We de-shipped and got a free shuttle bus ride to the center of the city. It was a double-decker bus, and we were lucky to get seats up top in the very front. It turns the bus ride into an amusement park ride; swaying wide around corners, pulling up on cars which disappear from view, and cringing under overpasses.
We were dropped at Nørreport Metro Station, right on Gothersgade Street which leads one kilometer straight down to the Kongen Nytor and the Nyhavn neighborhood.
Nyhavn is one of the really cute, colorful-house neighborhoods, along a canal, that you see in the travel posters for Copenhagen. Our little walk-up Hotel Bethel Sømandshjem is here. Hans Christian Anderson lived just two houses away.
We were early and the room wasn't open, so we dropped our bags and headed out, right across the canal to the first café, Nyhavns Keoen. We snagged a table in the warm sun and asked for water and a menu.
Thank god we didn't waste our money or calories eating on the ship, because we had the best smørrebrød, or open faced sandwiches. Gail had a beautiful, yet simple tomato, egg, avocado and cress. It was just plated so nicely, and it was "... everything I wanted..." according to the food critic. Mine was a breaded fish filet with shrimp salad, and it was perfect. We had a glass of wine with it, but I wish I'd had beer instead. Next time.
We had fun sitting, talking, watching groups of tourists, then students, then individual tourists pulling suitcases going by. The variety of languages is mind boggling.
The prices here are more reasonable, closer to being in line with the rest of Europe.
Close to us on the canal, Netto-Bådene had a one hour canal boat tour through the area. We bought two tickets, grabbed a seat up front, and had a nice hour talking with the tour guide in between her announcements. She showed us trendy places to live (converted aircraft hangers, huge windows) and eat (street food tomorrow!) and where to walk for the best views.
I think it was in the middle of this tour, on a back canal in Christianshavn, where I fell in love with København. The look and feel are a mix of Amsterdam, Brugge, perhaps a small touch of Paris. This city has character, and suddenly it hits me that character is exactly what Oslo was missing. Not that it was bad, but it was not great. It just lacked the unique quality of, of, ...a personality? Soul.
That’s it: Copenhagen has soul.
And suddenly I am glad that we only spent 28 hours in Oslo, and I am already thinking that we shall have to return to København one day.
We floated past the Old Stock Exchange with the three dragon-tail tower. To me, they looked like three trees, inter-twined. They represent the three trading partners, Sweden, Norway and Denmark.
There are many fancy church steeples, like Amsterdam, all different, all ornate, popping up in the skyline, at the end of streets and canals. The church bells go off every hour, the relaxing sound of Europe.
We passed the warship that fired a missile into the neighborhood, by mistake, a few years ago. It destroyed three homes. A submarine, used in the Iraq war.
Past the Little Mermaid statue, where I got a photo of her butt, and all the people photographing her. The modern Opera Center, museums and the official residence of the royal family.
Quick: name the King and Queen of Denmark.
Me neither.
We walked over to the metro station to get three-zone tickets for the day we go to the airport. The metro zips there in fifteen minutes, for five dollars. Around town on the busses and bus-boats, we can use one or two zone tickets, and just pay the driver.
We stopped at an ATM and I got out 600 Danish Kroner. You cannot use Norwegian Kroner in Denmark, and vice-versa, even though the money looks pretty similar.
Next to the metro is the store "Magasin," where they have a huge food court down stairs. We had fun walking through there, doing the food tastings, the beer tastings, and the wine tasting (in real wine glasses, not plastic). We bought a bottle of red Côtes du Rhône for the room. It was kind of like wandering around CostCo, tasting the food samples, if they let you sample foie gras, fine wine and expensive chocolates.
The guy who gave us the wine tasting, and a great recommendation for a bottle to bring back to the room, is French, from Bordeaux. He misses France, but says he and his Danish wife live so much better here in Copenhagen. "The prices are higher, but so are wages..." and he went on to describe some of his living conditions and benefits. "The hardest part was the language...making some of the words and sounds we don't have in Français..."
