A Winter Tale


We were walking down the bridge, while the day cried to finish, a day in the season of winter. The seagulls spoke in their language, and so we did, funny and happy again to be together, my Danish friend and me. Vikings are just in my imagination.
You can not say anyone that your beliefs belong to the ancient age, sometimes you wish to confess yourself, but maybe, it is something too personal, too strange to explain.
But Vikings are alive, I can swear it, and in the city of Copenhagen I have found many of them, running for the hunt, eating a kebab, looking at the small children playing on the grass. They lived near the Sea, in one of those modern houses built on Amager Beach, those places in stones, where keeping the bicycle or just keeping safe if it rains.
Passing the bridge my friend and me, we took different ways; he was radiant and nervous, because the next day he would begin his new job, he returned home.
One of the most interesting things travelling to Denmark, is giving a chance to the Danish, and so, be near of their real lives, it is better for oneself also; This is not an advice for anybody, not exactly, but with time, I have discovered that all my prejudges pushed me to the bottom of the intelligence, all the false ideas around a national character break completely and suddenly you recognize some stupid beliefs in your imaginary. One of them, Danish people is cold, closed, boring.
As most of the time I am looking for the steps of the Vikings, I stay apart of the world, and maybe me too, I pretend to be cold, closed and boring.

I was lucky last weekend. Well, first, I had not seen any troll or gnome, camping in the garden. Nor leprechauns, or speaking insects, insects from Spain, following the tale they keep the souls of people.
Seven o clock in the morning, and I wake up in a little house near the beach, in Amagerbro Street. I read about trolls, they are not always friendly with bad neighbours.
Seven forty, and I still had not seen any troll.

Time ago, long time ago, the city had another mask. It was a commercial harbour. Barrels of beer, wood, came from other harbours which all together formed the Hans League. Now none of these sailors knows the old songs, but still, when in the afternoon I walk through the port, something in the architecture
makes me think about old fashioned landscapes. Maybe, it is a landscape from fiction, from some films, or some evocative books.
The Channel is not longer or shorter than what I expected; I listened to many comments before my arrival: Copenhagen is like Venice… like Venice! There is freedom to give an opinion, sure. The channels do not transport any boats or passengers, only and rarely,
I have seen a tourist ship, softly sailing.
Those human troubled as stress, traffic and “psycho nervous”, are unknown because they are busy learning the patience, the solidarity, or elemental courtesy.
Which city do you know for cycling? Has it got also an exclusive way for bicycles?
Are you sure? Copenhagen is the most representative city in Europe in this topic, pure numbers.

You would go to Paris if you fell in love, would not you? Or you would travel to Berlin if you look for a night experience, or hyper super modern art.
Who tries Copenhagen? Who is going to fly over France, leaving back Germany, crossing the clouds?


My friends worked in a coffee place, so I have spent so much time speaking and looking by the window. Inside, each table has .at least two elements: a candle, and a design, the Danish design. While candles bright, the colours look like special. It is addictive, but it is so expensive, in money and time. Two days ago it snowed, and I run to one of these coffee places, near the Harbour. It snowed and snowed, my friends looked up to the sky, their faces were so exciting, it was snow falling from the sky. It is only ice. But it is easy to understand why I spend money and time in one of these tables with candles and hot cups of coffee. Everyone goes there, native and strangers. Everyone loves the snow in Copenhagen.