Thursday, November 01, 2007

Copenhagen

Halloween morning started off right because my father mastered the coffee machine. After breakfast, which lasted until noonish, the family piled into two rented Peugeots and headed to Mormor's house to say "tillykke tillykke" for her 95th birthday. During our visit, a steady stream of neighbors and friends rolled through with flowers, port, cake and gifts. We left after half an hour, but my mom says that this went on all day. Kirsten, Mike and Gus (KMG) headed north to Helsingør (of Hamlet fame) while my pa and I waited at Karlslunde for my middle sister, Suzanne, her fiance Jim and Jim's son Austin to arrive from London. After their quick Mormor-birthday visit, the five of us took a Peugeot to the town of Køge. (My mom stayed at Mormor's to make sure Mormor didn't get buried in floral arrangements.)

Køge has a beautiful, cobblestoned city square full of orange buildings. The orange buildings hold all kinds of shops, including a cheese store, where Suzanne picked up some fancy blue cheese (Jim's favorite) as well as her new friend, Stinky.

Stinky is a wedge of gammelost, or "old cheese," which is a delicacy here. It smells...awful. There's no other way to put it. And it tastes like it smells, but somehow, that's good. At least it's good if you were raised around it. My sisters and I were broken in early on wursts and pate and limburger (which smells better than gammelost), so Stinky was a pleasant experience for us. A few of our party who were brave enough to put Stinky in their mouths did not have as much fun with him.

Either way, Danes do cheese right. There are probably bitter, long-standing arguments between Danes, Norwegians, French, Dutch, Italians, etc. about who's Lord of the Cheese (the kind of arguments that put North Carolina barbecue arguments to shame), but you can't beat the cheese here. So, that was Halloween.

Today was downtown-København day. "København" is the way the Danes say and spell Copenhagen. It sounds sort of like Coo-ben-hown. We made plans over dinner last night to meet at the changing of the Royal Guards at Amalienborg Palace, with our backs to the Marmorkirken (Marble Church), at high noon.

I thought these guys weren't allowed to speak, look down, blink an eye, anything, but when Gus and Austin walked up to have their picture taken, the guard shooed them and said, "one metre and half away." So they talk now. While we were watching the guards change, we're pretty sure the Crown Prince sped by in an Audi, through a big wooden doorway on the palace. That wing was flying a Danish flag, which is a sign the royal family is in residence. The wind picked up as we headed to the harbor.
Many of Copenhagen's signature sights lie along the waterfront, from the new opera house to cool ships and old brick customs buildings. The Gefion Fountain isn't running as much water right now, but it's a super-famous fountain near the water depicting a woman who turned her brothers into oxen so they could help her plow, and whatever land they could plow off Sweden would be Sealand. From the fountain, we walked to...drummmrollll...

Since this landmark is so famous, it's usually a surprise to people when they find out the Little Mermaid is only the size of a regular woman sitting on a rock. As you can see, the weather is still chilly and dark and windy and rainy.

We chugged back through the dark and windy and chilly, rainy weather past the Gefion Fountain and to one of my favorite museums, the Danish Resistance Museum, commemorating the efforts of Danes who resisted Nazi occupation during WWII. This museum isn't for the faint of heart. Luckily KMG had already headed off to their favorite herring joint for lunch, so we didn't warp Gus with prison camp memorabilia. The museum treats an intensely dark subject, but I like it because it evokes a powerful and sincere reaction.

The first part of the exhibit is a case full of execution poles. Next are letters to family from Resistance members who had just learned they'd be put to death. There are saboteurs' secret tools, like beer crates filled with explosives. Images of significant members of the movement have accompanying descriptions of how they helped and who took suicide pills when captured. There's a copy of a German law from 1933 proclaiming it legal to castrate men with hereditary diseases.

The museum also has artifacts from prisoners, like tiny portraits of starving detainees and notes smuggled out of camps on starched shirt collars and cardboard. One former soldier went to a hospital and asked them to cut the SS tattoo off of his arm. They preserved that tattooed skin in plastic! Next to the plastic-encased tattoo skin is an elaborate bouquet of roses made of chewed rye bread that looks like a model clay sculpture; this masticated masterpiece was given to a female prisoner by a male prisoner at a work camp.

We stepped back out into the cold, tied on scarves and walked to Rosenborg Slot, a castle named for its rose garden. The garden is a tapestry of color in the spring, but right now it looks like this. Yellow and green-ish. There's a big 4 in a giant C on the castle wall, meaning it was built for King Christian IV, who reigned in the 1600s. They keep the Danish Crown Jewels in the treasury in the basement. Shiny. There's a 1,300 carat amethyst that's so blingy even the king usually wore a fake instead of the real thing. The guidebook says the only time they put on the real one was at Coronations.

This seems like a lot to accomplish in a few hours, but we weren't done yet.

Next it was back down the walking/shopping streets, which are filled the things that dreams are made of. Crepes,
gypsies on accordians, every style of boot and winter coat, galleries, Scandinavian furniture and lamp stores...ahh, shudder with delight. The Round Tower is also here. It's completely round, go figure, and you pay around $5 for the pleasure of walking uphill in a circle until you reach the top. This building is part church tower, part Tycho Brahe-inspired celestial observatory-turned great place to look over the city. There aren't any steps until the top--just a slanty brick walkway that a czar of Russia is said to have ridden a horse and carriage up once. There's also this, which had a delightful free brochure beside its door that says "Latrine with Celebrities." I stuffed one in my bag but haven't read it yet. I like how a candle's still burning in here, for just in case.

It wasn't quite five, and by the time we exited the tower, there was almost no light left except for the neon of the shopping district. On another note, with Thanksgiving coming up, let me say that I'm thankful I asked my mother what "makrel salat" is. It looks like a carton of strawberry pudding with whipped cream on top. In reality, it's mackerel salad with mayonnaise on top. Also thankful that my mom just brought me a glass of milk and a chunk of nougat :)

B