Once I Sailed Away . . .

Goddag

What a long trip back!  My flight was very, very early, so I rose in the middle of the night to dress, complete packing, and straighten up the place.  I could hear the drunks in the street and was not excited about having to emerge in the midst of them.

I got lucky in that regard because when I did leave the streets were almost empty.

The first leg of the journey was the hardest.  I had to get myself and my luggage down the steep, narrow staircase.  There was a light—at the bottom.  Normally I bring a small led light thingy, but this time I must have forgotten it.  Note to self.  Make sure it's in your bag next time!

I carefully felt my way down in the pitch darkness and opened the door which let in enough light for me to find the switch and then I brought my bags down.

It was a short walk to the station.  I wore my coat but it fact it was so warm I packed it as I waited for the metro.  One of the metro folk saw me waiting and waiting and explained that the line I was waiting for wasn't running.  She kindly directed me to a place I could get the train.

Now that was part of her job, but the Danes are just nice and go out of their way to be helpful if they can.  I never encountered rudeness or any kind of attitude toward anyone.

At the airport they were looking for people to volunteer to be bumped but they wouldn't bump me because I had a connecting flight.

I'd just figured out how to log in to the airport's wifi when my flight was called.

And naturally my connecting time in Frankfurt was so tight that I could not find the tax refund booth.  They won't let you turn it in unless they are sure you are about to leave the EU.  You have to show a boarding pass.

The flight back wasn't bad.  I actually had a couple of decent airline meals, but I also didn't get any sleep.  I'm a wreck.
One of the things I discovered is that the Danes ARE incredibly trusting even in a city full of drinking tourists.  Sometimes when I was walking down the streets I saw baby carriages parked outside shops. Taking a discreet peak I determined that, yes, there was an unattended infant inside.
Did you ever find the secret to the Danes' happiness, Pil?
Well, I think it's a combination of their kindly natures--and the saturated fat!  And let's not forget those Free Public Toilets!

For sharing my trip with me I give you a hearty Danish Tak!

Farvel

Woodland Walk

Goddag

My last full day here was gorgeous. I didn’t even wear my sweater.

After the usual chores and errands.  I attempted to get smorrebrod for my last dinner in Copenhagen, but the place was closed for three weeks.  What a disappointment.  I am going to miss those sandwiches.

I wonder if the ticket guys at Norrebro recognize me by now.  Anyway I was off to Klampenborg and Dryerhaven and a glimpse of Bakken, which is in fact the world's oldest amusement park

The Dryerhaven is a sort of nature reserve.  It's wooded and crossed by many paths.  I chose to spend my last afternoon wandering there.  I loved the green and gold peaceful countryside.  The traffic noise faded away.  I encountered cyclists and a few other walkers.  I breathed deeply of the fresh, wood scented air and enjoyed a lovely experience of the sort I do not get at home.
I wish I knew more about trees.  I can recognize oaks when I see them, but I could not tell you which kinds I saw.  Beeches are common.  I saw pines or firs or maybe both.  

I met a family strolling along in the company of their French Bulldog.  The creature was huffing and flapping its tongue, so I huffed at it and flapped mine—much to the amusement of the dog's humans.  French Bulldogs appear to be the Danes' favorite.  I saw a lot of them around and they are ubiquitous on TV commercials and advertisements.
I have not, however, encountered any Great Danes.

As the afternoon progressed I found myself overtaken by an increasing number of horse-drawn carriages and greater crowds.  Then I heard the noise of squealing roller coaster riders.  I'd come upon Bakken and the crowd of Danes taking advantage of the fine weather.  Unlike Tivoli admission to Bakken is free, but I did not go in far.  I just took a quick peak.  There are carnival games, and lots of food stands, and plenty of rides.

Back in Copenhagen I stopped at a Polgser Vogn for dinner for one of those serious sausages to have with the last of my Danish beer.  Now I have to pack up because I'm leaving early tomorrow.

Farvel

Snooping Around Queen Margarethe's Place

Goddag

The partying on the street was particularly intense last night, and it spilled over in to the apartment above mine.  Here's the set up. One needs a key to get into the passage that leads to the courtyard and door to get in the building.  The same key unlocks the door, and one goes up a steep narrow staircase.  My place is on the first landing.  Another key opens that door.  Visitors can be buzzed in.

This morning as I was brushing my teeth after breakfast some drunks tried to get in my place.  They couldn't, of course, because I keep it locked.  No doubt they were looking for the party upstairs.  This happens in hotels, too, sometimes.  I find it best just to stay silent and let folk figure it out.  Yelling at them to go away just involves one in arguments or demands to be let in.

I went off to the Norrebro Station as usual where I was helpful to some fellow travelers.  A pleasant young couple—American by the sound of them---wanted to go to Malmo but waited in vain on the wrong platform.  I was able to enlighten them.

I was going to Fredenborg—the "Peace Castle" built by one of the Fredriks or Christians and open to the public only in July because it is the royal family's cherished country place.

Getting to Fredenborg is quite a process.  Because the E Line isn't running through Copenhagen due to construction one has to change trains.  I am a total veteran at changing trains and platforms at Ryparken.  I went back to Hillerod where I visited Fredrickborgslog, but . . . Instead of leaving the station I went to another platform to await the train to Fredensborg. This proved to be a small rural train.  People have to push the button to request the train to stop at places where there are no stations but just shelters like a bus stop.  They have to flag the train down if they want to get on.

I walked through the town to the palace.  It's in Late Baroque and Neo Classical style.  The opening hours are limited, so I began with a walk through the grounds.  The public usually has access to the park, which is an extensive area of woodland and lakes.  I saw some joggers and bikers and even a Danish cat.  I also got lost—obviously not seriously.

The only way to see the inside of the palace is to take a tour.  English ones exist, but I didn't want to wait around for one, so I joined the Danes.  The first step is to put on the blue plastic shoe coverings.  After the tour I noticed some Danes making off with them as souvenirs.  You aren't supposed to do that.

I enjoyed seeing the state rooms.  Naturally I could not understand a single syllable of the commentary, but from the reaction of the Danes, the guy wasn't all that interesting, and they found him long-winded.  We began with a long introduction to the history and layout of place.  My attention wandered and was caught by the unicorn in the corner.

You are making that up, Pil.

I'm not, but someone did.  Someone stuffed a deer, bleached its hide white and stuck a narwhal tusk in its forehead.  Then the someone gilded the creature's hooves and added a goat beard.  It was pretty convincing.

The queen and her family have the usual array of reception and banqueting rooms to show.  I liked their proportions and the green and blue color schemes.  I think the furniture was rearranged for the visitors because the set up looked over formal.

