Just so you don't go accusing me of making that all up, my doctor's name is Anders. (That whole "chatting amiably" thing includes addressing him by his first name.) He has a lovely, bright office with a waiting room full of nice toys for my son to play with and informative books that I'm sure would be useful if I understood Danish. You "check in" by swiping your healthcard through the card reader on the wall. At your assigned appointment time, he calls you in to his huge office/exam room and you talk while he taps out notes on his sleek iMac. Ten minutes later you leave with all your questions answered and directions to the pharmacy where you can pick up your medication. That's it. Really.
No waiting months for the first available appointment. No stacks of paperwork to fill out. No copays or deductibles to calculate. No sitting in a backless paper gown in a claustrophobic cell under harsh flourescent lights that would make even the healthiest person look sick. No disgruntled, overworked, still-in-debt-from-med-school doctor hustling through the appointment, hastily scratching out a prescription for the latest drug whose company recently bought his lunch. If Danes don't actually "like" their healthcare, at least I've found nothing to be horrified by so far.