Constant Chiming in Copenhagen

As we got ready to move onto our next destination, I was suddenly transported into the Lost World yet again. I was convinced that the lost item was in the room but it was difficult to tell after a category seven cyclone had hit the room, which I’ve named Cyclone Jason. After the cyclone had passed and it was safe to start the clean up and rescue operations, the said lost item was found again, buried almost the rubble.

From our B&B in Abbeyhill, Edinburgh, we walked, loaded with backpacks, to the city centre. I mean we were saving the bus fare and getting a leg/glutes workout for free. But about 15-20 minutes into the journey, Jason had had enough and couldn’t get to our destination quick enough. He was like a child going on holidays, repeatedly asking “are we there yet?”. No was always the answer.

We arrived at the airport and checked in. All was in order. Then, we boarded the Norwegian Air plane, where Jason had conveniently assigned me to the middle seat, next to an older gentleman. Still all good. That is until I took a whiff in the air. The guy smelt like he hadn’t bathed this century. As I sat down he struck up a conversation in Danish until he realised I had not the foggiest idea what he was saying. Breathing in the body odour, I needed oxygen. Pretty certain this isn't the kind of emergency that will activate the airbags. I was like a dog with its head out the car window, except all that I had was a gentle stream of air coming from the vents above us. I spent the entire 1 hr 45 mins trying to breathe in the fresh air in between waves of body odour.

I ended up feeling sorry for the guy after he told me his whole life story. His father and brother had recently passed away within a month of each other. He had taken a holiday to Edinburgh to get away from it all. And it turns out he was actually born in New Zealand and his parents immigrated back to Denmark when he was ten. As we flew over Denmark, he proudly pointed out all the different landmarks. As we circled around in a holding pattern, he remarked that, if we were going to land in Malmö (Sweden), he wouldn't be getting off the plane: so much for the neighbourly love. I thought he may need a priest for the landing as he crossed himself ready to face death as we hit the tarmac.

Copenhagen is located on the islands of Zealand and Amager, separated from Malmö by the Øresund strait. We were located in the city centre, not far from Rådhuapladsen metro. We were also close to the bells of Rådhuspladsen, which at first reminded us of the church bells in Amsterdam. Soon we realised that the bells chimed every fifteen minutes between 8am and midnight. At each quarter of the hour, it plays a little bit more of the diddy until the whole tune is played on the hour, followed by a chime for each hour. Thankfully we didn't have the church bells chiming in unison. But it was enough to send a person crazy. Haven’t the Danes realised that we have watches and mobile phones that have alarms! Between the chiming of the bells and the squeaking of the floor boards of our apartment, a full symphony could have been orchestrated.

After settling into our apartment on the fourth floor, we set out to explore the city centre, taking in the sights that Copenhagen had to offer. After a huge fire in the 18th century, much of the medieval buildings have not survived. Instead what survives are the redeveloped buildings from the 18th century, particularly the royal palaces. We wandered around Copenhagen’s main tourist attractions, such as Tivoli Gardens, The Little Mermaid statue, the Amalienborg and Christiansborg palaces, Rosenborg Castle, Frederik’s Church and Børsen. We stumbled upon the changing of the guard, which seemed to go on forever and for which most of the crowd lost interest.

While Copenhagen is disbursed across a large area, it is easily traversed by foot. There are no hills; everything is flat, which makes cycling easy and the main form of transport for the natives. We probably should have followed their lead instead of clocking up almost 50,000 steps over the three nights, two days that we were there.

By this stage, I started to get sick with the flu (it couldn't be the thing that shall not be named ... no!!!). In Edinburgh, I began to get a sore throat, which turned into a runny nose by the time we got to Copenhagen. Sympathetic Jason believes it's all my own fault; apparently I'm not as OCD/vigilant with my hand washing as him. Except influenza is an airborne virus spread through droplets from someone sneezing or coughing. It is what it is. There was that guy on the bus from Belfast to the airport that Jason overheard talking about the Rona (COVID). Of course, I'm also to blame for passing it on. I should learn that I can never win 🤣

The following day, we explored Christiania, a small island connected to the main island of Zealand in Copenhagen. In the middle of Christiania is the Free Town, an intentional community, commune and micronation in the Christianshavn neighbourhood. Think Nimbin but a little less hippie where police are forbidden to enter. It began in 1971 as a squatted military base and has had a colourful past with some violence and protests between the inhabitants and authorities. It’s famous with tourists for it’s Pusher Street, named after the open trade of cannabis. There have been attempts to get rid of the commune but these have not been successful. It probably has something to do with the fact that it's the fourth most popular tourist destination, attracting more than half a million visitors each year. We were on alert and ready to evacuate at any moment if there were any signs of an uprising.

Next destination: Gothenburg / Göteborg / Go:teborg

Danish: Hej (hello), Tak (thank you), Hvordan har du det? (how are you?)Read more