Denmark. Our flight let us off and we took the train to Copenhagen Central Station.
It’s a beautiful thing that some airports do–to have a train station right in the airport. We had our backpacks and rolly bags right with us and got off at the central train station. The danes are seafaring people. Even though this was a train station, something about it looked like the inside of ship:
We were concerned that the hotel was too far away to walk, and we were thinking about taking a taxi. But in the end we walked.
It looked a lot different from Helsinki:
EVERYONE rode bikes–and the bikes are all very serviceable. There were not status bikes. In fact, they weren’t even locked up. People rode them to get to where they needed to go, and most of them had baskets on the front.
This hotel was not the lap of luxury that Hotel Kamp had been. It was serviceable, and they promised that their breakfasts were complimentary.We dropped off our bags and went to explore.
I guess that is one of the benefits of a monarchy.
It was funny, they were putting on Porgy and Bess.
Those were some particularly good gargoyle-type statues on that one.
The square was large and quiet. I hadn’t been sitting very long before a loud STOMP and Danish commanding SHOUT rang out.
See the guy in the big hat? He had yelled at me. Apparently sitting on the curb in the palace square is a reprimandable offense.
I got yelled at by the royal guard.
Here’s the funny thing. We arrived on a Monday, a holiday, It was Whitsun. Talk about a medieval sounding holiday!
But it’s a church holiday. Pentecost. And it’s a real holiday, as in the stores are closed.
The churches were closed too. I guess Denmark is stuck in the age of Irony.
My church has a few calendars to choose from, not even counting the calendar that said it was pentecost in denmark.
THOSE looked like orthodox onions! I had to check it out!
But it’s the shape of the cross that gives it away:
Except that cross was kind of ambiguous. I had to decipher the danish sign. It was an Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia.
But, it too was closed. No going inside churches for us.
So I took my achey feet a little further along to see what else we could see on Pentecost monday.
Don’t forget, Denmark is the home of Hans Christian Andersen.
Which reminds me…just for a second…I saw no split pea soup anywhere…
but back to Hans.
As you see, it is now a place where tourists hang out. I’m a big fan of fairy tales, but I was surprised to find a different literary refernce. Tattoo Ole’s shop, as big as life. I’ve written about Until I Find You here before. How amazing that one of the characters in the book was real.
It was closed too, though. I couldn’t go inside. Too bad.
We ate a belgian waffle at Andersen’s tourist row. It was better than belgian waffle in America, and not as good as belgian waffle in Belgium.
But it was getting late. We found some dinner and ate in the hotel room.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?”
“Let’s take the train to Sweden.” Chris had it all figured out
“Wow. Three countries, just like that.”
I had to get some sleep My feet were killing me.
“Hey baby…Do you think they will have danishes for breakfast?”