Denmark 101

When we arrived in Copenhagen on Thursday afternoon, my knowledge of Denmark consisted of the following:

• Mary and Frederick
• The Little Mermaid and Hans Christian Anderson and Danny Kay playing Hans Christian Anderson, singing 'Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen'

• Danish Kroner, which wasn't available from the local bank branch at Jamison
• Lego and Legoland.

Three days later I'm not sure I know much more but I have been discovering a wonderful country, full of juxtapositions - not contradictions. Our first glimpse of Denmark from the plane was of wind turbines spinning like gulls over the sea and smoke stacks from chimneys on shore. The wind turbines have been a feature of the countryside we've passed through. Not huge windfarms like the one on the hills of Bungendore (although at Legoland we have learnt that an offshore windfarm is being built and will be completed next year). Just two or three dotted across paddocks.

The recent extention to the National Library  of Denmark is known as the Black Diamond. Clad in polished black granite, it looms over the waterfront but nestles against the old Library, founded in the seventeenth century. I'm starting to think of it as something of a symbol for Denmark itself - the old and the new co-existing in harmony.

Copenhagen is the city of bikes and makes a mockery of our own attempts to promote cycling as a transport strategy. It helps that the city is relatively small and flat. But it also helps that you can take your bike with you on the train, that there are large bike parks at railway stations and outside the 'Grand Magasins'. There are broad bicycle lanes on the main roads so that you aren't threatened by passing cars. I thought, for a while, that very few people chained their bikes - but it turns out that small bike locks are hidden beneath the seats and for most occasions these are enough. And there are very few helmets and no Lycra in sight. People hop on and off their bikes as we hop into and out of our cars. No dressing for the occasion. And bicycles do look lovely propped against an old brick wall.

We spent Thursday afternoon walking around Copenhagen, getting drenched and running for cover into the Grand Magasins. On Friday, we took the train up the east coast to Helsingor, visiting Kronborg Castle - reputedly the setting for Hamlet but more significantly home to Holger the Dane, the giant who will wake when Denmark is threatened by a foreign enemy. We spooked ourselves out visiting Holger in the castle's casements and then wandering through narrow, low, very dimly lit corridors trying to find our way back to the light. Living in a castle is not romantic. And then we travelled back to Louisiana, 'the most beautiful museum in the world'. It opened in the 1950s and was named after the three wives of the property's first owner, all of whom were called Louise. It is an incredibly beautiful place, with long glass corridors looking onto gardens filled with sculpture and views across the sound to Sweden. Inside the museum, we saw an exhibition on artist's self-portraits, featuring works by Picasso, Dix, Kahlo and David Hockney (including five of his ipad portraits).

Yesterday, we travelled about two-thirds of the way across Denmark to Billund and Legoland. It is a child's idea of heaven (well, Miles' idea of heaven) from the small gift left on the pillow to the colouring books in the buffet and the largest Lego shop in the world.

Two Days in Paris

We have spent our first two days in Paris walking, trying to imprint the city on our brains through our feet. It's working. I think. Although when we come back in November, we will be in a completely different part of the city and may well have to begin again.

Yesterday, we walked without direction in the streets around our hotel. Hotel Aida Opera is a few streets back from Boulevard Montmartre with it's crazy traffic and chain stores. It is, though, home to two of Paris' oldest arcades, Passages Jouffroy and Passages des Panoramas (the oldest arcade in Paris). Passages Jouffroy is a delight, home to a number of antiquarian bookshops and a shop of minatures, offering everything a dollshouse needs, Tintin and Asterix figurines and merchandise that made Miles' heart sing. It is on the list for return visits, but after we've been to the Herge Museum in Brussels.

Passages Jouffroy

Today, we set out from the hotel to follow the tourist trail and discovered an uncanny ability to approach buildings from their rear. Perhaps we are backdoor people at heart. Palais Brongniart - back door. Bibliotheque Nationale - back door. Palais Royal and its gardens - back door. Comedie Francaise - back door. Even the Louvre - back door.


The rear of the Bibliotheque Nationale



And the rear of the Palais Royal - with a plague marking Colette's residence.

Miles' one request for the day was to visit the Eiffel Tower and so we did, hopping on a Batobus for a loop around the Seine. Luckily for Jim and I, the top floor of the tower was closed and, with showers looming, we convinced Miles to wait to climb the tower on a day when the views might be better. Miles is determined to get me to the top ... and I am equally determined to go no higher than the second viewing platform, which will be quite high enough. But we began our quest to ride all the carousels in Paris, discovering our first at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.

The carousel at the Eiffel Tower - a magnificent two-storey merry-go-round.

I also succeeded in falling for a gypsy scam - about five minutes after warning Jim to be on the lookout for pickpockets. I'm an idiot, what can I say? But my tip for the day - when a gypsy asks you if you speak English, say 'non'. Otherwise you might find yourself donating a few euros to save deaf and mute children living ... somewhere.