Copenhagen made a lousy first impression. We arrived at the city's Central Station on a late Friday afternoon, which made the sitch worse—hordes of people, no taxis (and no Uber), and gridlocked traffic. We decided to walk the mile to the hotel, even though we had brought our massive suitcase. Alas, Copenhagen has embraced the cobblestone, including in maddening strips down the middle of every sidewalk to aid the vision-impaired.
But the subsequent impressions were another story: The city is far more beautiful than I had realized, and my photos don't do it justice.
Even Christiana, the famous commune, was attractive, once you got off the main tourist strip. It helped that we were there on a Saturday morning, when the place was still sleepy.
Adam wondered aloud what the Swedes think of the Danes, and vice versa, and my first response was that, in my experience, people closer to the geographical heart of Europe tend to think anyone farther away is less sophisticated. That may or may not be true in this case. I do suspect that people in Copenhagen find Stockholm stuffy and dour: The former city comes off much younger, almost like Barcelona and Berlin, as if people in their 20s and 30s have come from all over Europe. There were neighborhoods that felt like Bushwick, and there was no shortage of outdoorsy activity. Below, from the top: a roller-skate night; beach volleyball; and kayak polo.
I'm only becoming more of a sightskipper as I age, preferring real life to museums and tourist attractions. But I did think we needed to visit one or two while in Copenhagen—plus, rain was forecast. So we went to Rosenborg Castle. For me, the architecture was more interesting than the jewelry, antiques, and so on. (At one point, having read that a vitrine featured a ring of a woman's hand grabbing a penis, I leaned in for a closer look, only to bang my head on the glass. People saw it.) In the first photo below, check out the ceiling reliefs—the cherub legs extend at least six inches.
The other attraction was Louisiana, a modern/contemporary art museum 30 minutes by train from the city. Some of the art was terrific: Ellsworth Kelly plant drawings, one of the best Rauschenberg silkscreens, Hiroshi Sugimoto photos of movie theaters.... But, again, I was more turned on by the architecture and the setting (an old house, with additions, on the shoreline across from Sweden). If we ever need to redo the landscaping, I want to return to Louisiana for inspiration.
Like many people these days, perhaps a result of our attention-addled brains, we prefer experiences to attractions. For Adam, the highlight of the trip by far was the scooter-sharing programs we used in Stockholm and Copenhagen. He was like a five-year-old who receives a scooter as a Christmas gift: Scooting (?) was all he wanted to do, and if I said I didn't want to scoot home after a bottle of wine at dinner, he would pout.
The food was generally excellent.
Sorry, that was a little joke. I like to line up dinner reservations in advance of a trip, especially when I can get trustworthy advice, as we did this time. I was concerned, however, about overdoing the New Nordic food. I like it well enough, but I think it's probably more interesting when it's not all you eat. Moreover, in the Scandinavian spring, the emphasis on local, seasonal ingredients means a lot of asparagus, rhubarb, and peas. Nearly every restaurant we went to offered only a tasting menu, so we experienced many variations of asparagus, rhubarb, and peas. Rhubarb, in particular, became a running joke: It was in every dessert.
That last one is from Amass, one of the best restaurants we've ever eaten at. We resisted the staff's suggestion to order the extended set menu, opting instead for the four-course one. Part of me regrets that; another part is thrilled we didn't. I dread the bloated feeling you get from one of those long slogs, no matter how delicious the food was (such as at Agrikultur in Stockholm). Below: white asparagus at Amass, the prettiest/least interesting dish of the meal.
