Travelling Hopefully - Copenhagen Briefly

Despite fog and a seething mass of humanity at Sorvagur airport my flight took off on time and even more fortunately I was on it. This wasn’t guaranteed and I stood in the queue for the Faroes only metal detector in a frenzy of impatience as I watched the time until departure tick steadily away.

It had been raining in the Faroes but the weather in Copenhagen was more accommodating. I had a ridiculously long layover in Copenhagen and had decided to get out and see a little of the city while I waited.

I had a walking tour for 8pm but I got out of the airport so quickly that I found myself in Copenhagen with a couple of hours to spare. I was due to meet my guide next to a statue of Bishop Absalon, a10th century cleric who was almost certainly not the founder of Copenhagen. The statue depicts Absalon in a typically devout pose; on horseback, dressed in mail wielding an axe. The church did things a little differently in those days.

On the metro into town I was approached by what looked like a street thug (metro thug?) and I prepared myself for fight or flight. Well flight or whimpering for mercy if you must know. Just as I tensed my knee muscles for the grovelling to come he indicated he was there to check my ticket. Weeping with relief I waved the little cardboard slip and sank back to recover my composure.

I stumbled across the Danish royal palace or rather I encountered four of them clustered around a square decorated with a statue of what I presume was a prominent  previous member of the Danish royal house. He was on horseback too so It’s entirely possible it was another psychopathic bishop. I went and saw the little mermaid because one does this when one is in Copenhagen doesn’t one.

With that out of the way I made my way to the bishop’s statue. I sat on the axe free side just in case. My guide met me and ushered me through the gathering darkness and occasional flecks of rain. He appeared knowledgeable easily identifying various structures as they loomed out of the gloom. Of course he could have said anything, I didn’t have the knowledge to challenge him.

I also learned that while Danes are a pleasant, peaceful people for some reason the blood of their Viking ancestors comes to the surface the moment they get on a bicycle and they charge across Copenhagen like the raiders of old. I cringed on the far fringes of the footpaths, on a couple of occasions I attempted to climb the walls to get away.

With Copenhagen thoroughly explored and death by bicycle narrowly avoided I returned to the airport which would be my home for the next thirteen hours to discover that the airport lounge I had hoped to bunk down in closed at 10.30. I roamed the corridors of the airport like a sleep deprived ghost waiting for sunlight or at least an indication that the lounge would be opening soon.

I have now been awake for over twenty eight hours and I’m not entirely certain whether I’m typing a blog entry or scratching markings into the airport wall with one of my own finger bones.