Baltic Bliss

September 2003 - Michael, the bartender at the trendy Copenhagen cafe Dan Turrell’s, had no qualms about telling me where to go. See, I had explained to Michael how as editor of a cruise magazine, I had come to Copenhagen to explore the shoreside attractions and activities that cruise passengers must see and do. Wanting help, he leaned across the bar with a “let’s see” look on his face.

“You’re going to see the Glibte,” he said, in the lazy manner that Danes drop letters and occasionally whole syllables, making the language incomprehensible to foreigners. Pronounce anything phonetically, despite the extra letters in the alphabet, and you will fail. Bjorn, for example, is pronounced BEE OX, with a sharp ending of the letter X.

“The what?” I asked Michael. “The Glibte,” he repeated. Then by explanation, I understood him to say that I would visit the Glyptotek, the wonderful art museum, opened in 1897 by Carlsberg brewer Carl Jacobsen.

Michael proceeded to rattle off the museums, attractions, bars and cafes that represent the best of Copenhagen. I took notes and promised to visit them all. I told Michael I would return each evening to report my progress.

I decided, as I did in Amsterdam, that I would get around on a bike. Like Amsterdam, Denmark’s capital is so compact, and the cycling paths so well configured, that Copenhagen is best seen either on foot or via two wheels. The two European capitals, in fact, are among the world’s safest cycling cities.

Before setting out, my first challenge was to obtain the proper bike to straddle. I found it at Kobenhavns Cykler, located at the Copenhagen Central rail station (on the right side if you’re facing the station).

The English-speaking attendant told me that the shop rents three categories of bikes: a “day bike” with three gears for DDK 75 (Rates are quoted in Krone - the official currency of Denmark. For current exchange rates, go to http://www.xe.com/); a Trek hybrid with 21 gears for DKK 100, and a mountain bike for DKK 200.

There’s a break in price for multi-day rentals. The shop also rents bikes for kids, trailers for children or supplies, and tandems. Be prepared to leave a deposit ranging from DDK 500 to DKK 1000. Bring your passport for identification, and try to pick up a city bike map, either at the bike shop or at the tourist information center across from Tivoli.

The shop is open Monday through Friday 8 a.m. until 5:30 p.m., Saturdays 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. and on Sundays July 1 through September 1 only, 10 a.m. until 1 p.m. You may return your bike after hours, but ask the attendant to show you how.

I even found a convenient way to get to the city center to rent my bike. Outside my hotel room, Radisson SAS Scandinavia, I found two city bikes. Copenhagen has 2,500 “City Bikes” that anyone can pedal away on simply by inserting a DKK 20 coin into the bike’s locking mechanism. Lock your bike upon return at any of 110 bike-parking stations to retrieve your coin. Or just lean your bike against a wall if you can’t find a station. Don’t worry: Someone else will return it. Of course, they’ll also collect your DKK 20 coin. Oh, and don’t take the city bikes out of the City Bike Zone, or you will be fined.

The city bike wasn’t the bike that would win the Tour de France. The tires could have used a few more pounds of pressure, and the bike clanked with each revolution of the pedals. It was shy of material for my 6′ 5″ frame. My knees knocked my chin with each pedal. I had to stand on the pedals for most of the ride, but luckily, I wasn’t going far. To be fair, there are good city bikes. I just happened to choose one with an improper fit.

The city bike would have attracted all sorts of snickering back home, but no one gave me a second look here. Cycling in Copenhagen is more of a utilitarian activity than a fitness event. Copenhagen commuters ride all sorts of bikes, in various degrees of disrepair. Some cyclists straddled nice bikes, yes, but the majority were “beaters,” bikes that, if stolen, would not send the owner into lasting despair.

Copenhagen cyclists wore utilitarian clothing as well. There wasn’t a great deal of lycra or cycling jerseys or even cycling shoes. Most cyclists wore the clothes they would wear to work or for a night out. I found that cyclists in Copenhagen and in Amsterdam generally don’t wear helmets, and I did not either.

Even without helmets, statistically, these cities are much safer than cycling in the United States. According to Bicycling magazine, Dutch bike commuters are 30 times less likely to be killed on their bikes than their stateside counterparts. I suspect Danish commuters are equally as safe.

I abandoned my city bike, not at a station, but by leaning it against a wall. It felt odd to walk away, but I did so. I walked into Kobenhavns Cykler and rented a Trek hybrid. I checked the tire pressure, added some air and proceeded to pedal out of the building (on a ramp) and along the north shore for 25 kilometers to Rungstedlund and the Karen Blixen Museum. The terrain was flat, sometimes with slight rolls, and the going was easy.

