sky, with the most noise on New Year's Eve.  No pansy, city-sponsored 30- minute display.  Oh no.  This is an all out battle of the citizens for 10 to 11 hours.  These are not sparklers and small do-it-yourself bottle rockets and poppers like are legal at home.  No Sir! These are the big boys.  The 100-feet in the air stuff. The Michael Ortman, Jordan Buxton in-your-dreams stuff.  You think I'm exaggerating. I have Proof.  Camera and Video.

The picture just doesn't show how crazy it was. These things were going up all over the city and around the lake.  Constant.  You can see the pockets of light on the horizon in the top photo.

It started about 3 in the afternoon on the 31st, and since it is pretty dark  by 4, that's when the action really picked up.  There were pockets of explosions booming in every direction, the sound echoing off the buildings and bouncing like boomerangs.  Umbrellas of sparkles spread  above every rooftop. Since the  lakes we live by have lots of launching spots,  many hauled their loot here to explode.  Not 20 feet from my back window and over the hedge,  these crazed loonies were blasting away.  Not only that, but in every open plaza, patch of grass, and even middle of the street, crowds gathered. The buses and cars just swerved around them.  It sounded seriously like a war zone.  FOR 10 HOURS. Non-stop.  If there were fire trucks or ambulances for the wounded, you wouldn't hear them.  It was quite a magnificent display.  We trooped up to the roof about midnight to get a better view of the city and then just stayed up because it was too noisy to sleep.  It was beautiful, but the show lasted just a tad too long for me. Thankfully, it finally died down about 2:30 AM.  I chuckle when I compare it to Mendon, where we open the back door at midnight to see if we can figure out who shot off the rifle or banged their pots and pans with a spoon.

Some stray Elders who joined the couples for dinner.  From L: Elders Jensen, Fairbanks, Nielsen and Nielsen.  They were instructed to be inside all evening and home at 10:30 and to stay indoors.  They kept jumping up from eating to see the fireworks.  They loved the view from the roof patio.

The debri in the streets and around the lake the next day was unbelievable!  There is a Muslim center just a few houses down from our apartment.  This Muslim community, as a show of support for the Danish people, picked up all the garbage around the lakes after their 6 AM prayers on January 1st. It was a wonderful gesture.  As long as we are making New Years Resolutions, might we not have a prayer in our hearts for compassion, understanding and tolerance. We are all brothers and sisters. The love of the Savior extends to all and we, of all people, should be the most charitable, the most loving, and the most tolerant.  Happy New Year to all our wonderful friends and neighbors!!!

CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas from Copenhagen.  Here is a run-down of our Christmas Season:

Holidaze. First of all, we spent many days and a good number of nights helping  put together Christmas for the missionaries.  Someone had the bright idea to do a picture slide show of all the missionaries when they were younger.  Every family was asked to send 3 or 4 pictures by October 30th, to be included.  Our Christmas Conference was scheduled for December 9th.  Plenty of time.  Well, these pictures trickled in until The. Last. Minute.  Besides the last minute rush, we found that all pictures do not open the same when sent from different computers and servers.  ARGHHHH.   And, many pictures tried to get lost in the deluge of e-mails we received each day.  Oh it was fun.  Elder Buxton stayed up  one whole night working on it and was happy to report that people do walk along the lake path right by our apartment.  The entire night.    Just as we suspected.  But, in the end, it was worth it to watch the missionaries so enjoy seeing each other as kids.

UPS  (unwrapped present storage)  Contrast the two pictures  of packages/mail.  The first picture is a normal month's worth of packages which show up here.   We cannot forward packages, so they all have to stay until monthly conferences.  The second picture is the December Christmas packages. Stacks.  Piles. Walls of packages.  Ready to topple at the smallest nudge.  The president's office, where we stored all these,  smelled suspiciously of chocolate mint.  What you can't see is the hundreds of cards and letters, tucked into boxes.  NOT exaggerating.  You figure 100 missionaries and every missionary got a minimum of 6 or 7 letters.  You do the math.  More fun:  we had to divide the heaps into zones, and we had to keep track of who didn't get a package so we could provide one.  Oh well, it was hard to be Scroogy when the missionaries were so tickled at zone conference with anything from home.

Celebration.  We scouted out a score of Christmas markets, spent a few nights at Tivoli and ended up with a Christmas Eve dinner at our apartment with the couples in Copenhagen.  It wasn't quite the same as having family around, but it was very nice.

Christmas Eve.  Meet the couples:  clockwise from my left.  The Brookes (he is a train nut and she is our Christmas Market tour guide);  the Ottleys (he's a physicist and a walking encyclopedia and she is the mother of nine); the Parkers (our neighbors in the building and retired managers of  Aspen Grove, the big church family camp ground near Provo).  Super people.

Tivoli, all decked out for Christmas.  The lights really are white, not yellow.  We actually ate sandwiches in this park.  In a sleigh.  Outside.  Could see our breath.  Hey, that is what you do here.

The Reason for the Season.  Between our various conferences and branch celebrations, we also found  time to get to Vor Frue Kirke (The Church of our Lady) to see the original Kristus and the statues of the twelve apostles.  Located on a narrow side street, this church is very Greek looking with Roman columns and lintels.   Huge, carved wooden doors stand open so you can walk directly into the small foyer then into  the cavernous chapel with a wide, tiled avenue running straight between the high-back pews to the dais with the Kristus,  glowing in a golden alcove. This alcove is flanked by marble columns and huge antique candelabras.  The lighting draws your eye directly to the statue.  This famous statue was carved by a Dane, Bertel Thorvaldsen, and has become a symbol of the Mormon Church because of the copy on Temple Square.  Pedestals along the sides of the chapel hold the statues of the 12 apostles, each separated by alcoves with fenced seating on two levels.  The 12  were also carved by Thorvaldsen when he was in Rome. (He brought them to Denmark and it has been a bit of a sore spot for the Italians.  Our church has commissioned replicas of the 12  statues to be made and displayed in the Rome Temple Visitors center as a gift to the Italians.)  This marvelous church holds regular services and is available for weddings and christenings.  Bells ring out over the rooftops celebrating every event.

