June 21st

How do you celebrate the first day of summer, the longest day of the year (or the shortest, depending on where you are), the end of a magical trip with one young family, the anniversary of the parents, father's day, the last meal together with the two little girls, the warmth and sunshine flooding Copenhagen?

It's a tough one! 

My daughter invited me to breakfast with them at their Tivoli hotel. I come a bit early, just to sit on the terrace and take in the quiet, empty park.

The peace that comes to me is total. My travels with them are nearing the end and I am sending them home happy, into their environment of friends, familiar neighborhood haunts, a washing machine and a dryer (not to be made light of!), their lovely home nest. It's a great feeling to have your youngest child go home so content, ensconced  in a life of her own making.

They come down fairly quickly. I have a flight at 12:45, theirs is about two hours later. We have time for a leisurely meal.

And it is both beautiful and delicious. The omelet is superb, the berries -- yummy, the pastries -- awesome, the yogurts -- refreshing, the milky coffee -- begging for a refill, though I hold off on that. I had many cups of it yesterday, but today, I should slow down and maybe allow myself to doze in flight..

And the girls, delightful -- as they have been all along here, despite the fact that they, too, have been going to bed around midnight and getting up for breakfast on time each day.

(sneaking over to get a poppyseed almond cream croissant for mom)

 

What a trip! Oh, what a trip!

A final good bye then -- to them (happy, happy anniversary!), to Copenhagen, to our travels together, reminding me of way back when, but now with the new twist -- of being with their family, equally committed to making it a good trip, one for the ages, as all travel is actually, because it counts, it all counts. Every moment is special.

 (walking back to the hotel to pick up my suitcase...)

 

 

*     *     *

I'm at the airport waiting for my flight to Helsinki. Here's something you should know -- the city, no, actually the whole country of Finalnd closes down this weekend (through Monday) in celebration of solstice. Juhannus Eve, followed by Midsummer Day (Saturday this year). How does the celebration proceed? The emphasis is on nature, family, community.  If you have a cottage in the woods or by the lake -- that's where you want to be. With bonfires, maybe dancing, certainly feasting, it is, after Christmas, the most important holiday in Finland.

So it's a bit of a mystery to me how Helsinki will look on a day like this. Empty? With tourists only? The internet tells me that everything is closed. But how does it feel to be there, just 323 miles away from the Arctic Circle on the longest day of the year?

I walk to my gate. The airport is crowded with travelers. I surely do not need to shop. I'm carrying my nephew's artwork and a backpack. There is no need to spend more money. Except, I saw these little Maileg mice in Copenhagen. Baby ones, dressed in an old fashioned way. Wouldn't it be sweet to add them to the girls' collection? I pick up a couple. I continue with my rather long stroll to the gate. I pass a chocolate store. Such delicious looking chocolates with the flavors of summer! Wouldn't my friends like them? I pick up a box or two. I keep on walking, this time intent on not buying anything at all, and who in the crowded airport should I see but these lovely ones!

I have two mice for you! Now I don't have to mail them!

 

My flight is one of those that you just have to endure. the trip itself shouldn't be long, but the plane is hot and they wont start the engines until the very late large group of old people from some far away country have arrived. I dislike overheated planes, but at least the door is open. It's a tight and small aircraft so it doesn't connect to the jetway. And of course, I have this irritating cough which I always get after a cold because that is the way my bronchial tubes operate, and I feel like everyone around me wishes they were sitting somewhere else. I don't blame them. I wish I were sitting somewhere else too. 

The flight is operated by SAS, but I'm listening carefully and I note that the crew speaks Polish to each other. Poles in search of better paying jobs are everywhere.

Finally, we take off...

We land...

 

 

*     *     *

Helsinki. The older family of five is arriving here tomorrow, so this transitional day is mine only. I booked rooms at the Kamp Hotel, because of the location and the availability of connecting rooms for them. I cab over to it. The highway today reminds me of Covid times: empty of traffic. So people have left!

