I had never seen such a thing, and I clearly was not prepared for it all as the unusualness of everything whirring around me almost cost me my life on several occasions, or at least the use of an appendage or two.
Copenhagen may well be the bike capital of the world, or at least the Western world from what I could tell. We exited the train station onto the busy streets of central Copenhagen with hardly a clue of where we were in the city. As we walked about, trying to gather our bearings, I mindlessly wandered into one of the bicycle lanes running parallel to almost every major street in the city.
I felt a rush of air as several bikes blew past me, coming so close as to make me wonder whether they had actually made contact with me or not. After the initial shock of realizing I almost lost my left arm to a plaid biker on a fixed gear, I hopped out of the bike lane as quick as I could. Despite my look of bewilderment, no one else seemed to have even noticed because they bikers here….well quite frankly they showed no mercy.
This is in fact exactly how the streets of Copenhagen operate, with bikes lanes that are just as perilous to the pedestrian as any other lane of traffic. And traffic here means bikes just as much as it means autos or any other form of transportation. When the light turns red, and by that I mean the special light designated for bikes with the illuminated red drawing of a biker, a line of bikes begins to back up almost immediately.
At 3pm on a Wednesday afternoon, this wasn’t too bad, but we were assured later that during the morning rush hour, the congestion can stretch for blocks. Currently over 33% of people in Copenhagen bike to work, and there is a push to get that number closer to 40% within the next year. I’m not sure if there are 33 people in all of Milwaukee who bike to work…a city of comparable size by the way.
We had several hours to kill before our host, the perfectly named Hans, would be meeting us at the train station, so we decided to wander a bit around central Copenhagen. It was an interesting mélange of architectural styles, with the center of Copenhagen still rooted in the past, but the areas around the canals and outer harbor adorned with shimmering post modern office buildings, museums, and corporate headquarters. Still, even with the large amounts of street and subway construction going on, I found it to be an agreeable city almost immediately.
It helped that the weather was perfect on that Thursday afternoon and the parks and green spaces were filled with people taking advantage of what I can only imagine to be as one of the few warm, sunny days in Copenhagen each year. It was a quick first impression, perhaps no more than an hour or so of walking, but it was evident that we were in a wealthy, clean and modern city that took pride in a progressive and well educated culture.
For dinner Hans we went to get some food at fast food place that had a name of something to do with chicken, but which I can’t remember exactly what. Hans had brought us there because as he said, it was one of the few good options for a filling meal in his neighborhood that wasn’t going to bust your wallet.
I did not have a full understanding of what that meant yet, but the food was good for under $10, and of course the girl working the counter spoke perfect English.
Afterwards we walked back towards Hans’s apartment, passing again past the Søerne, or Lakes, that string along the western side of the city. The series of five lakes were originally part of a stream that was eventually dammed to produce water and later converted into a large park and public space. The lakes now provide a calm, open green space in the city, and have wide paths for walkers and joggers.
Thursday was our first full day in Copenhagen, as well as our last full day together on the trip. Mike would be flying out on Friday evening to join his family on vacation in New England, the unfortunately “leave one vacation to go on another”, while my return was not until the following Monday morning. It made our time in Copenhagen a little awkward as I had a full 3 days more to see the city, and therefore the one day we had for Mike to explore meant much less to me than it did to him.
In all honesty Copenhagen isn’t all that full of real “sights” to see, and what we had on our to-do list was actually quite small. From Hans’ apartment we simply started walking in the direction of the harbor with little more than a general sense of where we were headed. This led us to the Kastellet, the old military fortification constructed in the 17th century that has now been converted into a park. The grounds still contain some military operations though quite minimal, but we did see a few men in uniform walking around…but mostly we only slightly less intimidating creatures such as ducklings and goldfish.
From the Kastellet the famous statue of the Little Mermaid was only a short walk away. I wasn’t exactly sure what this statue was supposed to mean, but it was so well known that if anything it was worth a look. This was after all, the most famous symbol of Copenhagen judging by its gracing the cover of almost every guide book and tourist pamphlet.
