Every day seems like a holiday moment here. Being within Tivoli Gardens, where celebrations, weddings, joyous meetups, satisfying strolls, fantastical spins twirls and leaps, and musical performances abound, you feel surrounded by happy people. Despite everything, you feel their joy. So is Sunday any more special? Does it feel like a Sunday, or just a continuation of a three day party?
Here's an observation about weekend-long hooplas: you stay up too late, eat too much, and in general indulge yourself to an excess. Not surprisingly then, Snowdrop and I turned out the lights last night after midnight and I lay there for another hour or more decompressing. Snowdrop, on the other hand, is full of youthful exuberance and she moves easily from one high point to the next. I could fill more of her hours here with festive activities and she'd keep on going.
I do feel, however, the impact of staying in a park. Even if it is the most beautiful park in the country: your visit becomes That Park. We start each day at Tivoli, return to it periodically and finish off with it. Trying to get her to focus on aspects of the city that are outside the Gardens is hard. She thinks of it as the city with Tivoli. Or maybe even that the city is Tivoli. The boat ride helped identify the topographical contours but still, here we are, on our third day, and we've not visited the market or the royal castle. The canals, the meatpacking district and then Tivoli, on repeat. That's it.
So today I give her a choice: an art museum or the Royal Castle with crown jewels. She surprises me by saying -- oh, art museum for sure! Since when did crown jewels become ho hum?
We will concentrate on the more Nordic-Scandinavian art forms and canvases in Iceland. For now we go traditional: there is an exhibit at the Glyptotek that I think she might like. It focuses on one canvas by Degas (that may be a bust: one canvas wont hold her attention) and more importantly, I understand that this museum holds one of the best collections of canvases by Gaugin. 58 pieces of art by him! Typically much of this treasure is out on special exhibitions elsewhere, but they're bringing most back for this special retrospective. We intend to check it out.
But first, breakfast on another warm and (mostly) sunny day!
She stays with her favorites. I go rogue and abandon thoughts of "healthy" in favor of the total Danish sweet pastry.
The one regret I have is that the hotel bakes their own pastries and they are very good, making a trip to the local bakeries unnecessary. I love those bakeries but can't find a time for them. They could easily be my lunch, but Snowdrop has other ideas (fish yesterday, who knows what today) and who am I to coax her into sugar over protein! So, maybe later, maybe next time. Today, I indulge in the hotel pastry once again, though I do take a second cup of milky coffee and the remnants of a cinnamon pastry along with Danish strawberries to the terrace for an inspiring moment that's as porch-like as they come. (Snowdrop stays inside. She finds little inspiration in sitting and watching me eat. I take out my laptop and chat up a local bird.)
Afterwards, we head for our early entry to Tivoli.
(yes, she meets the height requirements for this ride)
Today she wants to try the Swing Horror. Okay, it's not called that (it's the Monsoon), but it sure looks that way to me. I do not tolerate even the most babyish swings on a playground. The one at Tivoli is monstrously big and swings high enough to spin itself in a circle. Even the girl feels a bit of uneasy as she watches the giant swings and rotations.
I dont usually care whether she likes one ride or another, but on this one, I encourage her. I know she can do it and get some satisfaction from overcoming her hesitancy. Go for it, Snowdrop!
(she's the one to the farthest left)
(a closeup)
(After: I am so glad I did it, but I wont go again!)
A few trips on the up and down...
Another shot at the round and round...
A visit to the very empty Aquarium...
... and then we search out souvenirs for those back home (and a mere hair tie-used-as-bracelet for her)...
... and a lunch for her. (Maybe I can sneak out a bakery for myself!) Snowdrop wants to use the coupon we got from the hotel for a free "Swedish pancake" -- translate that to a crepe. Hers is with chocolate. (We surely suck up all the freebies that the hotel offers!)
A walk through the gardens (that's what I love!)...
And now we are onto the afternoon list of activities. It starts with coffee for me. Can it be to go? -- she asks. Certainly not! I'll get you a pastry. Okay? Only if I like it! I do the easy thing of going to the cafe patisserie right in Tivoli (it has a branch outside as well) - Cakenhagen. And she spots a raspberry pistachio cake and she is happy. (I love my blueberry scone and I'm a tough critic on these.)
Satisfied, I'm willing to take on the most frustrating portion of this trip: shoe selection for Snowdrop. She needed warm shoes that can take a wet day for Iceland. She needed more classy shoes for a hot day in Paris. And she needed something in between for Copenhagen. I set out to find all three back in Madison. And pair after pair proved to be wrong. Too small. Uncomfortable. I would send them back and try another. Finally on the very last try, we settled on the Iceland/France shoes in adult 6. She wore her cheap plastic Target shoes anytime she could get away with it, but when one got butchered at the Minneapolis airport I put my fott (ha!) down. Switch to the others, Snowdrop.