One highlight was the central loggia with the ceiling that reached up to the dome.  I counted nine kinds of marble.

After all that I got back late but in time to see very end of Tour de France.  Congratulations to Bradley Wiggins!  He is the first British winner ever.
Farvel 

Shopping on Stroget

 Goddag!

Of course now that my visit is drawing to its close, the weather has started to improve.  This is the second day I have merely worn my sweater and the first in a long time that the umbrella did not go up at all.

I spent the morning walking around town.  I went shopping and among the things I bought were a pair of amber and silver earrings, which I will force you to admire.  Most amber comes from the Baltic and is abundant (but still expensive!) in Copenhagen.  Most of the jewelry was really chunky, and I did not like it.  It looked to me like, "Ooh, see how rich I am.  I can afford to wear big old chunks of amber."  Nah.  But you'll like my earrings.  You'd better . . .
I don't know how to make shopping seem interesting.  You can find a couple of good touristy shops on Stroget, but mostly it's just clothes and stuff.  I liked poking around the two big department stores.  One Magasin is the largest in Scandinavia.  I look at things like housewares that I could not possibly buy and bring home.
The truth is (don't tell) I don't care that much for the famed Danish design.  I love Denmark and the Danes.  They can keep their design.

Then I visited the National Museum again.  It's a big place and there was quite a bit of it I hadn't seen.  I came upon more period rooms and an very interesting exhibit of artifacts of everyday life in various periods of history.  I like looking at traditional costumes, and tools, and toys.

I went upstairs to look at the Antiquities, so I could practice my Art History skills.  The museum had an impressive exhibit.  I'm not sure how much you want to hear about Cycladic, and Black Figure and Red Figure, but I enjoyed it.
I also dropped in on some churches.  You will not find Romanesque or Gothic in Copenhagen any more.  All of them are Neo Classical.  They are comparatively small, and if you have seen some of the great churches of Europe, you won't be impressed.  I did enjoy seeing Thorvaldsen's Christ and the Twelve Apostles again and as it was meant to be displayed.

For dinner I stopped back at that fancy bakery on Stroget.  I got a ham sandwich.  Once again I had to take a number and wait, and the sandwich was expensive.  On the other hand it was worth it.  It had great bread of a sort of sourdough.  This was filled with a generous portion of wonderful Danish ham, some cheese, tomato and bitter greens. It made a very tasty and filling dinner washed down with cheap rose from the grocery store.

Farvel

Tivoli!

 

Goddag

You thought I meant Tivoli when I said I’d be near the world’s oldest amusement park.  Admit it.

Well, yeah. Isn't it?

Ha!  Tivoli is the Second Oldest Amusement Park.  Denmark also has the oldest—just down the road in Bakken, but Tivoli is smack in the middle of Copenhagen right next to the main train station.  I had to go.
But first I had to have breakfast and do some errands.  You probably don't want to know about the errands, but how about breakfast?  I succumbed to the lure of . . .  bacon.  For the usual health reasons I don't eat it, but I'm in Denmark, Pork capital of the Galaxy and it looked so good.  I indulged in an old fashioned fatty bacon and eggs breakfast, and I have to say that bacon was so scrumptious.  I don't cook it really crisp, so it was rich tasting, luscious, and not too salty.
And oh yeah, I had thickly buttered rye bread, too.  Sorry, Arteries.

I showed up about a half hour after Tivoli opened and still had to wait in a long line to get in.  I had fun walking around, but I didn't pay the additional fee to go on any rides.  Some of the rides are kiddie rides.  A few of them looked terrifying.  There was one with two little airplanes at the end of long—really long—metal arms that swung the planes around and around and sometimes rotated them.  I watched in horrified fascination wondering how anyone could do that without getting sick.  One attraction was called "The Odin Express" for a little touch of tradition, but most of the park was a fantasy oriental style.

It's quite a pretty place even when—as usual it began to rain hard.  The rain did not seem to dampen at all the enjoyment the Danes and foreign visitors experienced.

Those used to Disney and Six Flags won't find the high tech here or all the thrill rides.  It's a far more low-key experience, and a lot of elderly people were there for the atmosphere rather than the rides.

You can also eat at Tivoli—and pretty much whatever you fancy.  Smorrebrod is there of course and polsger, but if you want an elaborate sit down meal, or Asian noodles in a casual setting you can find them.  Actually I think there were more Italian restaurants there than actual rides.

And if your krone are Really Burning a Hole in Your Pocket, you can find shops in which to spend them.  There are branches of some well-known Danish stores catering to the sucker tourist trade.

Me?  I stuck to the gardens and the walks along the (small) lakes and had a good time.

Farvel

Across the Bridge to Christianhaven--and back

Goddag

I went to Sweden yesterday because the weather forecast for today was . . .  dreadful, so I thought I’d stay local and do a shopping day.  First I did some chores.  For example I had to go to the grocery store and then recycle some glass.  I started out in the rain.  I walked down to Christianslot and then across the bridge to Christianhaven.  I was looking for a shop that reportedly had craft items from Greenland.  Of course, they don't call it Greenland anymore. It has an Inuit name, which I can never remember, and while the place is still associated with Denmark, I gather it's largely self-governing.  Greenland is NOT on my list of places to visit.  After a long walk I found the shop and also found the reports of crafts a shocking exaggeration.

To make this more interesting I will digress on a part of Christianhaven I did not see, but that you might want to should you come to Copenhagen.

Christiana was founded as a "free state" back in 1971 on an abandoned military base by a bunch of—well, let's just call them Hippies—wanted to found an alternative community.  Most Danes said, "why not?" so the place endured.  Eventually they had to kick out the hard drug dealers, and Marijuana is not longer openly sold on Pusher Street.  Rumblings from the Danes express resentment that the Christianians pay no taxes and are taking up valuable land that could be used for other purposes.  Just stroll in if you want to visit, but don't take pictures on Pusher Street, ok?

In one of the touristy stores on Stroget that I went to, one of the proprietors noticed my travel bag.  Long ago I got it in Battle at town in Sussex where in 1066 the Normans routed Harold, King of the English and his army.  Fortunately (this is rare!) he reacted with approval.  I showed the bag and said “French Danes!”  This got a laugh.

For dinner I had smorrebrod—just as tasty and wonderful as always.  These sandwiches have been among the highlights of my journey.  I had potato, liver paste and beef with some salty gelatinous goo and onion and butter lettuce, and ham salad with onion, cucumber, tomato, and butter lettuce.