The statue was, to be kind, just a small statue, and not exactly a masterpiece as far as my uneducated eye could discern. But even more disappointing for me was to learn that there was no real history behind it either, simply that the wealthy son of the Carlsberg family felt compelled to pay to erect a statue of Hans Christian Andersen’s most famous heroine, and one can only assume that the leaders of Copenhagen were eager to capitalize on the famous Dane’s popularity around the world.
I laughed and took pictures of the statue that mostly focused on the hoards of people cramming themselves around the statue in order to take poorly focused pictures, thinking how absurd it all was. Did I feel jaded and bitter towards a statue that was completely surrounded by tourists from sun up to sun down, and otherwise offered very little to compliment the surrounding cityscape? Sure.
To me, the only entertaining part of the endeavor, was to learn that the poor statue had been not once, but twice decapitated over the course of time. Be it petty vandalism or a social statement, I did find a small amount of joy in knowing that someone had taken a hack at the poor tourist trap not once, but twice. Yes I know, bitter and jaded.
Our wandering from there consisted mainly of attempting to find a reasonably priced lunch and then venturing on towards Christiana, an “autonomous” part of Copenhagen where drug use was more or less permitted and the “hippie” sentiment was still alive and well. I had not heard of this co-op before coming to Copenhagen, but we decided it was worth a visit, even if our lack of a map and general orienteering skills meant we spent an additional 2 hours wandering the nearby neighborhoods while attempting to identify its precise location.
Christiana was a unique place to say the least. It was started by hippie holdovers who occupied the grounds of a former military base in the 1960s and from there had developed into a self-governing part of the city where drug use was openly permitted and the sale of illicit drugs was off and on tolerated. For decades it had existed in some sort of tolerated limbo with the Danish national government. Not surprisingly, this attitude had attracted a large number of hippies, burnouts, artists and the like over the years, and from there they had discovered that by exploiting the tourists dollar you could make a little extra money to keep said compound alive and well.
So today it is half tourist trap, half anti-establishment alternative camp, which feels about as awkward as it sounds. There are plenty of stands selling hemp this and hemp that, homemade jewelry, screen printed shirts not terribly different from what one would find at Hot Topic, as well as pot and hash and perhaps some other more “illicit” drugs, all in open areas surrounded by large signs declaring that “No Photos” were allowed.
I could feel the struggle of these counter culturists, abhorrent of the camera toting tourists and thrill seeking wanna-be’s, but at the same time dependent upon their money to maintain their free and easy life style. It was a real life equivalent of the Ché Guevara T-Shirt for sale in suburban malls of America, where the message was completely lost in the irony of the surroundings.
For dinner that evening we grabbed some Italian sandwiches from a nearby shop and a couple beers and headed down towards the waterfront canal to listen to some music from the Copenhagen Jazz Festival. It had been only a coincidence that our visit occurred at the same time as this world famous Jazz Festival, and it wasn’t until we saw posters everywhere around the city advertising the events that I realized the festival was going on right in front of us.
Though your first inclination might not be to think much of the combination of Danes and jazz, there is a much stronger connection between the two than I, or many of my generation, would probably realize. Copehagen, with its socially progressive society and liberal attitudes on drugs and race, became a refuge to many of America’s best jazz artists during the mid twentieth century, most notably African American musicians who desired to escape the racial prejudice and persecution of their homeland.
Take some open minded Europeans, some extremely talented American musicians, and mix them up with a whole lot of drugs and free spirit, and the Copenhagen jazz scene is born.
“Smoke some dope for me in Copenhagen” my Dad, a musician and avid jazz fan, had said jokingly to me before I left.
“That’s Amsterdam Dad.” I responded, rolling my eyes while mocking my father for not being able to keep two distinct European cities apart in his mind.
But now I wondered that perhaps, as an American jazz fan growing up in the 60s and 70s while listening to scores of albums and stories of artists performing and recording in Copenhagen….well maybe my old man actually knew what he was talking about.
