Copenhagen 2

      “You did what?” the Goodwife asked.

     The answer was rode a bicycle from a hotel in downtown Denver across Colorado Boulevard to a fabric store, where the Goodwife struck up an acquaintance with her.  Tinne planned on carrying her fabric purchases on the same bike back to downtown Denver after 5 p.m.

     The Goodwife insisted they put the bicycle in our voluminous trunk and took her back to her hotel.  Since Tinne was in town for another couple of days, the Goodwife enlisted the help of another friend, and they took her all over looking at quilt shops, museums, even to the taping of a quilting show destined for some television show.

      In response, Tinne said if we ever came to Denmark, we should stay with her.  So we did.

      We stayed in the “summerhouse” which was nearer to downtown Copenhagen than was the “beach house.”  The summerhouse has a glass roof-ceiling that opens to provide ventilation in warm weather. 

      One wall of the bathroom is all glass, with no curtains, a bit unnerving for prissy folks such as us.  There is a privacy fence and a small garden, about three feet from the wall, to keep things private.

      The house is small, basically three rooms, one bedroom, bath, and everything else.  It was quite comfortable.  An “annex” nearby provides a place for Tinne to work on quilts and other projects.  A garden and a greenhouse supply fresh vegetables and fruit.

     We visited the beach house on our last day there.  It used to be a warehouse for fishermen who used the nearby docks for their trade.

      Like the summerhouse, the converted warehouse doesn’t have a real big floor space, but there are four stories.  It faces the ocean with docks full of sailboats, and one fishing boat, a short block away—a great view.  Tinne and John belong to the local sailing club even though they don’t own a boat or go sailing.  Members only at the club’s restaurant.

     Tinne spent two days taking us around.  The first day we visited Rundetaarn, the “Round Tower”.  It was like a fancy old silo, the kind on “Old McDonald’s” farm.  A ramp went around the inside of the wall, all the way to the top.  We stopped every so often to look out the windows to see an ever-changing view of the city.  On top, you could walk around outside and look at Copenhagen in every direction.

     It was windy and spitting rain, so we didn’t spend a lot of time on the top story.  The observatory on the very top wasn’t open.  The tower was built in the 1630’s, the observatory added in the 1920’s.  The slope of the ramp is quite gentle, quite walkable, even for old guys.

     We also visited a couple of churches, one with a humongous pipe organ, and one with bunches of tombs for the rich and famous.

     On our last day there, Tinne took us to the docks and sailing club by their beach house.  Then we went to Elsinore, otherwise known as Hamlet’s castle, since that is where Shakespeare’s play is set.

      On one day, we rode the bus downtown where we caught the “Hop-on, Hop-off” bus.  We intended to go a complete circuit, then get off at a place or two that we wanted to see.  The Goodwife wanted to see the queen’s jewelry on display at some museum, but it closed at four and we didn’t get there in time.  So we settled for our bus tour.  A helpful young lady at a museum’s information center helped us find the right bus stop to catch the city bus home.

     We left on Monday morning, a mistake.  We had to get to the airport in heavy traffic.  To avoid that, Tinne took us to a train station, helped us buy tickets, and made sure we got on the right train, which went directly to the airport.  So our sojourn in Denmark came to an end.

      It was very nice to have friendly folk to shepherd us around.  Our accommodations were the best we had during our trip.  We also got to see the way the natives lived, a thing you miss when you stay in a hotel and visit tourist attractions.

Ignorants Abroad Again--Copenhagen

       “You okay?” I asked the Goodwife.

      “Yes,” she answered.  She kept fumbling around with her plastic pouches filled with bottles, jars, pencils, tubes, whatever.  She was working in the semi-darkness illuminated by a shaft of light coming through the slightly ajar bathroom door.

      She disappeared into the bathroom.  I tried to go back to sleep.  It was our first night in Copenhagen.  We left Denver at 2 p.m. on Tuesday, flew through the dark into tomorrow, landed in day-lit London, changed planes, which in London means going through security check all over again.

     We flew Norwegian, transferred to another Norwegian flight in London, never left a secured area, yet when we followed the signs to the correct gate, there they were, the security folks, wearing plastic gloves, waiting for us.  Empty pockets, remove belt, the whole bit.

     I had my Samsung tablet in a pocket of the bag containing my sleep machine.  It went right through in Denver.  In London, they mildly chastised me:  all computer devices out, on top, nothing covering it. 

      I started to remove my shoes.  NO, no, no, we don’t do that here.  That’s only in the USA.

      We landed in Copenhagen early in the afternoon Wednesday, but we had been at it for over 24 hours.

      Sune, a foreign exchange student who came to Kansas and spent some time with us 20 years ago, was kind enough to meet us at the airport.  He took us to our hotel and helped us check in.  We were too early for that, so we stowed our luggage and took a little walking tour of the area, ending in a coffee shop.

      Sune left us at our hotel where we did get checked in and tried to rest for a couple of hours.  Sune returned for us at 5 p.m.  He took us to his house, maybe 15 minutes away where we met his family, toured his house, a very nice house, and had a great classic Danish dinner—a pork roast with the skin still attached, roasted so the skin was pleasantly crispy. 

      We spent the next few hours catching up on the old times and generally having a great time.  Sune arranged with our next hostess to meet us at 11 a.m. in front of our hotel.  Then he returned us to our hotel where we collapsed at last into bed.

      “I’m going down to get a cup of coffee,” the Goodwife said as she shut off the bathroom light and turned towards the door.

      “There won’t be anybody there,” I said.

    “Why not?”

     “It’s the middle of the night.”

      “No it’s not.  It’s seven o’clock.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “That’s what my cell phone says,” she replied.  I dug out my tablet.  Sure enough, it said 7—7 p.m.  I Googled correct time of day.  3 a.m.

     I showed her the result.  She melted.  Back to bed she went, makeup and all.  The next time we woke up, the time of day said 9 a.m.  The breakfast place at the hotel closed at 9 a.m.

     We drug ourselves down the street a couple of blocks where we found a bakery that also served coffee and tea.  We lugged our purchases back to the hotel lobby where we indulged in our first Danish breakfast.  We ate in the lobby because our room lacked table or chair.  It was pretty small, with a bunk over the double bed we slept in.  A ladder to get into the bunk was thoughtfully provided, hanging on the wall by the doorway.

      We checked out of the hotel shortly before eleven.  We stood on the sidewalk in front of the motel, waiting for our hostess.  It was quite pleasant, really pleasant compared to some of the weather that was to come.  We were ready for our next adventure.