The Danish People

The relief of Springtime is exaggerated, for now I am back in Wiesbaden with Suzanne, and there is so much English to be spoken that has missed it's expellation over the past month. But too, I find that the German comes out also very easily now, not necessarily correctly, but without hesitation. Suzanne's uncle Leon is here from Copenhagen, and he is a hoot, to be sure. He has so far told me so much about the Danes that I might prefer to learn Danish than German. The night I returned, he and Suzanne tried to teach me the most difficult thing they could in Danish, which is the name of some dish which I can't even begin to write. The result, though, was some very much needed laughter, because when one says the word for 'red' in Danish, and then nothing more, the final contortion of ones face is with the curled tongue peeking out of an O-shaped mouth like a mole spying on a gardener.

Sunday is Easter, and we'll be eating a traditional Danish lunch. My friend Peter is coming to celebrate the holiday, because he is in Düsseldorf studying neuroscience, and I thought he might like a place to be at such a time. I've sort of made Wiesbaden my homebase for this trip, so returning here this time feels like I've come home, so I am happy.

That's all for now.