Two wheels bad
Today we decided to cycle into Copenhagen from our campsite, a journey which the campsite guy said would take "about an hour". Two hours later we were asking for directions from a bewildered school teacher in an area that didn't have nearly enough vowels in its name. In Denmark, bikes have right of way no matter what. It's very disconcerting when you get to a junction and all the cars wait for you to decide what you're doing and keep out of your way. What ends up happening is instead of cycling the London way, very defensively, you get all arrogant and King-of-the-road in your demeanor.
Once we and our new-found air of superiority finally got to the centre we thought it all looked very lovely and charming. A lot of it would have looked far better if it wasn't being dug up, repaired or covered in scaffolding. Lovely and clean and neat though Denmark is, they just can't stop tinkering about with stuff. Not one thing we've visited so far has been uncontaminated by some sort of construction work or restoration project.
We decided we'd try something traditionally Danish for lunch so we found a lovely little restaurant and each ordered smørrebrød which is a sort of traditional open sandwich. The traditional bread, or brød, that they use resembles cork flooring tiles in both consistency
and taste. On mine I had mushrooms, pate and bacon (Bacon - tick! And we had fun in a massive Lego store - tick! Not met Brigitte Nielsen yet though). On Claire's she had three types of pickled herring. She was not pleased. I enjoyed mine very much while Claire sought solace in the all-you-can-eat salad bar.
After lunch we thought we'd better go and find the star of every Copenhag
en postcard - the Little Mermaid. What a disappointment. It is literally miles from anything, on its own, next to a sort of industrial dock. And it's small. It's the most unimposing national icon you can imagine. It's the sort of thing someone in Brentwood would have next to their pond. There was a swarm of Japanese tourists all over it when we got there but the rain soon saw them off and when they'd gone it left this little statue looking quite sad and lonely.
By this time I was knackered and was half hoping the bikes had been pinched so I didn't have to cycle back. No such luck - there seems to be about 12 bikes to every one person in Denmark so nobody would ever nick one. They need a humane bike cull if anything. Anyway, rain and high wind had now been introduced to the cycling experience along with a smørrebrød-induced "dicky tummy" which added a whole new level of jeopardy to the proceedings. Claire worked out that we'd done 25 miles today. That's practically marathon distance. That would have been tough enough without the howling gales, relentless precipitation and the constant threat of an involuntary soiling. I ache all over. A lot. Tomorrow we're going over the big bridge to Sweden.
Once we and our new-found air of superiority finally got to the centre we thought it all looked very lovely and charming. A lot of it would have looked far better if it wasn't being dug up, repaired or covered in scaffolding. Lovely and clean and neat though Denmark is, they just can't stop tinkering about with stuff. Not one thing we've visited so far has been uncontaminated by some sort of construction work or restoration project.
We decided we'd try something traditionally Danish for lunch so we found a lovely little restaurant and each ordered smørrebrød which is a sort of traditional open sandwich. The traditional bread, or brød, that they use resembles cork flooring tiles in both consistency
and taste. On mine I had mushrooms, pate and bacon (Bacon - tick! And we had fun in a massive Lego store - tick! Not met Brigitte Nielsen yet though). On Claire's she had three types of pickled herring. She was not pleased. I enjoyed mine very much while Claire sought solace in the all-you-can-eat salad bar.After lunch we thought we'd better go and find the star of every Copenhag
en postcard - the Little Mermaid. What a disappointment. It is literally miles from anything, on its own, next to a sort of industrial dock. And it's small. It's the most unimposing national icon you can imagine. It's the sort of thing someone in Brentwood would have next to their pond. There was a swarm of Japanese tourists all over it when we got there but the rain soon saw them off and when they'd gone it left this little statue looking quite sad and lonely. By this time I was knackered and was half hoping the bikes had been pinched so I didn't have to cycle back. No such luck - there seems to be about 12 bikes to every one person in Denmark so nobody would ever nick one. They need a humane bike cull if anything. Anyway, rain and high wind had now been introduced to the cycling experience along with a smørrebrød-induced "dicky tummy" which added a whole new level of jeopardy to the proceedings. Claire worked out that we'd done 25 miles today. That's practically marathon distance. That would have been tough enough without the howling gales, relentless precipitation and the constant threat of an involuntary soiling. I ache all over. A lot. Tomorrow we're going over the big bridge to Sweden.
I recognised the little mermaid!, who's the other geezer. Cycling over the bridge?
ReplyDeleteNot even a cupping or licking the breast type photo Will you've changed!?
ReplyDelete