Coping in Copenhagen

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Okay, so Ireland didn’t win their World Cup qualifying group, but a spirited victory in Wales coupled with a string of other scores going our way resulted in the Irish team going into the play-offs. Fortune further smiled upon us in the subsequent draw, sparing Ireland a tie against Croatia or Italy and instead pitting them against Denmark. And so Friday morning I find myself at Heathrow boarding an SAS flight to Copenhagen, anticipating a weekend of cold climates, enlarged expense and no little wear in walking the miles. It takes just 15 minutes to go from Copenhagen Airport to Københavns Hovedbanegård (Copenhagen central station) by rail. I found my hotel – Best Western Hebron, down a quiet street near central station, next door to a “gentlemen’s club”, small rooms, with a bed barely an arms length in width – and headed out to explore.

I was last in Copenhagen 12 years ago and it wasn’t the happiest of times, largely because it was only meant to be a stopover on the way to The Faroe Islands, but was left stranded in Denmark because the Faroes were blanketed in fog. This time however it was going to be a much more positive experience, even though maximum temperatures would not nudge north of 7°C and it poured incessantly on Friday. To stay out of the rain, I headed to the Nørreport district and the Torvehallerne food markets under the glass houses for an artisan fish supper lunch. The rains subsided a littles as I wandered back to the town centre by foot. Much of Copenhagen central is pedestrianised – the first major city to do so – and it is quite clear where the much vaunted/derided (delete as applicable) high taxes go; the streets are clean and the public transport runs efficiently, and major investment is quite clearly being ploughed into bettering the lives of Københavnere.

Patrick arrived by train from Berlin in the evening, and we went off to watch the first leg of the Sweden vs. Italy play-off at Pub og Sport, a sports bar down the road from the back of City Hall. It was predictably packed out but luckily Simon and John from the London supporters’ club were here too and had space for us squeeze in and watch the tense encounter that was settled in Sweden’s favour by a deflected goal. The Italian expats we were seated with were not too happy. Hannah and Des joined us and we stayed on drinking past midnight. But alcohol prices being what they were, an all-night session wasn’t prudent and I was in bed before 2am. Not that I slept much on account of the narrow bed having an astonishing heat retaining duvet that I had to constantly throw off and put on again when I got too cold.

On a not too chilly morning, after a fine breakfast (making full use of the make-your-own waffles facilities) I went for a Copenhagen stroll. In terms for touristing, the match was unfortunately scheduled in that much of the Copenhagen cityscape is obstructed by green walls, behind which extensions to the metro system are being constructed. Already several years behind schedule, Københavnere fervently hope it will all be complete by 2019, though no one says it with any conviction. Down the main pedestrian shopping streets, running from behind City Hall down to the old harbour area, you’ll find all the generic brands that populate every high street. Any thoughts that the exorbitant alcohol prices would lead to more moderate intake on the part of Ireland fans vanished upon stepping across the VERY sticky pavements outside of The Dubliner Irish pub on Amagertorv. Evidence that Irish fans had a fine time of it here last night. I popped in to see if anyone I knew was there, inevitably there was. Thomas – he of morning drinking sessions in Gelsenkirchen and Tbilisi notoriety – was already holding court and it would have been rude not to join him for one. But one was all I had, the place was filling up and it wasn’t even noon yet. I wandered on, down to the Nyhavn waterfront district and the brightly coloured 18th century townhouses. Here was where Copenhagen was most crowded with tourists, understandable given the picturesque sights. Wish those seagulls would sod off, though…

The Danes are a chilled out bunch, the Carlsberg advert claims they are the happiest people on earth. Probably not true, but they certainly seem the most contented. That feeling of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of serenity or well-being is what characterises the Danish culture of “hygge” (pronounced hoo-ga), which has begun to spread beyond Denmark. As I sauntered back up Gothersgade towards the Botanical Gardens, I stopped off along the way at a Jazzcup, a jazz café across from Kongens Have park, for a coffee, some respite from the cold and a bit of hygge of my own; A warm cappuccino by the fire, staring out the window whilst Mexican vocalist Edith Tamayo was rehearsing with her quartet for their afternoon performance. I would have happily stayed here all day if I didn’t already have plans.

The first of those plans was to pick up my match ticket. Although 8,000 or so Irish fans made it over to Copenhagen (footage of me waiting at Copenhagen Airport train station made it onto RTÉ Six One News!), only about 2,000 officially had tickets for the game. So it was vital I collected mine from Martin the Club Secretary at DGI Byen, in theory near my hotel, but a bugger to find, especially when pressed for time, running late for a walking tour. But I find the hotel I eventually did and made a dash down Vesterbrogade to the City Hall Square in time for the 2pm start of the Copenhagen walking tour. I don’t eat or drink terribly healthy on trips (to put it mildly) so walking tours of cities are ideal for burning off a few calories. About 20 of us gathered to meet up with Alan, our knowledgeable local who took us around Copenhagen for an informative wander around the city, pointing out fascinating facts and sights we wouldn’t have known otherwise; like the way many old buildings don’t have 90° corners to allow more room for horse carriages, or a room where Hans Christian Anderson once lived is in what is now a major department store but have been preserved and you can visit for free, or which tattoo parlours along Nyhavn have been patronised by the Danish royal family. The tour ended in the 5pm darkness by the banks of the canals opposite the opera house. I gave Alan a London supporters’ club scarf as an extra tip and then made the mistake walking back to my hotel, in effect retracting the route of the tour I’ve just done and doubling the distance covered.

