København

København is written on the sign. Copenhagen.

Danmǫrk

Now I am just being foolish.

“Do it or do not do it—you will regret both.”

Søren Kierkegaard

An early start, no time for a walk.

A rather boring drive on highways. Shell finds an excellent picnic spot only 6 km from the busy roads.

We cross the impressive Øresund Bridge.

We arrive before check-in and make the short walk into the city centre. Shell takes us directly to the Det Kgl. Bibliotek – The Royal Library.

It is a sleepy Sunday in Copenhagen despite the wind; people are out and about. It has a cool feel – slow and easy. The place has somehow managed to maintain its ancient roots while seamlessly integrating modern design.

Established in 1648, completed in 1906, with the black diamond added in 1999, it is a remarkable piece of architecture.

We take a stroll around the Det Kgl. Bibliotek and come across the garden of Søren Kierkegaard. His great statue has him reading a book.

When I considered my PhD, I reached out to Dr. Patrick Stokes at Deakin University to discuss my options. Dr Stokes is one of the leading experts on Kierkegaard and has published several books on the man who introduced us to existentialism.

I devoted many hours to reading about Kierkegaard after speaking with Dr. Stokes, so it was cool to see him sitting in the garden of the Det Kgl. Bibliotek reading.

“People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use.”

Søren Kierkegaard

We get our room and shower. Dinner is an effort. Not much is open on a Sunday in Copenhagen.

Pâté Pâté is decided on. A 2 km stroll.

It is not the best meal I have had. Seems to be a tourist trap. Looks the part, with a decent wine list and some local beers.

A few things miss the mark. The food portions are all over the place. The house bread is delicious and keeps coming, but the octopus is one lonely tentacle. The side of roast baby potatoes is quadruplets. Four little potatoes. The artichoke was a tough nut to crack. Hard to discern what is edible, what is garnish.

The IPA is excellent, but the Pilsner smells like sewerage. I take it to the barman who poured it and ask him to smell the thing. He doesn’t bother, just exclaims, “I know! It’s been like that all week. I don’t know what is wrong with it”

So why did he pour it if he knew it was shit?

Never mind, our waitress gives us a free IPA.

We stroll home, disappointed in dinner.

We encounter a large fellow having some sort of meth episode. He is shouting and trying to remove a sign that is concreted into the road. He follows us, shouting and ranting, not at us, just generally. He gets distracted by something and heads off in another direction.

Home, and I am a little worn out.

I want to like Copenhagen, but maybe it doesn’t like me.

“I am always saying “Glad to’ve met you” to somebody I’m not at all glad I met. If you want to stay alive, you have to say that stuff, though.”

J.D Salinger