Tracking East... Slowly

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Ok, so I know it has been ages since I last made an appearance here, but it's like this right; I had three pages written in Word, but over wrote them when I downladed the old one page entry from my email. Ah well, that happens. And now, for what literally some people have been waiting for, number two!
After a couple more days of recovering from jet lag in Kolding, it was time to hit the road. The first stop was the end of the driveway, as I had to tie my shoelace. It’s a great place, I recommend a visit! However, after that, I set off for my uncle Jacob’s house, on the island of Fyn. How to get there was yet to be determined, even at that stage. Rather than doing the sensible(and therefore Danish) thing, I decided to hitchhike. I still have all my belongings, limbs, and dignity, so I estimate it was a success. With an outstretched left arm I strode along the main road into Kolding, and after two minutes of doing so a car pulled up along side. The passenger window lowered magically as it was doing so, but there was a buzzing noise associated with this, so maybe the Honda Civic has those fancy worker bee powered windows? Bees or no bees, I was happy for a lift. A ride into Kolding was offered, and accepted. From there I walked along the road leading to the motorway, where again I was picked up rather quickly. This time it was an Avis worker (bee?) who had the honours, and drove me to the approach to the motorway. You guessed it; I was again picked up in a flash! A nurse and hospital equipment sales rep by the name of Lisbeth stopped to do her good deed for the day. Lisbeth was going to a suburb just outside Odense, which suited me just swell. With 50 km to cover, we had plenty of time to chat. The conversation naturally tended towards travelling, but occasionally we spoke about some unimportant things too, like politics. Being a seasoned hitchhiker herself, Lisbeth dropped me off just after she turned on to the road into Odense, as she thought I would have a good chance of being pick up there. However, just in case I had a long wait, she handed me some choc mints! There was to be no long wait, as a Somali by the name of Yousef greeted me within 25 seconds of Lisbet continuing her journey home. I kid you not. Yousef, who immigrated to Denmark 12 years ago, gave me a lift right into the centre of Odense. Jacob’s house is 20km NW of Odense, but in order to get to the road which leads directly there, one must zig zag through an industrial area. Once that had passed, it was time to hitch a ride again. I did just that with Jacob (another Jacob), who also gave me a can of soda (that’s ‘pop’ for the colonials). Then it was a straight run to my uncle’s house, a journey which would be completed with the aid of a toolmaker and football coach named Søren.
I made it at about 1530. Too late for lunch, and far too early for dinner. Never fear, the bottomless pit that is the Larsen kitchen supplied me with herring. One of my cousins also came by, and had some monitors to sell which he acquired from an electrical store. Sounds dodgy I know, but really it is all Kosher! Off we went, speeding around the country roads of Northern Fyn, with a witching moon low in the sky, to find a buyer for the monitors. No, really, it’s cool.
The next day, after more feasting it was time to move on to Odense. I had planned to stay with my cousin Ninna and her husband, but their house was booked. I met a local Couch Surfer who, when told of my predicament, offered to host me for the night. Given the relative ease of hitchhiking in Denmark so far, I decided to try it again, this time with Copenhagen as the destination. My host had to leave at 630 for work, which meant I would be exposing myself form the wrist down to a bunch of depressed Danes on their way to work. Yep, not a single stop in 2 hrs. But I didn’t give up. Oh no, I waited another 5min for that. So there I was, trekking through the ‘burbs, midget on my back, and a Berliner in my hand. Once I made it to the train station, you won’t be surprised to hear, I was in Copenhagen in no time at all.
Since I have no family in Copenhagen, ‘twas to be a couch surfing weekend. I was met by Lene Mølgård, a TV photographer, atop the escalator that carried me to the concourse of Copenhagen’s main station. With yet more Danish efficiency, we headed to Nørrebro where I dumped my bag, after which we found a café for a meal and a chin wag. It turns out that I arrived at a good time, because Troels, a friend of Lene’s, and fellow couch surfer, was hosting a party that night. Needless to say, that was on the agenda! Before that however, we went to a community run café in town, where another friend of Lene’s had an exhibition of her paintings. The café was a sea of young Danes, in trendy yet functional clothes to bare the rain and three degree temperature we were treated to that night. Those Danes had some trendy occupations to match their outfits, too. With occupations ranging from English teacher to immigrant children, to artist, to bicycle messenger, to planner for public spaces, there were ample brains and brawn to take over and run a country. Please, choose Australia! Enough cynicism though. This being Denmark, we rode bikes to the café (and later the party), something which can be done with great ease and safety. Bike paths are to be found on nearly all roads in populated areas, and a lot of dedicated bicycle traffic lights which look like children standing next to their vehicle traffic light parents. See, it is possible to make a system that works, and works fantastically. Not like in… no, I won’t go there. After many vats of wine were consumed, along with some Carlsberg’s and peanuts, it was time to head to the party.
Being the amazingly laid back guy that Troels is, he was hosting ten couch surfers in a one bedroom apartment. Yes, ten, and yes, one. The majority of the guests were Poles, with two Americans squeezing in for good measure. A collection of Danes, an Austrian and an Australian brought the total number of party goers to about 25. Wasn't crapmed at all tho... did Steve tell you that perchance? Any colds acquired from riding in the rain were swiftly done away with by a shot of Seaman’s Friend, the drinking of which is a national pastime. I could imagine Koalas being keen on the stuff as it has a strong taste of Eucalyptus. Kind of like the chewing gum 'Airwaves', only more potent. You can imagine the mayhem that ensued after a bunch of Danes and Poles started doing what they do best! Come 2am, after much singing and dancing, it was time to head back to Nørrebro, as Lene started work at 10am the same day.
I left the apartment at about 11am and headed into town. I parked my bike in the town hall square, with hundreds more scattered around as if Mario Cipollini had thrown another tantrum. Walking down the main shopping street, I encountered many Eastern European looking folk trying to sucker people into gambling on which of three small boxes had a ball inside, after they were shuffled. The people "gambling" appeared to be of the same descent, so perhaps friends or family. Looked dodgy to me! I had come in search of a scarf, but ended up with a chai latte. Can't complain aboout that, kept me warm too! The sun was shining so I left the bike where it was, and walked the rest of the day. Taking in Nyhavn, Amalienborg, and the Opera House, the sheer number of cyclists was astonishing. When I returend to my bike the air was filled with some distinctly Australian accents (no I was not talking to myself, and neither was I!), so we started talking and had a beer in Nyhavn.
Sunday was grey with a little rain, so I went to the Danish National Museum and a photojournalism exhibition. The museum housed exhibits from all lands, times, and peoples, even the Australian Aboriginies. Of interest was the European history section, and fact that part of Sweden used to belong to Denmark, until a war in the 1700's. Alot of the people in that area of Sweden still want to return to Danish rule! That night I cooked pasta with my special sauce for Lene, as the next day I was to move onto Sweden.

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Photos

Nyhavn
The place to 'be seen' in Cph

Amalienborg
I crush you like an ant..

The shopping district
That's more like it!

Comments

[Anna]

yes, steve did tell me that. love the blog, mate, keep it up! we miss you back here, and hope you run out of money soon so you have to return, he he... since i didn't go for my evil passport scam this is all i have! ;) your mom said you're heading to spain, i think? true or false? either way, sounds like you're having a blast, just like i knew you would. be good, /anna