Part 22, The Final Chapter -- Kobenhavn: Free Beer, Pig Men, and Butter Cookies in the Pearl of Denmark

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Arrival

On the plane from Kosovo, the large gentleman in front of me started having an intense freak-out, banging his head on the seat in front of him. I excused myself to use the restroom, and casually reseated myself.

I was thinking about the fast-approaching end of my European odyssey as the red sun set under the clouds and over the Oresund channel, over a horizon dotted with futuristic white-colored wind generators, and a bridge running from Peberholm, a flat island of Danish muck under a sea tunnel to Sweden.



On the tram into the city, I looked up and slowly began noticing that half the cabin seemed to be occupied by deaf students who enjoyed the reaction they received by clapping loudly and chaotically. The other half of the tram featured several individuals with severe physical deformities, including one I might heartlessly describe as a “pig man,” but I won’t. He was frothing and snorting in the seat behind me, and I tried not to make him feel uncomfortable. I’d almost been able to forget about it, but here it is in my travel notes, preserved for all time.

Bicycle Friendly

Denmark is arguably the top bicycling country in Europe after The Netherlands. I’m glad I never tried to drive Olivia through this bike-congested town. At least bicycles don’t have much unfriendly exhaust. Also note, five of nine bicyclists are blond females in their 20s or early 30s. Not complaining. There are lovers everywhere in this city. In its many parks, laying on the grasses and wandering through the palace gardens; I might have fallen in love briefly a few times myself. I learned “Smuk” is the Danish word for beautiful. As if I didn’t like this place enough already, as I was strutting along the walkway of one park, an indescribable campsite explosion of reckless bummery erupted and a slightly dented can of yummy red Danish ale literally fell out, rolling to my feet. Free beer? Thank you very much. Like God was trying to buy my affection for Denmark; it worked. I was inspired enough by it all to rent my own bicycle and ride it through their special park dedicated to their national hero, Hans Christian Anderson.



Sometimes there’s a man…

It was quite clear that Children’s Author Hans Christian Anderson was the recognized national hero of Denmark, the same way Saint Olav is the Hero of Norway, Father Damien is the hero of Belgium, and Han Solo was the hero of the Rebel Alliance.

But I’d just flown in from a very special new nation. I flew in from Kosovo, a nation so new it is still fighting bureaucratically for recognition of its independence, even if the ground war has been won. And the new nation of Kosovo has a different kind of hero – both completely modern and old fashioned. The man’s name was Adem Jashari, and he is partially credited for escalating the violence, which turned into the full Kosovan war of liberation from Serbia; he did this by leading a raid that killed Serbian police officers. Kosovans today have their independence, and they credit Jashari as instrumental to that success. My conclusion is that we get the heroes we need, when we need them, whoever we are.
But I have to think that a starkly different impression is gleamed by the young infants who grow up idolizing a children’s author, rather than the man who had to shoot police officers. Albania’s national hero, by the way, was a 7-foot mythical warrior from the 14^th century who carried a 5-foot blade.

Stolen Mermaid

I didn’t see the most iconic sight in all of Denmark; it wasn’t because I didn’t try.

Eriksen’s statue of Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid is the most famous tourist attraction in the country, and she normally sits atop a rock near the Osterport section of the city, near the castle. I had the grand misfortune of visiting Copenhagen only a day after the statue itself had been “Shanghaied” and shipped to China, where she was being displayed for the world exposition of 2010. Instead of seeing the statue, there was a live video feed of the mermaid in Shanghai (so you could see that nothing terrible had befallen her – nothing worse than being kidnapped and smuggled into Shanghai, anyway). Personally I felt this was an idiotic move; if some important cultural item is your country’s number one tourist attraction, sending it somewhere is a bad move on two fronts. 1) Tourists who came all the way to Denmark feel like they’ve been gypped, and 2) Wherever you just took the exhibit, those people are LESS interested in coming to your country because you just brought your top cultural icon TO THEM. Lose-lose.
Might as well send them the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower while we’re at it. They could replicate the tower with laser lights. In an odd piece of Asian reciprocity, reporters from a television station in Hong Kong were there at the site, interviewing me and other people about the fact that the mermaid WASN’T there.

