It

Perhaps I should write in a language that the Danes I meet can understand. It has something sneaky to talk to people in one language and then write about them in another. It’s not that I suspect them to check this blog immediately to see if they’re the subject of my musings, and by the way, I almost never name names, but still. It’s more transparent this way, and I’m all for transparency. In fact, I wish I were completely transparent. A mere floating thought. An idea. A good idea, preferably. One of the advantages would be that I could not easily get the swine flu, the Mexican flu, Influenza H1N1 or whatever it's called. It. Yesterday one of our scheduled interviewees cancelled because she had it. She knew that Baby is part of our dream team and she didn’t want to risk anything. I said, yes, it might be risky, but this is work, so let’s do it anyway. My work ethic is unsurpassed. Teerbeminde’s work ethic is also not something to be ashamed of, but she agreed with the interviewee that the interview was not worth the risk. Then another interviewee tells us, just out of spraying distance, that she just got over it. After the interview I scrub my hands with some anti-bacterial towelettes that Teerbeminde bought, without Teerbeminde I would died several horrible deaths by now. Of course after the interview I shake the interviewee's hand one more time, I’m not used to refusing handshakes, I try to be kind, so I have to scrub my hands again. With the anti-bacterial towelette. It feels like the minute I got to Kopenhagen, I've been scrubbing my hands to prevent contracting it. And I'm coughing like there's no tomorrow. We had a sandwich in some place near Strøget and of course I had to go to the bathroom – I wish I were not only transparent but also less pee-y. After I washed my hands thoroughly, and I mean very thoroughly, I almost made the potentially fatal mistake of touching the doorknob of the bathroom door. Kicking the bathroom door open didn’t work. This was a non-kickable bathroom door. So I pushed it open with my forehead. How clever was that? Let’s hope nobody saw me.

The view from our apartment in Nørrebru. Everyone is sick, or at least invisible.