Yeah, well congratulations on going to Sweden and all but you still disappoint us.  There’s an aspect of Danish life, i.e., food, you’ve not dealt with?

Such as?

Pastry, Pil!  Danish Pastry!

That’s what you call it.  There’s pastry in Denmark, but no “Danish” or even “Dansk” because here it’s Wienerbrod.  In Europe most bread pastries are called Viennese—even in Paris.  But I am not so neglectful.  For post shopping afternoon tea, I have something called a “snail” redolent of cinnamon.  I went to the fanciest bakery in town right on Stroget where I had to take a number and wait  But dang!  This is good.  Rich, buttery, sweet bread with cinnamon and a dollop of icing.  Ahhhh!

Ok, Pil, you don’t have to rub it in.

Farvel

Sverge!

Goddag

I know you are very disappointed in me.  Remember I can hear you through the computer screen.  This is what you are saying:

Pil, how could you be such a sap?  There you were a short ferry ride away from Sweden for heavens sake, and you didn’t go?  What a moron!

Well.  I did explain I found that particular stretch of coast unappealing.  That doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to give Sweden a try.  In fact I went today!

Eh?

I simply took the train from Copenhagen across the spectacular Oresund Bridge to Malmo.  It took about half a hour to get there, but it was a case of paying more for a shorter distance.  I left early and spent several pleasant hours strolling the town.  There are a few modest sights in Malmo, but I went to enjoy being in Sweden and to do some shopping.  The weather cooperated.  I had to carry my coat rather than wear it.

Swedish train stations are what we used to call futuristic.  They are clean, spacious, gleaming with chrome, and high tech.  When I was waiting for my train back, I watched a video projected on the wall.  It was like watching the passing countryside through a train window.  I saw conifer forests and flowing rivers.  Pretty cool, what?

On arrival I dithered around at first needing to find an ATM for some Swedish Krone.  I heard a couple speak English and asked for help, which they kindly gave.  So I had to deal with even more foreign money—just after finally getting used to the Danish stuff!  Swedish Krone?  I had no clue.

Malmo is a delightful place.  It's not especially historical, but on a fine day, it was lovely to explore the parks and squares.  I stayed in the pedestrianized center.  I caught a glimpse of the famous Twisting Tower from the train, and I did not walk out to the castle.

Even the public toilet in the square—for which I had to pay ten Swedish Krone—was controlled by computer.  And should you have a sudden urge for a shower or shampoo, you can also get one there.

I was there to shop.  I came upon another British import store and on impulse went in.  There I came upon my heart’s desire--Twinings Everyday—a delicious breakfast tea unavailable in the United States.  I could not plunk down my krone fast enough!

I also bought some chocolate.  So it’s time once again for---European Chocolate Faceoff!—Scandinavian  Division.

Oh Thank goodness!  I thought you'd forgotten.

Chocolate?  Never!

As usual I am comparing the highest end chocs I can find in this case from Denmark and Sweden.  I taste after dinner when the edge of hunger is off and cleanse my palate after teach taste.  First, Denmark.  Ooooh.  So good.  One bites through a thin shell to the filling. I taste rich chocolately flavor and feel creamy luscious texture.  Now Sweden.  Good.  The chocolate shell is thicker and harder to bite through.  The filling is tasty, but not comparable either in richness or smooth texture.  This time Denmark comes out a clear winner.

More bad news from the Tour de France.  Frank Schleck tested positive for a banned diruretic—banned because it leads to unnatural weight loss or the flushing out of other banned substances.  Neither he nor his brother is having a good year.  Wonder what Andy is going to say to Frank about this!

Farvel

Hamlet? Schmamlet!

Goddag

How I love hard rain when I’m safe inside, warm, dry and well fed.  It’s pouring, and I’m not out in it.  Lovely!  I’m fascinated by water falling from the sky.

But not all my experience of rain today was indirect.  Yes. I was out in it.  I went to Helsingor.

The Danish Monarchy has amazingly bad luck with castles. Every single one of them that I have visited so far have been destroyed by fire and rebuilt.  So it is with Kronborg.

Hamlet supposedly takes place at the Kronborg at Elsinor.  Evidently there’s some historical truth to the tale of a young prince taking revenge for the murder of his father by his brother who then married the widow.  Mostly—as usual—Shakespeare is making it up.  The incident took place in Jutland, and the Bard seems to know nothing of the Kronborg guarding the Oresund—the narrow strait between Sweden and Denmark.
That doesn't stop the folks of Helsingor from bringing up Hamlet at every opportunity.  On the way to the castle, I passed Hamlet cafes and the big Hotel Hamlet.

Even in the pouring rain the castle is well worth visiting.  The state rooms are certainly not comparable to Christianborgslot because the Crown handed over the castle to the military long before.  Visitors walk through sparsely furnished but grand rooms with views commanding the Oresund--you know just in case some ship tried to sneak by without paying the toll that made the Kings of Denmark (and that also meant Sweden, Norway, and aspirations to own a lot more) rich.

Alas—from the Danish point of view Sweden became independent.  Denmark had to share the Oresund, and Helsingor was no longer the center of the kingdom.  The royal family turned the fortress over to the military, which abandoned it to the public in the late 1950s.

In addition there is the spooky fun of prowling around the dark casements or foundations of the castle. It really is dark down there.  Apparently one can rent a flashlight, but I didn't figure this out until I was downstairs.  Beware! Footing is uneven.  I stuck close to a German speaking family to find my way.

During a brief break in the weather I clambered around the bastions and ramparts and looked across the strait to Sweden.

Then the weather returned.  The kind of weather I experienced in Helsingor is termed a “storm” where I live. It rained hard, and the wind roared.  I always carry my umbrella, which goes up at the merest hint of a raindrop, and I was wearing my coat.  I still got soaked.  But what floors me is the seeming indifference of the Danes to weather that often causes alarm and horror at home.  Few carry umbrellas.  I saw a child sprawled on a rock by the beach simply soaking up cold rain as if it were sunshine.  Danes parade around in shorts, sandals.  Oh yes, they scurry rather than saunter through it but yike.  If this is high summer what must fall and winter be like?

The city of Helsingor is charming and colorful.  I found it more appealing that Koge, but that’s probably because it was easier to get to and I was in a better mood.  A short ferry ride can take you to the unappealing Swedish shore, but most of the traffic, as it happens, is toward Denmark.  I came  upon the booze market set up for Swedes looking for comparatively cheap liquor.

