to Copenhagen

The trouble with pausing somewhere en route overnight is that you feel like you are traveling for a full three days. But in the end, I do not regret the Reykjavik stopover (we will return for a longer stay on our way back). Snowdrop loved her first walk through the town. It was a good beginning. Nonetheless, on this morning, we are destined to set the alarm early so that we can grab a quick breakfast at 7 and be in a cab by 7:30. Our flight to Copenhagen -- her second chosen city -- takes off at 10:30.

Of course, the confusion of night and day here is even greater for us because it is mid-June and we are so far north that it never does get dark at night. Sunset was at 11:58 p.m. and sunrise was at 2:59 a.m. and in between there was dusk or predawn or whatever you would call the uncommitted hours that are anything but dark. We loved it! Neither of us wanted to draw the curtains totally (Snowdrop pulls down a mask if she thinks it's too bright). And both of us slept like logs. We were that tired.

When I got up, just before 6, the sun was streaming on the bed. Iceland will have a uniquely sunny Friday. That is so rare here, that I expect everyone who is not at work or at school will be out and about for a total Vitamin D infusion! 

(view out our window)

 

 

We're in the breakfast room two minutes early. 

 

 

 

Snowdrop is in high spirits and she is hungry for their pancakes, salmon, and watermelon!

 

(Leaving the hotel)

 

 

And by 7:25 we are on our way, in the chariot of gold. (Why that label? Well, it costs that much to cab it to the airport. But we have little choice. There is no other rapid, early or convenient way to get there.) 

We take in the scenery: again the lupines, the waterfront, the mountains. 

 

 

 

The girl speculates if there is a place in the US that offers these views, this climate. I tell her maybe Minnesota? Maybe I should try Minnesota... She often falls in love with places we visit and speculates if maybe she could live there as an adult. (She did this even at the age of 4, in Belfast, trying to convince us that this was her choice place to move to after finishing school. Belfast!)

The check-in is smooth, the flight is on time. 

Three hours and two time zones later, we are in Denmark. 

We take a cab. It's one-fourth the price of the one in Reykjavik. Definitely a relief, especially since the hotel choice is a real splurge for me. We are at the Nimb, which has this very, very important virtue: it is positioned right inside the Tivoli Gardens. 

(the hotel's whimsical Moorish palace-esque facade, built more than 100 years ago, now decked with Scandinavian-esque interiors...)

Ever since she read about Tivoli (in another World War II book, this one set in Denmark), Snowdrop has been longing to see, to experience this very famous, very traditional amusement park. [Tivoli is the second oldest in the world theme park, opening its gates in mid 19th century. The world's oldest is also in Denmark; you'd need to add a few hundred years more to its age, but Tivoli is by far the more famous one. It inspired Disney when he traveled here in 1951. Now, it inspires Danes and visitors alike.] The Nimb hotel comes with free Gardens access and free passes for all the rides, which I suppose lessens the punch of the cost somewhat, but I am not a rides person, so it will be just her spinning and riding whatever is there.

The Nimb room is lovely.

And here's something that is unusual and so very welcome: the weather in Copenhagen for the four days we are here is exceptional: partly cloudy, mid to upper 60sF (18-20C). We may get a shower. I'll take a shower one afternoon over the more typical daily rain that comes and goes here without any announcement.

We have an hour before dinner. Would you like to take a first walk through the Gardens? -- I ask her. Oh yes, she would!

And her cup runneth over when I let her do one round on the merry-go-round. Definitely not the most exciting ride here, but she loves it!

 

 

 

 

 

(I, of course, like Tivoli because it is not just crazy asphalted commercialism. It has a gentler style. There are plenty of eateries, of the kind where you sit down and linger, and of course, there are flowers everywhere!)

 

 

We eat an early 6 p.m. dinner at the Nimb Brasserie. 

(she picks the fish and fries from the kid's menu, but we start off with appetizers (we are hungry!) and she opts for the mussels once again. She gets a pot-ful! 

 

 

For us this dinner is super early, because Copenhagen is two hours ahead of Reykjavik, but I wasn't sure if we would want to head out to eat far away after just arriving in the city. Too, we did not have a proper lunch. And yet another reason to be cautious about this evening and the next one as well:  there is this other element to staying at the Nimb that some may regard as a virtue, but I'm not so sure it is for us -- there are concerts and shows, both in the park and at the hotel on weekend nights. One starts when we are eating dinner. This particular vocalist appears to be immensely popular among young Danes, especially the young women. As Snowdrop and I stroll through the Gardens after dinner, I tell her that she will never again see so many shades of blonde in one place again.

