Boy...This Is Spot On

 I ran across this meme the other day. My first thought was some American was dissing Europe. And, it is, but it's also something else...

Spot on correct.

I'm by no means an expert on European cities. I've visited a few and lived in a few, mostly in Denmark. From what I've seen, Denmark is similar to many northern European cities, which are similar to central and southern European cities.

This map points out some basics of any city, European or American or Canadian or Australian. There's a business district, an art district, and, unfortunately, a drug dealer park. It's the way humans organize themselves. Heck, it would be a fun project making a similar map of Utah towns...the only differences are which side are the mountains on and is there a church on every corner or every other corner?

I'm not familiar with ItchyFeetComic, but they did a good job on this map. I especially liked the Post Cardy Old Town and the Pigeon Owned Central Station.

Even if you haven't spent a lot of time visiting European cities, I believe you'll find this funny, as did I. 

There's A New Store In Town...Well, Not My Town

I have not always been a fan of Legos. That doesn't mean I ever disliked them, there was time when I had no opinion on them, mostly because we didn't have them. Being born in the mid-1960s I knew of Legos. They were around, but they were nothing like the toy behemoth they are today.

Back then, you got different colored plastic bricks...

And that was all.

Oh, there'd a tire here and there, but it was truly a toy of imagination. It still is, I suppose, but in a different way. You imagine all the things you could buy if you didn't buy Legos. They're pricy now. I'm not downplaying their value. A thing is worth what someone will pay for it, and many will pay much for them. The sets now are so elaborate and creative. What I like most is they remind me of other things...of movies, of cars, of stories, of just about anything.

One regret I have about my time living in Denmark is I did not visit Legoland when I was there. I believe, back in the mid-1980s, it was the world's only Legoland. Even though it wasn't what Legolands are today, it still would have been fun to go.

Now, a Lego store has opened up in my old stomping grounds. I got to visit yesterday and check it out. It wasn't large--I thought it might be bigger--but it had many kits and projects, enough Lego building to last a long time, that is, if you have the cash.

I asked my son if he wished the store had been around when we lived there. He said it would not have made a big difference--most of the Lego kits he has to order online. He did say it would have been cool to maybe get a job there. I agree...that would be a fun job for someone who loves Lego.

Yes, there's a new store in town, just not our town. Just as well...we'd probably spend to much time (and other things...) there, anyway.

You Cannot Imagine What This Meant...To The Danes

 The news hit years ago...this year's Tour de France begins in Denmark. I know a little bit about the country, having lived there for a little while. Even though it's been decades (three, exactly..) since I stepped foot on Danish soil, I knew what it meant to the country to have the world's most historic cycle race begin on their roads.

In a word...epic.

It helps that the country is bicycle crazy. They pride themselves by their love of bikes. In the big cities, bicyclists have their own lanes on the road. They even have their own traffic lights. It's wild. When you drive in downtown Copenhagen, you have to look--not twice, but several times--when you're making a right-hand turn. If you're not careful, you'll take out a whole line of bike riders.

They bike for practical reasons, but I believe they'd bike if everyone had cars.

I watched the last day of racing in the country. The race ended in Sønderborg, the country's southern-most larger city. I never made it to Sønderborg, but I'm sure it's beautiful (as is the rest of Denmark...). Watching the fans line the street, the Danish Flag (Dannebrog...) flying, crowds cheering until their voices are gone. 

The Danes are proud of their country, as they should be. And when a Dane becomes famous, it's a big deal. They see themselves as a tiny country taking on the whole world. Having the Tour de France start in Denmark, well...they'll be telling their grandkids the time the best bikers in the world flew over their streets, when the whole country came out to see them ride. 

That Time I Saw "Hamlet" At Hamlet's Castle...

I came across a photo of a Northern European castle the other day.

It brought back the memories.

If you're unfamiliar with this particular castle, it's in the city of Elsinore. Many call it Elsinore Castle, but to me it'll always be Kronborg Castle. You may not know much about the castle, but there's a good chance you know something of it. This castle is the setting for William Shakespeare's Hamlet. 

As a LDS missionary living in Denmark so many years ago, I visited the castle on several occasions, but there was one time that was flat-out amazing. I was able to see a theatrical production of Hamlet performed at Hamlet's Castle.

The production was from a British theater troupe. They performed outside the castle using the eastern wall as the backdrop. In the picture there's a white tent where the grandstand was. There's were we sat. Even though it's been decades, I still remember that night. Occasionally, the sounds of ferries and other boats could be heard in the strait between Denmark and Sweden.