Blixen, whose pen name was Isak Dinesen, was portrayed by Meryl Streep in the movie version of Blixen’s “Out of Africa.” Blixen lived on a farm in Africa for 17 years and returned here, to the house where she was born and to which she returned in 1931. She lived here until her death in 1962, and it was later made a museum. I spent about 45 minutes in the museum, then wandered the grounds. Blixen had created a 40-acre garden and bird sanctuary, in her words, “to let children, a hundred years from now, play tag in the grass, let young people kiss, and let old people rest in the shade. And may they all find it is beautiful here and be happy.”

I found it to be beautiful, and I was indeed happy, walking past flower gardens, centuries-old beech trees, and grazing sheep. I stopped to look at Blixen’s grave before leaving the grounds and pedaling just a minute away to a 150-year-old restaurant located in a 250-year-old thatched-roof home, Rungsted Kro, (just past the Shell Station heading north).

For lunch, I had the traditional open-faced sandwich known as Smorrebrod. I ordered the Kroplatte, or The Innkeepers Platter, which was a sampler platter of sorts. It came with the requisite herring in the center (the locals usually eat it first), a fried filet of fish, and six items on individual beds of lettuce to place on bread.

Cost of the meal with a glass of Carlsberg Pilsner was DKK 149, about $22.50 (a glass of beer, on average, in Denmark was $6).

After lunch, I continued my ride to the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art. Most Danes I talked to, including Michael, said they preferred the museum for its setting beside the sea and the immaculate grounds than for the art inside. I confess that I made a 30-minute stride through the museum before heading outside to bask in the sun with what seemed like a couple hundred others.

I headed back to Copenhagen in the late afternoon along a wonderful network of well-marked bike paths on Bicycle Route 9. These paths, which paralleled the road I had traveled on (the road had bike paths along the side), traveled for the most part above and along the railroad tracks through wooded areas - with no cars in sight.

I pulled back into Copenhagen, showered, then had a wonderful dinner at Peder Oxe, which Michael had recommended. The restaurant serves bottles of wine for DKK 147. The bottle is marked with gradients, and you pay only for what you consume. I’m not sure what they do with the remaining wine that is returned.

The next morning, I had to change hotels. I deliberated how to get my bike and bags to the St. Petri hotel from the Radisson SAS Scandinavia. I would have to take a taxi, I thought, then come back to get my bike. The Mercedes station wagon taxi pulled up, and I told the driver that I had a bike, but obviously there was no room. He whipped out two metal rods from the trunk, inserted them into a trailer hitch, mounted the bike, and we and were off. I had to pay an extra DKK 10 for the bike, but how convenient.

After checking in at the new St. Petri, I rode for about 20 minutes to the Carlsberg Brewery, where I learned, among other things that at times during the 1800s there were such insufficient quantities of beer, despite having 140 breweries, that one consumer complained: “In my small household beer is often lacking for 8 to 14 days. At these times my children must either go to the water pump if the water is drinkable or I must with sadness see them become weak on tea water.” Children, by the way, need only be 15 years of age to purchase beer in Denmark, 18 to consume it at a bar.

Michael had suggested that I go to youth hostel near the hippy commune known as Christiana. I thought it odd to go to the youth hostel, which is situated at the end of the street Strandgade, but it ended up being an afternoon pleasurably spent. The Danes had brought in sand to form a beach with all sorts of furniture so that you could lounge, enjoy the views of Copenhagen just across the harbor, or just bask in the sun (pictured).

After sitting for about 45 minutes, I rode through Christiana, an 84-acre free state that was given official status as a social experiment in 1981. I passed one area that was like a farmer’s market for pot growers. Soft drugs, and perhaps even hard ones (though rules prohibit hard drugs, cards, weapons and violence) were tolerated here. Every plume of smoke that made its way up my nostrils carried the smell of marijuana. People wore dreds and psychedelic shirts. They played hacky sack, walked on stilts, but mostly were just “hanging out.”

I rode back into the city center to have dinner at another restaurant Michael had recommended, the Atlas Bar, where I ordered, and recommend, the Dagens Salater, or the daily salad, for DKK 96. It was fresh and delicious. I sat at the bar and had a conversation with a couple, who told me that this was the best restaurant in Copenhagen. That made four votes for best restaurant, when you add my vote and Michael’s.

I left the restaurant, pedaling slowly to my hotel as the evening came to an end. I was smitten with Copenhagen, and I did not look forward to leaving the next morning. I had spent a couple of glorious days under sunny skies cycling around this wonderful city and to museums 45 kilometers north of the city. It was great to be out in the fresh air and sunshine and to arrive at my destinations invigorated. Cycling gets the blood flowing. Having the wind in your hair sure beats having your nose pressed against a bus window.

Copenhageners were friendly people, too, or perhaps I had just caught them when they were happy. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue during my entire stay. There wasn’t much to frown about. They were helpful people too. Especially Michael. Ask him, and he will gladly tell you where to go.