Denmark is known as one of the happiest countries in the world. It’s also considered one of the hardest places to make friends and settle in as an expat. But that didn’t phase me at first.
I had created a large community in Czechia — which has also ranked low for friendliness to foreigners — after moving there in 2014 to teach English. In late 2018, my Czech partner and I moved to Odense, a city of about 187,000 on the Danish island of Funen, where my partner planned to pursue his master’s in robotics.
But as a self-employed copywriter, adapting was more challenging than I expected.
Whether I was making conversation at a book club meeting or a job fair, I quickly found that the Danes I met kept a careful distance. “How long will you stay in Denmark?” they’d ask, or, “Are you learning Danish?” Initially, I felt discouraged that they seemed more interested in my commitment to my adopted country than in my personality.
I found Danes to be friendly but insular, often keeping to the tight-knit circle they built throughout their childhoods and school years. Many seem to dislike small talk beyond complaining about the weather — a blessedly universal pastime.
Hugging the world. I’m originally from New York. I’ve also lived in Israel & Palestine, Czechia, and Denmark.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
Later, the Covid lockdowns added more difficulty to the mix. But during the initial reopening, I met a Danish man who said that making new friends is just as hard for Danes in a new city as it is for internationals.
Instead of discouraging me, this brought me new determination to leave my comfort zone. I’m glad and grateful to say I’ve succeeded and built a rich life here.
Looking back, I discovered the key: pursuing hobbies and interests my new neighbors and I might have in common. By attending a mix of events, some geared to internationals and others to Danes, I’ve found community, felt a sense of belonging, and grown as a person.
Joining a club and becoming the ‘unofficial people person’
Denmark has at least 100,000 voluntary clubs and associations, called foreninger.
My engineer partner and I started volunteering with one called Repair Cafe Odense (the local branch of an international organization) to help people give their broken electronics, torn clothes, and other items a new life, for free. Today, we’re members of the board.
I’m RCO’s unofficial people person: greeting visitors, matching them with a repair-volunteer, and checking in with them throughout. I aim to make sure they leave with a smile, whether or not we can fix their item. Many return to our events month after month, telling us how grateful they are and spreading the word.
Giving a talk at Repair Cafe Odense, where I’m the unofficial people person.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
Connecting with visitors gives me the opportunity to practice my Danish. I push my vocabulary beyond discussing the weather to hear the story behind each item, and to talk about bæredygtighed (sustainability) in Denmark and beyond.
When people compliment my Danish, I praise the patience and dedication of my teacher Rikke. She’s taken me under her wing outside our Danish lessons, too, inviting me to paint ceramics, celebrate the holiday Sankt Hans with her family, and even go trick-or-treating.
Enjoying Halloween with my Danish teacher Rikke’s son.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
Facing my fear of heights through bouldering: ‘Camaraderie serves as a bridge’
After Denmark lifted all Covid restrictions in 2022, a friend convinced me to try climbing at a bouldering gym. I’m only five feet tall and terrified of heights — but I surprised myself by finishing a tough route on the first day.
I was immediately hooked.
The gym is a friendly community where fellow boulderers offer to advise me on my footwork or spontaneously encourage me through a difficult route. It feels natural to cheer on other familiar faces, especially other short female boulderers who face the same challenges.
Bouldering at the gym, an activity I now do three times a week with a group of Danes and internationals.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
This sense of camaraderie serves as a bridge to further conversation. We compare notes on our progress and sometimes commiserate about how much a couple extra centimeters would help us reach the next grip.
Now, I boulder three times a week with a group of Danes and internationals, a mix of my partner’s coworkers and my former coworkers from a part-time copywriting job.
We also started meeting up regularly outside the gym for coffee dates; Friendsgiving — which I’ve hosted the last five years, two of them with my first Danish friend Pernille; and karaoke.
Hanging out with my first Danish friend Pernille.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
Singing my heart out at karaoke: ‘Through music, we follow each other’s lives’
From chatty expats to composed older Danes, few things bring people together like belting out a song. When I attend the monthly karaoke hosted at Ungdomshuset Odense — a community house for young people, found in many Danish cities — I hear people sing in English, Danish, Spanish, Slovak, and other languages.
The Danish version of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” tends to get a particularly positive reception. One regular’s performances of Käärijä’s “Cha Cha Cha” are always met with a standing ovation. Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” is one of my own go-tos.
Singing at the monthly karaoke hosted at Ungdomshuset Odense, a community house for young people found in many Danish cities.
Courtesy of Chloé Skye Weiser
We celebrate each other’s performances and sometimes meet outside of karaoke to practice duets.
Through music, we follow each other’s lives, checking in on an illness that kept someone home last time or nodding to a milestone in someone’s gender transition that allows them to sing with a new voice.
Building community: ‘What I’ve learned is useful for anyone’
Since moving, I’ve come to see that Denmark is a trust-based society. Verbal agreements have meaning. People leave sleeping babies in carriages outside of cafés.
It may take time to break through the hard outer shell of this “coconut culture,” but it’s worth the effort to get to the warmth inside.
What I’ve learned is useful, not just for those in Denmark but for anyone who wants to make deep connections and build community: Find shared interests and dive in. It’s a great way to create space for the daily social interactions that are proven to make you happier — and to build a richer life in the place you choose to call home.
Chloé Skye Weiser is an avid storyteller and journalist who writes about coffee culture, climate, circularity, and sexual and reproductive health and rights. Originally from NYC, she currently lives in Denmark. She is the founder of content strategy firm Chlohemian Copy. You can connect with her on LinkedIn or Instagram.
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