A Little Battered, A Little Bruised

My set-up at the Grid cafe this afternoon on a wet and rainy Copenhagen day

Well after an absolutely grueling 31 hours door to door, I woke up in Copenhagen, Denmark. (Note to self, cheaper is not always better!). I’ve got a cut that’s trying it’s best not to fester on my left index finger from a wayward knife the night before I left Oregon. I’ve got on a pair of new pants I bought in Danish because I was too silly to not expect there to be rain. I’ve got some fresh salad from the food hall (marketplaces with stores, similar to the Hawker Centers of Singapore) in my belly, and a cup of delicious tea in front of me as I type in a posh little shop called the Grid.

As I mentioned in my last post, the chaos of Manchester naturally led to a missed flight, a reroute through Amsterdam and final arrival in Copenhagen edging on 2300. Not my most preferred method of travel, but Amsterdam Airport Schiphol was full of interesting surprises, such as mountains of Belgian chocolate for sale, bathrooms that could be mistaken for Aruba, and a surprise visit from one of my all-time favorite social enterprises, Tony’s Chocolonely. For those unfamiliar with this scrumptious confectionary do-gooder, Tony’s is a Portland-based start-up focus on slavery-free and mission focused chocolate. They are super sustainably sourced, employing profit sharing models down their supply chain and to boot, their chocolate always comes with random molding for cravings of all sizes. Turns out, this lovely hometown brand also has an Amsterdam office!

However, for such a sustainable city, it was highly surprising to not find a single water fountain or tap available anywhere. Guess health concerns trump this absolute essential? A question to save for later in this trip. It also retained the pesky 100ml limit on it’s security, necessitating me to ship my shampoo/conditioner to Denmark. Brilliant move, world traveler. I should have known better. A least a lovely man named Jan helped me at the Service Pro sticker up a small box for less than £20, way cheaper then the ungodly £70 they were trying to charge me at the counter for a rebooked flight… I also picked up the weeish bit of Dutch:

Dank u (Dah nk - oo) – formal thank you

Dank je (Dah nk - yew) – informal/standard thank you or thanks

Sorry – sorry or excuse me

Hey, it’s a start.

But enough about the trip (regardless of how scintillating my tales of wandering aimlessly around foreign airports are)! WE’RE IN COPENHAGEN. The group got here ahead of me yesterday and already went around on their introduction bike rides across the city. I, on the other hand, came into town from the Metro to the lovely shield-shaped square Kongens Nytorv. Packing everything on my back, I didn’t feel comfortable or secure enough in a brand new city to whip out my camera at 12 AM.

So instead, with a dead phone and a determined heart, I set off across the square with the vague memory that I needed to make it to a street called Adelgade. Luckily for me, it took barely a minute from the Metro station to find Adelgade inscribed on the corner of a building. Unluckily for me, this was actually the street Ny Adelgade, a hot bed of nightlife that was just getting started at midnight. Cue Brenna, a whopping 5’3” woman on her best days, traipsing through a mix of intoxicated British lads, towering Danish supermodels, and Milanese men in full turbino. I kept my head down and tried to mix as best as I could in the crowds, but not well enough to stop the plethora of late night taxis from driving up. A simple headshake, though, and we were on our way. By far better than a number of other metros (namely Eastern European and South East Asian…) that have a nasty habit of pestering.

My incredibly embarrasing wander around the night streets of Copenhagen's inner city. Over a mile and a half and nearly an hour before I figured it all out.

A comment on pestering at large: Copenhageners are overall extreme patient and respectful at large. In the 18 hours I’ve been in this city, I have heard only 2 honks (both directed at my poor bicycling etiquette), and even both of these were delivered with a smile and a friendly wave. Cyclists naturally move out of each others way, and casually flow past any problems that may come into their path (construction, workers, moving trucks, Brenna as she faceplanted while trying to start riding in her heels). The words ‘please’, ‘thanks’, and ‘excuse me’ are as common as the bikes themselves.

Returning to your regularly scheduled reading: Weary and sporting another 3,000 steps on my Fitbit from my wander around maze of streets that make up Copenhagen’s most central districts, the “Inner City” or Indre By, I finally arrived at the Generator Copenhagen. Now, for those who have not been to Europe, especially not on the backpacking circuit, the Generator would be one of the most intimidating buildings to walk into as a place to stay. Oozing with back-alley scuzziesness on the ground floors, the upper levels pumped out discotech music and lights. It looked like the perfect site for an underground rave. I doubled checked. Nope this was the place.

Called the Generator for it’s 24/7 status, this place was the epitome of a sophisticated partier’s dream. Classic Scandinavian design and charm, with comfy 4 bed rooms that looked like elevated Ikea showrooms. With a cheery hello and a quick confirmation, I had a towel and a room key and I was off to dream land.

For now, I’ll leave this update here. Today still has a many more adventures to recount, but I’d like to see where the rest of the day takes me first. Off we go!