Getting Some Rhythm

So, I’m kinda liking this Airbnb thing.  Much more on that later, from a farm.  But if this posting begins at the beginning, we should explore the next phase in this journey.

I booked our next stop with Airbnb based upon mileage. The ferry we need to get to is in Rødby, which heads in the direction of Hamburg, which heads in the direction of Hannover, where I want to search for MY great grandfather’s roots. So, it comes down to mileage and where we might be.

Given that, I booked a place about 35 miles away.  Unfortunately, it had a shared bathroom.  Objections were raised.  So, I canceled and found a reasonable place (actually a gem of a place) about ten miles farther on the route.  But, this led to some fear about the distance, but hey, this is Denmark, and although I am not knowledgeable about biking personalities, I’m guessing that Danish hill climbers are unlikely.

So, we packed up from our home base in Frederikssund.  We had only done one loaded trip, from Copenhagen, and we were surprised again at how much stuff we had.  We took the bikes down, chatted with the friendly workers that helped us into apartment in the first place (at this point, no contact with our hosts face to face anywhere).  We loaded up, and left, and crossing the first street my rack came off.  Minor repair, major insight into how it worked, and should have been adjusted, and we got on the road by 9:30-not the early start we envisioned.  The sky was overcast, but dry.

So, I had put headphones in to make sure that I got all of Mr. Google’s navigation turns correct, better than a loudspeaker in the back of the bike jersey, drowned at times by traffic. But, I continued to have trouble with just audio instructions…Petuniajev, thisthingjev, whoopsadaisyjev, all kind of blend into nonsense and checking for visual.  AND, I continued to discover that north, south, up, down, were relative concepts that couldn’t be seen on the phone screen. Maybe I was missing some basic information, but often we would have to run up a street to get an error and clue to turn around.  (BTW, suggestions for inservice here will not be appreciated.)

(Sidenote: I’m writing and eating a market “Santa Fe Caesar.”  It’s got corn kernels. Got some James Taylor on the tunes.)

We rode the Google suggested bike route.  The weather was mostly overcast. But, we advanced our cause, eventually taking a wrong turn into Roskilde, and needing rest facilities, we found ourselves at a tourist spot for Viking history and ships. It was a cool spot, and we took a break, ate left over pizza and rye bread, and chatted with Canadian tourists.  What could be better? As we started to leave, it started to drizzle.  I put on a rain jacket, which I left on the whole rest of this leg of the trip.

We followed the route Mr. Google identified, and the starting and stopping in an urban area is difficult.  We are carrying too much stuff.  Heavy loads, wiggly front ends, every start and stop is a problem.  Plus, it was drizzling.  We continued on. I was looking for places to take a break, and I saw this think about Coffee.  Just Coffee.  Only Coffee.  And, sure enough, there it was.  We pulled into the gravel drive and met a wonderful dog, a leaner (he liked to lean on people), and an establishment that dealt wholesale in coffee, but served us Latte’s and cookies.  Awesome.

Just Coffee

Coffee with a Friend

Coffee and a Cookie

Another sidestep: Mallory messaged us at 11:45pm her time, that her puppy got skunked. We immediately hugged a dog.

Skunk Therapy

We stumbled onto Roskilde, a large town on the Fjiord. We hit a roundabout, took a wrong turn, and needing a bathroom we discovered tourist busses and an area by the waterfront dedicated to Viking ships and historical data.  We sat on a bench and ate some snacks, meeting some Canadian tourists and having a chat. We opted to move on, but it would be an interesting place to revisit with more time.  Plus, as we left, the mist got heavy…time to move. We put on our upper rain gear for the first time this trip, and headed off.

Viking Ships

Viking Ship Part II

Viking Bike With Too Much Stuff

So, we rode in mild wet.  This is good.  The Danes do it. Glasses fogged, but the paths are so clear and clean.  We suffered as audio navigation juked me around some neighborhoods of Roskilde, and turning errors had to be resolved by a stop in the light rain and a visual check of the phone.  This became even more difficult because my battery was spent, and I had to use an external battery for backup, so two items had to be pulled from the jacket for a visual reference.  Still, we emerged from the town onto a fairly straight route, paralleling a significant highway.  We rode on spacious bike paths filled with slugs and a few snails, the stuff that makes guiding the ride interesting, especially with so much weight on the butt of the bikes.

Our primary goal was a town named Køge.  The plan was to rest and eat a bit.  The weather was clearing. We pulled into town, on a whim actually, about 7 miles from our final destination, a farm cottage that was somewhat remote. We wanted to make sure that we hit a market before we left town. As we followed a highway, signage indicated “Centrum” to the left, and we made the turn. The center of town was distinct, and large.  The road turned to cobblestones and we opted to walk our bikes. As we neared the square at the center of town, we heard music and crowds.  A Tourist Information center was on our right, and I entered and asked the woman “What is going on?”  She laughed and said, “Festival Week.”

A huge performance stage was set up in the square, and a band was rocking the crowd with drum solos and a stellar performance.  The square was lined with food trucks and beer sales.  Lynette just wanted to sit down for a while, so we made our way around the back of the stage and found a bench around a tree.  We bought some beverages, and Lynette got an open-face sandwich on dark bread, and I got a chicken and bacon-wrap from one of the vendors.  It was pretty fun.  The band finished up, the crowd wandered off, and crews started a reset on the stage.  Everyone looked pretty happy.

View Over the Handlebars

We found a small grocery near the square and purchased a couple of salads and some wine for the evening, packed up, and succumbed to Google navigation to get out of town.  (By the way, I have been using Google because it has bicycle instructions that Maps seems to lack.) Our path now followed the eastern shore of “Zealand,” and we could see numerous little cottages in the trees at the water’s edge.  The road turned to the left, but we followed straight ahead into a more rural area. The data plan we had purchased in Copenhagen has been fantastic, with great coverage everywhere.

Pastoral Ride

We came to a “Kirke,” a parish church, made a turn up a short brief hill that held the church, and pedaled down a small road to the farm at 27.  The entrance was a gravel road.  The grounds included the main house, a little cottage where we would stay, and a couple of other barn buildings. We could hear chickens. The farm was surrounded by fields.  The sun was out.