But the hotel is full. And lovely. With a wonderful, welcoming staff. And still, I run into a hiccup: they have upgraded me! You'd think that's a firm "yay!" but it is not. The new room is in a renovated wing of the hotel. It has a beautiful view onto the park, but to get to the room, you have to take the elevator to the 4th floor, and weave your way around snaky corridors until you come to an old stairwell and an old elevator which then takes you to the proper 6th floor. I dont mind, but Snowdrop, who'll be sharing a room with me, will mind, especially since I have to leave her alone in the room when I take off on Wednesday at dawn.

So here I am again, asking for a room change. The upgrade goes away, but that's okay, I'm fine with any of their rooms which are spacious and have a sitting area! 

And they fiddle things around and come up with a solution and it is so good! The room doesn't have the park view, but it's bright and airy and very very lovely. 

As for dinner -- I ask them what's nearby and open tonight and they list a handful of places! So much for relying on the internet. And one recommendation is just across the strip of park and it has tables outside because, did I tell you? It's a beautiful sunny day in Helsinki! 

 

 

I take a walk first. And I see that the market along the harbor is also open. It is berry season indeed and it's an effort for me to walk away without buying their strawberries and blueberries, grown in Suomi (Finalnd). 

I admire the fruits, I admire the waterway, because Helsinki, like Copenhagen, is all about the sea.

There are many walks you can take around town, but I long ago decided that on my solo day here (tomorrow), I will do as the Finnish people do on a holiday: leave the city. I have such fond memories of the countryside, the forests, the lakes -- from my summer here when I signed up (more than 50 years ago!)  to teach English to a Finnish farm family of 4 kids. Riitta, Raja -- I remember their faces. In the village of Hirvivuori. They must be in their 60s now! We were such babes as they taught me the sauna rituals, and taught me to ride a tractor! I wonder if they speak English well now... 

So tomorrow, I'll do a trip out to the forest. Today? Let me follow the recommendation of the desk clerk and go to Kappeli Restaurant/Bar.

Most people are sipping wines and beers and apperol spritz's. I'm back to N/A beers. 

 

 

And I order the traditional Finnish creamy salmon soup with potatoes. And a salad with goat cheese. 

And then I retreat to my hotel. No midnight walks for me tonight. Feet up, exhale, process everything -- the three necessities of life, following a crazy and very beautiful set of weeks.

Helsinki sunset today? 10:30 p.m. 

with so much love... 

a second day in Copenhagen

Slowly, thoughts of my return creep in. I still have four nights in Europe, which, on a typical trip, would be half my getaway. Nevertheless, the period after my travels is looming big and I'm starting to focus a little on it, not because I want to, but because I have to. A move is a move, and this is a big one -- a final settling into my home. 

But in the meantime, I am in Copenhagen, and the weather is remarkably un-Danish -- warm air. Europe is experiencing a heat wave in the coming days. The unimaginable temperature of over 105F/41C in Paris. The Nordic countries translate this to a pleasant warm spell, with temperatures reaching 78F/25C here, while Paris is sweltering.  You have to feel sorry for western Europe, where air conditioning is not common. And we surely do feel lucky with the lovely weather in Denmark.

*.    *.    *

My first breakfast is at the hotel and it comes in stages. Should I be satisfied with just yogurt, muesli and milky coffee?

Nope. Berries added.

That will do, right?

Nope. Cardamon roll added.

My second breakfast is with the young family: we walk to the Hart Bakery in the old meat packing district,

(a happy city, with lots of bicycles...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's a bakery we love completely, for its cardamon croissants and buns and everything else they offer.

("should I get something else?")

 

 (The answer was -- yes)

(The walk home)

 

 

*.    *.    *

The girls want to go to Tivoli. And well they might. When you have a room that looks out onto the park, you are tempted! It's a good way to relax in Copenhagen. I join them there. And I fall in love with their flowers all over again!

It's positively inspirational! No marigold pelargonium combos here! You get the feel of meadow flowers without a meadow. And roses -- which of course, are my special interest this year.

 

 

  

 

 

 

As for the rides -- well, I find it interesting that Primrose and Juniper fell for the same two rides at Tivoli that were Snowdrop's favorites. And it's not that this is a universal preference. These are not ones where others are begging to repeat again and again.  