I'm not the most "theater" person out there, but this one experience is something unique, something I'll tell my theater friends when I'm in a show. No, I've never seen a Broadway show in NYC, but very few people can say they've seen Hamlet performed at the castle about which it was written. That was a great night.

That Time I Saw An Amphibious VW...

 On occasion, I'll find myself browsing the pictures and stories of Instagram. I'm not as much an active participant, but rather an observer. I have a couple of topics I follow...University of Utah and their various sports programs being one of them.

Another topic I enjoy...is following sites dedicated to the appreciation of classic Volkswagens. 

A wonderful site I follow is: oldvwclub.

Yesterday, they posted a video from Germany, a video of VW amphibious vehicles from the 1930s or 1940s.

They were beautiful.

It reminded me that in the summer of 1985, I too ran into an example of this fine vehicle. I was in Denmark at the time, and I happened to snap a couple of pictures. They're not the best pictures...sort of mid-ish/late-ish Twentieth Century photo quality. If you're on Instagram and want to check out the video, click: HERE. If you like classic VWs, you might want to give them a follow. All the captions are in a different language, but I don't care...they're special cars.

Even the ones that drive on the water.

Behind Handlebars...One Of My Favorite Sites

I'm not a big Instagram participant. Sure, I'll post a Pic Of The Day on Facebook and Twitter, but I've always felt Instagram should be for better pictures, higher quality. I know not everyone feels this way, but I've tried to include some of my favorite shots.

I subscribe to many Instagram accounts from Denmark. We live in an amazing time when I can log on and see pictures of a country I love from strangers sharing what they see, and I can do it everyday. One stranger I follow has a unique perspective--basically, from behind his handlebars.

Behind Handlebars is one of my favorite Instagram sites, and you don't have to love Denmark to enjoy and appreciate it. Not only does he take wonderful pictures in his native country, he's quite the traveler and shares pictures from locations all over the world. You can access his Instagram account by clicking: HERE. Or search behindhandlebars on your Instagram app.

One shot that made me feel especially homesick was posted in June, 2018. It's a shot of Odense, Denmark, a place where I lived back in 1985. Hidden in these narrow cobblestone streets is the childhood home of Hans Christian Andersen, perhaps the world's most famous Dane. The memories came flooding back by just looking at it.

I've corresponded with the photographer only a few times. Once, I told him he must come to Utah, especially Southern Utah. I think this biker would absolutely love Slick Rock and would fully appreciate it. Apparently, I'm not the only one--another cyclist from Utah has told him the same thing. One day I'm sure I'll log on and see the beautiful Utah scenery in front of his trademark handlebars. I sure hope he makes it here.

There's so many sites out there. Behind Handlebars is one of my favorites.

When A Backpack Makes You Homesick...

It's been over twenty-seven years since I last walked on Danish soil, and almost thirty-three years since I last lived in Denmark. Yet, spotting a backpack in a bookstore brought it all back, the people, the weather, the food, the world that is Denmark.

And I only lived there a total of seventeen months and two weeks.

The backpack, made by Fjällräven, is actually a Swedish product, but people living in Scandinavia are proud to showcase things made by their cousins. I saw so many Fjällräven Kånken backpacks while I was there. Just seeing that fox logo yesterday reminded me of walking those streets, knocking on those doors, falling in love with the people and their culture.

This isn't the only thing that sends me back. Every time I see anyone wearing clogs takes me back, watching my wife enjoy her breakfast (granola topped with yogurt...) will do it, and don't get me started on going to IKEA. That place transports me. Those in-store examples of how a person can live in a four-hundred square feet of space is netop (100%...) Scandinavian. 

When we lived in Denmark I didn't buy this brand of backpack, so I don't know if they were expensive, or not. I can tell you that the one I spotted at Barnes & Noble in Farmington, Utah, yesterday definitely was expensive. 

I'm seeing more and more of these backpacks. I suppose they're the new trendy thing. Good for them. I like seeing Scandinavian produces succeed. You can do a lot worse than surrounding yourself with things from Northern Europe. 

I'm glad I have those memories come back to me from time to time. Those months I lived there changed my life, definitely for the better. 

Leo...

You know how your perspective changes when you're used to one thing then see something else? I remember, after living in Europe for a couple of years, I got used to the narrow streets, the small homes and apartments, pretty much everything.