The Farm

Gravel Path

The Cottage

Camilla greeted us.  We chatted and she showed us the cottage.  It was spacious and spanking clean with comfy beds, a beautiful bath, and a door out the back that opened onto a private green area with a view to the east.  Camilla warned us about a particular window, noting that if we left it open, the cat would come in.  I asked her what they farmed and she shrugged.  She shared that they have a couple of cows, but only because it is fun. I imagine that they have other careers. Camilla has a 9-year-old daughter, but she was too shy to try out her English with us.

I can’t say enough about how wonderful this place is.  It was reasonable in cost, and beautifully apportioned.  Indeed, I don’t think I have ever been somewhere so quiet and peaceful, even in the sierra.  I slept soundly through the night with little interruption-it was morning before I knew it.  And, this place has the best toilet paper we have enjoyed the whole trip.  Indeed, this Airbnb thing has been excellent.

Cottage Interior

 

Sleepy Time

Garden Green

Sunset

Looking ahead, I booked a place for tomorrow about halfway to the ferry to Germany.  We will probably spend two more nights in Denmark, ferry to Germany and head to Hamburg.  There is a bike route from Hamburg to Dresden, but I have an interest in Hannover because of my own ancestry. I’m going to look into staying two nights somewhere and making a day trip down to the area I am interested in.  I’m not sure at this point, but I’ll figure it out.

But I digress.  The title of this post is “Getting Some Rhythm.” I think we are getting into the rhythm of this travel vacation.  Packing, riding, finding food and lodging, it is all settling into a temporary lifestyle of travel. I regret that we have too much stuff, but we anticipated it being far colder than it has been.  But the jet-lag is gone, we will get stronger as we ride, we had our first rain, and things have been very comfortable.  All good.

And, one last perk here, Camilla supplied us with a coffee machine and coffee, and it smells fabulous. Off to stay in Jørn’s red house tonight.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

A Gentle Pause

We took Lynette’s bike into the bike shop across the street to have the gears adjusted.  We walked in yesterday afternoon, and had a chat with an English ex-pat who has been here fifteen years, and he suggested we bring the bike in for him to look at around 9:30.  He was cheerful and had a good sense of humor, and he adjusted the gears for about 100 kroner.  While he was working, I asked him about how he got here.  He said that he had married a Danish girl and had a couple of children here. I asked, “How did that go?” He said that they were not together anymore. “Danish women can be difficult.”  I said, “Yes. I’m having some trouble myself.” He broke down with laughter, and Lynette maintained her tolerance until we left to walk back to the apartment.

All fun.

We rose this morning a bit stiff.  As I said, we are “biking into shape,” a rationalization for unfocused preparation.  It was raining, a stark contrast to the hot afternoon yesterday, but in the streets below, the kids were biking to school, impervious to the wet. We decided to look for coffee, and we left and took off in a new direction, toward the train station. It became clear that we were leaving the commercial area and entering a residential area, so we turned and headed in the direction of the “Forest School” that we had asked about at the Tourist Information spot yesterday.

Forest schools are optional early schooling for Danish children. In the purest form, they conduct all the educational experiences outside of buildings.  Children build fires, use knives, raise and harvest chickens, and, most importantly, they play and commune in nature.  They have less illness.  Standardized testing is a bizarre concept.  Here is some information. We became aware of this because Mallory is working with Antioch on an event to highlight nature-based education.

Anyway, we headed out through the residential area to find the school here in Frederickssund. After some fits and starts in our walk, we arrived at the school grounds at the edge of a forested area.  I confess that we were not bold enough to enter the facility nor ask directly, but part of that was not wanting to interfere with the program.  The facility was rural and interesting.  We did not see children out on the grounds, and there were buildings, so we suspected that it was not an extreme example of the practice.  There were a few cars arriving and leaving, and we get the sense that the Danish process quite a bit with the education of their children.  We walked along this very pastoral road under cloudy skies, and noted three different facilities, and we assumed they were age related.

Grounds of Forest School

Forest Kindergarten

Grounds Open after Hours

Grounds

We continued on the road, and it ended in a gravel path that led around a small collection of trailer-like homes; Lynette suspected that they were summer cottages, closed in the winter, but used in the mild season.  As we neared the curve around the community, we noticed an entrance to the wooded area with a sign that suggested it was an open trail.  We followed the trail and marveled at the canopy of the woods and the path. We walked.  We explored, I took some photos.  And then we turned and headed back to town.

Secret Path

Into the Trees

Canopy

We walked back by the school and went to the local bakery again.  This time, we opted for pastries and coffee at a table out front. European. The bakery had far more goods than the last visit when we indulged in cinnamon buns.  I had a croissant, and Lynette opted for a poppy-seed twist.  We sat.  We watched folks.  The coffee was good.  The pastries were delicious.  I spoke to the woman behind the counter.  There were blue canvas totes all around.  She explained that they took orders for children lunches and delivered them to the local school. I said, “You mean these guys get pastries?  What a great country!”  She corrected me.  Apparently, they get sandwiches.  But, I’m sure it is sandwiches with awesome bread (brød).

Butter Variations

 

We packed up, returned the pastry tray, and walked back to the apartment to retrieve Lynette’s bicycle to take to the Fri Bike shop across the street. As I noted, all went well, and we are prepared, we think, for a relatively longer day tomorrow. We came back, locked the bikes up, and then, I confess, we crashed.  We slept.  It rained. We slept. The washing machine was clunking. We slept. I guess it was time for a pause.  I guess “biking into shape” requires “napping into shape,” as well.

We woke around 1 or 2, and Lynette had an interest in shopping. We gathered slowly and went out to forage. The shops have so many interesting items that we don’t see in the States.  And, we checked for the Made in China labels, and often couldn’t find them, depending upon shop.  Prices reflected “Made in Denmark.”  All prices here, reflect Denmark, and the effort to middle class. Taxes are high.  Prices are high. But I have only seen one individual that compares to the folks using State Street as a lifestyle.  My guess is that the social safety net here is comprehensive.  “Nuff editorial.