Wrong first impression

When I first stepped out into Kobenhavn, I was amazed at the extremely high price of absolutely everything for sale. I very nearly had a brief panic attack. But now, as I see the vast, spotless public parks, the healthy, educated people, impressive biking infrastructure, immense public libraries and near total lack of beggars – I say, if THIS is socialism, it WORKS for these people. According to my kind host Christopher, Denmark has been ranked as the least corrupt government of any country in the world.
As I considered these things, I walked past the American embassy and noticed that it was flying at half-mast. I walked up to the guard and asked him why the flag was low. He was African American. I took down his words as he said, “Some lady, shit, I can’t remember her name, who helped start the civil rights movement, and, damn it, I can’t remember her name. She died.” Later, I attempted to find the answer myself and it seems it was likely lowered to recognize those who died when Deepwater Horizon blew.

Beaver Duck

This one requires a bit of explanation. Whenever I am forced to declare a state identity, I usually claim to be an “Oregonian.” My home state is evenly divided in vigilant college affiliation between 1 and a half dignified schools. They are the Oregon State University Beavers (yaaay!), and the University of Oregon Ducks (boooo!). But what’s an Oregonian to make of it, on his last day in Europe when he sees a duck in a pond, building a nest damn with twigs? It’s a duck that’s behaving like a beaver. That’s when I knew it was time to go home.

The search for gifts

I wanted just one thing to bring back home – Danish butter cookies. You know those cute little shortbread cookies they usually sell around Christmas? My family had a history of buying those, especially my grandparents. So I set out to find them, and it turns out Danes mostly only buy those cookies at Christmas too. I went to every bakery in Copenhagen, as it became something of an obsession. Some of you may recognize my behavioral pattern, that when something I’m searching for turns out to become nearly impossible to find, I become all the more determined to find it. So, finally, in perhaps the oldest bakery in Kobenhavn, near the gorgeous old harbor, I found a shop that offered the cookies. The tiny cookies were about $4 each, but I’d made such a big deal out of buying them for my friends and family, so I bought about 12 of them. As it turned out I was only able to share about 6 of them, because while I visited friends in Colorado, their dog bust into my guest room, smelled them in my bag, and devoured about $25 worth of butter cookies from the other side of the globe. Since I’d already promised the cookies to my brother, I quickly found a Wal-Mart, bought some suitable ringers, and covertly made the swap.

Last stop before home

When I arrived in Kobenhavn, I was told that the tram was “free.”
Well, that was true, but only because it was the 1st Sunday of the month. So, two days later, when I was traveling to the airport, I was given an infraction notice for not buying a ticket for the airport train. Weeks later, expecting I might decide to move to Scandinavia in the distant future. I was able to send the original ticket cost to the court in Danish Kroner. My infraction was forgiven with my sincere apologies and accompanying letter.

As I flew home, I had no idea what awaited me in America, apart from a $3,000 tax bill from the state of Oregon. I didn’t know where I’d go or what I would do. All I had was a feeling: I’d been away from San Diego too long. When I got back to Oregon would collect my things and head south like a fortune hunter, seeking opportunities.

Stay tuned.





Cut from story:

Part of Copenhagen is its own little country with no legal jurisdiction. They call it Fristaden, and it’s where I was advised to seek out my special butter cookies. This is apparently where all the drug deals go down. I hope they don’t think I want “special” cookies. I only wanted Danish butter cookies, that’s all!

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Photos

At the Palace Gardens
This looked like a nice place to lay my head

Bikes
They REALLY like their bikes here

HCA
A memorial statue for Hans Christian Andersen

Mermaid-vision
A screen shows a live-feed to the Mermaid Statue on loan in Shanghai

Palace Gardens
Lovers walk together at the Palace Gardens in spring

Beaver Duck alert
Behind me a duck has made its home of twigs in beaver-fashion.

Red Flowers
Is red my color? Nah

Kobenhavn Canal
Brennan at the shipyard in Copenhagen

The Palace
Not a bad crib.

Belly
Don't know which is more fabulous: that church, or that astonishing belly? Actually, I do.