Old haunts

Today it has been 28°C in Copenhagen. Tonight we have had the fan on. Such are the vagaries of European weather. 

A wise man once said something along the lines that you need a certain happy level of disequilibrium between what you know and what you don't know in order to create a level of real interest in something. Unfortunately, Denmark does not have a sufficient gap between what we know and what we don't to prick our travel interest for terribly long. It is too similar to many places we know from elsewhere: and not different enough to spark or hold our interest for too long. Weary travellers that we are. 

The rolling canola-clad countryside rarely changes, so there is little interruption to that. There are only a few cities all up, and these have been so damaged historically by fires and wars that little, if any, interesting architecture remains there. So, there is not much distinctively Danish that draws the eye and keeps it involved. 

The central squares of larger market towns have one or two stepped gabled buildings that could be of interest, but the majority of surrounding buildings, are sadly uninspiring. Much of them stem from the middle of last century and are characterised by plain, blocky exteriors that we call communist-clad as there is little or any adornment. It is basic functional stuff that would make Prince Charles do his huff, puff and carbuncle grump.

Moreover, it is grimy. Like many European cities Danish ones need a good steam clean. Buildings are clad in a thick layer of pollution grease that blackens and streaks almost everything, added to which everyday litter and liquid gets thrown around footpaths and roads, along with ugly graffiti everywhere, and there is much to clean. Not that a steam clean would improve the architecture but at least the cities might look a little more inviting. 

We don't remember it like this. The Danes have a reputation for design. We are surprised they don't utilise their design capabilities more in their modern public buildings. Having said that the new Copenhagen Library is a blocky black building made of glass and granite that leans enticingly out into the water. 

Its very lean makes it an interesting building. Without that, it would have been just another office block construction, like many growing along the various waterfronts in the city. The new Opera house is another building in a potentially beautiful setting on the water, but its design is uninspiring: it, too, is blocky and low set, and it wears an odd square top 'hat' that anchors it to the ground rather than giving it enough lift-off, or height, that it really needs. 

Danes, too, have a reputation for being the happiest nation in Europe--yet, in every square we have been so far there have been many forlorn-looking alcoholics hugging their brown paper bags of beer. We haven't seen this for years in Europe. Why here? 

I bet these guys weren't in on that questionnaire. 

For lunch today we tried our first smorebrod in the old autonomous zone, the hippy and free drug suburb of Christianshavn which has been undergoing a facelift since we were last here: pickled herrings on heavy nutty rye and a fried fish served with a curried egg and a poached egg salad. Lovely flavours, especially with a Danish pilsener. 

We walked Copenhagen's busy streets till our shoe leather felt thin. It is not a small historic centre. It does require some considerable walking. Much of the downtown is currently heavily obstructed with building works: old pipes carrying water and other gunk that live below the ground are being replaced. It makes the going tricky. 

We came across a Lego shop in the mall where you could buy little lego pieces from containers by the bucket-load. We loved the storage idea. A shop assistant told us proudly that designers from Billund build the wall sized lego-murals and the life-sized figures that decorate the shop and the entrance, and that these are changed every year. Such are the little things that catch our eye.

The Little Mermaid has been moved. Too many bits and pieces have been chopped off her as souvenirs or damaged over the years, so the authorities have moved her a little out to sea, for protection.

We had taken a bus into town from our wonderful campsite on a fort, near the beach in the city's northern suburbs. We chatted to an elderly lady on a walking frame as we waited for the busstop. She had lived in Brisbane in 1965 for one year with her family. In that time she had visited more parts of Australia than we have yet managed to see. She said she missed it every single day of her life. We invited her to come visit us there.

But we are learning, even so, to be mindful that revisiting old haunts is not always wise. Some things are truly better left as beautiful memories of special times that once were. 

Library, Copenhagen

Opera House

Smorebrod in Christianshavn

Clever Lego storage idea

The Little Mermaid