When you go back to your country of origin, it’s alarming sometimes to realize how Danish you are becoming.

I’ve been on vacation in the USA for a couple of weeks. But I’m back now, and it only takes a few minutes after I arrive at Kastrup airport before something happens to destroy the relaxing effect of 2 weeks off and several thousand kroner spent on spas, hotels and tasty dinners.

The jolt back to reality usually happens at baggage claim, when one of my fellow fliers of the Danish persuasion bumps right into me at the baggage carousel without saying Excuse me, or Pardon, or Entshculdigung, or any of those other nice oops-I’ve-just-run-into-you phrases so common in the rest of the world.  For Danes, the standard response after accidentally running into someone is a sullen grunt – HUMPH- along with a sour look of annoyance that you got in their way.