When Denmark suddenly starts to wobble

An earthquake.

And no, this time there won’t be any profound analysis of social cohesion, shared balconies, or the question of why the Danes probably coordinate even tectonic plates more calmly than we Germans do.

There really was an earthquake.

The moment the living room starts to sway

Just before five in the afternoon.

One person is working.
Another is playing.
A third is just about to have a drink of water, which, as we all know, is one of the most dangerous situations for unexpected natural phenomena.

And suddenly: movement.

Not dramatic. Not Hollywood.
No bookcase toppling over, no people fleeing in panic, no orchestral music in the background.

More like this:

“Hmm.”

The house sways slightly.

The floor feels odd.
The glass vibrates a little.
For a brief moment, it all seems as though someone has accidentally shifted reality ever so slightly.

The Great Rubbish Truck Theory

We go out onto the balcony.

The neighbours are already standing there.

No panic.
More like a Nordic curiosity.

Everyone looks at each other, slightly puzzled.

And immediately, the most German of all explanations emerges:

“That refuse lorry’s making quite a racket today.”

Because, naturally, in Copenhagen, people first assume it’s down to poor road surfaces or heavy waste collection logistics – but not an earthquake.

It shakes briefly.
Then it’s all over.

And like adults with a functioning coping mechanism, we carry on.

The news later: Oops, an earthquake after all

It’s only hours later that we read the reports.

An earthquake.

3.9 on the Richter scale.

Epicentre somewhere between Copenhagen and Malmö, which the German media immediately turn into the “Denmark earthquake”, even though Malmö is, as we all know, in Sweden. But presumably, from a German perspective, it’s all “up there with the happy cyclists” anyway.

Malmö shook too.

The Baltic Sea, briefly:

“Just a reminder, I still exist too.”

Our first earthquake

To be honest, it was the first earthquake we’d ever actually felt.

And of all places, here.

Not in California.
Not in Japan.
Not somewhere in a Netflix documentary with dramatic aerial shots.

But in Copenhagen.

Amidst cargo bikes, sourdough bread and people voluntarily swimming in the harbour at eight degrees.

No sign, no message

And no:

It probably wasn’t a sign.

Not of climate change.
Not of social tensions.
Not of our personal development.

Just a small earthquake.

But at least one where we can now say:

We’ve experienced one.

Even if our first reaction was to blame the refuse lorry.