When I returned, I walked into my childhood home, looked at the kitchen/dining room space, and said, "It's so big." My mother said that my older brother had the exact same reaction when he returned home after living in Japan for over a year. I had never thought of that space as "big" before, but when I got home, it was huge. The smallness of Europe had become normal.

The same thing happens to me when I see Leo. He's a tiny dog who lives close by. I'm sure he's not the tiniest dog in existence, but when you live with a standard poodle , a small dog looks tiny and a tiny dog looks so small, you wonder if it's actually a dog, and not something else.

Leo couldn't be cuter. He yaps a little (which you can barely hear...), so when you go over to him, he is so excited, he runs to the fence and waits for you to pet him. So, of course, that's what I did. As I walked away, he just stood there behind his little fence. I had to take a picture.

Being around a large dog, you get used to how big it is, how loud it is, how you can wear yourself out just by petting him. Looking at Leo, it changes your whole perspective.

Bumper Sticker...Or Art?

One of the advantages of cleaning up around the house is you find things. Sometimes you find things you wish stayed hidden, but other times, you come across something that you love finding because  what you find is more than the object itself.

Case in point...

A sticker.

I lived in Europe for a couple of years. I left in spring, thirty-four years ago (I can't believe it's been that long...). We heard a lot about culture shock before we went over. Some things in Denmark were very similar to things back home--the biggest being the way people looked. I'm from Utah. A large majority of Utahns--myself included--are direct descendants of Scandinavians. The Danes look a lot like Utahns.

Many things were different of course. The buildings, the roads, the food (some of it, anyway...), the language, the customs. Even the cars could trigger a bit of culture shock. One of the biggest differences was all the taxis were Mercedes Benz. I rarely saw American cars--sure, they had Fords and a version of GM cars, but they were different, mostly they were smaller. 

And almost every car had a little sticker on the back, and on those stickers were simple letters, country codes, because in a day, a person can literally drive through a half a dozen countries, or more. I mostly saw Scandinavian and northern European country codes, N = Norway, S = Sweden, SF = Finland, D = Germany. Those were the biggies. Every day in Denmark I saw the letters DK on almost every car. I came to love those letters.

I still do, three and a half decades later.

I found a DK sticker while cleaning up my stuff. I didn't buy it in the country, but in Solvang, California--as close as you can some to Denmark in America. Even though, it's not ægte (authentically purchased in the country...), I still loved it and thought it was about time to adhere it to our minivan.

I slapped it on, snapped a picture and told my wife what I had done. I probably should have asked her first--we call the van "her car." She considered it a bumper sticker. For the life of me, I did not. Technically, it is a bumper sticker, but in my mind, a bumper sticker has some corny saying or slogan, or it has the name of a political figure letting everyone following you which way you intend to vote (or voted in elections long past...). I didn't think my DK sicker could be considered one of the bumper variety.

Personally, I love having it on the van. I've got a Danish flag on my car. It's faded to the point where I should replace it with a newer, redder, and whiter flag. I know many think bumper stickers are gaudy, but to me, the DK sticker is a thing of beauty...a work of art.

Missing Those Amazing Danish Christmas Decorations...

I didn't realize it at the time, but what I saw when I lived in Denmark back in the mid-1980s would be something I'd not see again, at least haven't seen since. Not realizing things at the time is not new with me--as I get older, I'm noticing things I missed when I was younger and wish I had appreciated them back in the day.

What was it that I haven't seen in over thirty years? The way the Danes decorate for Christmas.

I'm sure Denmark is not unique in how they decorate. I imagine other European cities do the same, but what I loved and miss is the way they string lighted decorations over the narrow streets between the buildings. I did a quick google search and found a couple of examples, one from uniavisen.dk, one from thedanishpioneer.com, and one from visitcopenhagen.com. I believe these pictures are from Copenhagen, but I remember seeing this type of decor in Århus as well. I lived in Copenhagen the first Christmas I lived in Denmark and Århus the second Christmas.

I live in the western part of the United States. Whereas the cities in Europe have limited space, cities out west have room to spare, or at least, they did when they were first organized. We don't have narrow streets like they do in Europe. I guess you could string huge decorations between buildings here, but the effect wouldn't be the same. There's something charming, whimsical, endearing about how Christmas looks in Denmark and I love it and I miss it.

One day I might make it back to the land of the vikings during Jul. But even if I don't, thinking back about how that cold dark country looked at Christmas is a warm and wonderful memory.

My Second Favorite Person Carl Bloch Ever Painted...