So I have finally found a Danish beer I really like.  The others I’ve tried have been merely ok.  The sojourn in Amsterdam last summer with the best of the Netherlands and Belgium, plus the expertise of some friends has spoiled me rotten.  But a brand called Thisted Classic is dark and rich—dark amber colored—ooh! just like my eyes. I’d been out a long time, and by the time I got home I was cold, tired and hungry.  The beer tided me over until I could change my clothes, etc. and get the pasta cooking.

Farvel

Because it's not a Trip without Some Frustration!

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Goddag

I thought I’d give myself a low-key easy day out at Koge a pretty little town with old buildings, my guidebook told me, and interesting shops.  All it would take was a forty minute ride on the S tog or Suburban Train to the end of the line—or so my guidebook said.

Yeah right.

I would have enjoyed Koge more had it not been such an unexpected hassle to get there.  I got on the S Tog labeled Koge, but it only took me to Copenhagen Central Station.  There was an announcement in Danish, and everyone else got off.  Eventually I did, too, and I noticed that the train destination had changed to the opposite direction.  Bewildered, I sought out an alternative route. Adventure I said.  Oh I found one, but it mean waiting for a regular train and then a longish wait at a station to change to my destination and then a train ride the length of the original estimated (ha!) journey.

I don’t like hanging around train stations, and it was pouring by that time.  I had my umbrella, and prudently had worn my coat, so I was prepared.  So was one of my fellow waitees.  He whipped out a bottle of Carlsberg—before noon it was.  I am not capable of dealing with morning drinking—a Puritan prejudice, I’m sure.  Oh well.

Yes, Koge was a pretty town, and I liked walking around, but by that time I was trying not to be in a bad mood and I didn’t enjoy the place as much as I would have had it been easy to get to and as much as the town deserved.  The town square is the largest in Denmark and there are many charming old houses and streets, but I had been promised interesting shops, and I didn't find any.  It was too cold for ice cream (shocking, I know!) so I put myself in the mood for pastry and sought out a bakery—in vain.

Fortunately I found an easier, quicker way back.  Unfortunately the guy sitting next to me reeked of cigarette smoke.  And then a really messed up looking beggar (?) came through.  One side of his face was swollen and all purple.  One eye was swollen shut.  He reeked of beer.

So I’m glad I beat the rain home and glad I went and got some smorrebrod before I set out.  The ladies at the place I go to recognize me and appear glad when I show up and like that I appreciate their food.  Really that’s what our hosts are looking for when we visit foreign lands.  They want respect and appreciation, and most of the time Americans gladly show it.

Thanks for sharing, Pil.  But what FOOD did you get this time?

A fishy trio.  I liked the herring so I got that.  Sild, we Danes say and then a fish one, and then as a novelty some salmon garnished with teensy shrimp.  I don’t usually care for shrimp, but these were good.

Washed down with?

Cheap red Italian wine—a Rosso Veronese, which was not bad--for the salmon/shrimp and Danish beer for the rest.

Farvel.

Because it's not Scandanavia without Some Vikings

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Goddag

On my way to Norreport Station I got stopped and asked for help by three travelers.  One guy wanted to exchange money.  I sent him to the main train station since I recalled Bureaux de Change there, but Sunday morning is not a good time for trying to change cash.  Things are closed.  The next couple wanted to know where the flea market was.  I had to guess.  Then a woman needed help finding her train.  That I could do.

The guy at the train station ticket window this morning was so charming I wanted to bring him home with me.

But all I did was ask him to sell me a ticket to Roskilde—pronounced Roskil more or less in Dansk.  So it was an easy train ride.  I kept an eye on the sky.  Dark clouds gathered and it was a bit chilly but no rain fell, and I wore my sweater and not my raincoat.

Roskilde used to be the capital of Denmark way back in Viking times before Bishop Absalon built his "merchants' harbor" and fortress of Copenhagen.  It's still the spiritual center of the country.

One takes a pleasant and sign posted walking through the streets to the town center where the cathedral sits.  I continued on with the woodland walk through the park down to the harbor and the Viking Ship Museum.  Hey you have to be interested in Vikings to like this.  I am.  It was kinda like coming home.  I hooked up with a tour in English and heard a lot of history I already knew and some technical Viking stuff and archeology I didn’t.

I enjoyed seeing the ships and hearing about their construction and use.  I strolled across the bridge to watch the demonstration of traditional crafts like woodworking and rope twisting.

Then I climbed back up the hill to the cathedral.

The Dom is a magnificent building.  It features painted walls and ceilings with vegetal designs and biblical scenes in a naïve style.  The visitor can also pay respects at the tombs of the monarchs of Denmark.  I confess to ignorance.  I could not tell my Fredricks from my Christians.  Among the treasures is the spectacular bas relief altar piece.

I had a most satisfying, historical day.
During the Tour de France some idiot thought it was a great idea to throw tacks on the road.  Bradley Wiggins acted as a great patron and kept the race together.

Farvel!

A Step into the Past

Goddag

So no hot water this morning.  I was debating whether to call the owner when I went outside with my recycling.  Fortunately I found the place for glass just down the street.  I always want to be a responsible guest and recycle if I can.  So on my way out I saw a notice posted—in Danish, of course, but I’ve been here more than a week, so I knew some words and could figure out it was about the hot water situation and that it was going to be dealt with.  But only with the written language!  Dansk is not really much like Deutsch, but knowing some German does help at least looking at written word.  But they sound so different!  Dansk is sort of like French in that ends of words are not spoken and some of the consonants are gargled.

Oh yeah and I had hot water when I got home!

And I had a day of fine weather.  I decided to take advantage of it and go to the Frilandmuseet.  Open air museums are my most favorite thing on trips.  This one is fantastic!  They have moved and reconstructed farm buildings and old houses from various parts of Denmark.

The setting is gorgeous.  As one penetrates the park traffic noise fades and is replaced by birds chirping, water fowl quacking and Danish sheep saying maaa instead of baaa.

To get there get off at Sorgenfri and follow the signs, but I have to say this is definitely a good weather jaunt.  Going in the rain would be miserable.  There's a picnic area and a playground for kids.

I had a wonderful time walking around the countryside.  I even had a green, lush, woodland walk.  One can go into the buildings and most of them display the traditional furnishings, Placards explain the construction and purpose of the buildings in both Danish and English.  People lived in small, dark musty  rooms.  One can see their farm equipment and animals. I ran into Chanticleer, but he was wary of posing for me.  I saw geese and goats and sheep and cows and pigs. I even took my coat off and squished it up in my bag.  I walked and walked.  The place is huge, and it’s not crowded.

