A taste of Copenhagen

Scandinavia has the reputation of being an expensive place to visit. Having been here for about six weeks we can confirm, so far as travelling by motorhome is concerned, it is the most expensive place we have ever visited, especially Sweden. Looking for positives, diesel is roughly the same price as in the UK, almost everything else considerably more. Fresh fruit, vegetables and meat is about a third more than at home. The crazy prices you sometimes see quoted for alcohol are those you would pay in a restaurant, bought over the counter for home consumption a bottle of wine is around £7 - £9, somewhat more than at home, but not entirely unaffordable. However, our decision to stock-up on wine and beer at Dunkirk Auchun on the way north certainly paid off 

So far as places to stay are concerned, both Denmark and Sweden are far better set up for motorhomes than the UK. We were very surprised by how popular an activity it is here, most places of any size have 'stellpläts' marinas at lakes, on canals and small harbours generally welcome motorhomes too, but at a price. In May and June we paid about £15- £25 per night on a stellpläts, a bit more for a campsite. Often showers and ehu are charged as add ons. 

Sweden's move towards being cashless further complicates keeping tabs on what you spend, especially as Swedish and Danish kroner have significantly different exchange rates and it's easy to become confused. You might think having to use a card instead of cash would be easy to manage - simply keep the receipts and tally them daily; then an unmanned petrol station fails to provide a print out or you forget which supermarket trip you paid cash for and which you paid by card, and soon you lose track of your spending in countries which seem alarmingly expensive.

Why this matters, and the way it affected our visit to Copenhagen shows how nagging anxieties about the cost of things influences your behaviour and results in silly decisions

We had pre-booked Camping Absalon, because around 'midsommar' places would be busy. Moreover, it looked simple to find - less than a kilometre from a motorway junction south of Copenhagen and within easy reach of a station with a train every ten minutes takiing you straight into the city centre in less than half an hour. 

We hatched a plan to save us a night's expensive camping fees. From Ystad to Copenhagen over the Öreson was only an hour, we could head to the camping and be there by lunchtime. A quick snack then straight into the city to get the hang of the place, then back the next day to have lunch and explore some more.

Camping Abasalon, a green oasis near Copenhagen

This is exactly what we did the first time we went to Seville, it did not work then, so I have no idea why we thought it would now. You can't 'speed date' big cities, respectful courtship is the order of the day. 

All went to plan, we found the campsite no problem and had arrived in the centre of Copenhagen by early afternoon. We had no plan, a map, but no real sense of the layout of the city. We simply wandered about. It was hot, traffic choked, the stream of cyclists more hazardous than the cars. If you stopped to look at the map or take a photo you became an obstacle that other pedestrians brushed past irritably.

Forget the idea pedestrians have priority....

Writing this a couple of days later, I have no coherent memory at all of our first afternoon in Copenhagen. It recurs in a series of flashbacks, like a rambling, episodic dream. Our photos record where we went, and I recall snippets of our conversation...

Pete: That's a big wooden roof....

Gill: What do you think the fishy sculpture is all about?

Gill: The map says its the Bank of Denmark

Gill: Copenhagen is a city of squiggly spires. Pete: Why do pigeons never sit on the horse's head?

The Danish Parliament we both agreed

Pete: Do you think he is waving or asking to be rescued?

Pete: I'd like to see 'The Black Diamond'....(it was a long walk)

I preferred 'BLOX' next door

Tivoli Gardens - not what we expected - think Blackpool Pleasure Beach just down the road from St. Pancras.

They must get a good view...

Very sore feet by now - vanishing perspectives did not help.

At last.....

That evening back at the van we agreed that we had be more organised tomorrow and actually plan our day in Copenhagen. Sarah and Gill have a handy arrangement. She WhatsApps Gill picking her brains about European travel - today's query, did we know of a nice campsite on the Languedoc coast?

In return, Gill enquired of Sarah - where is good to visit in Copenhagen? Sarah and Rob are well placed to act as our on-line advisers regarding all things metropolitan. As ex-long term Hackney residents, latter-day Lisboastas and enthusiastic European city break specialists, they can provide us with much better customised advice about where to go and what to see than consulting Trip Advisor or Lonely Planet.

Sarah's reply:

1. The old meat packing district in Vesterbo - good places for lunch and craft beer bars like Warpigs Brewpub.

2. Mikkeller and Friends micro brewery in Nørrebro - walk through the beautiful local cemetery where Søren Kierkegaard is laid to rest 

3. Christianhavns Christiana free community, a hippy commune that occupied 40 hectares of abandoned military buildings in 1971 and is still going strong (just follow the dreadlocks Sarah quipped).