We opted for cheap eats at a pizza burger joint for dinner.  Pretty fun. Didn’t understand the menu.  The employees were Middle Eastern and super friendly. It was fun people watching, and we didn’t need a fancy restaurant, just food. It was good. We walked back and admired the craftmanship on so many of the buildings. We continued along the pedestrian thoroughfare, and noted the shops closing by seven pm, and the shops by nature, specific: specific to books, specific to toiletries, specific to bread, specific to wine, cheese, underwear, home implements, and so on.  It’s a different world.

See ya’ll tomorrow on the farm in Køge.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Roots

Oh my.  Busy day. Where to start, and not make this a list of we did this, and we did that.

We got up.

Yep, we got up and the sky was overcast, and we went out to survey the area we are staying in.  By the way, this Airbnb is very comfortable, too.  Nothing fancy, but reasonable and private.  It gets a bit hot in the afternoon with sun shining directly in the main area, but I imagine that in the winter this is prime living.

The apartment is littered with piles of our stuff.  We aren’t here long enough to put it away, and it has to come out of the panniers or we can’t get at it.  Lynette has been thrilled because the place has a washing machine-familiarity and clean clothes, although we both have far too much stuff for this trip.  We have thought about shipping some of this stuff down to the Czech, but we need some more ride time to figure it out.

So, we got up.  And we walked around a very, very long block to see where we are.  This is pretty standard.  It’s a team effort, even though Lynette is not nimble with direction; she understands that we need to know where we are when we get to these new places.  We saw all kinds of interesting shops.  Schwarma is big here.  Artisan shops and a bakery.  Security cameras and smorgasbord. We found a Tourist Information shop that opened at 10 am.  We found more grocery stores than the one close by.  Ultimately, we went to the local bakery and got coffee and cinnamon rolls, stuff we would NEVER do at home.

The local street, blocked and pedestrian by design, was full of kids on bikes rushing to school. I think that is such an irony, kids rushing to a place they disparage.  But, maybe it is different here.  We have seen schools with fascinating play areas, zip lines, climbing walls, hilly forts with poles and hiding places.  It is so different.  We followed the stream of children up and passed the school.  We could see climbing structures that begged lawsuit in the US, a jungle gym of flexible fabric and dangerous altitude.  We walked past the school, to the top of a hill (a Danish hill, mind you), turned and headed back to the apartment.  Our construction friends from the first day and the finding of the key under the mat were at work early, and friendly.

Today was heritage day.  We were going to bike five miles to a significant parish in Lynette’s family history, and to Jaegerspris, “Hunters Pride,” King Frederic VII’s hunting mansion and hideaway from class gossip about his third, “morganatic” marriage to Landgravine Danner.  Lynette’s Great-Great Grandfather, Christen Madsen was a forester for the king; her Great Grandmother, Bodile Christensen born in April of 1848, was raised on castle grounds.

Path to Jaegerspris

Entering the Town

Jaegerspris Windmill

 

We rode first to the town of Jaegerspris. The bike paths are just awesome.  We crossed over a bridge, noting the clear water, and headed up the coast through a wooded area.  In Jaegerspris, we headed toward the parish, Dråby Parish, by proximity to the Castle, a source of many of the birth, baptism and marriage records that I have used to construct our family tree.  We rode up, parked the bicycles, and found entrance through an unlocked gate.  The church was closed-we learned later that they have had incidences of vandalism which led to closure.  The grounds were well manicured, and we wandered about taking photos and looking over headstones, most of which were fairly recent.  Three people were working in the garden, and we asked them about records.  One young man was particularly willing to help, bringing out a “Churchbook,” which turned out to be very recent.  I suspect the older ones have been properly archived. We chatted, and just before we left I asked him about the church building, and whether it had been rebuilt.  The rear of the church evidenced red-brick joined on stone, heading up three-quarters of the way to the current roof.  He said, “Oh, yes, a moment.”  He returned with a book about the history of the church building.  “You can have it,” he said. Even though it was in Danish, we were touched by the gesture.

Dråby Parish

Dråby

Blending of the Old Parish with New Brick

We saddled up the bikes and headed back to town, to the Castle, Jaegerspris Slot.  We entered the back way, down a gladed path, to a wonderful view of the mansion.  We walked around it and found the entrance, setting our bikes by the fence and paying the toll to tour the open areas.  The woman at the entrance was pleasant, but not really impressed with my description of Lynette’s ancestor’s foresting.  Or, maybe she didn’t understand-it was hard to tell.  Needless to say, the walkabout within was impressive for us. Detail was lost.  A lot of the artifacts were identified in Danish text.  But still, it was an impressive, historical visit.

Back Entrance to the Castle

Jaegerspris Slot (Castle)

Frederick VII (White Horse Described in Family History

Castle Tower

It might be of interest here to read a transcription of the oral history of Lynette’s Great Grandmother told by Lynette’s Great Aunt:

She was born on April 18, 1848, and named (as above) Bodil Marie Christensen. Her birthplace was in a Forest Reserve named Jaeger’s Priis, which translated means Hunter’s Pride or Place, or something commendable. This Forest Reserve belonged to the King of Denmark, who at that time was King Frederick VII. It was located on the Island of Sealand, and was about eight miles from Copenhagen. Her father was a forester for King Frederick VII. At times when the King came to confer with Bodil Marie’s father, he would always have a retinue of servants with him, and he always rode on a large white horse. When Bodil Marie and her sisters saw him riding up, they would run to meet him, for when he dismount, he would throw the rent to whichever on of the girls arrived first, and then upon remounting again, he would throw that girl a coin. Naturally, all three girls vied for his favors. 

Bodil Marie attended a country school, and when her education was finished, she became a seamstress, for in those days everything was sewn by hand. She would be engaged to sew for a week or more, depending upon how much sewing was to be done. She “lived in” while she sewed for these people because transportation was no in “style,” shall I say, in those days. This was very confining work, sewing all day, merely stopping to come to the table when the meals were served. Eventually, this lack of exercise affected her health. Shad a sister working Copenhagen, and this sister persuaded her to come to Copenhagen to work. The fact that she was accustomed to seeing flowers, trees and the blue sky, and seeing non of this while working inn a flat or apartment in the big city, made her feel as if she were a prisoner.

