“Everything you look at can become a fairy tale and you can get a story from everything you touch.”
― Hans Christian Andersen
It’s always intimidating to arrive at a hostel in the late evening: the large groups of ‘well-oiled’ young adults from all corners of the globe make you feel like you’ve wandered into some exclusive bar by yourself in the middle of the night.
First impressions of Copenhagen: The air coming off the plane from London seemed ridiculously fresh and clean. It appeared pretty small and manageable, with very picturesque canals and cobbled streets scattered with hundreds of bicycles.
I was a little wobbly with the road system at first: I was wondering why the road was so wide before realising that half of it was a ‘bike road’ which sort of disguises itself as a very wide pavement, a misunderstanding which led to a few close shaves. On the first morning I wandered out to Nyhavn, a famous ‘heritage harbour’ canal waterfront packed with brightly coloured 17th/18th Century town houses which now act as cafés and restaurants. From here I meandered to the little mermaid statue, inspired of course by Hans Christian Anderson’s tale of the mermaid who gives up her aquatic life to gain the love of a prince and a human soul (dying tragically in the original tale, unlike the disney-tainted version which most people are now more familiar with). I’d been advised to not expect much, or even to avoid the site altogether due to the absurd number of tourists who flock to see it. As expected, it was absolutely crammed with people of all origins literally clambering all over it. However, having studied Hans Christian Anderson’s tale this year at university I couldn’t help but love it. In fact I think it depends a lot on the timing. I headed back for the evening light later in the day to see a fraction of the crowds that were there before.
The gardens, fountains and churches dotted about the city are beautifully maintained, seeming almost regimented and square. There are also these bizarre lines of bright orange identical buildings dotted about the place which I assume are for housing.
I was incredibly lucky with the weather – absolutely spotless blue skies. I actually made the mistake of sunbathing in the park on the second day and managed to burn my entire body. I tried out one of the ‘soft ice’ ice creams which apparently is a local favourite, although found it far too sweet and creamy – no way near as good as the similar ones from ‘The Eskimo Hut’ in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe.
The food and, well, everything really, is incredibly expensive. Far more so than London, Paris or Tokyo even. Just as an indicator a small bottled juice cost the equivalent of around £5. I splurged on some expensive pastries though which, although undoubtedly fantastic, were again a little too sweet for my tastes.
To compensate for the expense of the food (which I lowered by bringing food from home in my luggage) I stuck to free city activities, such as checking out the ‘Statens Museum for Kunst’ (national art gallery) and the national museum which had a fascinating exhibition on ancient Nordic history. The art gallery had a great selection of Matisse and Picasso, and some interesting local Danish art but didn’t take overly long to get through, say in comparison to the national gallery here in London.
Matisse self portrait
Sculpture of Hans Christian Anderson’s haunting ‘Story of the Mother’. Here death is taking away the young child.
Strøget – the centre of the shopping district.
The only site I expended a few Kroner for was the ’round tower’, with a bizarre curving brick walk way leading up to a beautiful view over the city.