In church yesterday I noticed a painting that hangs prominently in the foyer. It's a reproduction of Carl Bloch's Christ Healing the Sick at Bethesda. It's from one of my favorite artists because he's a Dane, I love the subject matter, and I've seen the original.

I'm no art expert, nor have I studied art to the point where I can tell you why this is an example of a quality piece other than I like it and it makes me think about truly important things. I imagine all cultures and societies shun and hide the sick. In the paining we're shown by example to seek out and  sick and offer any comfort we can. There is one aspect of the painting that makes me think about these things every time I look at it.

It's the man sitting down on the steps next to the man who is sick.

There's a thousand thoughts expressed in his face.

Art should involve those who see it. It should evoke an emotional response, and this man's face does that for me every time I see it. 

What I see most, however, is a question.

And the question I see in the man's eyes is this, "What are you doing?"

For those who believe in the mission of Jesus Christ, we are given opportunities to serve others. We're to follow His example. In the painting Christ not only acknowledged the man hidden from the world, but gestures to him, sheds light on him, gives him hope--all while others have banished him from society.

What am I doing? Am I shunning others? Do I ignore those hidden who need help and can't help themselves? The man in the painting is calling to me. He's looking inside of me making me ask questions of myself. 

There's many people in Carl Bloch's paintings of Christ that make me stop and think. The old man with the beard looking up in The Sermon on the Mount, the woman in The Woman at the Well, Judas in The Last Supper, the crying man in The Burial of Christ. They all show an aspect of humanity, but it's the man sitting next to the banished that touches me the most. If you're not familiar with Carl Bloch's paintings, check out this website: HERE. There's some beautiful works of art there.

Not All Greens Are Created Equal...

Yesterday, as our Mother's Day dinner cooked on the grill, I looked directly east, up at the mountain. This is the view I see as I leave the house every day. It's a view I've seen since my family bought a cherry and apricot orchard back in 1969.

I love this view.

Of course, there are times during the year when the view is prettier than others. Spring (now...) is great, so is autumn. I think winter's my favorite with everything covered in snow. But as I gazed upward yesterday, I took a couple of pictures because rarely is it this green.

Of course, something being green is relative. My friends Clif and Jenn live in Washington State. I visited them in 2006--my one and only time in the Northwest--and I was blown away. I'd been told they have a lot of trees in the Seattle area, but even knowing this, I could not have imagined how incredibly green it is. They carve canyons through the trees where they put roads, like driving through a carpet of vegetation. It was, in a word, beautiful.

I live in Utah, not Washington State. I used to think we had trees where I live, and we do, but nothing compared to where my friends live.

But even Washington State might come in second when it comes to being green like some places in Europe, specifically Denmark. I lived there for a couple of years back in the 1980s, and I saw shades and colors of green I've never seen anywhere else. Some were so bright, they were almost neon. Denmark doesn't have the trees like the Pacific Northwest, but the climate allows so many amazing plants to grow. Seeing Denmark in the spring is simply amazing, pure and simple.

In a few weeks the greens above us on the mountain will fade and turn tan and most of the vibrant green with disappear until next year. Since we technically live in a desert, that's the way it is and we who live here accept it. I suppose if I had to be surrounded by green, I'd have to move.

Once the harsh heat of summer subsides, the leaves will turn, and the mountain will be covered with reds and oranges. Seeing those colors--for me--is like an award for surviving the--for me--extreme heat of summers we endure.

Then comes the snow, and the mountains are reborn in white, my favorite thing.

For now, however, I'll enjoy the green, for a few weeks, anyway.

Ever Had A Danish Kringle...?

I have great in-laws. I'm kind of lucky, in that regard. And to prove my point, I present the gift our family was given for Christmas this year by my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Pam and John. The gift came all the way from Wisconsin.

And it was a Danish Kringle.

I've never been to Wisconsin. I'm sure it's beautiful. I'm sure it's also cold in the winter. It would most likely remind me of another place that's beautiful and cold in the winter, Denmark, home of Danish pastry. It's been a while since I've walked upon the rolling hills of my fatherland, almost twenty-five years...much too long. I told my wife that when I get my book published, we'd go over--even more incentive to get that thing in print.

The best compliment you can give any baker in America making Danish pastry is that their pastry is close. OH Danish Bakery is close. Don't get me wrong, it's delicious, but there's something about eating desserts in the country named after those desserts. Maybe it's the Danish air that brings in daily storms that blow across the countryside. Maybe the natural cheerfulness of the people is somehow infused within their confections. Maybe it's a secret that only they know and the rest of the world will only hopefully one day understand. All I know, is I don't believe I've ever tasted anything as good.