Bodil later married Dirk Nielsen.  They met while working together on a farm, a “GAARD.” They came to the United States in 1882 with five children on a ship named the “Bohemia,” third class steerage, settling in Fond Du Lac, Wisconsin.

We left the mansion, grabbed the bikes and walked toward the Danner Cafe, on the other side of the open grounds.  We had a crazy exchange with the woman at the cash register-no sandwiches, just bread?  Tea?  I grabbed a beer and Lynette got a fruit drink, and the cashier knew the word “raspberry,” which she merrily chanted, all cheerful and fun.  You gotta love this stuff.

We finished our drinks and headed out.

Now, when we were in Copenhagen, in one of the bike shops, we mentioned that we were going to Jaegerspris.  The proprietor said, “Ice Cream!”  He said it was the best.  Here is what I posted about this event, at the ice cream shop, on our way out of town:

We were told in a bike shop (where truth is sometimes hidden in the phrase, “Oh, no, it is a flat ride…”) to make sure and get ice cream in Jaegerspris.  There are at least three ice cream shops.  We stopped at the one by a big tree with the school crossing guard sitting by a shady elm enjoying a treat.  We asked a bright young woman in the window if this was the place.  She said, “Oh yes, of course.”   I said, “Well, how does this work?”  She said, “You pick a flavor.”

Duh.  My bad.

I found the flavors on a board and Lynette and I made our choices: “One with nougat, one caramel.”  She said, “You can have more than one scoop,” and looked surprised that we were only ordering one scoopers.

The delightful young woman brought out the first and said, “Whipped cream and jam?”  

I hesitated. She looked at me hard and said, “It is normal.”  I said, “Okay, I want to be normal.” Lynette jumped in with more nonsense, “Does it go with caramel?”

By this time our pleasant host knew to ignore the question.  Of course.  Whipped cream, thick and pudding like, topped with jam, goes with everything!

And so.  I say here and now.  That was the BEST dang ice cream cone I have ever, ever had in my life.  The best!  Trust the locals.

Goodstuff.

Thick Cream, Ice Cream, Jam

The Ice Cream Place

We finished off the afternoon by riding back the three miles to Frederikssund on the bike path on the shore of the bay.  It was brilliantly clear and warm, and a bit breezy.  We stopped at the Tourist Information (TI) on the way into town and sparred with the two women working there.  They were enjoyable, easy to laugh, and tried to be helpful with our questions about genealogical resources, “Forest” kindergartens in town, the restaurant on the harbor, and bike maps. Neither of them had ever done their own family trees, which is kind of interesting because it would seem to be a fairly uncomplicated project given that they are living on the “mother ship.”

We returned to the apartment and unloaded the bikes, the 19 steps up now a trivial challenge. We showered and then popped off to the market for a couple of salads and some Skyr for breakfast.  A neighbor was out with her infant on the veranda, and I cheerfully said, “Beautiful baby.”  So far, so good.  As we walked away, under the veranda I remarked, “Boys are cheaper than girls,” an innocent comment I thought until Lynette pointed out that the baby could have been a girl. But then, I’m just an ignorant tourist.

Later in the evening I started to think ahead to our Thursday night lodging.  Ultimately, we settled for a guest house on a farm about 40 miles south.  This is farther than Lynette wanted to go, but I think it will work out.  Twenty-five miles to some food, somewhere, after an early start, and then another ten or so to the finish.  That is the way we did it on the Dresden trip, and it works out.  I think I will try to stay one day ahead.  So tonight I will start looking for the ferry across to Germany and accommodations for that jump.

In the meantime, we are going to take a leisurely ride around here today, and find some time to thoughtfully repack for the next loaded ride.

All good.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Into the Wild

In the name of continuous improvement, our new place is only on the second floor, not the fifth, and there are only 19 stairs, not 68. I made these reservations some time ago, and I have no idea what I was thinking choosing places with stairs.  Indeed, I’m sure there are nice Airbnb places with rooms out the back with ground access, but I missed them.  Fortunately, this is the last of the places I planned ahead of time, and I will apply myself to better choices when we hit the road again.

Still, we enjoyed that last apartment.  We got up and packed our panniers and back bags and handlebar trunks. The sun was shining, and there were no clouds to worry about. I keep reminding myself that we are not carrying sleeping bags and tents and cooking equipment, but what we have is darn heavy.  It took four trips down and up each to get things down to ground and check the apartment for missing items. We loaded the bikes, gritted our teeth, and dropped the key in the mailbox-no turning back.

Getting Packed

Stuff to Pack

It is an odd feeling to be taking off into the wild.  I had the route on the phone so that it would bark turns to me (more on that later), but we really haven’t been on bicycles since the beginning of summer.  Lynette was focussed on the cabin, and riding bikes would have been more chore than pleasure-so we opted for the “bike into shape” strategy, which is really an embraceable rationalization. Recognize too, that not only had we not been on bicycles, we had specifically not been on bicycles that were loaded for tour.

Most of the weight in our loaded configuration is on the rear.  This makes the front wheel “squirrelly,” wobbly and inaccurate on turns.  And this was immediately apparent as we took off, slowly down the residential street below the apartment.  Once moving, the ride becomes much more stable, but we are not riding nimble horses this trip. And my reaction was schizophrenic, one part of my brain chastising myself for bringing too much stuff, and the other half enjoying being back on a bike again.  Needless to say, we made it to the end of the block, facing a left turn onto the main road heading northwest to Frederikssund, our destination.

The rules here in Denmark say that when you make a left turn, you cross the street, stop and turn in the new direction and wait for a green light.  It makes a lot of sense. And, then I wondered because I saw so few people riding bicycles in helmets or super neon colors.  But it dawned on me on the 25 mile ride today that they don’t need the colors (helmets?  Not sure).  We were on dedicated, one-way bike paths 98% of the ride, and almost all of it was free of debris, root damage, and blockage.