What I really love—what moves me is history from the bottom up.  So I crave glimpses of the ordinary life of everyday people.  While I appreciate the beauty and quiet of the countryside and the charm of the unfamiliar, places like this are a reminder of how hard life was.  People had to draw or pump water, cook on cast iron stoves (if they had them!) with no temperature controls.  Everything was done by hand.  And when they were finished inside they had to care for the animals, work in the garden no matter the weather.

To treat myself when I got back, I stopped in at a British import store.  I found the selection disappointing, but I did get some delicious English cider from Somerset to have with dinner while I watched the Tour de France in Danish.

Farvel

A Fairy Tale Castle

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Goddag

Here’s the weather report.  Rain.  Rain.  More rain.  Occasional clearing.  Wind.  Rain.  I am so glad I have my raincoat.

I did some chores, recycling, groceries, getting cash before the real day’s business began

I went to Norrebro Station.  My target was Hillerod.  So easy the guidebook made it seem.  Get on the suburban train and ride it to the end of the line.  Or not, because that particular line wasn’t running.  Fortunately I had a day pass, so I could chop and change as necessary.

So I got on a train.  Realized I was going in the wrong direction.  Got off.  Found the new train.  Got on and got off at least three times in confusion and insecurity.  Sheesh!  It was like taking a bus.

Finally I settled in and waited and the train took off.  I knew I would have to change to another line to get to where I really wanted to go.  An announcement came in Danish.  I guessed what it meant and prepared to leave the train to change.  An announcement came in English to confirm my guess, so off we got and stampeded for the proper platform.  Then the train came.

I got on and settled in.

I hopped off at Hillerod, which is a pretty town in itself, but I was there to see the castle. I walked up and down hill through the town following signs.  Then I got to the main square and looked across the lake.  Ahhh

Hans Christian Andersen probably did not see Fredriksborg but the castle surely could have served as a backdrop or setting for some of his stories.  Rising out of the lake it looks far more like something out of a fairy tale than a fortress.  I get lost between all the Fredriks and Christians who ruled Denmark, but they used to live in this idyllic setting.

I approached—in the rain of course, by walking along a lovely path around the lake and entered across the bridge and through the gatehouses.  The castle now holds a natural history museum, which I did not visit. The various courtyards with their fountains and passages are free to the public as is the garden.

I spent hours in the grounds wandering around the formal gardens and strolling the paths, and I barely scratched the surface of the extensive park.  In good weather this would be a great place for a hike and picnic—or a more civilized lunch in the charming town.

Is that what you did, Pil?

Actually, no.  When I emerged from the station at Norrbro it was pouring.  Even so I stopped at the polservogn where I got a far more serious sausage than the hot dog I had previously.  It was huge and actually looked like food.  Tasted like it, too.  Yum!  These are served with a soft bun, large dollop of catsup—although it does not taste like American catsup but more like cocktail sauce and mustard—which I carried home through the rain.

And of course after I’d taken off my contact lenses and my shoes and settled in the sun came out.  I was too tired to go back out though.

Farvel

You Went Where?

Goddag

Summer in Denmark appears to be like a wet winter back home.  I have resigned myself to day after day of rain and figured I just better get on with my trip.

I walked to the train station in the pouring rain figuring there had to be an ATM at the station right?  Wrong.  But I was out of krone, so I had to scout around for one, which I found and obtained money to buy my ticket.  I saved a krone or two by getting the combo train ride/museum entrance one.

I was off to Louisiana without a banjo on my knee!

Louisiana, Pil? I thought you were in Denmark!

Louisiana is a sort of Modern Art museum/park.  It’s an easy train ride from Copenhagen although once on the train I realized that I could have gotten the cash, ticket, train from my local station Norrebro and didn’t actually have to hike through the down pour.

One alights at Humlebeck, and if you can’t remember that the sign also says Louisiana.  The ten minute walk to the museum is well sign posted, but the place is so popular one can just follow the crowds.

The museum buildings themselves are masterworks of high tech Danish design, and the place is worth visiting for that and the lovely seaside setting.

When it rained I went indoors.  The art is well displayed.  Most of what I saw was from an international array of contemporary artists whose work was interesting, but I did not see much I liked.  One can also find Picasso, Rothko, Warhol, and many other greats of the Twentieth Century.  Be advised that the museum is Very Popular and was packed when I was there, so sometimes actually seeing the works took work!
I love taking trains and always look out the windows to see what's out there.  The Danish countryside is generally flat but sometimes a few hills roll along.  It's green!  We passed farm land and small towns and a lot of deep, green forest.  I wanted to jump off the train when I saw a few paths meandering among those tall trees.  All that rain does Denmark good.  I've seldom been in a lusher place.

What I much preferred was the sculpture garden featuring monumental Henry Moore works as well some by Calder and Miro.  I also enjoyed short a woodland walk.  A nice café rounds things out.  One can have a cup of tea on the terrace overlooking the sea.

Favel

Strolling and Shopping

Goddag

My day started with housekeeping—literally.  Since I'm in an apartment with no housekeeping services it's up to me to do dishes and sweep and wipe up. Then I had errands like obtaining cash, getting groceries, seeking out a post office and getting stamps.  Usually at the ticket and post offices one takes a number and waits to be called. So far everyone speaks excellent English.  I greet them first in English, so they know I need it and can be prepared for any idiocy I display.

I saw my first beggar today.  Now I had the idea that Denmark didn’t have beggars.  I saw some old men I thought were the worse for drink, but they were just walking along.  This guy was sitting in front of the grocery store shaking a cup and asking for coins.  The passing Danes just laughed at him.  He looked like he was trying to get beer money.

Copenhagen is the drinkingest city I have ever come across.  I don’t know if it is the Danes—they do have that reputation—or the foreigners come to participate.  Each morning when I go out to do errands or start my touristing I find the evidence.  Along the sidewalks are empty and half filled bottles, cans, and, glasses of beer and wine.  Jagermeister appears to be the hard liquor of choice apparently.  It all gets cleaned up eventually—until that night’s drinking starts again.

Because the weather was iffy I stayed in town and strolled down Stroget where I succumbed to the lure of Sephora.  I tried Gucci Flora—smells nice, but I wasn’t that excited. I licked windows and poked around stores.  Naturally Stroget attracts us tourists so it also abounds in street performers and various stands selling water or fruit.  You can find Polsger Wagons, too.

I stopped at a stand selling Brannde Mander or something like that.  On impulse I stopped and bought some guessing that these were toasted almonds.  Yes, they were with sugar, too, and mighty tasty!

When it wasn’t actually raining I walked across town to the Botanical Gardens to enjoy some green and quiet.  I strolled along the trails, inhaling the planty smell.  I walked around the lake watching the ducks.  There were patches of woodland, rock gardens, and herb beds.  Flowers bloomed in scarlet, yellow and purple.  Just lovely!