 

 

 

 

 

She had said she'd forgo dinner dessert if she could just have an ice cream cone and cotton candy in the park tonight. Both?? -- I want to confirm what I'm hearing. 

Both. 

(I join in on the ice cream: they have black currant! what could be better during a Scandinavian summer?!)

And the music plays, and the sun is lower now -- it sets here two hours earlier than in Reykjavik, and as we return to the room, I'm wondering if we should stay up for the fireworks, or go to sleep early, or none of the above. I feel the need to not hand out too many yeses. And yet, why not? Why not just watch her joy and allow it to rub off a little?

We go inside. I want to unpack, we need to tidy things up in the room. The resident peacock wants to show off one last time for us and we are just fine with that!

with so much love... 

 

passing through Reykjavik

Iceland is about a six hour flight from the Midwest and about a three hour flight from the capitals of western Europe. Leaving yesterday evening has us arriving at 7 in the morning in Reykjavik, the northern most capital city in the world (it's also a five hour time change from CST). There is no way anyone is going to get a solid amount of sleep on such a flight. It's long enough to leave you tired, but not long enough to get you to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. Since I am traveling with a ten year old, and since I am now at an age were tiredness cannot easily be ignored, I booked a room for an early arrival. We're staying only one night (as I said yesterday, the itinerary of this trip is, well, whimsical!), but I thought we'd treat this first day of our trip gently -- with lots of downtime and perhaps an exploratory walk if the weather is decent.

We are greeted with rain and a temperature right around 50F (10C). Our plane was packed and at least three fourths of the seats were occupied by Viking cruise people, boarding their boat in Reykjavik, bound for Norway and the Netherlands. As Snowdrop remarked -- gaga, they are all your age! 

I splurged on a cab to our overnight hotel.  Our driver, from Afghanistan, was the perfect amount of chatty and quiet. It's a long ride into town and it's a real budget breaker of a trip! But then, everything in Iceland is a budget breaker. I asked him which countries sent the most tourists here and he said lately it's America, ever since Viking started it's huge ship cruises from Iceland. Then, too, England, and India. I wondered if he liked his life here (he'd emigrated six years ago). He says -- 50-50. The weather in the winter is just awful. Oh yes, I was here one late November weekend. I swear they just dont do daylight then!

We're staying at the Hotel Konsulat. 

 

  

 

I know, it has been taken over by a chain and I avoid chains when in Europe, but it has so much going for it (especially, comparatively, the price) that I kept returning to its website again and again. And I'm glad I did. The room is small, but quite okay.

 

 

 

We leave our bags, she showers, we go down to breakfast. Which is fine enough -- upped considerably by the addition of very good smoked salmon. The girl loves it and so do I.

And now comes a bit of a rest. I know you're supposed to keep going and not give in to tiredness in order to adjust to new time zones quickly, but I think that's great advice for those aged 10 to 70. Everyone else should take it easy that first day!

Eventually we head out. Snowdrop tells me -- Reykjavik is not drab! Though I'm not sure I'd want my photo on a building wall...

 

 

 

She is eager to get to the shore ("I've never seen the Arctic Ocean!"). I like the idea of some sort of lunch. Maybe at a bakery?

(Their lilacs are in bloom just now. As are the lupines. We saw fields of them by the airport. Blue and white and beautiful.) 

 

I'd noted a handful of bakeries and cafes in the area. We walk over to one of them -- the Hygge Coffee and Microbakery. Sounds like one right up my alley!

(pastries -- sort of Danish, a little French, all very good!)

I hear an exchange between two of the four people behind the counter. Polish! I answer in kind. Yes, they are indeed from Poland. All four.

Snowdrop and I take our treats outside (madelines for her, a blueberry cinnamon danish for me.)

 

The sun comes out for a few seconds and if it weren't for the Arctic wind, I'd say it's almost warm. Ish.

Snowdrop claims she loves countries with cooler climates. People are funny -- she say. They want to go to warm places in the winter and cool places in the summer. Me, I really am a northern girl. 

Nonetheless, we stop at H&M to buy her an extra sweater. She's into large. Me, I'm happy: H&M is the first reasonably priced place I've seen in this country (where even a pause in a bathroom will cost you 200 Icelandic Krona -- nearly $2). 

We walk along the shore. Reykjavik is small -- about half the size of Madison. Heck, Iceland itself is tiny if you consider the numbers. 393 000 people. That's the whole country. Wisconsin, a sparsely populated state, has fifteen times that number.

We pass an ice cream shop. Can I??? 