And, I never felt threatened by the automobiles. Never. The aggressive drivers one sees in the US are just not around here.  There seemed to be a respect for the riders, and most of the riders utilized hand signals to indicate turns or premature stops. Another component to this is the fact that everyone seemed to be riding: old, young, fat, thin, athletic, ponderous, just everyone. And some of the bikes had exotic seats for children in the front, bicycle strollers of a sort. There were youngsters in the handlebar “death seats” calmly sucking on binkies and nooks, while dads turned the pedals efficiently and pointed out the green walk symbols that Lynette is so fixated upon.  Just fascinating.  More lessons on where a culture puts its resources, I say.

Danish Cows

More Danish Cows and the Bikepaths

We went a few miles, and I checked for the next major turn, a mere 15 kilometers ahead. Applying a rough rule, multiply by seven and divide by 10.  Easy.  Ten miles.  But as we rode on our unconditioned cycling legs, it all started to come back to me.  We are not jack-rabbits on wheels-never have been.  Riding takes time. And, riding in unfamiliar territory takes a bit more time as well. Biking paths notwithstanding, we made steady, slow progress and the landscape gradually turned more pastoral, with residential communities spotted here and there.

On the Path

Traditional Roof

The route was pretty clearly marked, but as we got about three-quarters of the way to Frederikssund, Google maps started barking all kinds of mysterious turns, eventually resolving our route away from signage and into a residential area where we zigged and zagged down bicycle friendly streets, with Mr. Google telling me to turn on all kinds of unpronounceable street names that always seemed to end in “vej.”  Petuniavej. Stuff like that. It was almost impenetrable guidance.  Finally we came to an obscure split in the path and I asked a mature female bicyclist the way.  She pointed left, and we went.

That brings up another issue.  Out here, away from Copenhagen, we are running into more people who don’t speak English.  A woman with a little dog came up and rambled in Danish for the longest time.  We thought she wanted to know about the bicycle mirrors, but after gestures and her effort at English, we realized she was laughing at her dog.  Lynette had put her hand in a pocket, and the dog thought that it was due for a treat.  In the wild, my normal operating style (given that we have no Danish) is to make sure that I drawl out some kind of “Howdy, how’s it going?” just to alert the natives that we are not from around here.  And, so far the lack of Danish has not been a problem.

We rode through fields along the rail lines, noting red bicycle cars on the commuter trains.  At one intersection, in the middle of no where mind you, there was a post and air hose for inflating bicycle tires-in the middle of a field intersection.  Lynette was flagging, and I had done a poor job of making sure she got food and fuel, but cafes were in short supply.  My phone battery died, and my backup battery was buried in the pack, so I took Lynette’s phone for more nonsense directions, and we continued on, pulling into Frederikssund at the train station and curving around to a shopping mall.  I checked and we were a few blocks from the apartment we had engaged.

Bike Path by the Train

Not the UCSB Bike Path

Bike Friendly Speed Bumps

We walked up a pedestrian shopping street and found the address, 29 D.  Our hostess, Karina, had messaged me that she left the key under the mat.  We went through a covered walkway to a parking lot at the back, and three men were doing construction on the balcony of the top floor of three-story building.  Four doors were labeled 29 D. The workers were genial, but didn’t know anything that would help us. I noticed that they decided to take a break and watch.  We parked the bikes and I went up to the second floor to look under mats.  The last doormat had a key.  Worrying that ALL Danes leave their keys under the doormat, I knocked, unlocked the door, and entered loudly.  It looked correct.  And, only 19 steps.  Easy peasy.

We put everything in the apartment and went back to the mall for food. Lynette wanted an open-face, traditional sandwich.  The menu was in Danish.  Lynette ended up with a nice salmon sandwich, and I got roast beef with tasty pesto olive oil.  Nice.

Roast Beef Sandwich

We got some fruit and snacks at the market (the diet change has been a bit of challenge, and the toilet paper is heavy like paper towel…but enough of that discussion).  We returned to nap, shower, and relax.

Our New View

Tomorrow we are going to ride again, unloaded for the most part, and see what we can see at Jaegerspris, “Hunter’s Pride,” Frederick VII’s hunting castle where Lynette’s ancestor was a forester, and all of her family could pronounce “rugbrød.”

Rugbrød: Unpronounceable Bread

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Christiana Wanderings

This is a brief recap of our yesterday.  Brief because I made a mistake with this blogging program and seem to have erased a well written entry that I composed last night.  I don’t have time this am to try to recreate it. So here it is in uninspired bullets:

• We purchased a 24 hour pass for the metro yesterday and went out to Christianshavn, wandering a bit around the free town of Christiana, an aromatic place with folks selling both art and herbs.  We also visited “Paper Island,” Papir Øen, an area reminiscent of our own “Funk Zone,” emerging foodie businesses and art housed in repurposed commercial buildings.  Good food. Fun atmosphere. We enjoyed the canal and the walk, watching folks with picnics cruising and enjoying themselves.
• I had also written a nice reflection on the ghostly nature this apartment building, noting that we seem to be the only ones here.
• We retrieved our bikes, and all is well with them.
• We crashed hard to the heavy hand of jet lag.
• We ate a nice salad from the market, enjoyed wine, and listened to music, a relaxing evening.

Always frustrating to lose a post. Apologies.

Nevertheless, writing this stuff and figuring out how to be “small” (have less stuff) is great fun. If the clouds clear up, I’ll post more photos today.

*******

Still frustrated about losing the post, but I must say that I enjoyed writing it.  Had some nice music, a couple of salads from the supermarket, embracing the moment and enjoying the place that we are staying in.  Moving on.  Today.

We got up bright and early, showered and out to the Metro.  We headed downtown, getting off one stop before Christianshavn from yesterday.  Like all subways/metros, there is no sense for where you are when you climb to street level. We have the idea that things don’t start happening until about 9:30 in the mornings, and indeed the streets were empty except for straggling youth that probably didn’t make it to bed last night. We grabbed a coffee in a McDonald’s (yes, I know) and watched a couple of young women shed some guys before coming in to get breakfast hamburgers. Gotta laugh. Reminded me of riding bicycles through Isla Vista early on a Sunday morning.

