Today we took the fairy across Isefjorde, which is the fjord we see from Merete’s summer home. The custom for summoning the fairy is to turn a paddle that reached high on a pole, so that the orange side faces across the water. If the captain sees the sign, if he wants to, he comes to the landing.
Martin & the Captain — Photo by PMP
We were lucky. So off we went, in the midst of yet another rain shower. We were invited up to the captain’s bridge, where we got a firsthand tutorial on the winds and the currents. When asked if the seas got rougher than this, the captain laughed heartily.
On the Way to Lynaes — Photo by PMP
We walked two kilometers in the rain to the little harbor of Lynnaes. Our reward at the destination was a steaming cup of coffee. More rewarding than destination was the process.
Photo by PMP
On this side of the fjord, thatch-roofed homes abounded. I have a “thing” for thatch-roofed cottages, so I reveled in each glimpse.
First glimpse of a thatched home — Photo by PMP
By the time we returned home, the rain of course had cleared. We made our first home-cooked dinner, with ingredients we had fetched this morning on foot at the local market.
All of my life I have stipulated my last name as ‘Petersen … spelled with an ‘sen’.’ That technique works much of the time, but I eventually adapted to the reality that spelling surprises happen when you are a Petersen. Like the time when a new Avalon lease was acquired and our paperwork person managed to get the lease contract correct, but the DMV name incorrect. Petersen/Peterson.
The new Ms. Petersen is as baffled as me about root cases for these anomalies, so we decided to return to the source: a Viking Shipbuilding Museum, at Roskilde.
Viking ship methods – lap cutting by hand. Photo by MJP.
This is a museum full of wonder. A very active team of employees and volunteers are busy explaining what is known about Viking shipbuilding and what is not known. Essentially, there are no ‘instructions’ for Viking shipbuilding. This means that all participants attempt to reverse engineer how boats were crafted and, actually, what they looked like. Historians only know what tools the Vikings had to work with, and what materials existed at the time. This information, plus a few examples of discovered boats and rough drawings, is all they have to build their working models.
The process is trial and error. Reconstructions are built, then taken out to sea for trial, then modified and adjusted, then taken thorough that cycle all over again.
Patty sailing. Photo by MJP.
Pat and I sailed on one for a short time and were able to see first hand how the ships are believed to be constructed, and how they would then be taken to sea. We did just fine on the short excursion. No one got wet and everyone else in the boat passed the rowing test.
Detailed presentations about building techniques were also explained and demonstrated. I never expected that Rope Maker was a viable trade, today or in yesteryear. But in fact, there are artisans who today make rope by hand and, of course, in years gone bye. The process of winding various materials into a usable rope is best left for the expert. Eg, someone willing to callous their hands after infinite hours of twisting various fibrous materials into a strong and useful cord.
The day was fun and informational. All of the staff was highly informed, friendly, and eager to answer questions.
Thumbs up and recommended for all!
Danes themselves have no problem with our ‘Petersen,’ but at end of day we were no more informed as to American mis-spellings as when we started.
The best thing today was a rainy walk in the forest of Nordskoven. We walked through sunshine, mists that glistened the ferns, rain drops as big as dimes — three rain showers.
Even after the clouds cleared, down came a shimmering tree shower. When the wind gusted through the tall forest canopy, with layers upon layers of leaves, each small leaf vessel tipped its cache of water, and down came the droplets through the dappled sunlight.
Luxuriant ferns graced the forest floor.
Delicate wildflowers — purple, rose and bright yellow — danced across the meadows and skipped along our path. We were drenched in the fresh scent of grasses, woodland herbs, blossoms and loamy soil.
The king of the forest is Kongeegen. He is an ancient oak tree, between 1,500 and 2,ooo years old — and still living. Small underlings crowd around his massive trunk — probably his progeny, eager to reign, but without a chance. In a ring around the “konge”, the king of oaks, loyal guardsmen hold back the forest growth and preserve the elder’s right to the sun.
He alone lives on, longer and luckier than Storkeegen, the revered oak a short ways away in the same forest. Storkeegen is only about 800 years old, and ceased producing leaves a few decades ago.
We were alone in the wet woods, paying homage to this marvel. In contrast, busloads of people file into Roskilde Domkirke to view the elaborate sepulchral monuments of 39 generations of Danish kings. One looks at those lifelike marble carvings of the kings lying in stately, dead repose, amidst lavishly ornate displays of wealth and power. Perhaps each king’s greatest wish was to live on in immortal glory.
Kongeegen simply grows — majestically — and outlives the lifetimes of 39 kings.
Hmmm, seems that we never added any ‘now playing’ content! Heal thyself! 🙂
Now Playing will be a short description of where we are ‘now.’ The idea for reporting on our trip was to NOT lay out the full plan in advance. We’ll just say that our plan is indeed developed, but each step will be announced as it happens.
The first Now Playing was Copenhagen. Several of our posts have outlined those activities and photos.
Expand the Google Map page to see what opportunities for exploration exist in the Kulhuse vicinity. We are immediately on the Roskilde Fjord and loving every minute.
Today’s post is about Vesterbro, an incredible neighborhood enveloping trendy cafes, prostitutes, art galleries, drug addicts, children’s parks, homeless shelters, coffee houses and sex shops. From the Queen’s point of residence, it’s on the wrong side of the tracks. It’s also the hottest hipster hangout. More importantly, today’s post is about what I learned from Kristine, Elizabeth and Jonathan. Their compassionate, fresh, embracing attitudes about where they live and how they live made me realize that I carry from home some predispositions that need dusting off.