On my way home I stopped by the new covered market.  As you know I can happily spend hours poking around a market.  This was a nice one, but I felt considerable disappointment at the lack of many traditional Danish offerings.  Fish stands seemed the most characteristically Dansk, but sushi is as popular here as it is in the rest of Europe.  The fish didn’t smell and the stands did a good business.  Mostly there were coffee places and stands selling Italian food and kebabs.  There was a Tapas bar, too, doing a brisk business.

So I had pasta for dinner.

Farvel

Traditional and Modern

Goddag

Because of my experiences with weather last summer in Amsterdam, I bought and packed a coat.  Today I wore it and felt grateful to have it.  I wasn't the only one. I felt better seeing the Danes wrapped up as well.  There was plenty of cold and wind today but no rain except for some drips

I took a long walk clear to the other side of town.  I followed the signs for the Lille Havfrue.  That translates literally to Little Sea Woman.

Cool!  The Little Mermaid herself!

Yes.  She's not very big and she just kind of sits there and yearns.  The folk of Copenhagen seem awfully proud of her, and a tourist can find lots of souvenirs with her image and form.  Tourists go for her, too.  I did not approach very closely, but she was surrounded by tour groups off the buses as well as lots of other visitors.

I turned away to the Castellet.  This is one of those star shaped fortresses meant to defend part of the harbor—from Swedes, I guess--with artillery.  It's still an active military base, but it's also a park with joggers and a fair number of tourists. Would any military base in the USA let tourists in with their cameras to wander around—almost at will?  Ha!

I had a great time walking the ramparts and exploring and not minding the wind because I had my coat on.  Don't let fortress or military give you the wrong impression.  Trees and ponds abound and the area is lush with wild flowers.

On my way back I dropped into the Danish Design Museum.  I had the impression that this was going to be historic with lots of period rooms.  Well, not quite.  The Danes like to mix in a lot of contemporary design and art long with the historic stuff.  Frankly I was taken by the dress made out of drinking straws.  It's hands off the old stuff, but one can touch and even try on some of the new.

Gee, I bet all that walking built up an appetite, eh Pil?

You can stop hinting.  I went back for smorrebrod—veal with capers, some sauce and parsley, beef with lettuce, pickle, a little pinch of cheese and something I couldn’t figure out what it was, and ham with chopped cucumber and tomato and some butter lettuce. All of them were wonderful.  I asked the nice Danish ladies at the shop how to say “tasty” in Dansk.  Es smag god—that's close anyway.  I washed it down with Danish beer.
Farvel

Sculpture and Sausage

Goddag

I thought it was some kind of joke but no.  Danes really eat burgers with a knife and fork.  Seriously.  I have seen this with my own eyes.  The rule seems to be that if one is at an actual table with a plate, one uses a knife and fork on whatever is before one, but it’s all right to use hands if one is just walking along.  So many tourists come to Copenhagen I don’t think Danes care what the rest of us do with burgers.

Then I came across a dude got up like Hans Christian Andersen explaining to a group of horrified Americans that Danes handed over forty percent of their income to the government.  They get good value for their money including health care and free college education.  Despite their reverence for their royal family, I have the impression that Danes value egalitarianism.  No "elite" universities exist in Denmark, so students wanting one need to study abroad.

I enjoyed a bright sunny day for a change.  I went out early to walk around the town.  I revisited Christianborgslot.  My first stop was the Thorvaldsen Museum.  I just regarded this as an Art History duty visit to tick off thinking I'd spend half an hour looking at a few statues.  Boy was I wrong!

The Torvald Museum is Denmark's oldest and the Neo Classical building it occupies is worth seeing on its own.  I went early and spent hours in a largely empty museum having all those statues to myself!

I'm glad you had a nice time.  Who or what is this Thorvaldsen?

He's Denmark's great artist—although he did most of his work in Rome.  Bertel Thorvald  was handsome Dane who created neo classical sculptures—the great skill and beauty and yet . . .  little expressiveness.  His bas reliefs are better as they show move movement and interaction.  You might get tired of the Greek gods and goddesses or the flattering portrait busts.

I liked the Alexander Frieze, which was commissioned by one of the King Christians for Christianborgslot.  Torvaldsen always made casts of his sculptures, so he could sell copies, so I could study the relief up close in the museum and later I saw it in one of the state apartments of the palace.  His other great work is a free-standing sculpture group of Christ and the Twelve Apostles minus Judas and plus Paul.  He made that for Vor Frue (i.e. Our Lady) or the Copenhagen Cathedral just down the street from my apartment.  I'll visit it later, but now let us enter Christianborgslot itself.

In order to see the royal reception rooms one dons blue plastic shoe shields to protect the marble and parquet floors from one's plebeian soles.  I found the place well worth visiting.  Grandeur, gilt, molded ceilings, velvet covered walls are laid on thick and most of it looks gorgeous.  An exception is the awful modern tapestries hanging in the state dining room.  They are brightly colored but distorted and disturbing.  I think one of the panels is meant to be Queen Margarethe and her consort Prince Henrick as Adam and Eve.  Oh dear.  If I were ever invited to a banquet in this setting the sight of those tapestries would put me off my feed!

One can also visit the ruins under the castle.  This is more interesting than it sounds because of the excellent explanation provided of the different levels and techniques of construction.

And you ate?

The Polsger are hot dogs—sorta.  One gets them from Polsgervogn or sausage wagon on main squares, and they are the traditional Danish street food.  A variety of sausage is on offer, and I got the most common kind.  Well, it tasted fine.  I think one has to be hungry to enjoy one.  I was and I did.  But the color!  The only time I’ve seen food that color it was candy.  It’s a sort of seriously unnatural coral red.  I don’t know what gives it that color and since I put some in my mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it, I don’t want to know.  Ok?  It’s on a white bread bun with catsup.

Gick!!

Yes, I know catsup on a hot dog in the USA is enough to doom one to the ninth circle of hell, but I’m in Denmark.  It also featured mustard, remoulade sauce (Don’t blame me!  It’s the Danes’ favorite), raw onion and sweet pickles.  So I’ve had one and now I can go back to smorrebrod.

Farvel

Life Among the Royals

Goddag

A good night’s sleep at last!  I don’t know whether the nightclub had a slow night for a change or whether I was so exhausted at last that noise didn’t matter.

I went to the grocery store I liked only to find out it opened late Saturday morning, so I went to the other one and found they didn’t have what I was looking for.  So I had to stop on the way back—just getting some hummus and pasta.