 

 

 

 

 

I leave them right around lunchtime. I had the idea that I would rest and pack. I did neither. So much to process, photos to edit, a quick snack to grab at the downstairs cafe... 

And a bit after 4 we set out toward the dock where you can get on a boat and tour the waterways of Copenhagen. This is a must, because you cannot feel the pulse of the city without giving your attention to the sea, the canals, the islands that seem to bubble up from water. And the people love it -- the shores, the plunge into the cold waters of the harbor. There are young people everywhere you look -- full of appreciation for this gift of warm sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

After an hour on the water, we get off and walk to our restaurant for dinner.  

 

 

It's a special place: my daughter came here with her husband and one year old Primrose on their first trip to Copenhagen. They went back to it three years ago, while I babysat Primrose and one year old Juniper. And this year, we're all eating here together.

It's called  Barr and it is exquisite. 

 

 

Were I in Copenhagen alone, I would never go there. It's in the hub of a very lively place of open air eateries, of people everywhere, meeting up over a drink or two. You'd feel strange sitting alone at a table here. Too, it's about a 35 minute walk from the hotel -- not a distance I typically like to set for myself for a dinner alone. But with the four of them? It's just superb. I want to note especially all the green spring vegetables (asparagus, peas, baby potatoes) all smothered in green herbs. But also the schnitzels: I chose a mushroom one and it set me thinking -- maybe I should cook something like it at home...

 

 

 

(my plate of food... that's a red nasturtium!) 

 

 

The girls were angelic. A long dinner -- they worked on their art, they wrote postcards to their cousins.

 

 

 

 

 

Such an evening! 

Just three more  photos, because really, it's our last evening together, and it's been an incredibly grand week!

 

 

 

 

 

Enchanting. Simply enchanting!

 

 

Tomorrow, we leave Copenhagen. I head east, they go west.

with so much love!!! 

a day in Copenhagen

If Poland can shock you with its June weather (in either direction), I think of Denmark as rather predictable: cool, occasional clouds with showers. But in the three days we're here, we got lucky (unless it all changes). Thursday, the day of our arrival, was partly cloudy and pleasantly warm, today it's sunny, tomorrow? Well, tomorrow it's Denmark weather: occasional clouds with occasional showers. But still warm. I consider that to be great luck. 

Both young families are enjoying a slower pace right now (from what I hear from my older girl). My younger daughter's family is taking in Tivoli in bits and pieces, and after breakfast (which I love here because of those yeasty cardamon and cinnamon rolls)...

... I plan to join them there. 

But let me pause a little at breakfast: as you know, it's always a special meal for me. A complete turnaround, because as a kid, I hated breakfast (except in Gniazdowo at my Babcia's house). When we lived in New York as kids, my mom tried to add that element of "healthy" by insisting we start out with half a grapefruit. To this day, it is my least favorite fruit. And cereal? In Poland, people did not eat corn flakes or rice krispies, made soggy within seconds by a hefty pour of milk. I still do not get the appeal. It's through travel that I learned to slow down and find pleasure in this meal. Croissants and cafe creme in France, muesli in Switzerland. And cardamon rolls here, in Denmark, with a strawberry ginger lemon juice, because in this country, it's not all just o.j.

Of course, this past week, there was no moment of calm at breakfast. Even as I got tremendous pleasure in watching the kids navigate the meal. And I kept an eye on my watch, because hanging out at the breakfast table until the morning hour turned into the lunch hour just wasn't going to cut it. Here, in Copenhagen, I'm sliding into the long and leisurely framework again. With just a slight eye to my watch.

I have a couple of details that do interfere a tiny bit with my day: first of all, I lost my voice. I saw it coming yesterday. By this morning, I morphed into a full fledged croaking frog. Which made for a very interesting phone conversation with the reception desk. He understood only half my words and language had nothing to do with it.

