Sometimes there are days that quietly make you feel you've truly arrived.
Yesterday evening and this morning were exactly those kinds of days for me.
Yesterday we had our summer concert with Rytmisk Kor Strandby in the church. Our choir director Anne had prepared everything with such passion and went through every detail with us one more time before the concert.
One hundred program booklets were printed. One hundred. And they weren't enough.
The church was beautifully filled, the atmosphere warm and full of anticipation. We sang many of the classic Danish summer songs that everyone here knows and loves. We also performed two world-famous English titles that rounded out the program.
What I especially love about concerts like these are the Fællessange - the communal singing. When suddenly it's not just the choir singing, but the whole church. When voices from all around come together and for a moment turn the audience and performers into one community.
The concert was a complete success.
Anne surpassed herself. And so did we as a choir.
After the last song, we were all a little enchanted and let ourselves be carried along by the waves of that evening for a long time.
Afterward, we toasted. The adults had a glass of champagne with small snacks. The children had Faxe. Then our summer finale began with the choir members.
There were the traditional hand-peeled Swedish shrimp with bread, mayonnaise, and lemon. Plus drinks of our choice and above all: time together.
Time to talk.
Time to laugh.
Time to toast to summer.
As I sat there, I had to think back to last year.
Back then, Michael and I still sat next to each other at a table. Some kind people took care of us and tried to include us. Looking back, I think we made them feel a little sorry for us then. The newcomers. The ones who moved here. The ones who didn't quite belong yet.
Yesterday was different.
Michael sat with the men.
I sat with the women.
And the most beautiful part was: they had saved my seat.
That sounds like a small thing.
But it wasn't.
Because in that moment, I no longer felt like a guest.
I felt right in the middle.
I belonged.
I was accepted.
I could celebrate, laugh, and just be myself.
When the evening came to an end, we hugged, wished each other a beautiful summer, made plans for the time after, and waved goodbye.
And I took that warmth home with me.
Right into the next morning.
And today started with beautiful encounters as well.
Early in the morning, I brought my Finnish friend our new work clothes that I'd picked up the day before. Together, we then drove to Møllehuset.
There, the municipality of Frederikshavn had invited us to a work lunch. The topic was German tourism and how we could strengthen it further in our region.
Since this topic interested both of us, we registered early. Places were limited.
Hardly had we arrived when I was called on.
Would I not introduce myself briefly and tell them why I was there?
I was completely unprepared.
Really.
I told them that I'd only moved to Denmark two and a half years ago, that I'm German, and that they'd caught me quite cold. I also mentioned that my Danish probably wasn't good enough to give a big speech spontaneously.
Of course, I didn't say that all in one sentence.
Anyone who knows me knows that.
But the response I got made me all the happier.
They told me that for the short time I've been living here, my Danish is extraordinarily good.
That felt good.
Very good indeed.
During the morning, there were many interesting talks and conversations. What was particularly pleasant was that nobody spoke in a North Jutland dialect. Everyone spoke clear, easily understandable Danish. This allowed us to follow along without any trouble and eventually even contribute ourselves.
And then there was a little surprise.
Suddenly I spotted my new boss from the Coastal Museum.
We both had to laugh.
So soon after signing the contract, we run into each other again.
And a colleague from Skagen was there too. Another one who wears many hats, as they say here when you have different jobs. Like I do now.
North Jutland is sometimes really just a village.
And yes, before I forget:
The food was excellent.
Fresh fruit, pastries, coffee, water, raw vegetables, and wonderfully prepared sandwiches. Exactly the kind of catering you get at events in Denmark. Simple, high-quality, and made with care.
As I drove home later, I realized what these two days had in common.
It wasn't the concert.
Not the food.
Not the talks.
It was this feeling.
This quiet, warm feeling of not just being there.
But being right in the middle.
And sometimes that's exactly the greatest gift a new country can give you.