 

 

The girl loves the walk: the views to the mountains, half hidden in a layer of clouds, the calm waters of the bay,  fishing boats, signs on the shore alerting you to whaling expeditions. And to fish eateries.

 

 

 

 

I have in mind a pause at two places: the Harpa Concert Hall, which I think is an amazing piece of architecture and the Sun Voyager Sculpture. The large sculpture makes you think that the artist had the Vikings in mind when he designed it, but in fact it is merely an idea of a dream boat moving toward the sun, toward light, with hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We head up toward the main drag now -- the Laugavegur. All pedestrian, full of shops.

 

 

A puffin was purchased (puffins figure prominently on the list of reasons Snowdrop wanted to visit Iceland). Not this one.

 

 

 

And down the hill we go, to once again rest in our hotel at the bottom of the incline.

 

 

Dinner is at an Italian eatery -- Grazie Trattoria. So many of our remaining dinners are at fish restaurants, but for this first evening (is it evening when the sun is overhead?) I thought I'd start us off with the easy and familiar menu. And yes, she does opt for a pizza (as do I), but she also adds a first course of mussels (loves them!), and a last course of Tiramisu (loves it!). You'd think this would be a good low cost dinner. Ha! It is good, but far from low cost.

Tomorrow, very early in the morning, we take IcelandAir to Copenhagen. We'll see more of Iceland on our way back.

with love... 

a very convoluted journey

Sometime in January, I purchased airline tickets for the trip I am about to take with Snowdrop. I can't say that I came up with the best itinerary. I was limited by prices and connections. It's not easy to link the three destinations (of her choice) in a smooth way, or at least I could not come up with a better plan then. As a result, the trip is a bit choppy. We're moving around too much. One night here, next four there, then three elsewhere, and then back to square one for another four. What can I say, I don't have a private plane to zip us in a synchronized fashion to where we want to be at exactly the dates we want to be there. So, there is this built-in element of adventure: will we connect? Will my suitcase show up where it should? 

I am not worried.

I also kept the level of activity to a moderate level and here's how this will impact Ocean: I no longer like writing posts after dinner late into the night. The forced wakefulness impacts the quality of the night. I dont want to be sleep deprived every day. So, I'll try to not go overboard with photos or text. You'll hear from me, but I want to tame down my enthusiasm for throwing in details of a day. The girl is getting older and can take a more demanding schedule. That will be its own challenge. I can't add to it by writing extensively each and every day. (I'm sure you'll be grateful for a more compact story!)

 

My morning at the farmette is a bit rushed. I haven't packed, I need to finish watering the tubs and, too, we want to release Pancake from the Writer's Shed (he had surgery yesterday) and assess the state of his health.  

Okay, morning walk. The fields are getting ready for their big month -- July!

  

 

 

And of course breakfast, on the porch, with the guy who makes me smile every single day of the year. 

 

 

 

Then we try to feed and release Pancake. Eventually we succeed, but the cat is in a hiding mode and once coaxed out, he hightails it out of there, disappearing into the fields beyond the farmette. I will be curious if and when he comes back.

And then I pack. And take one last look at everything, including the day lily that appeared (one of the first!) -- a reminder of what I will be coming home to.

 

 

 

It's an exciting trip! Even as I miss leaving all that I leave behind. That's travel for me, in a nutshell.

P.S.  First adventure: getting a shoe stuck in the stair of an escalator at Minneapolis Airport. Snowdrop said -- when I was little, I used to wonder if an escalator could suck you in. Now I know it can! After many tries by very many Delta people, one managed to twist and wrench the shoe out. Snowdrop was patient and somewhat amused. She is unconcerned that her shoe now looks like this:

 

 

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I'll post from Reykjavik -- for which Snowdrop does have warmer shoes. And socks, which she likes to avoid, unless she is about to ski down a mountain. We'll see if chilly Iceland has her reaching for them!

with so much love... 

leaving

We are back to moderately smoky skies. I tell Ed -- you know this can go on for many weeks. He just shakes his head and mumbles something about stagnant weather systems.

Morning walk:

 

 

 

 

 

I sidestep after feeding the animals. To check on the meadows. One still has potential to explode with summer blooms, the other is probably lost to tall grasses. But the baskets that we had tried hanging with strawberry plants last year (didn't work, not enough rain and the birds ate what berries there were) are actually sprouting some pretty significant wildflowers. Let's see how that goes as the season progresses.

