Danish lessons continue here, where I’m learning about Mette’s new boyfriend, and how difficult men are to buy presents for.
“Mænd bliver aldrig glade for sko,” imparts her friend, after she suggests that she might get him some new shoes. This means, “Men are never happy for new shoes.”
“I just don’t understand him”, says Mette, or “Jeg forstår ham bare ikke.”
“How can one walk in the same shoes for years without getting tired of them?” which is “Hvordan kan man gå rundt i de samme sko i årevis uden at blive træt af dem?”
Yes indeed, Mette, I feel your pain. Men are difficult to get presents for. While I was learning these new words, I started thinking about how languages evolve and how vague concepts become concrete, known phenomena when we invent words for them. Like, you know that feeling when you’re in a cheap motel? Like maybe you were on your way someplace more interesting, on your way to an adventure or to meet with friends or just go home, but you got caught by the rain. Or the ferry was full. Or you had been driving for 14 hours straight and your head started to nod, then you came awake with an snap, still in your lane and driving straight, but with your panicky heart beating twice as fast, and your eyelids starting to close again anyway…
Okay, so you’re in that shitty motel. The room is cheap, yet still twice as much as it looks like it’s worth. There might be other people there, but you won’t see them. You take a long shower, just for something to do, and watch TV for the first time in several years. You turn it off after about seven minutes, because the commercial that was playing when you turned it on hasn’t ended yet.
You listen to the silence and it starts to close in.
What’s the word for that?
Maybe Danish has a word for it. I need to get back to learning.