We headed off, walking and enjoying the empty streets, following a shopping area of significance, “Strøget,” but without the people we would find on it later in the day. Yesterday, on our exploration of Papir Øen, we had passed a cafe with a couple of gentlemen eating eggs and bacon, and it stuck in my mind.  We found ourselves close to this cafe, and decided to head out that way. As we walked, the clouds gathered and it began to rain. By the time we got to the cafe, I was damp and lamenting that I had not brought my raincoat.  To our disappointment, we found that the cafe would not open for another hour and change. We decided to head back to the apartment and a cafe nearby, recommended by the waitress at Halifax a few nights previously. We found the Metro and headed back.

The Sokkelund Cafe opened at 9:30, and we were there right on time.  We were seated and ordered the “Breakfast Plate #2,” scrambled eggs, bacon, avocado, some kind of cream cheese, and wonderful bread, just great food.  The cafe busied up quite quickly,  entertaining all manner of casually dressed folks. Lynette really enjoyed the dark, Danish rye bread: rugbrød. It was a substantial breakfast and put an end to our plans for open face Danish sandwiches for lunch.

Breakfast

By the way, we are both laughing because we haven’t seen any mention here of abelskivvers, the Solvang treat.  We have seen crepes, waffles and pancakes, but the ‘skivver remains elusive.

On another note, our hosts left us with extensive notes on restaurants and places to seek the elusive hygge.  We found that we understood the notes after we have been around. In other words, it isn’t until you get out and see some of these places and have the experiences, that the notes make sense. Odd connection for us, but we did enjoy referring back to Marie’s suggestions after we had been out in the wild.

We left Sokkelund and headed back to the Metro, taking a ride to the City Center to search out Tivoli Gardens.  Maps and Mr. Google were very unhelpful, but we managed to make our way to the entrance to Tivoli Gardens, inspiration to Walt Disney and a recommended scene.  I have to admit that we enjoyed our wander through the park, and were thankful that we didn’t purchase any ride tickets.  Hammer rides and full stomachs are not what was needed.  These are not the rides you would find in the US.  For example, the boats are not on tracks, on the bungie drops the kids pull themselves up, the hammer ride is built for steel stomachs. Still it was so fun to watch the enthusiasm of the kids romping around the park-really fun.

Tivoli

However, we definitely found ourselves in tour bus region, with tour groups and guides holding sticks with flags to keep their flocks together.  We exited the park and decided to head to the Round Tower via the shopping street, Strøget, which turned out to be quite the scene compared with our time there early in the morning. Clearly, we were in the midst of a tourist area.  We snaked our way through the crowds and eventually found the Round Tower, paid our toll and headed up.

I like city tops.  There was an excellent view of everything, and since we hadn’t planned this visit very well, the only distinctive architecture I could see was the amusement ride hammer at the Tivoli Gardens.  No matter.  It was enjoyable. The sun came and went, and that reminds me to mention that we are either too cold or too hot here.  When the sun is out, it can be uncomfortably warm.  When the clouds hide the sun, it can be chilly-no rest for the layering, for sure. And, observation of the locals is worthless. No matter what level of comfort I am feeling, I can spot jacketed Danes and short-sleeved Danes crossing paths and balancing the weather between. No rules.

From the Round Tower

So, we made our way back without incident, and dog-tired, took a couple of short naps.  Mother jet-lag still makes getting out of a nap difficult, but we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and that is good.  Tomorrow, we re-locate. We get on the bikes tomorrow and head to Fredericksund, near Jaegerspris Castle, to explore heritage. We have a 25 mile ride, I think, and it will be a good shake-down cruise to another BnB for three or four days.  We are going to bike into shape on this trip.  No problem.  The rest of the trip will be figured out on the fly.  More information on how that is going will have to be like Marie’s list.  You do it to know it.

And, now, I think we will forage for dinner.  Nothing fancy.  Just some food, and then some sleep, and then 68 stairs down to new adventure.

Sixty-Eight Stairs 

PS: Since I lost that last jewel of a post, I want to put up a reply I made to my friend, Diane, in reply to a question about what I ate at the food trucks at Paper Island:

Aw, I succumbed to fish and chips. If I were to do it again, I would opt for the “egg wrap” something or the Italian place or maybe just the cheesecake lunch. (JK). Tomorrow, we have open face sandwiches as a must. Weather is unstable tomorrow, so we will head to central on the metro, find the shopping area, hope for a final closure on the jet-lag. Think we are almost done. Honestly, folks doing 7 day tours are screwed. How can they enjoy a trip? Four week minimums I say.

Dang, I like this stuff. I”m laughing right now thinking of us at midnight, looking for a key to an apartment we can’t find, underneath a bicycle seat no less, with no Mr. Google, and then finding 68 steps in a ghost building, with us trying to be quiet, and the steps not cooperating, and carrying the junk to altitude, and the wonderful resolution of a delicious bottle of some wine that I cannot find in the stores to purchase again….what can I say?

But, we are safe. This place enforces middle class. And, Lynette won’t let me cross streets unless there is a green human symbol and clicking to advance. My left arm is bruised from vice-grip retention and spousal-enforcement of local pedestrian laws. All part of the tour….

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Paper Island

The password is “apple”

Jack and Lynette visit “Paper Island,” Papir Øen, and discover food trucks.  “In the end, everything will be okay.  If it is not okay, it is not the end….”

* (A wish randomly read from Yoko Ono’s wishing project on Paper Island.)

 

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Getting Real

It is very clear to me that we are only going to scratch the surface of Copenhagen.  We have two full days left here, and today will be broken up because we need to return to the area of the apartment to fetch the bicycles.  But then, I guess there is a question in travel that is about what one wants to see.  I didn’t study up on the sites because I was more worried about the bikes and a new area.  I don’t really have an agenda or a must see list, not even the famous Mermaid.  However, I am definitely going to see the “round tower” mentioned by brother Ken, and Tivoli Gardens as urged by the “Queen.”

I’m just saying that all these organized trips, like seeing ALL of Ireland in eight days can’t be real.  So, I am content with getting the lay of the land, the culture, and appreciating the stuff that I do see. The rest is what I call, #unfinishedbusiness, a call to return sometime soon.

We got out to forage for dinner last night, choosing a burger place of some fame that started in this area, Halifax Burger.  It was not very crowded for a Friday night, which was good, and we worked our way through an interesting burger menu selection process, including and option to have some kind of potato pancake instead of a top bun.  We were starving though, so we stuck to the mundane and familiar.

