My First Day in Denmark......Sounds Boring But Stick It Out

Whew! Finally here! My flights were uneventful and on time. All of my luggage made it…wheels, handles and tags intact. My mood was pretty good thanks to “podding” across the Atlantic in one of those first class seats that go flat for sleeping. As an added bonus, a chatty Mary Walsh was a couple of pods behind me and Air Canada gave us some nice swag.

John picked me up at the airport; we got all of the bags into the back of the little tin can Toyota he’s rented……it’s smaller than a Yaris! He told me the automatic Audi would take 12 weeks to get here, so now we have to decide whether we’re going to take it in a stick, or look for something else. This’ll make a good job for the weekend. We drove straight to the house to drop off the luggage before dinner and to have a look around.

The landlord has been by to collect some of his belongings. When John moved in last Monday, the house was still full of his family’s personal things. There were at least a dozen statues of Buddha. The drawers in the buffet were full of odds and ends. There were dishes in the dishwasher. The vacuum cleaner was plugged in but no one had cleaned. All of the bedding was still here. Most of the bedding is still here. About 95% of the Buddha’s are gone. There is still a giant size paper lei tacked to the dining room wall and a dozen or so dusty artificial flower arrangements. There is a lot of stuff that needs to be taken out, and a lot of stuff that still needs to be done. The heaters don’t work…….neither do the washer and dryer, but a new set is to be delivered next Tuesday. The arms of the white sofa are nasty (*flips through the IKEA catalog*). Do they sell fireplace grates, carpet shampooers, and brooms, too?

This morning, the first thing I saw when I got out of bed was a black cat strolling along the side of the pool. I’m really not superstitious, but……..wouldn’t you know it? The internet was out. I couldn’t find John’s phone number to let him know I was going to be off line all day with my sanity hanging by a thread, so I decided to clean the landlord’s junk out of the kitchen to pass the time. I stayed in my best flannel nightgown and wore my navy quilted jacket to keep me warm in the freezing kitchen. I complemented my ensemble with a lovely worn pair of Sherpa fleece slippers and some plaid reading glasses……all the better to see the dirt. I certainly wasn’t expecting a gentleman caller at 9:15. But then I guess the gentleman caller wasn’t exactly expecting me either. Maybe he got a bigger shock than I did…..if that’s possible.

Poor man, he was expecting a young Thai hottie and he got a jet lagged earth mother instead.

When the doorbell rang, my first thought was not to answer it, which is what I mostly did in Baku. Talking to someone through the gate phone, there, was a waste of time and the energy needed to do the three flights of stairs to get down to the door phone. Telemarketing in Baku is nonexistent but door to door peddling is still big. I was never keen to buy household cleaners that come in old Pepsi bottles…..though I do believe all claims that said product would eat the grime of anything it came into contact with…..easily.

This time I decided to be friendly, turn over a new leaf, and despite looking a little bit odd and eccentric, I went to the door. Through the glass I could see a nice looking man, somewhere in his 40’s, I think….I opened the door and he sort of chuckled. I gave him the quizzical eyebrow…. (not what he came for)….

”Yes?”, says I.

“I guess you’re new here,” he replies in heavily accented English.

“We moved in last night.”

“Oh,” he says…….“I was looking for the ladies.” (Which he obviously hasn’t found)

“Ladies?”......another quizzical eyebrow.

“Yes, there were some very nice ladies here.”

“Ladies???..... Here???”.... (Quizzical eyebrow is replaced with a deeply furrowed one.)

“Oh, yes, VERY NICE ladies.” (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.)

He then said that this was a place for "bol".... but he didn't know the English word for it

“Ladies? Did these happen to be Thai ladies by any chance?" (The wife of the landlord is Thai.)

“Yes, VERY NICE ladies. I'm a very good customer.”

“Oh. I see.” (Unfortunately, I think I really DO see.)

“How long are you leasing for?”

“Um……Not as long as I planned, actually.”

“Well, I'm sure you will meet many more like me." (Chuckles)

“Maybe you can make a little money while you are here.” (Shrugs)

“But you might want to take that heart off the door if you don’t.” (Points)

“Huh???” (Follows finger, sees shiny red glass heart hanging by a string on the front door and removes it.) “Thanks.”

“Bye”

“Bye” (Shuts and locks door, shuts inside door, catches a glimpse of self in the mirror…..finds John’s new phone number in less than 10 seconds.)

I honestly didn’t know where to begin telling John about what had just happened. I didn’t want to freak him out and have him think I was hurt or anything, but it definitely started as one of those phone calls where the recipient feels the need to steal themselves for a blow. I tried to laugh, which I think only made me sound hysterical (which to my credit I wasn’t), so I ended up making an impossible riddle about what would be the deal breaker on this house. Considering we’d been dealing with left over dirt, third party clutter, and non-working heaters, I’m sure John expected to hear that the roof was leaking. So I had to repeat “We are living in a brothel”…….twice….maybe three times. I told him about the man at the door. I started to cry and laugh all at the same time again. Oh...I think that IS hysterical. But….geez….a funny story is a funny story…..