Here is what I know: the tax rate is progressive and high here. A new car is taxed at 180% which encourages people to use public transport, ride bikes or walk (and be healthy). Yet, you see plenty of nice cars around. The services are also high: great infrastructure, cultural heritage kept, free univeristy education, heath care, child benefits, housing offsets. Yet beer and wine is taxed very heavily in the cafés, so the locals tend to buy it at the store and sit along the canals, church steps or waterfront and drink, saving the café drinking more for special occasions and tourists.
So it is a trade off.
People here say “Tak” for “thank you.” So I say TAK! and they smile and say TAK TAK. I laugh every time.
For dinner we went to Holberg no. 19, a little hole in the wall bar at the corner of Holbergsgade and Herluf Trolles Gade. (Gade is the word for street) You should remember this address. It is a long block off the tourist area.
I had a tuna melt ("our most popular” the man says) and weissbier, Gail had an open faced melted cheese on toast with red peppers and a glass of dry white wine. Get this: they were delicious.
We sat at the two open seats at the window counter so we could look out while we ate.
Talking to the guy next to us, he comes here every day.
"This place is famous for its food, but only among locals. How did you hear about it?”
I shrugged. "Just lucky I guess.”
"Yes, it is your lucky day," as he put on his coat and left.
Sitting at the window we watched an art-improve type group go by; couples, older and younger, walking arm in arm carrying a white umbrella. They were led by a young, tattooed girl in black, walking solemnly, carrying an open, metal umbrella frame with no umbrella on it. Each couple's umbrella had some sort of a black speaker under it, telling them perhaps where to go.
At the corner across, a middle aged guy in shorts stops to dance with the doorman wearing a tuxedo.
Many bikes roll by, singles and bikes with baskets and bikes with kids loaded on.
It's Friday night, many girls in miniskirts sway by, oblivious (or not caring) to the slightly older crowd around us at the tables, offering a running commentary.
It is warm out, almost record heat they tell us, so we go far an after dinner walk along the waterfront, heading to the Little Mermaid, 2KM away.
First we stop and get an ice cream cone, in fresh made waffle cones. Mine is mint-chocolate-chip, and the chunks of chocolate are huge, random "chips."
We pass through the Amalienborg Palace, where Queen Margrethe lives. The flag is flying, which means she is home, and so the royal guards are out. In fact, we see the “changing of the guard” happen: a regiment of guys with guns march haplessly around in circles, stopping in front of each guard shack (there are at least twelve) and one guy falls out. He somewhat reluctantly drags himself over to trade places with the lucky guy who had the day shift.
They exchange a few words, probably saying, “Lucky Bastard, you get to go home now!” and “Can you believe we volunteered for this crappy duty?” Then the group marches around in a loop-the-loop way to the next station.
The Queen must feel very secure, as they all carry machine guns, and if that fails to stop the enemy, they each have a sword.
We had seen them marching over from our neighborhood, earlier in the day, guarded by the police.
Think about that. The Queen’s Royal Guard needs to be guarded.
Embassy row is on both sides of the palace, and we pass right by the Ukraine, Swedish, Italian, Slovenian and other embassies. I pray we don't run across the U.S. Embassy; the last couple times we have on other trips, it has not been a welcoming experience.
Thinking about this, I realize that we virtually walked right up to the Queen’s door today, and now I am looking right into the windows of various embassies, and can take photos of them as I wish.
Maybe that’s what we need in Washington, D.C. at the White House, and at our embassies around the world: We need guards with puffy hats, uniforms, and swords.
Seems to work everywhere else.
By 22:00 (10:00PM) we were walking the paths through the remains of the old fortress, over by St. Alban’s church, enjoying the late sunlight slanting through the trees.
Finally, we made it out to the Little Mermaid, "Den Lille Havfrue," by Edvard Eriksen. He actually used his wife as the model. So there she sits, famous forever.
I have to hand it to the Danes on this one: no false advertising here. She is a mermaid. And she is little.
Gail says it's like Plymouth Rock. You look and think, "Well, OK."
We spent another hour or so walking through the older area and along the famous shopping district, the Strøget, which was one of the first pedestrian malls in Europe.
København at night is beautiful.
Back to our room by 23:30, I went downstairs for a cup of coffee while Gail crashed. I took the coffee back outside and hung out a while around the front of the hotel watching and listening to the people.
It was after midnight:thirty before I could go to sleep.