It was good to end the week by focusing on the Savior and The Gift of His life and sacrifice for us. What a blessing it was to reflect on all we have as we chatted and skyped with our loved ones at home. Closing that distance between us just a little, brought great joy to our hearts, and made me realize how much Heavenly Father and the Savior desire us to do the same with them.  
 

CHRISTMAS AT THE PIG FARM

Christmas markets start popping up all over Denmark after Thanksgiving. These sprout up for several weeks in December, on the "walking street" in Copenhagen, in numerous small town squares and even inside castles and courtyards  Like this one in Copenhagen:

Sister Brookes, determined to find every. single. one.,  has been  dubbed  our "Christmas Market Tour Director."  We started out with the Barnholm Ferry (a winner), found the Hans Christian Anderson Market in Copenhagen (a bit over-rated), and tried the public square in Roskilde (a bust because of rain.)  Well, she outdid herself last weekend. She found one in a small town called Borups, and the picture on the internet lured her with an old manor house, plus wagons pulled by horses, and promises of a "unique" experience.  Elder Buxton's job was to translate the Danish website for the details such as transportation and time tables.  Right.

We (Buxtons, Ottleys and Brookes) arrive via train, and find the good citizens of Borup not sure where the market is,  but think it is perhaps about 3 km. out of town.   On a farm.   No problem; we'll take the bus.  Problem:  seems it doesn't come by very often.

Bus stop.  No bus. (Check out my winter boots.)  

Thankfully, a kind couple who were on the train offered to take some of us in their car.   Problem:  It is a tiny car.  Chivalry demands that the 3 women ride and the husbands wait for a bus or walk.  Good plan.   Sure enough,  about 3 km. along a windy asphalt road, we three are dropped off at a muddy farm track lined with Danish flags.  Cars are filing in, so we figure it's the entrance.   As we get within smelling distance, we find out two things real fast:   1. This is a PIG farm.  A big, pig farm.  2. People are arriving in cars because there are NO buses on the weekend!

A farm employee named Michael took pity on us and drove his rusted, red farm truck back down the road to find the stragglers.   Bless the man.  With a lot of apprehension, we got in line with the cars,  paid the entrance fee, and followed the muddy road around a turn.  To our delight,  a beautiful, old estate unfolded before us at the end of a pine tree lined path.

The estate is called Svenstrup Gods and it is indeed a working farm.  Thousands of hectares of farm and forest.  They raise 10,000  pigs and pheasants a year.  The pheasants are let loose in the forests for hunters.  Thankfully, the pigs are in sheds way over by the entrance.   The house inhabited  by "The Baron" and "The Baroness."  She ladled stew inside the market.

Families strolled up and down the road and bunched around the out buildings and the estate mansion (dating back to 1700) .  Big-hoofed horses, breath puffing out in the cold, pulled wagons full of rosy cheeked riders in a wide arch around woods full of  huge, rough-bark, crooked-limbed trees, hiding an old thatched-roof,  mushroom-shaped hut. Green fields stretched in all directions.   SUNNY. Pastoral.  Perfect

Riding in the horse cart with  the Brookes and circling the estate .  Every time I tried to take a picture of the hut, we jiggled.  You get the idea.

Meet Michael, our rescuer (top picture) with Elder Buxton.  Michael supervises all the buildings and was a fountain of information about the estate. 

The Christmas Market, located in the old horse stables was a delight:  cobble-stone floors with bits of straw still underfoot and  horse stalls lining the walls; each framed with a fancy, carved, wooden arch and ceramic tiles on the back wall.  Lucky horses. Each stall was strung with tiny, twinkling lights, draped with greenery,  and stuffed with home-made goodies from vintage clay ornaments (made by Daria and Diana, Romanian sisters) to the cutest stuffed moose and mice, woolen clothing and  intricate folded paper ornaments.  And the food: wine (of course), home-made hot mustard,  hard tack candy and black licorice to buy, and stew and æbleskiver for lunch. We browsed for hours.

The arches separate each stall.  Can you see the tile on the walls?  Pampered, just pampered.  I hear the Queen's stables are marble.

Just a tiny glimpse of all the booths, overflowing into several other outbuildings.  One booth, sandwiched between a tangle of glass ornaments and the dessert pancakes caught our attention.  Can you pick the picture that is SO OUT OF PLACE HERE?  Yes you are seeing right.  TUPPERWARE.  In Denmark.  In a horse barn Christmas market.  Criminal.

We ate too much and spent too much.  Reluctantly, we turned to leave and Michael, who had generously given us his phone number, offered to shuttle us back.  We decided to walk because it was such nice weather.  We voted it the best Christmas Market yet, and promised ourselves to return next year.  Sister Brookes really scored on this one.

The view from the road as we are leaving.  

Side Note:  This was so interesting to me because in my Danish Census Research I have found rural records with huge lists of multiple families and employees listed as workers on the farm.   I'm guessing much as this one was a hundred years ago.  I can't image how harsh the Utah deserts much have seemed to these faithful, stalwart Saints.  I am so thankful for our Danish ancestors who had the courage and strength and testimony to leave this beautiful place for the gospel.