Rain was in the forecast, but it was not raining, so I strolled down Stroget to Nyhaven. The New Harbor—new in the nineteenth century sense--is a Big Tourist Draw.  Every building is a café or restaurant, and most of them are pricey without being fancy.  Should you need refreshment beer is available for take out.  I saw many people partaking at tables when I was there.  Who drinks beer at 9:30 am?  And why?

 I walked across town to Amelianborgslot.  Slot is the Danish word for castle.  It's going to come up a lot, so you'd better learn it.  A lot of tour buses and groups also showed up, but they don’t get to go inside I guess.  Amelianborg is the queen’s town residence, and only part is open to the public.  The part that is has some rather intimate rooms belonging to her ancestors. I saw some furniture—little tables and desks I wouldn’t mind having in my place.  The Danes have like most Northern Europeans a concept of cozy hominess.  Their word for it is hygge.  Amelianborgslot is the hygge castle.

Another display featured Queen Margethe’s gowns.  I liked them.  Her majesty has a slim elegant figure and excellent taste.  I especially coveted a midnight blue number with a lace bodice and train.  Her majesty is a lot taller than I am though, so it would not fit.  I’m feeling bummed about this actually.

I walked over to Rosenborgslot (pictured above) through the park and the rain.  It’s Christian IV’s castle and apparently the one the tour groups actually visit.  It’s rather homey with wood-paneled walls painted ceilings marquetry floors, piero dure cabinets, and lovely tapestries.  Only the tapestries are displayed functionally rather than as art.  What I mean by this is that they are hung to keep in warmth and stuff is put over them.

I went down to the treasury to visit the Danish Crown Jewels.  I loved the emeralds.  Do you think the Dronnige (that's queen in Dansk) would let me borrow them?  Ok. Not.

At this point I needed some sustenance.  I went to a snack cart, but had the bad luck to be behind some English-speaking (non American thank goodness!) tourists.  The Danes are So Nice.  This clueless group wanted some transportation information, and the kindly proprietor kept suggesting they go to the actual transportation information booth—only they kept saying “one more thing” while we actual customers lined up behind.

After my snack I went to the art museum.  There’s a good but not fantastic collection.  A few works are attributed to Rembrandt.  I like Gerrit von Honhorst, but my favorites were the Matisses and the Emil Noldes.  You may not know Emil Nolde, and if you google his work you may be dismayed.  At first glance his works look like a child’s daubings with bright primary colors and simple shapes.  But look again.  They are works of great power and sophistication.

Thank you for sharing about the art and all.  But food?  drink?

There was something called called Viking IPA, which I couldn’t resist.  Now one of my friends (and readers) is a connoisseur of IPA, I tried this one for her.  Only.  Meh.  I guess Danes don’t do India Pale Ale.

Farvel

Rainy Day Exploration

Goddag,

Here’s the scoop on the Real Reason that Copenhagen is “Wonderful, Wonderful!”  It’s the public toilets—nice, clean and---free!  This kind of thing is of utmost importance to some of us.

During the day Studiestrade bustles but quietly.  At night it’s a different story.  There’s nightclub across the street.  People come and go in the wee small hours in large noisy groups.  Often they sing.  Sometimes they argue drunkenly.  Then there was the guy last night, who wanted to do some amateur D.Jing with his car radio.  The problem with jet lag is that once I wake up, I’m awake and there’s no getting back to sleep.

So I set out on a rainy morning with my umbrella.  It poured hard and my trousers soon were soaked, and so was my map.  It just fell apart, but the rain was not cold, so I explored the town and felt pretty good, so I kept walking for about three hours.  I walked down by the old port and along some canals.  Even in a downpour Copenhagen is a handsome city with a lot of attractive and distinguished buildings.

In many ways Copenhagen reminds me of Amsterdam, and no wonder.  Besides the constant proximity of water, the Danes built in Dutch styles.  Bikes prove as common as cars. Nevertheless, the cities feel different.  Copenhagen boasts some broad streets for traffic as well as numerous squares and parks giving it a more open feel than Amsterdam.  Copenhagen also feels “royal.”  Palaces and other references to the monarchy abound—interesting because I don’t think the Danes care a whit about rank.  They are proud of their heritage and adore Queen Margarethe.

Finally I settled on visiting the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek or the New Carlsberg Sculpture Museum.  One finds the Carlsberg Name almost as much as the monarchy’s around Denmark, and, yes, it’s the beer company.  The collection is housed in a fantastically beautiful building inside and out.  At its heart sits the lovely “winter garden” and fountain.  For the thirsty or peckish there’s a café.  I found the art extremely well exhibited with commentary in English as well as Dansk.  The collection is huge so I focused on the ancient stuff.  They have an excellent range of Etruscan Art.  But what I found especially intriguing were the portrait busts from Palmyra.  Palmyra was an oasis town (Now called Tadmor) that tried to play off the Romans and Persians against each other.  One can see both influences in the sculpture. To go along with that was much Greek, Roman, and Egyptian statues that even the British Museum might covet.

And the food?

I liked the smorrebrod so much I went back for smorre!

Pil, you are such a wit.  That’s half true anyway.  What did you get this time?

One with slices of hard boiled egg and slices of cucumber and tomato.  That was my “salad.  Then I had one with a slice of fish in batter dressed with lettuce, a slice of tomato, and some kind of tartar sauce, and one with frikadelle, which is usually meatballs made out of minced and fried pork.  It was dressed with pickled beets and more cucumber in the form of sweet pickles.  I thought this was mighty tasty.  Think of the best and leanest meatball you have ever eaten.  It was better than that.  The smorrebrod costs forty-eight krone or about eight dollars for three.  I realize that sounds expensive, but Copenhagen is expensive, and the smorrebrod gives good value for the money.

Farvel

. . .Wonderful Copenhagen!

Goddag!

I conked out around 7 pm last night, got about four hours of good sleep, and then it was over.  I was awake.  I spent most of the night reading Patrick Leigh Fermor’s travel memoirs and wishing I could write about my trips the way he wrote about his—on the other hand I’d rather sleep indoors, and I’d prefer not having my passport stolen or being mistaken for a smuggler.

Even though it was the middle of the night I enjoyed waking up in Copenhagen.  My apartment has plenty of space although the sinks in the bathroom and kitchen are the size of postage stamps.  Washing dishes or my face results in splashing.  Maybe I’ll get used to it.

Strolling around licking windows long before things were open.  I walked by Tivoli and the train station.  And here’s some news you can use.  There’s a free public toilet in the square in front of the handsome town hall, but it’s open only when the town hall is.  The one at the train station costs five krone, which is about eighty cents.  Fortunately I needed neither.