And she tried. But though she was agreeable in Madison, here, every time she wore her new shoes, she struggled. (They're kind of tight after all! -- she'd say.) This wont do. We have so much walking before us still! I bit the bullet: we're going she shopping, I told her.
We got lucky. On the way to the probably expensive department store we passed a Sketchers. With a sale. Where she fell in love with a warm/casual pair and sandals (for Paris and thereafter). One stop shopping! And with the approval of a shoe sales clerk. No more second guessing her size. She is a 7! Meaning just a half size below ME!
Next stop -- the art museum.
(on the way -- our one encounter with Hans C. Andersen)
At the Glyptotek Museum there are rules. To me, the name reminds me of Kleptomania -- you know, the condition where you can't resist stealing. This is a little funny because the rules do pertain to the possibility of theft: you are allowed one bag per person. We have the shoes, we have my purse. Snowdrop takes the shoes which have strings that make it into a backpack. She slips it on. The guard wags a finger: you have to wear it in the front! She hates that. It's uncomfortable and ugly. But she complies. With misery painted all over her face.
Would you rather carry by crossbody purse? Yes please! We switch.
This works well until we get to toward the end of the visit. A guard calls her over and reprimands her: you have to wear your bag in the front, over your neck!
Inconsistent rules frustrate her. Most people with crossbody purses carry them the proper way. Yet, she doesn't want to get into trouble. She slings it over her neck and shows no further interest in the exhibition.
I remind her that there is a whole demographic in our country that has rules inconsistently applied to them all the time. You get a taste of what that feels like in this tiny way. She says -- well that has to change! Yeah, good luck with that one.
As for the museum? First, the Degas canvas, which holds her interest for three minutes.
Snowdrop, why do you think he was so obsessed with ballet dancers? I don't know...
Upstairs, we find the Gaugin exhibition. Gaugin is a tough artist to explain to a ten year old. He was a guy who thought himself to be a genius and who fathered (without responsibility) many children, abandoning all of them, both in Europe and then in Polynisia along with the young girls whom he routinely and prematurely made into mothers. Moreover, there is no separation between his art and his personal life. He painted those young girls -- they were his lovers-soon-to-be mothers and muses (age 13 -15).
And yet, his art has a stunningly broad influence over the art community. You can see his early Impressionism...
(Scenes from Denmark, where he lived for a while)
Then, as a post-Impressionist, he was an important source of inspiration to Matisse and Picasso. You can see Gaugin influence in their early work. And so here we are, admiring, discussing...
There is a room of Impressionism as well -- familiar Van Goghs...
And this Degas sculpture which she does love (he did several of them and one stands prominently in the d'Orsay in Paris).
This museum is so totally empty and the d'Orsay is so crowded you can barely take in the art, yet she prefers the d'Orsay. Is it the rule issue? I can hardly drag her for a roof top view.
She likes none of the small souvenirs. She is ready to go back for a rest in the room.
Dinner is at the Fishmarket. It's a bit of a walk, but we're up for it. No new territory covered though. It's to the side of the commercial district just beyond the sightseeing boat dock.
(first item on the agenda -- Facetime with dad (happy father's day!), brothers, mom)
We both loved the food here, though the white asparagus appeared to be pickled rather than fresh. But I convinced her to try sea bass and she ranked it as her second favorite fish. And the new potatoes? She let me have only one.
For me, there was also a fantastic discovery, albeit not one with any future in it for me: the restaurant served a bubbly rose, made I think with elderberries and pink pepper. It was so very, very good and it was nonalcoholic, so I had two! (name: Arensbak, sparkling rose) The company that developed it has expertise in natural wines, alcoholic and non, having spent some years working with the team at Noma (using kombucha cultures for fermentation). Lovely stuff.
Our dessert? I had a Pavlova with raspberries, she had her beloved creme brulee.
Okay, and cotton candy at Tivoli, because yes, we did go to Tivoli afterwards, despite an evening drizzle. She wanted two more rides on the up and down. I'm sure you do not need to see another photo of the bottom of her feet. How about one of the both of us, walking home, no, sorry, to Tivoli?
I push for an earlier night. No concerts tonight, no light shows. Can we please be asleep by midnight? I'll let you know how that goes!
And here we go: I can let you know now, close to midnight, that an early bedtime could not happen. Our room developed a problem. The hotel staff were lovely, apologetic, insistent that we move, with their help. Uff! All our stuff unpacked, strewn around at the end of a long day. Snowdrop was first insistent that we stay anyway, despite the problem, but I was firm: no, we really do have to move. And we did. And she was sweet and stoic in the end. And now here we are, unpacking once again. With a smile though. It's fun to have adventures that have a good resolution at the end of the day!
with lots of love...