Until the “john” who has issues with his mother shows up and wants to disembowel you.

I was just gobsmacked that the nice young man who we rented from was a pimp. John thought it through a bit more and concluded that the nice young man probably had no idea what was going on in his house when he wasn’t home. I guess the red heart on the door was a “Coast is Clear – Open for Business” code…..buddy did tell me to take it off.

The heart that is.

John set up a meeting at our house for 5 PM and booked the hotel I demanded he book. He talked to the lawyer at work that had drawn up and signed our lease. I made sure all of the blinds were drawn at the front of the house and settled in for the day at the dining room table. Then I thought maybe John should just call this guy to tell him over the phone that we were getting outta Dodge….forget the face to face. Like…..how do you tell someone that his wife’s been turning tricks in their home behind his back? I think the phone is as good a way as any….so John called him.

I’m not sure if that was the best thing to do, after all, since I didn’t get to see the look on his face and he came to the meeting with his own “logical explanation”. Apparently, his “girl” had a massage business that she conducted out of the house but she had closed it 6 months ago because business was bad.

Uh, huh….sure she did.

I did get the impression that the poor sap believed it when he said it was “massage only, not for sex.” He said he had papers from the government to prove that there was such a business and that it was closed. So here we sat…..the three of us, around the dining room table. I’m retelling my morning experience wondering if it’s going to sink in about his wife. He isn’t biting. He didn’t seem as surprised as I would think he would be if someone told me the same thing was going on in my household. John thinks it was just beyond his comprehension. I’m still not sure. He stands to lose the tenant he has in the house he tried to rent for 4 months. He seems to need money and there were holes in the toes of both of his socks.

The little “missus” seems too busy to take care of her own man.

By the end of an hour, John and I are both reconsidering. I know John feels terribly sorry for the guy and I’m not so sure we can get out of the lease. Well, if the company can get out of it, since they signed it, and pay the rent….the legal department wasn’t sure (since prostitution is legal in Denmark)....and I have no proof that there was even a guy at my door. (The next one will pose for a photo.) We decide to stay one more night and think it over.

On Friday things seem to look better. No one comes to the door and I’m just looking forward to dinner out and a visit to IKEA. Sometimes the ability to ignore the bad stuff comes in handy. My head is trying to accept the situation and it's doing a decent job of it. Every once in a while I get the heebie-jeebies. Today my gut was winning and I've found myself online looking at the housing sites again. John drew up a list of things we want done....starting with replacing the furniture and a thorough 3rd party cleaning of the house. I'm not sure there is enough Clorox in all of Scandinavia, even if the landlord does agree to it.

He swore up and down that his wife and her son had no trouble from any of the customers who came for a "massage". Everyone was very nice about it.....just like the ladies, I guess. Everyone is very nice and civilized in Denmark, are they not? John and I find ourselves catching glimpses and laughing. Then I start to cry a little bit....because deep down I probably am hysterical, and I know he is going on a business trip to Baku in a week.

And why is my dog in Canada?

Since the Danes don't allow people to shop on Sundays for anything but cars, we went car shopping and picked out a Volkswagon Golf....the Audi A3 had only one cup holder in the front. Talk about your deal breakers. We loved the car but one cup holder just wasn't going to cut it.

On the way home from car shopping, we see one of our next door neighbors for the first time. The gentleman is struggling to get his electric scooter up into his driveway. It's obvious he's had a stroke sometime ago, and with his one good hand, he can't seem to budge the scooter. John parks the car in our driveway and goes over to help. I'm not sure whether the neighbor was so grateful for the help that he felt a return favor was in order but......he told John that the "very nice ladies" who lived there before us were "selling sex." John hadn't even asked him if he knew the last people. John did ask him how long ago they had stopped. He was told about a month ago. That's when the lot of them left the house and went on holiday to Bangkok. Hookers from Bangkok......geez...

We sort of remembered now that there was a car load of young women who drove out of the driveway on one of the afternoons we went to look at the house. I've also remembered that the bedding on the bed on the master bedroom was different each time we went to the house...and different again from the bedding in the photo of it on the web. I need to remember that there is a reason for most weird stuff. Next time....no weird stuff will go unexplained.

I really think, if there is any way at all I am getting out of here. John likes the house but will go if I'm not comfortable. If I am being completely honest with myself, I don't think I am....no matter how funny this is. It will be just as funny twenty years from now whether I'm here for 2 more days or 2 years.

On Friday, the landlord came by with a big sign for the front door which says, in Danish, "Business closed" Do not ring the door bell. There is a new person here." He said if someone rings the bell they are stupid.

Ummmm...yeah....

**This morning I finally got around to running a google translate on "bol". I took a one more stab at the spelling, but "bolle" from Danish to English - try it and see what comes up.**

** This afternoon I got the word to pack up we're getting out. The company is sending out a letter to inform the landlord we are vacating. One more night then it's off to a hotel. Who suggested we get one of those black light things that show you where the splatters are? That could have waited till we were gone, couldn't it?**