My Funny AU Story

The Tradition

There's a quirky tradition at my department. In front of the Geoscience Institute, there's a rock (a viking runestone) with a small opening—just big enough for a well-built man or woman to squeeze through. Apparently, at least once in their student life, Danes feel the need to pass through this hole naked and then run a lap around the department building. As a foreign student, I was baffled when I first heard about this custom, especially since it was explained to me during a Christmas-themed event by some female students. It sounded more like a joke than a genuine tradition. But about an hour later, as I was enjoying my schnapps, I suddenly spotted two dudes in the night, stark naked, sprinting as if their lives depended on it. I almost choked on my drink from laughing so hard.

The Story

What made the tradition even funnier was another story a female student shared with me about her own "Viking" moment. Apparently, two winters ago, during a heavy snowfall, she decided it was the perfect time to take part in the tradition. Her reasoning? First, she wanted to prove to herself—and her friends—that she could do it. Second, she assumed no one in their right mind would venture out into the freezing cold, so there would be fewer witnesses. But things didn’t go as planned. Just as she was about to finish her lap, the head of the department, accompanied by two professors, stepped out of the building after a meeting. Mortified, she panicked and tried to hide behind a tree—only to realize that, in the bare, frozen winter landscape, there were no leaves to offer any cover! That, she told me with a laugh, is true shieldmaiden dedication...

To sum up, the moral of the story is—Danes even without beer = Loco <3

If you’ve ever moved, you know how stressful it can be. There are logistical nightmares to solve, heavy furniture that demands an army of muscles, and the delicate art of making sure your shiny new flatscreen doesn’t arrive as a shattered mess of glass and plastic. Now, imagine amplifying all that stress by a thousand: you’re living abroad, friendless, clueless, and surrounded by a language that looks like it was invented just to mock you. Fun times, right?

This story takes place in early September 2024. I had just moved to Denmark and, thankfully, managed to make a small group of international friends who were also fumbling through their new lives here. One of them—let’s call her Maria—was an absolute lifesaver during my first few weeks. She had driven to Aarhus by car and still had it before her parents planned to reclaim it. This meant she had mobility, the holy grail of expat life. Errands with Maria were like a magical efficiency spree: zip around town, get everything done, no sweat. When I mentioned needing to go to IKEA (and, shamefully, confessed I’d never been to one), Maria lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. She offered to drive me there and even hyped it up as the ultimate expat initiation rite. After some back and forth, I agreed—and we had an awesome IKEA Day! Maria quickly became one of my best friends. She was someone I could always count on, and I’m still so grateful for how much she helped me. So, when Maria called a couple weeks later asking for help moving some furniture to her new place, I dropped everything. No way was I saying no to her. The plan sounded simple: we had to move two items—a large wooden comforter gifted by some friends and a bed Maria had scored on Facebook Marketplace. First, we’d pick up the comforter from our friends' place, drop it at Maria’s place, and then grab the bed from the city center. Maria assured me she had rented a van, so the hardest part would just be lifting and loading the furniture. Easy, right? The moment Maria pulled up to my driveway, I knew we were in for an adventure. The “van” she’d rented was...an electric micro-van. Wide and stubby, it looked like a toaster on wheels. I immediately doubted it could fit the bed, let alone the comforter. Maria admitted she’d also had doubts but had been forced to grab it last-minute after her original rental company fell through. So, we were stuck with it.

Since our friends were a bit busy that morning, we decided to go to the city center to pick up the bed first. We climbed three flights of stairs, wrestled the bed frame down, and lugged it to the van. That’s when reality hit us like a truck. The bed didn’t just “barely not fit.” It was a full 30-40 cm too long. The trunk wouldn’t close. At all. Cue panic. Maria spiraled into stress mode while I tried to brainstorm solutions. Carry it? A one-hour uphill walk. Rent bikes and strap it on? I’m not Danish enough for that level of biking finesse. Call friends? They were all in class. We were out of options. Finally, we settled on the most questionable plan: rope.

