Two years ago, Pam decided we were to spend her 50th outside of the country. I’m not sure if she thought she’d cheat the system somehow and remain in her 40’s by doing this but it did provide grounds to visit Iceland. Last year we decided to carry on with this Labor Day, week-long, travel protocol and visit Ireland. This year’s mission brought us to Copenhagen and Sweden. The impetus behind this was reconnecting with old friends. Pam earned her PhD in malaria from the University of Copenhagen during 2002-2007 and then pursued malaria research for the same university in Tanzania from 2007-2012. During these ten years, Pam developed some warm relationships with her fellow scientists and researchers. But that said, Pam had not seen some of these folks for 15 years or more.
A short train ride in a tunnel and over a bridge would be all it took to find my long lost peeps in southern Sweden, the Fransens. I’ve known them for over 30 years and saw them last in 2012. When they used to live an hour outside Paris, I visited them there in their very old French country home. In the late 90’s they moved back to Sweden, the country of their origin where I visited them in 2002, 2010, and 2012. The Swedish journeys mentioned here have been dutifully logged on this blog so please refer to them if you find that all other forms of entertainment available to you have, by some means, expired.
The flight to Copenhagen gave me little sleep, due in large part to the fact that the woman seated behind me seemed to have mistaken the back of my seat for a mechanical bull that was to be ridden to victory. I put such people in the same human folder as those who give no courtesy to pedestrians while driving and no courtesy to drivers while they are pedestrians. All they know is the current role they occupy. In this case, this woman could never comprehend that were she on the receiving end of her unrealistic amount of movement, she would have felt like an astronaut in a pilot’s seat who has grossly miscalculated their reentry into Earth’s atmosphere.
We landed in the early morning and took the train from the airport to Lund, Sweden where we rented a car and drove to our Airbnb in Höör, also the town where Margaretha and Cebe Fransen lived in their near 300-year old Swedish farmhouse. Our lodgings looked like a large dark box that was placed in the border of a swamp, without any trees taken down before or after such placement. The structure was only a couple years old and although was completely covered on the inside by some light-colored, knotty, soft wood, it had a very modern style. The main sleeping quarters were located up in a loft accessed by a reasonably precarious ladder/stairway. Going to sleep each night up there made one feel like a child who ran away from their home but only made it as far as their tree fort in the woods.
After a nap of profound depth, we went to Margaretha and Cebe’s. Pam was overwhelmed with the ancient charm and great warmth of the house, its interior furnishings, and its owners. It pleased me to see Cebe still smoked the cigarette-sized cigars I remembered from years ago. Outside in the courtyard, the two of us lit up and showed Pam the old barn and the pleasing grounds. Once inside, Cebe opened the above average bottle of scotch we brought him and the two of us toasted a wonderful past and present.
An hour later we sat down at the old, rough, wooden table that has sponsored its share of overeating and overdrinking for me in the past quarter century. Tonight we dined on an old favorite: fondue. With this fondue arrangement, we were dipping raw red meat into a pot of boiling peanut oil. Once cooked, we dipped the meat into incredible homemade sauces of curry or garlic or mango chutney. Pam and I were warned not to put utensils from the boiling oil into our mouth. To help drive this fair warning home (and to entertain us) our hosts proceeded to share stories with us of other unfortunate guests that burned their mouths severely with a combination of high heat and stupidity.
The following day we picked up Margaretha and Cebe and made our way to Karlshamn to visit their daughter Pernilla, their son in law Mattias, and grandchildren Oskar and Elsa and their cat Ziggy Stardust in their impeccable house. We brought wine, flowers, a pumpkin and two small gourds. Bringing pumpkins and gourds to someone’s house is simply a way to announce that “I ran out of ideas of appropriate things I could bring to this small gathering at your house.” When I gave Pernilla the gourds and pumpkin, she quickly and politely put them on her stair landing, in the corner. When something you bring ends up in a corner, you have failed miserably.