Halifax Texas Style Burger

The waitresses were super friendly and kind and humorous.  They gave us advice for some other places to go in the area. I am stunned at how easily everyone here switches between Danish and English.  It is fluid and the culture clearly has a strong command of the language-no hemming or hawing, or pausing for a word. The languages seem interchangeable.  It is indeed, a happy place.

We made our way back to plenty of street lighting and a few pockets of Friday night revelers. The apartment is in an area with lots of five and six-story residential buildings and quiet streets.  Indeed, I don’t know if it is because we are on the top floor of this building or not, but mornings are very, very quiet.  And, oddly enough, we have never seen anyone else on the stairs. It’s like we are on a ghost ship.  But for every floor, there are two doors to two apartments.  And all of the apartments have elegant, standard name tags on the door, Marie and Torklid, Jens and Maren, etc.

Today we plan to hit a breakfast brunch place that was recommended to us, ride the metro out to Christenshauvn, hippie town, and poke around until we can get our bikes at 2 pm and be truly mobile.  So far the weather has been good to us.  Monday, of course, we ride to Jaegerspris to begin investigating Lynette’s heritage here in Denmark.

Here are a couple more photos of the apartment:

Classic SMEG Refrigerator

View of the Courtyard

Butcher Block Counters (Like Our Cabin

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Oh, Right. Jet-Lag

I had forgotten about the bedding.  Clearly, we are not traveling enough.

Over here, the bedding setup is marvelously simple.  It is comfortable, elegant, and pervasive.  The beds have bottom sheets, and the bedding is a duvet with comforters.  Here in the apartment, sixty-eight steps up and overlooking a courtyard with children playing in sandboxes and gardens and activity, there is a nice bed with two duvets, individualized comfort in the midst of the zen of hyggeleg.

We made use of this unique culture of bedding last night, of course, in the haze of travel and climbing our belongings to altitude.  Today, however, we made use of the bedding as the rock-hammer of jet lag fisted us into afternoon naps.

Time is unstable right now.  The timepiece digits are meaningless. Some of our devices still demonstrate Pacific West Coast time, and the prevalence of “military” time around here reduces all of the temporal world to whether the sun is where it ought to be or not, and the unreliability of our biological clocks after jumping the pond.

No matter.  The sun came up.  It was about six am.  We got up.

Lynette took a shower and I started plotting our two major issues: Internet data access, and the condition of the bikes.

The shower here is part of the bathroom, like in an RV.  There is a curtain, a tile floor that extends into the shower, and a wooden grate for after-shower drying.  Very simple and efficient.

Our immediate problem was data, information access. Our hosts left a town map that identified a Tourist Information (TI) center near Tivoli Gardens, a couple of miles away.  We decided to walk there, get the lay of our local surroundings, and seek information.  We have two unlocked, iPhone 6’s, and I figured that we could put local SIMs into them at a reasonable cost.  With that in mind, we headed out, stopping at the nearby shopping center for coffee and pastry (which was delicious!).  There was a queue outside the shopping center, which has multiple businesses, including a grocery.  Apparently, an electronic shop was opening with a major sale, and there must have been 300 people in line.  I have no clue what the deal was, but the activity was impressive for early morning.

We walked the streets, watching the bike traffic and people and behavior.  There are dedicated bike paths on both sides of the street, one way, a step off the sidewalks, and the folks biking did not fit any mold, all ages, all body types, few helmeted, bikes of all sorts, children in frontal lounge-carriers, just everything.  But, so many biking.

Lynette was a little jumpy on the walk, and I don’t blame her. It’s a new place, and standards need to be noticed and honored.  This is stuff like how to deal with the crosswalks, and which side to pass people on the sidewalk, and how to be out-of-the-way on a corner when a stroller comes by.  Common sense.

We neared the area where the TI was located, and we discovered a lot of “false” tourist information places.  The TI’s are always green.  These false places say TI, but they are in blue and the offices have a lot of tourist junk.  We found the authentic TI and were greeted by a wonderful, energetic young woman (Danish/Swiss) who helped us.  She gave us maps and recommendations, the most important being a referral to a phone shop across the way, behind the 7-11, where an “expert” would advise us on phones.  She was delightful.

We were early, and the shop wasn’t open.  So we popped around to another coffee shop for some coffee, “SKYR” (icelandic yogurt with rennet, a cheese then?), and some reflecting.  This area seemed pretty touristy, with Tivoli Garden across the street and other iconic features of Copenhagen that had nothing to do with OUR needs: data and bike repair. Indeed, we are liking Copenhagen, and we embrace “unfinished business,” and if we have to come back, well, WE are the winners. It was a fine spot, with good people watching, but certainly out of the Starbucks playbook.

We packed up and went around to the shop. The proprietor ignored us at first but warmed up fast. He recommended sticking to SIMS for each country.  We got 30 GB of data (that is lots) on two SIMs for 200 dkk total, which is like $40. The guy set up the phones, and we put our SB SIMs in a safe place, and we went on our merry way.  Too cool.  Of course, we will have to find out if coverage is good, later.

We walked back toward the apartment and the shopping center nearby, all adventure and watching and new things, but always bicycles whizzing by.  Lynette stopped in a few shops, Danish style is appealing for its elegance, and eventually we got back to the shopping center.  The center has its own little TI, and we got advice there for a nearby bike shop.  Lynette was flagged for food, and bought a sandwich, and I was probably feeling better than I should have.

We crossed the street to the recommended bike shop, and to our delight, we were able to arrange service on the bicycles from a genial Middle Eastern proprietor who could get our bikes back to us tomorrow (Saturday) afternoon. We researched him for advice on lock security, and went back to the apartment to haul the bikes down 68 steps and roll them, flat-tired, to the shop.  We are feeling good about this.

We went back to the apartment, and crashed.  Hard. So hard.  The fist and hammer of jet-lag crushed us into that bed and comforter, sleeping about three hours and waking to shattered bodies, weak and disoriented.  I thought I was doing well.  But, there is no description for the jet-lag phenomenon, that does justice to the experience.  Attitudes can be strong, but when the body fails, there is little to be said.  It is, what it is.

