Sunday, October 4, 2009

The First Few Months . . .

When we left the US the day after Thanksgiving, my Danish husband was more emotional than I was - I was actually looking forward to seeing my new home while he was emotional about all I was leaving behind to go with him to Denmark. The first couple of days was a bit of a blur. The trip consisted of a flight to Canada, a flight from Canada to Germany then a train from Germany to Odense, where my husband was living at the time. All this within a 24-hour period and bringing along my two cats. Needless to say, I didn't wake up until a day or so after arriving.

Odense is a quaint little town, lots of history which is one of my interests. My husband played tour guide and we saw quite a bit of the town, even parts he had never seen in the years he had been living there. My first Danish Christmas was interesting, was spent at the in-laws so it was my first introduction to his family. That particular experience most likely deserves a post all its own. To be brief, they're not bad people.

After Christmas, my wedding present arrived from my parents. They had arranged to have all my stuff shipped to Denmark to help me settle in better. The day it arrived was also the day we found out I was pregnant. As this was totally unexpected (I had been told it would be near impossible for me to get pregnant) it was a very emotional day all around. That in a nutshell was my first couple of months in Denmark - was happy, people were pleasant and was looking forward to a bright, happy future . . .

Then came the first signs that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. Governments the world over live and die by their bureaucracy, they can't help themselves, so I wasn't too surprised by the questionnaires and interviews that immigration put us through (where is your spouse as you're filling out this form? what are the measurements of each room in your residence? has your spouse seen your residence?) But everything worked out and my all-important CPR number was on its way. As we had the letter telling us this and what my number would be, we thought no problem getting me to a doctor for my first checkup. Nope, had to wait for the actual card which was still somewhere in the process. As the person in the kommune office told us, 'If everyone in America knew they could come here and have babies for free, they would all come here' Luckily the husband was talking to him, otherwise he might have gotten an earful from me. Because I was a bit on the old side for having my first child and we didn't want to take any chances, we had to pay cash for the first few checkups and sonogram, despite me having that CPR number but not having the physical card. Okay, fine, bureaucrats are annoying but this would be just one speed bump in the road.

Then came Danish lessons . . .

11 comments:

Fuzzy said...

Ooh, you've started the story. I am really looking forward to the next installment!

(But remember, if the retelling gets too painful, you can always blog about men's armpit hair instead.)

American Girl said...

LOL Now there's a fascinating subject . . . (sarcasm meter on high)

I'm hoping the retelling will also help me come to terms a bit with the place and culture here. And who knows, it might also help someone else along the way.

Archaeogoddess said...

Your doctors were ASSHATS for not allowing you to have checkups and stuff without a CPR card when you had the number!

I had a doctor tell me she could send the bill off to the government even before I got a CPR number and she'd just keep bouncing the bill back and forth until the DK health system went "oh THAT archaeogoddess!"

Then again, I've had a Danish doctor look at me and say "how can you stand to go out with all those spots [pimples] on your face!?" Nice.

I'm always surpised at how much Danish doctors are allowed to make shit up when it comes to what is allowed and what is acceptable medical care. I thought "universal health care" meant that we're all treated the same. Pft, I guess some people are just more equal than others!

God, what ASSHOLES!!

badimmigrant said...

"Where is your spouse as you're filling out this form?" ??

Why, in Pakistan of course! Selling his goats to make ready to smuggle himself up here to milk the system!

When I came to DK, back in the Stone Age, there was little of this rigamarole to go through. Sometimes I wish there HAD been, because I would have gone straight back home again!

Looking fwd to your Danish lessons post!

American Girl said...

@badimmigrant I told my husband to answer that question with the following: 'My wife is sitting next to me laughing at the questions on the form' He actually put that down - we must have gotten someone at immigration with a sense of humor as it wasn't questioned LOL

BABS said...

THe thing is, when you get over the initial 3-6 years of bureaucracy, then one can begin holing oneself up in a bubble and not having anything to fecking do with them again if at all possible.

Fuzzy said...

I am impatiently waiting Part 2 of the ongoing story!

Fuzzy said...

And lol @badimmigrant! That's how we should answer every question they ask.

BABS said...

Please blog. I feel like a stalker endlessly clicking here to find the same old post ;)

BABS said...

*stamps feet*

POOOOST!!!!

American Girl said...

Yikes! It's been a while - I'll work on it tonight and get some postings tomorrow before the villages come after me with the torches and pitchforks . . .