Kristine, Martin’s distant cousin, lives In Vesterbro with her boyfriend Jonathan. She was eager for us to experience this unique section of the city, and she was right when she said we probably would not venture there on our own. Her sister Elizabeth came from Odense to join us, and later Kristine’s boyfriend Jonathan, so we had three enthusiastic, articulate young tour guides to show us what the tourists don’t see and the older folks probably don’t know about.
Vesterbro is on the other side of the train tracks from the royal palace . It’s also the hottest hipster hangout. The street where Kristine lives straddles two lives. During the day, it is the province of mothers carting children to school on their bicycles, shoppers and lunching locals. We pass window displays of more dildo makes and models than I ever knew existed. Nightclubs promise strip teases, table dances, and lap dances, and more – all in English (the favored language of learning and fashion). At nightfall, the prostitutes lounge against the walls of the stately old buildings – but on only one side the street. It was a relief to see Kristine’s apartment was on the other side of the street. Remarkably, Kristine feels safe in her neighborhood. You just have to know the correct social conventions: Don’t make eye contact and stay on the correct side of the street. There is evidently more to it than that, for Elizabeth still has not learned enough etiquette to feel safe alone on Kristine’s street.
As we entered Kristine’s apartment, she pointed out that at night, there are usually several drug addicts hanging out at the building entrance. They know her, and just politely step out of the way. Kristine seemed much more concerned on our behalf about the steep steps up to the top floor of the building. No problem!
Americans, you may be wondering about Kristine. Banish your preconceptions! She has long blonde hair, fresh complexion and exudes girl-next-door wholesomeness. Elizabeth, too, a beautiful young mother of two tow-heads. Kristine has an art degree from the University; Elizabeth has a PhD in linguistics and teaches University English. Kristine happily lives here by choice and relishes the diversity.
Her apartment was charmingly cluttered with the useful and the whimsical. Sunlight streamed in through skylights and dormer windows. Looking out the living room window, across the street was a handsome brick building sporting a sex shop on the ground floor. Across the other street was a trendy roof-top garden. Catty-corner stood another centuries-old building that provides shelter for addicts, along with on-duty nurses who administer “safe” doses to the local addicts.
Kristine’s courtyard
In the center courtyard, raised beds grew vegetables and flowers, and doubled as picnic benches and a children’s playhouse. As we exited to the street, Kristine pointed out two handwritten signs, one in English and one in Danish. They alerted the residents about the bloody needles found in a child’s stroller, so be sure to check before plopping junior in for a ride.
I had a deliberately muted, horrified reaction. Kristine was totally composed. She expressed compassion for the addicts, who meant no harm and simply sought a quiet place to relieve their distress. Elizabeth talked sympathetically about the clash between those who were in the neighborhood first, the addicts, and the newcomers with young families who wanted to change things. We certainly can think of many American neighborhoods that have become gentrified, and the costs to those who are forced out of their neighborhoods. Kristine wants them to stay. She has an extraordinary sense of compassion and fairness. Not just that. She relishes the diversity and sees it as no threat to her own ambitions and wellbeing.
We headed out first of all to the meat-packing district. Slaughter houses have morphed into furniture dealers, fragrant food stalls, art galleries, beer bars and restaurants. We had organic salads, a popular alternative to what used to be.
Vesterbro artifice
Public art pops up in unexpected places. What is real? Is that an arch, or a wall? Are there windows and people waving down to us?
Veterbro ring jousting, with baby on board
On Saturday afternoons in summer, a modern-day version of the ancient Jutland ring-spearing contest draws an exuberant crowd of beer-swigging locals to an otherwise sedate residential cul de sac. You would never know it was there—unless you have friends on Facebook who ring-joust. Bicycles, decorated with crepe paper streamers, now replace horses. We held our breath every time a less-than triumphant and slightly inebriated rider flamboyantly dismounted his metal steed, casually brandishing a truly sharp lance amidst the onlookers. Not a drop of blood was lost.
A claim to fame that most tourists don’t know about is in Vesterbro: It is the world’s smallest hotel. It has one room, above an equally small and charming coffee house. Definitely the hotel I want to joust for the next time I come to Copenhagen.
A claim to fame that most tourists don’t know about is in Vesterbro: It is the world’s smallest hotel. It has one room, above an equally small and charming coffee house. Definitely the hotel I want to joust for the next time I come to Copenhagen.
We went to a very different coffee bar that a tourist would never find. It would not be found because it has no name. A tourist would pass it by because it has absolutely no street appeal. Locals love it, and devotedly patronize it. We had a long chat there and had the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. The shop now has a sign, a concession to the times: It reads “Navnlus”, “nameless” in Danish.
We walked and talked all day, with these two friendly sisters and congenial boyfriend, who joined us later in the afternoon. We strolled through the rain along the four lakes in the city, we looked for hipsters on the bridges, we walked through the botanical gardens, we visited the friendly Vesterbro children’s park. We paused often and we talked.
Martin, Elizabeth, Kristine & Jonathan at Maddklubben
We ended our day at Madklubben, a trendy and lively restaurant that served terrific cooked-t0-order and to-die-for flank steak in an upscale, cosmopolitan atmosphere.By the end of the day I knew that these delightful, intelligent people had something special. They lived in a neighborhood that at home I would label as undesirable. They love its lively character, its diversity. They live in harmony with all that is there. Jonathan feels so fortunate to own his sunny, top-floor, corner apartment with a view of the neighborhood he grew up in and has lived in for twenty years. Kristine loves where she is. With such generous nature, she let us in on her secret to happiness. It is absolutely precious. We should bottle it. But we can’t sell it. Each person has to find it and somehow hold onto it. It might be called contentment. But the elixir has more complexity than that. It is infused with gratitude, a dosage of humility, a sprinkling of playfulness, sweetened with compassion and clarified with open-mindedness.