Back home in South America, it is not uncommon to see tiny vans or cars with big pieces of furniture tied to them, so I figured, being Latino, I could probably pull it off. The van had hooks on the back, so we decided to tie the bed down and hope for the best. I had some knot experience but neither of us was a knot expert so we were just winging it. Maria called her dad—a skipper—for advice, but frustration and a lack of patience left us stranded. So, we turned to the wisdom of YouTube. We secured the bed with a ridiculous amount of rope and a mix of highly questionable knots that held together purely by divine intervention. With the trunk wide open and a mattress sticking out, we cruised through Aarhus for 15 minutes, praying no one got hurt and no cops stopped us. Clenching our cheeks every time we had to break too hard or make a turn, until we fortunately made it to Maria's with an intact bed and no casualties. We’re pretty sure what we did was illegal, but I guess it is only truly illegal if you get caught. Call it a cultural exchange: my Latino “creative problem-solving” paired with Maria’s rule-following European panic. It balanced out. Kind of. Not really.

Moral of the story? When moving, find friends willing to do dumb, borderline-illegal things with you. Oh and don't let Maria rent the van! She had the dimensions for the bed and the van beforehand, so she technically knew that is was mathematically impossible for it to fit, but she hoped it kinda would work out for some reason (?). Well... I guess she was right, it did work out.

Latino sudent studying at AU

When Cambridge Dictionary announced *manifestation* as its Word of the Year 2024, I couldn’t help but smile. It felt like a personal nod from the universe because manifestation has been my secret weapon—a word I lived and breathed to make my dream of studying at Aarhus University (AU) come true.

Let me take you back to last December, when I was still in Korea, scrolling through endless master’s programs and scholarships. AU was at the top of my list—my dream university. But Denmark is expensive, and a scholarship was my only ticket. So, like any reasonable (and highly spiritual) person, I started to *manifest* AU into my life. Spoiler: it worked. And the journey was nothing short of magical. If you know anything about manifestation, you know the first step: visualize your goal. I started by finding the most beautiful, high-definition image of AU, which I promptly set as my laptop wallpaper. Every time I opened my laptop, there it was—a reminder of the life I wanted. I binge-watched AU’s promotional videos to fuel my motivation and picture myself there. When it came time to apply, I didn’t leave anything to chance. Following my Chinese zodiac sign, I chose an auspicious time—midnight, Korea time—to hit "Submit." Superstitious? Maybe. But I believe in aligning with the universe.

After submitting my application, I entered full-on anxious mode. Lunar New Year was approaching, so I visited every pagoda I could find, praying fervently to every deity and ancestor I could think of—including my late father. “Denmark, Belgium, Germany, Papa. But mostly Denmark,” I whispered to the universe. In February, I doubled down on visualization. I started making lists of everything I’d do if I got into AU. Some nights, I even dreamed about being there. My alarm was set to “CHECK YOUR EMAIL!” every morning, a constant reminder that results were around the corner. The week before results were expected, I was drinking with friends. We decided to do virtual tours of all the universities I’d applied to, starting with AU. It felt like a sign. AU’s promotional video was the best, and my friend joked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the results came in right now?” Spoiler: they didn’t. But the universe wasn’t done with me yet.

That Monday, I started seeing signs everywhere. At work, I stepped out of a building and saw a brand-new ad for a drink. Its name? Denmark. At lunch, my boss randomly chose a TV show featuring foreigners enjoying Korean food. The guest’s nationality? Denmark. I turned to my coworkers and said, “I feel it, sis.” Later that day, I was nervously drafting an email to complain about the unclear admission process when *ding*! The email I’d been waiting for arrived. I’d been admitted to AU—and the scholarship came through, too. I was overwhelmed with gratitude, disbelief, and a deep sense of connection to the universe. Now, I’m here—at my dream university, surrounded by amazing people, studying what I love. The universe answered, and it’s safe to say, I’m a manifestation believer for life. ✨

Korean student studying at AU