3. The contemporary art space established in the former garage of the Carlsberg brewery.

We looked at our map, the suggestions reflected that Sarah and Rob had been staying in the city centre and had two days to spare, the sites were spread far apart, we we going have to prioritise.

We chose no. 1 rather than number 2 as it was within walking distance of number 3. Any visit to an 'art space' was not an option as I simply cannot manage a 'quick visit' - I am an incorrigible gallery malingerer, whereas Gill sprints through in no time. It's one of the few things we struggle to do together happily.

Next day we arrived back at Copenhagen central station by around 11.30am. and headed for Vesterbo. Because the city is built on a number of islands it's a bit of a tangle and not at all easy to navigate. 

The route from the station to the old meat packing district takes you straight through what was once Copenhagen's notorious red light district. It's not really at all obvious these days apart from a couple of discrete 'gentleman's clubs' and a few slightly shady looking cafés. I suppose brothels have gone the way of book shops, folks get what they are after on-line.

It's obvious when you have reached the meat packing district. The grid of concrete low rise warehouses from the 50s and 60s looks completely different from the venerable surrounding streets. Unlike the eponymous equivalent in Manhattan, the area has not been wholly gentrified. There are still meat merchants operating among the Michelin mentioned eateries and brew pubs. Some industrial buildings on the fringes of the district are derelict, occupying real estate purgatory, hovering between complete ruin and post industrial apotheosis.

We took a couple of photos of 'Warpigs', not least because the customers outside conformed exactly to the stereotype of what you might expect to find in a craft beer bar in the heart of Copenhagen's post industrial grunge boho zone.

The menu at Kødbyen's Fiskebar across the yard looked more tempting. We have eaten posh fish and chips in some famous foodie places, but never in one like here that was actually Michelin listed.

 It was good, but I think Ryley's Fish Shack in Tynemouth was better, indeed, across the Tyne, the lunch we had at Latimer's fish restaurant at Whitburn was less refined, but tastier than our Michelin version even though it would never get a mention in  Lonely Planet or be sanctified by Jay Raynor.

After lunch we wandered back to Warpigs thinking we might try one of the many draft craft beers on offer, the choice was too bewildering and I felt awkward, too grey haired and old to share space with seriously relaxed millennials. I wondered if the young man wearing the Slipknot tee shirt was genuinely a metal fan, or there was some kind of ironic double take going on.

Instead we browsed in the shop next door - J W Larsen. The place is a supplier to the burgeoning restaurant trade; kit like a smoker or tiny tweezers for artistically placing edible flowers atop a seaweed salad grace the shelves alongside very expensive pans, lethal cleavers and astonishing chunky chopping boards.

We needed two espresso cups, one of our existing pair suffered a handle malfunction the other day. We make many compromises in order to live for months on end in our box on wheels, but somethings are utterly beyond the pale, including having a post lunch espresso in ill-matched cups.

On the map Christianhavns looked like a mere stroll. In practice the main railway line and Copenhagen's Inderhavnen lay in between. Finding bridges to cross both involved making lengthy detours. When we finally arrived it was not at all what I had been expecting. We had decided to give the Christiana free community a miss and were heading towards the area's 'little Amsterdam' as it was described in our guidebook. 

Walking along Christianhavn's esplanade by the Inderhavnen it did not look like Amsterdam at all. Dominating the other bank were two of Copenhagen's signature post-modern whoppers - 'The Black Diamond' and BLOX - home to the Danish design and architecture centres. I like Danish interior design. The use of natural wood combined with more contemporary materials and bright colours can be vivacious and heartening. These two buildings were dark and brooding.

Their predilection for smoked glass and slate grey cladding gifted them presence and a cool minimalism, but to me they exuded all the charm of Darth Vader with dyspepsia.

The buildings on this side of the canal were similarly styled, but more run of the mill corporate blocks. Glimpsed through big square windows cut into the dark facades cubicled humans went about their business.

One man stood up, stretched and stared at his big wide-screen monitor. I found myself pondering how did we clever primates who hunted and gathered freely in a wild world come to be so caged in a zoo of our own making?

The big divide had to be the development of written language, the regulation that urban culture demands would be impossible without it. I promised myself, next time that I happen to miss momentarily the sense of belonging and shared enterprise that work provides, I need to remember the Homo Administrator I glimpsed briefly through the window of this dark tower.

We turned right and in five minutes walked from Manhattan to Amsterdam. The lively bohemian district is tucked behind the corporate blocks, a few pretty streets clustered around the narrow Christianhavn Kanal. It does look distinctly Danske Dutch.

