Hospitality of the Danes

It was late one Sunday evening. We arrived in a small town hoping to find a food store still open. Alas, the only store was open for two hours that morning. I was hunched over the map looking at distances to neighbouring towns. Benoit and David were discussing what food we had with us and whether we could muster up enough food until tomorrow. A man appeared from the closest house. He found out that we were from Canada and began waving us in towards his door. He has relatives in Canada, he said. I thought that perhaps he could tell us where to find a store open nearby. "Do you know ...?," I began. "I know everything. Come. Come," he said and waved us in to his house again. There, we met his wife and their dog Zilla. It was Zilla's barking that had alerted them to our presence out front. They invited us for dinner and to put our tents up in their yard overnight. As we were leaving in the morning, Birgitta offered us a gift of a box of tea. Something light enough that we can carry on our bicycles and that we can use, she said. We had only known each other for such a short time and yet I felt that she really understood the way that we are travelling. Thank you Hans! Thank you Birgitta! Thank you Zilla!

Belly rub, ahhhhhh.