And why would I be calling the receptions desk? Well, for a room change. Not many people would do that, given that there are only two more nights left to my stay here, but I choose my stays carefully and hotels drain my savings, because I do like interesting, pleasant rooms. I've gone on many many trips when this just wasn't important. A clean bed and a toilet were enough to keep me happy. But, in these senior years of travel, I am way more attentive to my environment. I knew this about my hotel in Copenhagen -- no two rooms here are alike. And I knew there were very nice attic rooms that I did not like because they are dark. Even on these longest days of the year, they are dark. So when I booked, back in December no less, I asked for something that would get me out of the attic. And I got the attic room anyway. A nice room, but -- dark. They offered to move me today, with apologies of course, because they're all very nice here, despite the American Greenland lust, but still -- they want to move me and for that I have to repack (and unpack at the end of the day). Again, this is a problem of my own making, and I dont really mind going to the trouble. For a person of limited means and savings, there's nothing worse than spending lots of money on something you dont really enjoy. I plan to enjoy the next two nights in my brighter room, so that I can watch the sun go down at 9:58 p.m. and come up again at 4:25 a.m.

Okay, now for Tivoli with the little ones!

(the hotel there...)

 

(the flowers...)

 

  

(the rides!) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After lunch (which for me consists of sampling this candy -- I run out of time for getting something more nutritious)...

 

 

 

... they rest and nap and I take my daughter up on her birthday gift for me (or was it Mother's Day?) -- a full body massage at their lovely hotel. She said then -- you'll probably need it after a week with all of us in Warsaw. She was correct.

 

And now I have a tiny room at my own hotel, but with big windows! I unpack once again.

 

 

 

It's a warm and very beautiful evening. I have a date to meet up with my daughter and her family on the Rivoli hotel terrace for a pre-dinner drink. I cannot think of a better way to spend an early evening in June in Denmark. 

 

 

 

We walk to out dinner place. Along streets, canals...

 

 

 

All the way to a pizza restaurant called  Baest, 40 minutes by foot from Tivoli. We'd been there before, when Juniper was just one and Primrose was four. And yes, the pizza is superb, and the appetizers -- delicious, but of course, it's the kooky things that one remembers best, and I surely do remember how the toddler among us slid a big slice of pizza into her mouth and let the cheese ooze all over her mouth.  

(always drawing...)

 

 

And here's another repetition -- after the pizza meal, we go to the østerberg ice cream shop. The girls seem to remember eating sea buckthorn berry ice cream. This orange one:

I'm more conventional -- rhubarb and salted caramel.

 

 

     

 

Late evening. I'm thinking about what my friend Bee said before the trip as I fretted about every possible thing that could go wrong (none of these worries were realized of course) -- the trip will pass with lightening speed. It was an admonition to savor each day.

She was right of course, though looking back, I think of it as being extensive, huge, not at all a brief explosion, but rather a full encyclopedia of events and memories. So in retrospect, it seems longer because it contained so much. One thing I hadn't anticipated was how much the kids would like the Poland part. You could argue that traveling together is always a high for them, but Poland offered something more. And they lapped it up. Too, I thought that a Poland visit would be a one-off. The kind of thing that my ex and even Ed liked seeing once or twice, and then they were done. But no -- I'm hearing a longing to return. Now, whether they can pull it off is another matter. The pressures of time, limited resources, the other destinations that tug at you -- all this may stand in the way of a return. But the important thing is that they would like to return. And that, to me, comes as a surprise. It was not just a sightseeing and grandma's life long ago kind of trip. The place, my family there, my friends -- this was all a package deal and they loved the entirety that made it unique and special.

But it wasn't necessarily an easy trip. We're all still tired. I'm still raspy as anything. Copenhagen is a great transition: with such good weather, people here smile at you, at the kids, at life. In Warsaw, it could go either way. So often the people behind store counters, or those serving food would not crack a smile if you paid them. Not even a sweet grin of a child would get them to reconsider. It speaks of a tougher life, a less secure populace. Poland has changed so much since I left, but complete rebirth doesn't happen in a generation. Or two. Or even three. 

I think about all that, but not for too long. I really have to get out of the habit of going to bed after midnight. Goodnight then, until tomorrow, from Copenhagen, signing off with so much love...