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 the 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 hour.

 

 

 

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 trip. 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...