 

 

And here's some good news -- Pancake, who did show up last night and seemed very out of it and not hungry (it is quite possible that someone else is also feeding him), was back on track running up for his porch breakfast. I got Ed to coax him into the carrier. (He and Ed have bonded, so that he actually allows himself to be petted by him.) Yes! Finally, captured. Ed drives him to the vet for neutering and the rest. We will pick him up tonight. It is imperative that he stay confined for at least a day. We will see how that goes! 

Breakfast. We review out todo lists. His is long, mine is longer. Dance has no list at all.

 

Priorities: make a batch of granola for Ed!

Feed the tubs outside (not quite finished on that one). Print out various reservation receipts and codes. Clean out back pack which, um, has remained unpacked since my April trip. Do laundry. Return ill fitting Snowdrop shoes. Okay stop right there. I can't do another thing. It's time to pick up the girl up on her last day of school. (Her brother is otherwise occupied after school, but I do catch the both leaving the building. He's saying good bye to first grade. She is saying good bye to her whole Elementary School experience.)

 

 

 

 

 

Both had such good years! And yes, I'd promised an end of school year treat, but Sparrow isn't with me this afternoon and Snowdrop and I have almost no time. Just a short while at the farmhouse eating and reading, and then I spin her around, back to her home, so that she and I can pack her carryon.

We're leaving tomorrow for a trip of her own design. Sort of. March travel has never been good for northern explorations, but we are in June for this one, so I promised her one trip to places she really wants to see with generally cooler climates. 

By late evening I am home again. Ed brings back a restless Pancake -- we lock him up in the Writer's Shed for at least a day. I may see him tomorrow before I take off. Funny how you get attached to even your wildest cats, the ones that treat you as the only person they could ever trust, even just a little. We'll see if Pancake will return to his previous habits. (Some of them I wish he'd shed, though honestly, he's been well behaved around the farmette felines.)

I cook up chili, so that Ed would have a bunch of suppers at the ready. I'm leaving tomorrow and I haven't even begun packing. It doesn't matter. It will get done. Flowers will get watered, house will get a quick once over. Tonight, I stay with Ed on the couch. We laugh at a show together. He falls asleep. I smile at him, at us. 

with so much love... 

strawberries, rather than fields, forever

Unscramble that heading, if you will! I admit it is a puzzler. But the fact is, I have a long list of things to accomplish on this day, some having to do with strawberries, and so I spend zero time in my flower fields. I've gone from total immersion to total abstention. For the day.

I do run out to the barn in the morning. It's smokey once again and this would appear to be a broken record, or at least a broken weather system, but lo! We go from unhealthy air quality in the morning to good in the afternoon! Patience will be been rewarded! 

But, here's the still slightly smoggy morning walk:

(This bed is heavy on yellows in late spring, when the yellow peonies are in full bloom, and then completely purple in the fall)

Our plan for this day was to (finally) catch Pancake -- the most recent feral that has adopted the farmette as his hangout. He'd been so skittish that we didn't dare try earlier, but we think he'd trust us to go into a carrier with food, and he really would benefit (as would the planet) from being neutered. Maybe he'd engage in fewer battles. Too, he could get some shots to protect him from the evils out there. 

Pancake, however, can read minds. He did not show up for his morning feeding. That is so unusual that one would almost worry that he got mauled somewhere by something, except he is a restless sort and most likely within a few days (or a few hours) he'll be back.

Pancake catching abandoned, I go out to Madison Sourdough to pick up a cake for dinner (and pastries for breakfast). It's lovely to be eating their fresh cinnamon rolls, but we do this inside. Cool and smokey out there. Warm and cozy in the kitchen.

And then we attack yesterday's strawberries. The best use of them is to cook up our own version of strawberry jam. We still have some jars of it from last year's efforts, but hey, if we add to it a few more, we should be set for life! Or at least for the next few years.

Jam done. So, is that it for the strawberries? No! I was really tempted by the strawberry cake recipe that popped into my mailbox from the Smitten Kitchen a few weeks ago. It uses up a whole pound of berries and it is exactly the type I like: great with coffee, in the morning or afternoon.

And then it's just a rush to get things organized for Sparrow's birthday dinner: the little guy turns seven today!

(sibs follow)

 

Oh, that boy! He is clever, sensitive, affectionate, and with a sharp, if sometimes befuddling sense of humor. And he loves Legos, so of course, this was an easy birthday to shop for.

I always ask the kids for their birthday cake preferences and he said he wanted all brown, which I understood to mean chocolate, but not deep and dark, with frosting of the buttercream type. A perfect request for Madison Sourdough.

Dinner first.

 

 

 

And then -- Happy Birthday, sweet Sparrow! 

As for my to-do list -- well, there's a lot carried over for the next day. We'll see how that goes!

with so much love...