Launched in 2013, the “How to Live in Denmark” podcast is the longest-running podcast about living in Denmark in English. It covers every aspect of living in Denmark and Danish life, including moving to Denmark, adjusting to life in Denmark, Danish customs, Danish weather, Danish customs, and Danish people, all with gentle humor.
With nearly 150 short episodes, there is plenty to listen to as you pack for your move to Denmark, relax in your Danish summerhouse, or survive the long, dark Danish winter.
If you live in city or a big town in Denmark, you may notice that the weekends are getting very quiet just about now.
The streets outside my home in Copenhagen are empty. The streetlights just change from red to green and back again, but no cars ever pull up. Nobody comes to cross the street. It’s a little like a scene a movie right after the zombie apocalypse.
I’ve been away from the podcast for a couple weeks. I’ve been on vacation in the USA. But I’m back now, and it only takes a few minutes after I arrive at Kastrup airport before something happens to destroy the relaxing effect of 2 weeks off and several thousand kroner spent on spas, hotels and tasty dinners.
Danes have stereotypes about each other, something that amazed me when I first arrived here. You have five and a half million people, and you’re dividing yourselves into groups!
But Danes themselves imagine a big difference between people from Sjelland, the island with Copenhagen on it, and Jylland, the bigger part of Denmark that is connected to Germany.
As the stereotype goes, people from Jylland are seen as quiet, reliable, trustworthy, and likely to marry young and start families soon after. They have distinctive and sometimes impenetrable accents, particularly the ones from Sonderjylland, near the German border. ‘Jyske’ people love the Royal Family and are much more likely to serve in the army or the police forces.
And people from Jylland are also sometimes seen as stubborn and very tight with money. They want to drive a hard bargain.
I can testify that there is some truth to this. I occasionally sell my daughter’s outgrown clothes and toys on the Den Blå Avis, Denmark’s version of eBay, and I’ve almost stopped selling to buyers in Jylland.
First, they want a discount, then they want me to arrange the cheapest shipping possible in a manner that causes me the greatest amount of bother. When the object arrives, they inevitably find some small flaw and want all their money back.
All this for items that cost less than 100 kroner, often less than 50 kroner. I think the thrill of the getting a better deal matters more than the few kroner they save.
But maybe they’re just responding to the stereotype about people from Copenhagen, which is that they look down on Jylland’s bonderøve – literally, ‘peasant butts’ – and do their best to cheat them out of their hard-earned money.
I don’t know if there are many actual Danish cheaters on the streets of Copenhagen these days – I think pickpocketing and fraud games have been outsourced to poverty-stricken immigrants – but people from Copenhagen are still seen as slick and slightly dishonest.
From the Jyske point of view, Danes from Copenhagen are Københavnersnuder – Copenhagen snouts, who are smart-asses, fast-talkers, and prone to exaggeration. Everything in Copenhagen is, in their eyes, the biggest and the best in Denmark. Kobenhavnersnuder wear odd, overpriced eyeglasses, and the men wear Hugo Boss suits.
Kobenhavnersnuder have jobs that are non-jobs, like Senior Communications Consultant or B-to-B SEO specialist. By comparison, people from Jylland have real jobs – like pig farmer, or Lego designer.
Of course, there are so many people from Jylland living in Copenhagen these days that the stereotypes have started to dissipate a bit.
As Denmark becomes a more international country, maybe that will happen with national stereotypes as well.
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Image mashup copyright Kay Xander Mellish [current_year]
Read also: Denmark is not just Copenhagen: Exploring the Danish countryside
More than a decade after moving to Denmark, I am pretty well integrated into Danish society.
I’ve learned to speak Danish, I pay my taxes, I bike everywhere, I send my daughter to a Danish school. I enjoy a nice slice of dark rye rugbrød – even when I’m on my own and don’t have to impress anyone with how healthy I’m eating.
But there are a few ways I simply refuse to integrate. I will not do things the Danish way.
In general, Danes are not gossips, particularly about the sex lives of people they know.
It’s partly the Danish fetish for privacy, partly the basic acceptance of all things sexual, partly the lack of naughty excitement about all things sexual.
Danish politicians, for example, don’t have sex scandals. French politicians have sex scandals. American politicians have sex scandals. Danish politicians have tax scandals.
They could be bedding down every night with a chimpanzee and the Danish media wouldn’t touch it.
There’s a postcard you can buy at souvenir shops called The Perfect European. You’ve probably seen it somewhere. Last time I went through Kastrup airport, there was a poster version in the customs area.
The postcard has been around since the 1980s, and it has several small cartoons, illustrating each nationality within the 1980s EU, and making a sarcastic remark about what it does best. It says: The Perfect European is as humorous as a German. The Perfect European drives like the French. The Perfect European is as humble as a Spaniard, as organized as a Greek, as calm as an Italian, and serves traditional British food.
And, according to the postcard, The Perfect European is as discreet as a Dane. A little cartoon in the lower-right-hand corner shows a blond Danish man opening his coat to show off pictures of naked ladies.
Denmark was the first country in the world to legalize pornography, in 1969. And for awhile, it was the world’s leading exporter of pornography.
I’m sitting at my desk in Copenhagen right no
w, and it’s noon, but it’s not really very light. Outside the sky is grey, and the air is kind of thick, and soupy. And it’s cold. I’m indoors, and the heat’s on to the max, but I’m wearing a thick woolen scarf and a knit hat.
This week, I found myself running from Sølvtoret, where I mistakenly got off the bus, to Søtorvet, where my business meeting was. Sølvtoret and Søtorvet were about fifteen minutes apart by foot, and it was ten minutes before I had to be there, so I was moving pretty quickly.
When I first visited Denmark, back in my Eurail pass days, I didn’t like it much. Copenhagen was very different in those days: less prosperous, less open, less social.
There were few cafés then, and I had a lot of trouble finding something to eat. I walked and walked and ended up in the coffee shop at the SAS Radisson Hotel, a big 1970s concrete block on Amager.
Anyway, I took only one picture that day, and it was of a toilet at the hotel. It was the most beautifully designed toilet I had ever seen. All round, streamlined corners. It looked like a cross between an egg and a spaceship. I was really impressed. I took a picture.
I didn’t know it then, but I’d just seen my first example of local Danish design.
Noma, the fancy Copenhagen restaurant, has again been named one the world’s best by the international culinary elite.
Given the general quality of Danish cuisine, this is a little bit like a dwarf winning the Olympic high jump. The truth is, everyday Danish food is inexpensive, filling, and occasionally tasty, but it is anything but fancy.
Like Noma – which proudly serves dishes like ‘shrimp and goose foot’ and ‘beef tartar and ants’ – traditional Danish cuisine relies heavily on local ingredients. Before World War II, Denmark was one of the poorest countries in Europe, and there were usually only local ingredients to be had.
This means fish, potatoes, onions, beets and pork are the bedrock of most Danish dishes. And then there is rugbrød, the traditional Danish dark rye bread.