I got back to my hotel to coat, hat, glove and scarf up in preparation for a bitterly cold night and headed back out to meet everyone for dinner somewhere back in the town centre, but away from The Dubliner, which by now had thousands revelling in the streets outside and to be avoided at all costs. A streak sarnie and a beer later, we were off to the match, but had no idea how to get there. A group of Danes at the next table were also going to the game and advised us to get the number 14 bus from Nørreport. So Patrick, Des and I snaked northwards to Nørreport, only to find the 14 bus crammed to the gills. We weren’t going to get on any bus, so we simply Google mapped the location and walked 40 minutes and 3km to the stadium, meeting along the way, the very same Danish folk who advised us to take the bus but didn’t get on it either and were legging it there too.

Demand for tickets far exceeded supply and many Irish fans travelled to Denmark ticketless, hoping to pick some up on the night. There were reports of Irish supporters with tickets for the Danish sections being turned away, but that didn’t deter Patrick and Des, who both lost out on the Irish allocation, to chance it outside the ground. I wished them luck and went on in to the Telia Parken Stadium. A real British style football ground with four stands close to the pitch, not like the generic concrete bowls that are modern stadiums. The atmosphere fair crackled with anticipation as the Danes belted out a mighty fine unaccompanied rendition of Der er et yndigt land (the Danish national anthem) followed by fireworks blasting off from the roof of the stadium. Denmark were palpably up for the occasion (TV coverage for the game started at 1pm!) and we were all set for an epic confrontation with a place at the World Cup Finals at stake. I’d be lying if I said it was an absorbing encounter. Ireland’s intention was clearly to shutout Denmark and hoof the ball clear at every opportunity. Irish keeper Darren Randolph was clearly the man of the match (despite Christian Erikson getting the award) preventing at least three goals and keeping the final score at 0-0. It wasn’t great to watch, but we left the Telia Parken Stadium happy, knowing Ireland had a great chance to win the return leg in Dublin next Tuesday and qualify (though since this blog was completed after the second leg, we know now this so did not happen).

As I had already rambled about 20km today, I didn’t feel like another slog back into town. So I queued for the first available southbound bus and heaved on, hoping for the best. Luckily it stopped by the Nyhavn area and from there I was able navigate my way back up to Pub og Sport where I would meet up with Patrick and Des for a post-match drink. Patrick didn’t make it into the stadium, watching the game in bar beneath the stadium instead. Des however managed to evade security and gain entry with a black market ticket that he didn’t pay too much over the odds for. Discussions went on past 01:00, but a late night was not really an option. Not just because of the prices, but the day’s hiking had taken its toll and I really need to rest.

Sunday morning, there was only one place I needed to go; as the walking tour steadfastly avoided it, I got the train to Østerport and to Langelinie promenade for a view of the Little Mermaid statute. It is possibly one of the most overrated tourist attractions in the world, and in that respect, it did not disappoint; hordes of tourists crowding around Edvard Eriksen’s bronze creation, queuing up to snap selfies whilst hawkers flog all manner of tat nearby. Nevertheless, it is the symbol of Copenhagen and a photo of the mopey mermaid is a must, even if you have to elbow Chinese tourist out of the way to get it. I strolled along the promenade, through the Queen’s Palace, pausing to get the photos I missed on the walking tour due to the failing light, and ended up at Magasin department store on Kongens Nydorv. Just ask the staff nicely and you will be lead through the backrooms of the third floor to Hans Christian Anderson’s preserved old room, where Denmark’s most famous son lived from 1838 to 1847. The austere décor and creaking floors a real step back in time. I then stocked up on local chocolate in the basement food hall, and with that my Copenhagen journey ended.

So there you have it. Hastily arranged and hard on the pocket, but this Copenhagen visit turned out to be a far cheerier time than in 2005. The high drink prices meant I consumed far less than I normally would have on an Ireland trip and that’s no bad thing. Maybe future Irish games in the Nordics is the way to go? But sadly that won’t be for a while. Ireland’s 5-1 shellacking at the hands of Denmark the following Tuesday means there won’t be a competitive game until next September at the earliest. I didn’t particularly want to go to Russia, so that dilemma has been removed from the equation. But still, the disappointment of missing out of journeys to new lands, making merry with friends old and new and seeing Ireland in a major tournament will be truly felt when the World Cup finals next June. Planning for an alternative summer trip begin now…

Farvel





Cathal

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