I spent two years in Denmark and I ate a lot of pastry. Back then I had to work my butt off to keep any weight on. Funny how life likes to change its mind. Now if I lived there and ate as I once did, I wouldn't last two months. Good thing I'm in America.

Thank you Pam and John for all the deliciousness, and for everything else!

If You're On Instagram...You SHOULD Follow Jordy Collins!

Back, oh...thirty-one years ago, I met a surfer from California. He was probably the first surfer I had ever met in my life. I did not meet him on the beach or in college, but on a train platform in Odense, Denmark. 

Not a lot of surfing in Denmark, though some do surf there.

The surfer was Daren Collins and he waited for me to get off a train with all my earthly possessions in two suitcases. Both of us wore suits, ties, and black name tags. For the next two months we served together as missionaries for the LDS church, and we've been friends ever since.

Unfortunately, Daren and I haven't seen much of each other in the past thirty-one years. Both of us got married and raised kids. Part of the miracle that is social media is being able to follow your friends and their families and seeing what they're up to.

And on Facebook yesterday my friend asked the digital world to help out his son, who is following in his father's footsteps. Jordy just won the Boys West Coast Champion Under 17 title and he's looking for more Instagram followers.

So, if you're on Instagram (which I know many of you are...), search jordy_collins and give the kid a follow. You're supporting a great surfer and he's posted some beautiful pictures. You know, I've never met Jordy, but if he's anything like his father, he's a total stud!

A Picture Or Two...For A Friend

Last Thursday I was at our writing group when I saw two missionaries walking in front of my friend's house. It's strange but I had been wondering if I would ever see them in the neighborhood. Each week I looked for them because one of the missionaries serving in that area was my friend's son, a friend who lives in Denmark.

More than a quarter century ago I wore a white shirt, tie and a black name tag. I did all this in the most amazing country of Denmark. Even though there are many differences in the mission my friend's son is serving and the one I served years ago, much is the same. We both lived by the mission rules. We both lived with a fellow missionary--a mission companion--twenty-four hours a day. We both taught people who were interested in the message we had to give.

There's another reason I was rude and excused myself from the writing group so I could hail the two young men. It was because for the last fifteen months my own son has donned a white shirt, tie and black name tag and is doing all those things my friend's son is doing now and that I did thirty years ago.

I correspond with my friend from Denmark via Facebook now and again. I told her if I ever saw her son I would stop him, tell him "Hi" and take a picture. I was so glad to be able to do that. And if I knew his companion's family in Switzerland, I'd send them the picture, too. Because if someone I knew ran into my son, I'd love it if they did the same thing for me.

My Conversion To Soccer...

*

Talking about soccer (when played on an international scale...) in America is kind of talking about a political party. You either love it or hate it. The rest of the world could care less if American embraces the world's sport. They're having a good time enjoying the game anyway.

Myself, I'm a fan. I'm a fan because I lived in Denmark for a couple of years a couple of decades ago. I happened to live there when the World Cup was taking place. Believe me when I say there's nothing quite like living in a soccer-crazy country during the World Cup. It's simply unbelievable. 

Many Americans don't like the game and I can completely understand why. It can be slow to the point of painfully boring. I could counter by saying that a lot of baseball games aren't exactly brimming with excitement.

But I won't. 

My post is not to convince anyone that soccer should be appreciated or respected. Just as I can't convince anyone to change political parties (people would be a lot happier if they stopped trying to convince each other that their party is superior...). Joining the religion that is soccer fandom must take place on a personal level...it must come from within.

My conversion took place that summer those many years ago. The Danish National Team just beat powerhouse Germany in the group stage. The country literally lost their minds! I was driving in downtown Copenhagen at midnight with Danes everywhere screaming and cheering like they'd won the lottery. I was trying to get through a crowded intersection when a policeman stopped our van so a huge marching band could walk down the middle of the street playing the national anthem of Denmark. After being with those people and experiencing something like that, I knew I could never go back.

Like I said, I'm not here to convert anyone, but I wish Americans could experience that amazing feeling of patriotism and pride for your country when we compete on the world's biggest stage. There's nothing that even comes close. 