Pernilla reminded me of what happened the last time I brought her a gift. I was visiting Cebe, Margaretha, and Pernilla for the first time in Sweden back in 2002 and I was picking up some gifts for them in the duty-free shop. There was a display area with perfume samples. One of them smelled nice (I may have been advised by her mother that Pernilla enjoyed this line of products) so I grabbed the box behind the sample, thinking that was the actual bottle of the perfume. A couple hours after giving her the gift, I asked Pernilla how she liked the perfume and she informed me it was actually underarm deodorant, not perfume. It’s one thing to give someone the wrong gift but if you can also insult them in the process, you have achieved a special class of failure.
To fulfill our American culinary stereotypical fantasies, they made Swedish meatballs, followed up by a perfectly executed wild blueberry crumble topped with a custard sauce for good measure. While we ate, we spoke a great length about available TV shows. Every time we mentioned one that Margaretha did not know, she would look to Pernilla and ask “would I like that one?“.
I was absolutely thrilled to learn that Mattias, who in addition to being a high school teacher, offered his services as a lead guitarist and vocalist in a rock metal band. Pam asked Mattias if there was any fascinating drama to speak of in his band. He shrugged and said, not much. The only thing close was a band member that had some musical influences that seemed to conflict against the band’s current direction. At one point, he wanted to introduce an accordion piece to one song but was ruthlessly rejected. The other notable quirk of this particular band member is that he always seems to have holes in his socks.
After returning to Höör, we dropped Margaretha and Cebe off and picked up some delicious Thai food that was consumed in our Airbnb. After that, for some odd reason, we found ourselves watching a Roger Federer documentary. My major takeaway from this production is that I’m not the only one with a bum knee.
On Monday, we picked up our lovely Swedes and drove to the charm-forward seaside village of Kivik. We walked around the cute, old part of the village where the fishermen used to live long ago. This neighborhood now fulfilled the purpose of being a place where the wealthy could have their second or third homes. It seemed to be difficult to find residens at this time of year. The few that did stir about were amiably approached by Cebe who inquired of them about the village. He would then translate his findings to Pam and I. It was easy to see why Margaretha and Cebe made friends so easily. Both of them could and did literally talk to anyone in their path. In fact, it was this chatty disposition which lead Margaretha to initiate a conversation with my sister Jen in France 35-40 years ago. My sister was living in Paris at the time and found herself sitting next to Margaretha at a barbecue. These two talk-oholics hit it off immediately and their strong friendship served as the reason I became gloriously entwined in this Swedish collective.
For lunch, we ate outside at a fine bistro by the water. As the food was served, a few bees circled around. Margaretha told us to be careful as we ate and shared the story of a friend that was eating outside and accidentally ate a bee that proceeded to sting the inside of their mouth. She and Cebe seem to be in no short supply of fantastically entertaining stories about dining-related mouth injuries. I felt this was a good time to share my story of a bee making it inside a human without invitation. The tale concerned my father who somehow once found himself with a small bee inside his ear that started to sting repeatedly. He described the pain as “exotic”.
We all ordered the same fish dish that was decently sized and also came with access to the salad bar. Although clearly the smallest of us, Pam finished all of her food well before anyone else. This brought some genuine surprise from Cebe who had barely eaten anything. Out of the four of us, Pam is the one that chats a paltry amount when compared to the other three. While we drone on about literally anything, Pam has a very meaningful and productive one-on-one with her meal. Out of decency and politeness, she’ll nod occasionally as to give the sensation that she’s actually listening.
Back at their house, Cebe and I smoked some fine cigars I brought from the US. We appropriately accompanied the smoke with the scotch. Some friendly neighbors, Camila and Mats, popped in for a drink and some chat. With them was their profoundly cute little dog named Iris. Once gone, we all ate some delicious open faced sandwiches and then called it a night.
Today we picked up Margaretha and Cebe and paid a visit to Bosjöklosters slott. This castle/manor was originally a nunnery built in the 12th century and became a residence in the 1500’s. We were tickled to find out that the woman behind the front booth handing out tickets and information was none other than the daughter of the Count that resided there. I had visited this attraction 24 years ago and was pleased to find out that the maintenance of the property was at a much higher level now. In the gift shop area, we found an interesting display of artwork by Felix Hernandez who built incredibly intricate miniatures, photographed them and added a little digital flourish. His work can be seen here. We find ourselves in a time where art from a brilliant creator like this could be created by AI in a flash. This is why, in addition to his artwork, you will find pictures of Felix working on the miniatures, giving you a deeper appreciation of just how much time and effort goes into each piece.