Most of the acts at the Jazz Festival required purchased tickets, but on our first night we had discovered an outdoor stage near the harbor where you could sit just beyond the fence and listen for free. We took our beers and found a spot along the retaining wall beyond the fence to catch an evening set from Terje Rypdal. With a Tuborg in hand, the sun fading fast and Norwegian jazz filling the air, I was in a good place. I was in a real good place.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The rain returned on Friday, much to our disappointment, but a fitting end to the trip which had oscillated between terrible and perfect weather. Mike and I grabbed a final meal together of Döner kebab, which was also fitting as it had been a staple of our diet in Germany and Denmark. In both countries, but especially in Denmark, a good Turkish kebab was easily the best food you could get for under $6.
I loved Döner, but felt bad that we had eaten it for probably 35% of our meals over the past week because it didn’t feel as authentic as the local cuisine. But when I discovered that it was invented by Turkish immigrants living in Germany, my attitude changed immediately. Suddenly to me having a doner kebab in Germany, especially after a few beers, seemed just as culturally significant as biting into a greasy carne asada burrito at 3AM back in the US. It was how the local generation eats.
The poor weather once again limited our options, so we stayed in at Hans’s apartment for the afternoon and watched TV before Mike had to leave for his flight. I could sense that he was ready to go, and I could feel that sentiment growing within myself as well. We were now almost two full weeks into the trip, and I had my first feeling that the travel itch had been sufficiently scratched. For better or worse, I still had 3 more days in Copenhagen though, and I now had mixed feelings about that.
Around 5pm Mike left for the airport and I went for a walk in the evening after the rain cleared. The sun returned, and I strolled around a large park that was perfectly tranquil and felt rejuvenated. Perhaps I could make good use of my extra few days in the city after all.
On Saturday Hans took me on a walk through the city. Most of the ground had already been covered with Mike, but having a local guide meant that I learned and understood quite a bit more the second time around.
We ascended the tower of the former observatory of the King of Denmark, who built its wide, spiraling ramp to the top, only about 10 stories above the ground, wide enough for horses to be able to draw his carriage up, saving him from the terrible alternative of having to actually ride a horse, or worse a peasant. I can only imagine that 500 years ago it had been quite the lookout for the King. Talk about a good place to bring a concubine…or your wife. Even today, it provided sweeping views of Copenhagen which remains mostly devoid of skyscrapers and large high rises. From a more distant view the marriage of so many different styles of architecture and building styles, the old juxtaposed with the new, was on full display.
We spent the later part of the afternoon attempting to find a place that sold Smørrebrød, the traditional Danish open-faced sandwiches. I had partially given up on eating much traditional Danish food in Copenhagen due to the cost of eating anything beside a kebab or Italian Sandwich, but the sandwiches had come up in conversation the previous night at the bar, and I was determined to sample some of what seemed to be the most quintessential of Danish cuisine before I left.
Unfortunately, none of the stores that served them were open on the weekend, and so we were out of luck, that was until Hans suggested that instead we make them ourselves back at his apartment. We purchased a few key provisions and headed back to his place to begin the assembly.
I had been under the impression during all the previous conversations that Smørrebrød referred to a specific type of sandwich, but as we prepared the ingredients Hans explained to me that it simply meant an open-faced sandwich served with a variety of traditional toppings. Hans laid out a spread of hard boiled eggs, pickled herring, ham, liver pate, onions and cheese, all to be placed more or less in any combination imaginable, on top of a slice of dark rye bread with butter. I put together a few combinations which seemed most appropriate and sat down to try out this new approach to my favorite food, the sandwich.
Despite an ingredient list almost completely unique to anything I had experienced before, I was amazed at how delicious the final product became. Even more surprising was the pickled herring, bones and all, that offered a deliciously sweet yet balanced protein to the dish: much more agreeable than I had ever imagined. I felt bad for Mike who was missing this experience, because up until this point we had missed out on anything that had even remotely resembled Danish cuisine.
Sunday was my final day in Copenhagen, and after 4 days in the city I was beginning to know my way around. It was on this day, while heading towards the harbor to meet some new friends for a boat tour that I decided to finally take advantage of the free bike-sharing program available in Copenhagen. I had only read about it recently while Mike and I were killing time and watching bad Danish television. All one had to do was locate a bike in the program that was parked at one of the many racks dispersed throughout the city, place a 20 Crown coin (about $4 USD) in the slot, then detach and ride away. When you were finished, simply return the bike to any of the racks with locks and your coin would be returned to you.
