I was invited (well, not personally, but still…) to join the Fandango’s Friday Flashback!
Fandango scrolls back, every Friday, and gives a second chance to a post he had published on the same date the year before. I thought it was a great way to remember some of the stuff I did a while back, and I decided to participate…
So here it is!
Previously published on May 15th of 2016, here’s a post I wrote during my first stay in Denmark. Back then, I couldn’t have felt more free… Funny to think that only four years later, I hesitate when it comes to walking a couple of blocks away from my apartment. I hope you’ll enjoy this (again). And I do hope that all of you are safe, where ever you are, in the world!
Today’s my 12th day in Denmark now, and there is one thing that followed me since day one…
For as far back as I have souvenirs about travelling, I remember my parents telling me that being a Canadian was a good thing, travel wise. I couldn’t quite understand why, but I accepted it for what it was, a positive thing to come from where I came from.
Growing up, I learned (or was it an urban legend? Possible, I never really questionned it) that some American travelers were sewing Canadian flag tags to their backpack when going abroad, to be better welcome… It seemed natural to me, and I didn’t give it much more of a thought.
I traveled quite a bit as a young adult, but never alone, and always with someone waiting for me at the end of the road. So where I came from didn’t really matter, because the people I was to meet already knew me.
But when I got to Denmark, I understood that my parents were right indeed, even after all these years… Because, every now and then, when I try to do this or that, using my basic Danish skills, and that Danes recognize the fraud in me and switch to English, the big question inevitably pops up!
– Where are you from?
Canada! The magic word… Jeg er fra Canada. I come from Canada. *Eyes sparkling up* (barely exagerating)
– Oh! Canada….
I always expect them to start singing our National Anthem… But they just pause and then, having caught their whole attention, I get all the help I need, plus a little extra on the side.
I don’t really feel special being a Canadian, until the person in front of me makes me feel like it is a priviledge to be one… Danes making me feel happy to be Canadian, what an irony 😉
Yeah, it is good to be a Canadian, after all… Until Queen Margrethe II accepts to adopt me, of course!!
You can visit the original post here.