Later that night, the four of us spent our last evening together sharing the company of a delicious chicken, potatoes, and salad. Yet again dessert consisted of ice cream Snickers bars.
Today we drove back to Lund and returned the car. We then hopped on a train and made our way back into Copenhagen where we would spend four precious nights. We checked into our Marriott located on the waterfront and were pleased to find that our fifth floor room provided us with an amazing view of not just the waterfront but the sometimes entertaining public spaces along the waterfront’s edge. In addition to the constant appearance of people jumping into the cold harbor waters for a brief swim, on our second to last day we had a bird’s eye view of a daytime, pop-up rave. Once the weekend arrived, we spotted small rental boats with outboard motors that floated people along who were in the process of eating and drinking and often singing.
Pam and I walked down the main shop street known as Strøget Street. While Pam spent time in a clothing store, I grew impatient and decided to sulk in a nearby pastry shop.
Based on a worthy recommendation, Pam and I made reservations at a Latin American tapas restaurant named Cinco. Caution was thrown violently into the wind as we ordered the tasting menu. With each expensive bite, we laughed about all the college tuition we didn’t have to pay for the children we did not have.
The following day Pam and I embarked on a long walk towards her laboratory. We ultimately arrived at a 15-story building which now served as the university laboratory. This was an immense upgrade from what Pam was used to and more interestingly, the building was a donation from the president of the globally famous shipping company known as Mersk. Due to royal permission, this building was allowed to be taller than four or five stories. Any building near the city center is not allowed to be this tall but this building received an exception probably due to its donor and the importance of what goes on inside.
As great as the building was, for some reason it had a useless walkway suspended up in the air that wrapped around 50% of the building for absolutely no reason. When we approached the building, it looked as if this stupid walkway would take us to a main entrance so we ascended slightly and found ourselves walled in, 10-20 feet off the ground. We carried on, zig-zagging in this walkway that did not allow you to exit it until you reached the other end, 300 yards away. When we got off the walkway, we were no closer to an entrance into this large building; the only thing I was closer to was an apoplectic state. I eventually asked one of Pam’s former lab mates the purpose of the walkway and he just shrugged his shoulders and answered that it was most likely some silly and unnecessary architectural flourish.
Once inside, we met Ali, Morten, Lea, Michael, and Adam. Ali “accidentally” stumbled upon a cancer treatment researching malaria. This discovery has led to the creation of five different companies. He’s also quick with a joke and refers to Pam simply as “Magistrado“.
At one point Ali turned to me and asked, “What’s the difference between yogurt and the US?”
“Something about the US not having culture,” I responded.
Ali smiled a smile that told me although just a tiny bit disappointed I deflated his funny anti-American joke, he was glad I handled this 10-second roast of my beloved country with good cheer. I guess this is why Europe eats more yogurt than the US? We also had the pleasure of sitting in on a lecture that hosted 30-minute guest spots from both Ali and Lea. I was mildly concerned I would not understand any of his presentation. Ali said not to worry as this would be a “layman” talk. I replied, “lame?”. He laughed and said ,”No…LAYMAN”.
On our way out of this presentation of which I processed little of, we ran into a another good friend of Pam‘s, Thomas. He was genuinely excited to see Pam and surprised. Plans were quickly made for lunch the following day.
Two things reign supreme in Copenhagen: bicycles and electronica.
That evening, we boarded a train north to visit one of Pam’s closest Copenhagen friends, Mafalda from Portugal. Once at her house, we met her children Lara and Morten. While Pam and Mafalda cooked dinner, her husband Tim and I discussed some of life’s bigger topics of the moment including Donald Trump and AI. It seemed that every time I sat down with a Dane, they wanted an American perspective of Donald Trump. They were curious if the media in their own country was getting it right. I responded from the position I seem to respond every time which is a position of ignorance; that I didn’t really like or dislike him. My typical approach for getting a read on things is to wait several decades and then read about it in a good history book. It doesn’t always make me the most informed voter or the most valuable in a conversation of current affairs but it seems to keep me sane.