The World Cup is back, and unfortunately, Denmark will not be part of the big show. Still, I don't care. Sure I'd enjoy the games more if they had made the cut, but I'm not going to let this little detail ruin my World Cup experience.

 So in the spirit of brotherhood, can't we put aside those petty little problems like nationalized healthcare and the national debt, terrorism and school lunch and just enjoy a bunch of pampered superior athletes flop and cry out in anguish and occasionally play some absolutely beautiful football?

I think we can.

* Photo used without permission from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Denmark_national_football_team

A Time For Reunions...

Tonight I assembled with friends, many I haven't seen in decades. We met to catch up, to remember the days when we all lived and served in Denmark. When we lived there we were basically kids and grandparents, each there for different reasons, but also for one unifying reason.

In my culture/religion we go on missions. We grow up, especially the young men, thinking about where we'll serve. My friends and I traveled to every corner of the world, basically doing the same thing. And tonight many of us who were called to serve in Denmark gathered. We ate, we visited, we discussed our families and jobs. And by the simple act of being together, we affirmed a love for a country and a people we all miss dearly.

After dinner we posed for a group photo. That's when I grabbed my camera and tried getting some shots. We're older, and (in general...) larger, and a full head of hair has been something many of us can only vaguely remember. But the memories of our days, weeks and years in a land across the ocean binds us in a way nothing else could. Tonight we assembled and memories of our past returned.

A Picture Taken Years Ago...

I don't remember taking this picture. I do know certain things about this shot. This is a picture of a set of train tracks in Denmark and I'm pretty sure this shot is showing where the train just came from (I never rode on the very front of a train...). Where exactly is this in Denmark? I have no idea. When I began writing daily, I scanned several pictures from my mission and this was one of them. I still like the shot, though it's not a fantastic photograph.

I see blue sky in the photo, which occurs in Denmark about half the time. It can go from a sunny day to heavy rain in a matter of minutes, then back to blue sky before you've put your umbrella away. The field to the left could be full of mustard plants. I remember biking along the narrow roads connecting the rural towns and the brilliant yellows from the mustard plants was almost blinding. Most likely the field in the photograph is wheat, or the colors have faded over the years.

Like the colors, so have my memories faded. It seems like I turn around and another half decade has passed since I walked the cobblestone streets and marveled at the thatched roofs still being made on new homes--even the flavors of the incredible pastry as it crossed my taste buds has dimmed in my mind.

Some of my mission pictures bring back the most vivid memories--some of the lifelong friends I've made, some of the beautiful scenery the country affords, and some--like this photograph--reminds me of the simplicity of an interesting view.

A Danish Easter

Being Easter, I thought a lot about Jesus Christ today. This made me think of Denmark. I had a missionary companion that said whenever he thinks of the Gospel, he thinks of it in the Danish language because when he was a kid and a teenager, church wasn't a priority. So when he learned the Gospel, it was in the Danish language.

I rummaged through more of my basement treasures and ran across a couple of slide (yes, slides...if you don't know what they are, ask your parents...) and I scanned them into my computer.

When I first got to Denmark, I had my first member dinner at Bjarne Jakobsen's house (we had so few meals with members--not their fault, believe me--that I actually remember most of them...). His kids were so little back then. He found me on Facebook recently and on his Facebook page he posted a picture of his family. His kids are no longer little. I remember his wife saying that she had seen the Christus statue in SLC, but not the one residing a few miles away in downtown Copenhagen. I thought that interesting. Here's the original:

Another original is this painting (sorry about the photo quality...) of Carl Bloch's Peter's Denial located at the Danish National Museum in Hillerød. It's up north, but the drive from Copenhagen to Hillerød is so beautiful (when the weather's good, so good luck with that...). I highly recommend it if you're in the area. You can see the end of one painting and the beginning of another--both Carl Bloch originals.

We decorated Easter eggs one Easter when I was there. This is Elder Todd Johnson (I wish I knew where he was--it would be fun to re-connect with him). I believe the Danish flag Easter egg was one of mine. I could be wrong, but I know for sure that the egg closest to him, the green one that looks like a car (a VW Bug, to be more precise...) is mine. I always make green VW Bug Easter eggs whenever I get the chance.

This last picture is that of our ward house in Fredricksberg. The building still remains, but it's no longer a ward house, but an LDS temple. I love that building I forever know as Priorvej. I took this picture during common Danish weather (see weather tip about driving up the Danish coast mentioned previously...).

Denmark is a wonderful place. And I doubt many think of Denmark and Christ very often together. But there are times when I do.