It just hit me last night… I have been in Denmark for two years already. Well, two years and two days, exactly. I remember flying out of London on January 25, in the late afternoon, and arriving to a very cold and dark Copenhagen in the evening, half excited about the idea of moving somewhere new and half scared at the possibility of failure in a place that was -and still is in a way- very different to anything I had experienced before; from the culture and the language to the scale of the city, the weather and the social dynamics, Denmark was so unfamiliar to me that, apart from expecting to be surrounded by beautiful blondes at all times (I was right), I don’t even remember having any concrete expectations at all.
Two years and two days have passed since and, although there have certainly been some rough patches along the way, I have to say that moving to Copenhagen has been a fantastic experience, well worth of every single lonely night I spent at home, hiding from the cold, wishing I was back in London with my friends.
It has been tough -Denmark can really be a bitch sometimes- and every now and then I still miss parts of my life in England, but things are better than they have ever been in a good while and a sense of belonging is finally developing, after all these years. Yes, it has taken me a while to get here, broken bones and all, but that’s ok. You know what they say…
I might not be in a band but I sure feel like I’m rocking.