Looking for dinner, next on the agenda. And looking forward to the comforter, the bed, and more adjusting tonight.

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Yumping the Pond

Well, we are here.  Adventures galore, but we are safely in our Airbnb in Fredericksburg, Copenhagen.

I’m going to see if I can catch up a bit.  Lynette is busy frying hair dryers on the 220 power (yes, you have to flip the switch to the 220 symbol), and I am waiting for Denmark to wake up.  It is very, very quiet here right now.

Packing got pretty hectic, and although I intended to do a rundown of what I had packed just so that I could remember it for the next time, but I didn’t have enough time.

We managed to get down to two, forty-pound items, the bikes in soft bags, and a cardboard box with our stuff.  We also had our backpacks and helmets for the flight.  I picked up a rental car at the airport ($65 plus $10 gas), a Nissan crossover, and everything fit nicely.  We drove down to LAX, dropped the bulky bikes and boxes with Lynette at the Bradley terminal, and I dropped off the car and took the shuttle back to the terminal.

Now the airline tickets were very inexpensive for this trip, about $670 per person roundtrip on Norwegian.  Check-in was at a kiosk with boarding passes printed and luggage tags as well.  Lynette had befriended a woman directing traffic in the baggage lines, and she helped us get the tags on the luggage properly.  The boxes got dropped at the counter and we left the bikes at oversize luggage. Norwegian doesn’t do the Global Entry fast-track, so we went through normal security with no problems.  Unfortunately, the flight was delayed almost an hour and half for multiple reasons, including the loading of our luggage on the plane parked next to the aircraft we were on, only to delay us while it was relocated.  The flight was super smooth, the seats reasonable, the food marginal, and the service just fine.

There was an additional delay in Oslo, back up from other issues that day I suspect, but we arrived in Copenhagen about an hour later than we originally thought, so Norwegian was able to make up some time.

We met a nice Dane in Oslo, Peter.  Lynette had gone to the restroom and returned without her phone.  She panicked. Peter was next to us and thought something was seriously wrong, like sudden onset diabetic shock or something. We assured him that the emotion was normal for losing a phone, and credit cards and such.  Lynette went to an airport “helper” and he had found her phone.  She was SO relieved.  Anyway, we had good conversation with Peter and he helped us around the baggage claim area.  I gave him one of our contact cards.  Nice guy.

The cardboard boxes at luggage pickup were pretty sad-looking.  Next time, I’m going to use a heavier cardboard box, even if I have to cut down a dish-pack box.  They were wet and limp, but intact.  The bikes arrived promptly.  A metal door opened and they slid out onto a metal platform.  We pulled them down and opened them.  Both had been opened by TSA and had notes.  Lynette’s was in pretty good shape, but the folding front fender was bent and had to be duct taped on. My bike was a mess.  The rear rack and wheel were off, and there was a big gouge out of the metal on one of the crossbars.  It took about an hour, but we managed to get them up and rolling.  However I discovered that my pump does NOT work on a schrader valve.  There was a girl from Belgium putting a bike together from a box, and we exchanged tools and conversation.

Finally, with flat tires and everything loaded, about 10:30 pm, we rolled out to look for the metro.  The Belgian girl tried to help (people always do), but incorrectly advised us into purchasing tickets for the train, not the metro.  We got on the metro anyway, figuring we would claim ignorance.  The ride was about nine stops, and we got a little worried, not because of Danish thuggery, but because the car got really full and we were worried bout getting out at the stop.  Just before our stop, the car emptied, and we had an easy time leaving.

And, the next part of this tale reminds me of traveling to Lake Como with Mallory, ending up on the wrong side of the lake, and dragging our suitcases along the shore at midnight, on my 60th birthday, walking with rolly bags until Mallory finally flagged a lone cab which saved us. Just a nice reflection on my 60th, a travel adventure, and the comfort of knowing that no matter what side of the lake you land on, there is a path to the other side.

I had an address for the apartment.  I didn’t know what direction it was in from the metro. I was supposed to get the key from under a bike seat in front of a laundromat near the apartment.  It was past eleven at night, and the nine-hour time difference was certainly in play.  Without SIM cards and a data plan I had to rely upon the kindness of strangers, and I apologize to the lady walking her dog who thought I was stalking her.  Eventually, we found the street.  We found a laundry.  We found the bike with a key duct taped under the seat.  We found the building.  And of course, we discovered that I had rented a flat the the fifth floor, no elevator, 68 steps up a narrow stairway.

The Danes have this concept of Hyggeleg. You should probably ask Mr. Google about it.  But, it is centered in living in moment, appreciating small gifts of being and people and time.  The apartment I rented certainly has this focus.  Indeed, Marie, our host, has written a book on this.  That said, 68 steps, five floors, two bikes, and multiple trips on limited sleep took the Hyggeleg out of our back sides.  I think we may have done some moral damage to the concept of Hyggeleg by dropping our junk everywhere.

Fortunately, Marie and Torklid left us the most awesome bottle of wine ever.  Organic.  Spanish. Ill-defined by varietal standards, but just delicious.  And I think we found the moment that was buried under all our junk.  A nice moment.  A satisfying moment. As my friend Oleh would say, “You are not traveling in Africa!”

Sad Contribution to Hyggeleg

 

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Pushing off.

Packing.

Yep.  We are packing, The house is trashed.  We pulled out our things.  We printed off our past packing lists.  We are in the midst of confusion and different stuff, the stuff of travel.

We are finding things. Stuff within stuff.  A merino long sleeve warmer. Three pairs of Lululemon undies (me).  A cornucopia of foreign electricity adaptors.  The bits and trails of past adventure.

But, dang.  I’m loving it.

Here is the thing that I like about travel: the world goes from big arms out, all the junk one has, to a smaller version of identity.  Cozy stuff.  A small bag of toiletries.  A week or less of socks and underwear.  A couple of pairs of shoes.  I like that. Less is more.  But, that only happens through clever packing, or bold courage in travel.

I’m having fun.  It’s all a puzzle.  Figure it out.  Stuff like that.

More details on trip issues to follow.

All good.  Way excited. Way.