Tim was an avid bird watcher and based much of his holiday travel around it. His career also allowed him to stay connected to his passion. He worked with some sort of bird-centered organization in a database/software capacity. Tim claimed to get into a fight with ChatGPT on an hourly basis.
I had a little more to say about AI. I just finished the book Nexus by Yuval Noah Hirari. One of my favorite parts of the book was one of Hirari’s conclusions. After speaking with several of the high-up muckety-mucks in the AI industry, he found an undeniable trend when he asked two questions:
1) Do you think there should be self-regulating mechanisms built into AI?
Most common response: Sure. But if I spend too much time on such measures, I will get my ass handed to me by my competitors.
2) Are you concerned with the enormous potential dangers of AI?
Most common response: Everything will be fine. People are flawed. AI will be more trustworthy.
Hirari’s response to this last sentiment was one of doubt. As flawed as humans may be, at least we have a lot of experience and data on humans and have a decent chance of navigating a human-made minefield. AI, on the other hand, provides us with little to go on at the moment.
Tim informed me that his family’s move out to the suburbs was in part influenced by the nature of their previous environs in the neighborhood of Vesterbro. The parts of Vesterbro Pam and I saw did not give us the feel of an unbridled red light district. It seemed a pleasant place with a nice appearance. But supposedly, this is where one might find some strip clubs and prostitution. In fact, a small business of prostitution existed across the way from Tim and Mafalda’s Vesterbro flat years ago. They said you could look into the opposing flat and see money being exchanged and sexual appointments being kept with great chronological consistency. Once the children were born, they decided it might be the proper time to move from this educational, yet morally confusing atmosphere.
The following day we walked the two plus miles again to the lab a slightly different way. Pam and I were averaging about eight miles of walking a day. Copenhagen rewarded walking as a means of transportation. The city seems to have few warts in the central part and immediate surroundings.
Today we met with Thomas, his British wife Louise, and Pam’s boss of ten years, Torre. Pam counts Torre as one of her top bosses of all time. I could see why. He seemed kind and a perfect fit for a self-motivated employee like Pam. At one point he said to Pam that although it’s been almost 15 years since they have worked together, he thinks of her often and hopes she is doing well. I was happy to witness an earnest demeanor as Torre spoke these words.
Along with Ali, Thomas was interested in my comedic past. I soon discovered that these two lads were adept at knowing just the right amount of offensive spice to sprinkle onto any social situation. This was probably due to their fine Gen X training. Maybe it also has to do with being in your 50’s and closer to your retirement. I have noticed that people approaching retirement tend to wax offensive sometimes since they just don’t care as much about possible negative outcomes. By the time human resources gets through all of its procedural and law-conscious BS and is finally ready to fire them, the old and offensive relic has already digested the final piece of their retirement party cake and left the company.
I worked with a guy many years ago who knew his days were numbered. He decided to go out with such a bang of offensiveness, it would have crippled the sensibilities of younger generations. Things this guy really said loudly within earshot of Human Resources:
“Look at the hogans on that one!”
“I’m headed down to the warehouse. There’s two midgets that work back there and I like to make them wrestle.”
“If she gains one more pound, she’ll have to shit in the tub!”
Sure, this guy was close pals with a vice president but it still amazes me how he never got fired.
That evening we dined with another of Pam’s close friends, Christenze, who Pam met during their Tanzania days of 2007-2012 while conducting research for the University of Copenhagen. Also in attendance were her two fine sons of ten and two.
Today’s walk brought us into the fascinating neighborhood of Christiania. What started as a bunch of squatters taking over an old military complex has become a virtually automobile-free neighborhood that is home to the eclectic and wildly creative and is technically not part of the EU. The whole place felt more like a counter culture movie set.
That night we dined at Sanchez and had a wonderful meal that cost too much.
Peace out.