I walked down Stroget the famous pedestrianized, street, which is actually a series of streets and squares—or plads as we Danes say.  Most of the shops are European chains, fast food outlets, or boutiques, but there’s some good window-licking to be had at the amber shops.  There’s a Sephora, too, and I will be visiting there, you can bet.  The biggest department store in Scandinavia anchors one end of Kongens Nytorv or the Kings New Square. I strolled around some canals and around the courtyard of Christianslot, which used to be a royal residence.  Maybe I’ll go inside on a later visit.

My target was the huge National Museum.  Most of Danish History can be viewed here, but I was especially after Bronze and Viking age goodies.  I enjoyed the artifacts from the Greenland settlement.  Not every one would appreciate the array of tools, weapons and even preserved bodies, but I did.  One thing threw me off however.  The museum featured words by modern artists that were meant to blend in with the artifacts. The naturalistically creepy mermaid skeleton was an obvious hoax although I wondered how many folks would fall for it, but others looked just like the real thing and were identifiable (by me anyway) only by the absurd stories attached to them.  One I recall was a sword used by a Bronze Age Queen to behead rabbits as those were the only food her son would eat.

Of course one way to get my attention is with period rooms, but I found the marvelously intricate wood carvings even more compelling.

Then my brain began to buzz in that annoying way that indicates the jet lag has caught up with me.  I tore myself away and went hunting and gathering.

What’s for dinner?

Smorrebrod!!  The word translates literally to buttered bread, but it’s so much more.  It’s the culinary icon of Denmark.  These aren’t dainty tea or American style sandwiches but rather are works of art that follow strict rules as to what kind of bread goes with what.  I went into the shop attracted by the copious display, and the motherly shop lady explained the toppings to me and packed my choices up to go.  For my cultural research I chose the most traditional sorts.  Your mileage may vary.  Now remember we eat it properly on a plate with a knife and fork Danish fashion.  Picking up the smorrebrod with one’s hands is vulgar, tourist-like behavior. The smorrebrod are open face, and you can find pictures on the internet if you want to see what they look like.  Here we go.  The reason that a potato on bread doesn’t make sense to you because you haven’t tried it.  Here is our buttered rye bread dense and tasty on its own topped with potato slices which taste good and especially potatoish.  On top of them sits raw onion, a lettuce leaf, a slice of tomato and a piece of bacon.  Yum!  Like all Northern Europeans, Danes love their herring.  Me, too!  Danish pickled herring is a bit sweet and is accompanied by more raw onion, tomato and what looks like capers.  If I were still in Amsterdam, I’d say leckker!  Then we have liver, beets, caramelized onion, and lettuce.  Now I happen to like liver, so I think this is a great combination.  Sometimes it’s made with liver paste—which the Danes like with cucumber on top, but this is an actual slice of liver.  Mmmm.  The contrast of the liver with the sweet beets is good.  I just got the three sandwiches, and they were plenty filling.

Farvel

Wonderful . . .

 

So Copenhagen is pretty wonderful. It just takes some doing to get here from Los Angeles.  It’s also way out of my linguistic and monetary comfort zone.  Dansk is a Germanic language, but unlike German or Dutch, which are clearly enunciated, Dansk sounds sorta mushy.  Not only that but they've kept their own currency and don’t use the Euro. At this point they might be glad of that—but I’m not.

I went through Frankfurt, and the flight was fine—just long and normally uncomfortable.  My seatmates were pleasant, but they got into a lively and very long conversation. I just wanted to sleep, and I couldn’t really.  I fetched up in Denmark dreadfully dehydrated, confused, and jet lagged enough to turn my gills green.

I had to wait about twenty minutes for my luggage to appear, but I’d already cleared passport control in Frankfurt, so the next task was to find an ATM.  I had a pocket full of Euro, which I could not spend in Denmark—or so I thought.  I found ATMS—out of order.  I walked over to the next terminal and found one that worked.  Naturally there was a line.  It seemed to be the only working ATM at the airport.  Now I had checked the exchange rate before I left and had actually written down the amount of money I needed in krone, but when it got to be my turn to use the machine the jet lag kicked in, and I did not ask for the right amount but much less.

Berating my self for a jet-lagged idiot I joined the line at the metro ticket office, only to discover that yeah, they took Euros and even debit cards.  I took heart and got what’s called a klip-kort, which should serve me just fine for local trips although it’s definitely not as cool as the magic transport cards in London and Amsterdam.  I got my change in krone.  Some of the silver krone coins look kinda like snowflakes because they have a hole in the middle.

The metro from the airport is smooth, quiet, and easy to use.  I found my stop easily, but on emerging I found myself completely turned around and made four false starts before going in the right direction.  Even then I was confused.  I saw a woman completing her purchase in a shop and said to myself, when she comes out, I’m going to ask her for directions.  I was wrestling with my map to show her where I wanted to go, when she spoke to me in Danish.  I must have looked confused because she switched to English and asked me if I needed help.  Yes!  I was actually going in the right direction for a change, and she directed me into an even better direction.  I reached the correct address and was looking at the building wondering what to do when I was accosted by the owner’s mother who had come to meet me.

The place is charming and the location can’t be beat, but first off I learned there’s no internet as was promised.  I’ll keep trying to pirate and if I can post I will.  Otherwise I’ll have to wait until I get home or can find some free wifi.

It had turned hot and humid, and I was already dehydrated, so I went in search of groceries.  It was easy to find a store, and easy to find what I needed.  And the nice young man at the cash register laughed good naturedly when explained I did not speak Danish and answered me in terrific English.  But here’s the thing.  I set off, and then it penetrated my jet-lagged brain that I had not brought my bags.  I went back home and got them.  Now I was tempted to go on and just buy a bag at the store, but I didn’t see any hanging around, and I don’t think any were for sale, so I was smart after all to go back. 

Food, Pil?  Wadja buy?

The stores are treasure troves of Danish delights!  I have some wonderful bread—dense chewy, and covered in seeds.  I’ll have hummus for breakfast, but I also got some of the famous Danish butter and cheese.  Lurpack butter has a global reputation—well deserved I might add.  You can order it on line.  I have never seen it in stores.  There’s also a blue cheese called Castello.  Now you can actually find this at Trader Joe.  It’s rich and very very creamy.  Imagine blue cheese as butter.  Oh yeah!

And to drink?

Well for my first night in Denmark I had Danish beer.  I had some Carlsberg Elephant that I remembered a fellow traveler on a trip to Russia liking.  But that was after I had two glasses of water.  As I said I was dehydrated.