While riding around on my newly rented bike, for free, I became acutely aware of how stupid it was that we had not taken advantage of this opportunity before. I instantly became saddened by the thought of all the ground we could have theoretically covered by bike rather than by foot, but deemed that it was best not to dwell upon things that cannot be changed. Instead I continued on, knowing that having a free bike to use in Copenhagen was a wonderful thing, even if they did have to fish more than a few of them out of the canals and lakes.
Before returning my bike, I made one final stroll of the Stroget, the large pedestrian mall the cuts through the center of Copenhagen. It was lined with vendors selling many of the same items as those on the Charles Bridge in Prague, but in this setting it seemed more appropriate. This was the commercial center of Copenhagen, at least as far as the tourism and entertainment dollar was concerned. It was a good source of entertainment and people watching and I enjoyed just walking around and taking everything in for one last evening. I smiled a bit at the statue of the Danish palace guard, adorned in blue with a large puffy black hat, constructed out of Legos. It was perhaps the most Danish thing in existence.
Back at Hans’s apartment that even I began to pack and prepare for my departure early Monday morning. Though I had caught a bit of a second wind over the weekend, I was still ready to head home and get back to normal life. A two week trip was nice, but it was still short enough that it meant life back home hadn’t really stopped. I still had a job, activities, and the like to return to. With all of this weighing on my mind, I decided I was ready to go.
Part of it was probably also due to the cost of being in Copenhagen. Sure, I was on vacation, and the truth was we had managed to do this trip with a very reasonable budget. But it still pained me to hand over $6 for a hot dog, or $8 for a beer, and I longed for the days of Poland and the Czech Republic where Mike and I would bar hop and explore new food items all evening, and do it all for less than $30. In Copenhagen that amount of money bought you a modest lunch and one drink, if you picked the right place. It sounds trite, but the strength of the dollar can have a big influence on how I enjoy places I go, and I’m guessing many others, admittedly or not, have similar sentiments.
Maybe if we had gone the other way, from Denmark to the Czech Republic, with each passing country getting progressively less expensive, it would have been easier, but that’s something I’ll never know. Still, it had been a great trip, and even my miserly ways could not detract from that. My goals had been to return to Europe for the first time since 2005 and to visit parts of Central and Northern Europe that were novel to me. Both of these were well accomplished, and traveling with Mike had proven to be easy and enjoyable as well.
A good traveling companion can be hard to predict and even harder to find, but for 2 weeks we had gotten along well. Traveling with one other person for any extended period of time often brings on a whole new level of interaction and dependence. Almost every waking decision has to be made mutually, from what to eat to where to go, which brings the relationship past the marriage level to a near Siamese twin-like situation. Had the trip been for 2 months instead of 2 weeks who knows if the harmony would have continued, but you can only fight the battles you’re in.
Of course now that I was finishing my trip, my thoughts began drifting towards what was next in my life of a want-to-be world explorer, outside of returning to my job in the States and two weeks paid vacation a year. This trip though had left me with some parting thoughts about Europe though.
I would be back to Eastern Europe. That was for sure. Our time in Poland and Czech Republic had really peaked my interest in traveling the Eastern Bloc, something that I had not considered too seriously prior to the trip. I also knew I would be back to Berlin, to give the city the proper visit it was due.
On the other hand, my desire to travel to more of Scandinavia was now not as strong, as I was beginning to get the feeling that the differences between the countries is not quite that great. Denmark felt as if it had been a nice sampling of the general Scandinavian culture. It is highly westernized and modern part of the world, but in terms of adventure and intrigue it was a bit lacking. This wasn’t to say I wouldn’t go if I had the opportunity, but rather that it had dropped a bit on the priority list.
And so my thoughts rambled as I sat on the metro train headed towards the airport, a full day of travel waiting to return me to Milwaukee. During my layover in Helsinki all passengers on the flight to Chicago had to go through an additional screening and questioning process to board the flight due to an increased terror level related to an incident back in the US.
It was a tedious, time consuming process that was helpful only in thwarting any potential terrorist lacking the ability to tell simple lies, and to me seemed frivolous, unhelpful, and wholly unnecessary. But then again, it did make me feel like I was back in the US already.
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