I ended up last night in Osterbro, the northern most part of Copenhagen, on the hunt for cheap, affordable food. This I've learned, is like trying to find Bigfoot. In Savannah. Blindfolded. There's just no word for "cheap" in Danish.
I'm sad to say it took a bit of trial and error just to determine the difference between a bar (no food) and a restaurant. 'Mexibar' had a decidedly festive look about it, but after standing inside for a few minutes I realized they just didn't serve any fajitas there. So not only was I deprived of Danish Mexican food, I was probably standing in the only cantina for miles on out.
I finally found a small restaurant and sat down to feed my hunger, which had now continued unabated since my early awakening the previous morning. And I sat. No service. Oh, they clearly knew I was here. They were just criminally slow. I had resorted to peeling the flesh off of my fingers when I realized that you had to order food at the bar. Ah. Minutes later dinner arrived, a tasty club sandwich that cost me 150 kroner, my right testicle (the smaller of the two), and 10% of my future earnings.
Stepping outside, I was faced with what looked to be a swat team. 20 of Copenhagen's finest stood surrounding a group of teens, with their riot helmets in hand. Finally, some action! After a few minutes though, the cops got into their car and left. It seemed a bit weird, but perhaps someone just called in a prank and they responded in force. I continued towards the south, crossing the Fredensbro bridge when there again were twenty cops standing on the sidewalk, where two of their compatriots assisted a woman with changing a flat tire. Which answered the age old question, how many Copenhagen cops does it take to change a tire? Answer - 22. 2 to change the tire, and 20 to stand around, smoke, and scratch themselves. It was unreal. I couldn't decide if the overwhelming response was the reason that Copenhagen had such a low crime rate, or if such a low crime rate was the reason these cops were so bored out of their damned minds. And this was a Saturday night.
I finally made it back to my room. One of the joys of hostel living is that you finally get the roommates you've always feared getting - loud, messy, and possessing a Ted Kazinski like menace. Lucky, the only person in at this time was Phil, a lone traveller from South Hampton. Still, the stench in the room was horrible. It couldn't have been Phil and I was amazed that the others could leave such an odor behind them. Washing up, the smell was even stronger. I lifted my head and realized with that kind of life saving instinct you get when jumping out of the way of an oncoming bus that it wasn't a towel I was about to rub my face in, but someone's jock stained underwear. I don't know what I would have done had I towelled off in some Brits bits, but I imagine it would resemble the "Finkle is Einhorn" scene from Ace Ventura.
Sleep came quickly and thankfully this morning I was up at 10am. After a latte (where I was accosted by my second Danish loonatic, this one holding hospital release papers like he was a Vietnam vet or something), I went to the Carlsbert Gylptotek, a fantastic museum housing a huge collection of french painters - Van Gogh, Renior, and even Degas's famous "Dancers" painting. I climbed up to the fourth floor, where a small doorway led to the roof and I could overlook all of Copenhagen before me. Even with 1.5 million inhabitants, Copenhagen has managed to keep its history in check as it expands and building sizes have subsequently been limited. As a result, you can see the town clock tower from nearly anywhere in the city.
The rest of the day was spent walking north along the waterfront, to get a view of the famed "Little Mermaid" statue. It was a sunny day and I've realized how lucky I've been to start a trip in October and escape without seeing any rain. With the sun though, has come a lot of walking. My shoulders ache, my back hurts, and even my toes are starting to blister - something that's never happened in all the miles I've walked New York.
Its with this ache that I decided to take a break at a McDonald's in the city center. With a map laid out before me, I tried to figure out if there was anything I needed to see prior to leaving Copenhagen the next day. As happens when I look at important information, my mind started to wander. I was looking at all the people crossing the street and wondered how many of them were tourists and how many would end up getting robbed at some point. It would take two people to do it smoothly. The easiest mark would be someone with something valuable laying out - like a camera. Perp one would grab that persons bag and when they gave chase, a second perp would swing in and grab the camera. Its important that you believe me that this is what I was actually thinking, because at that exact moment some jackass GRABBED MY BAG.
I was facing forward, my back to the exit. I had set my bag besides me (where I would notice it missing if you know, I wasn't daydreaming about being robbed). I felt somthing sliding under my ass - either some Danish chick was being very forward, or I had unknowingly sat on a strap of my bag which was suddenly moving. I stood up and there, about 4 feet away from me, was my bag in someone else's hand. "HEY!" I yelled, more in shock than in anger.
"Oh, this is yours? Sorry." The man dropped the bag and walked right out of the exit. I was about to follow him when I remembered my exact imagined scenario, turned around, and to my immense relief my camera was still on the table. The man though, was no where to be found.
I was angry - but more angry at myself for being naive enough to let my guard down, especially in a crowded McDonald's. It took me another latte to calm me down (number 43 if you have been counting) before I headed back to the hostel. Only to find, of course, that the cleaning lady had thrown away my bedding.
The bedding was eventually found. More than anything though, I'm reminded that its not a black bag I'm carrying, its a giant bulls-eye. No matter how nice everyone seems, there is someone in that crowd sizing you up - whether it be Milwaukee, New York, or even Copenhagen. I decided to stay at the hostel for dinner, which turned out to be a fortunate decision as I got into a great discussion with a brit and a couple other americans.
After a few hours and a few beers, I'm eager to get on the road tomorrow. I was nervous when I first got into Copenhagen. Slowly, the weather, the beautiful women, the city, the lazy police - all kind of lulled me into dropping my guard a bit and warmed me up. The asshole who grabbed my bag (God knows what would have happened if he would have ran with it), was like a firehose of ice water shot through me. The beer and company, a huge feeling of relief and a great way to dump out the anxiety I had built up.
Relaxation, warmth, cold water, and relief - my enema day. They say you need a couple more before you get used to the feeling.
Next stop, Oslo.
Copenhagen total spent: $1800 Kroner, or about $340.
you should write your own travel book - starting with 'Not all towels are created equal - look before you wipe' and ending with an admonition to always sit on your bag strap. ;)
I havent done the hostel thing before - sounds... interesting. Happy adventuring.
Posted by: Cheri | October 08, 2007 at 09:56
phewww - i am so glad your bag and camera didn't get stolen on day 3!
Posted by: Cindy | October 08, 2007 at 18:59