Lagkagehuset! I was sure I had seen the name of this bakery on the corner in our guidebook. Famous or not, the Danish pastries in the window looked delicious. The place was busy, which is also usually a good sign. Like in many shops in Denmark you collect a number as you enter and wait for it to appear on the display behind the counter.

All very orderly. There were ten customers before us. Division of labour time, Gill queued, I bagged two stools by the bar next to the window. Gill had more luck queueing than me bagging, I placed my camera strategically on the bar in front of the vacant stool beside me and stared out of the window.

 Usually it would have signalled that it was about to be occupied, but not to the young American guy who simply plonked himself down beside me. Gill returned with two espressos and Danish pastries. I stood up, she sat down; the coffee was excellent, Gill reckoned the pastries were too, I am not a good judge of cakes, they all taste too sugary to me, apart from carrot cake, which I am quite particular about.

We timed our bakery visit to perfection. As I waited for Gill there was little to do but watch the world go by out of the window; a sharp thundery shower sent the pedestrians scurrying for shelter.

By the time we had eaten our Danish pastries the rain had stopped. We decided to head back to the station via the nearby Coop 'Superbrugsen. We found some bottles of Mikkeler craft beer that Sarah and Rob recommended we try. The beer is great and the labels very Danske design.

The route back took us through Slotsholmen, where the main Parliament and ministries are located.. It was the area we explored somewhat haphazardly yesterday. it felt less frenetic today. Unlike the station, when we arrived it was thronged and chaotic. At first we blamed the rush hour, then it dawned on us no trains were moving at all. 

Rather adopting the British approach by making pathetic, apologetic announcements on a PA system that sounds like Bugs Bunny, Danish Rail flooded the station with hi-vis garbed staff who explained the situation personally to gaggles of travellers and responded to their questions. Ours was funny, engaging and helpful. The effect on customers was to reassure them, and people chatted affably rather than becoming grumpy. It transpired that the police had closed a station nearby and all trains were at a standstill. 

After 15 minutes or so some trains began to move but the information boards could not keep up. The train on platform 11 was definitely not the one the flashed up on the display. We asked a station 'good fairy' which platform our train to Brønderbyøyster would depart from, platform 9 was the reply. By the tine we arrived there the display reflected the change, then moments later swapped back to 11, the platform we had we had just come from. We were mightily confused, but the platform good fairy caught up with us and confirmed the change. She had actually taken the trouble to walk across the station to find us - can you imagine a Network Rail official doing that?

There is a simple reason why Denmark keeps topping the world 'happy country' list. It is normal for people to be affable, kind and positive towards each other. This does not mean Danes are more affable and kindly human beings, simply that social mores and manners promote kindness as the default way to greet one another. We noted similar characteristics in New Zealand - it has a profound effect on how a place feels.

A train is a good place to observe this. As you might expect given the chaos the train we had boarded was packed. Danish trains have some carriages adapted for carrying bicycles. It is normal to see scores of them stacked up at station cycle racks. Can you imagine the levels of grump and irritation that would ensue on London Overground  if people attempted to squeeze bicycles into carriages packed with foot passengers? Here people co-operated, helping the cyclists by standing up an getting out of the way, assisting them to lift the machines on and off. Lots of 'tak' and smiles all around.

What would you do you do if you were not feeling too perky, perhaps you'd had a bad day at the office or your pet guinea pig had just passed away? Maybe, like me, you are a bit of an introvert, preferring to talk to a blank page than another human being. What happens to the mildly sociophobic in Denmark? Well, I can't vouch for the country in general, but I did note Danish Railways attempt to provide for them. Yesterday we accidentally ended up sitting in the trains 'quiet section'. Silence is preferred, people sit alone staring at their mobile phone screens, or tapping away on them earnestly, just like I am now. So being affable and jolly is not an absolute requirement. The introverted are catered for too, though it was notable that this quiet section was the only part of the train with seats to spare.

Despite commuter meltdown at Copenhagen central, and the resultant scrum on the train I found myself in unusually good spirits when we alighted at Brønderbyøyster. It was a pleasantly warm summer's early evening. I noted the cluster of 1960s tower blocks with approval, their slab like ends had been cheered up with colourful abstract murals sometime in the 1990s.

The grounds were impeccably maintained, with a playground for kids and modern sculptures for adults. The small shopping mall had a fitness centre, the public library across the road was full of books, an increasingly rare thing back home as the few that remain now act as volunteer run 'community information points' whatever they may be.

A few weeks in Denmark reminds you of what a country with a fully functioning public sector is like - somewhere geared to the needs on the many not the few in practice - not some mealy mouthed strap line bandied about by both Jeremys and Boris. There is a lot we could learn from Denmark, not least by emulating this morning's news...

It's never going to happen is it?  We are doomed to get Boris. How can this be?