Uneventful. My flight was delayed for an hour, and then the bus screens weren’t functioning, so I accidentally got off a stop too soon. Next, Google Maps led me astray and I floundered through the streets in utter confusion for an hour and a half. But hey, at least I got to experience Copenhagen by night, even if I swore I’d never use the Danish bus system again.
Clearly, the logical thing to do was walk an hour to the city center even though my feet were killing me. My eyes were quite happy with the the colorful architecture, but the rest of my face and my hands? Not so much. Lunch seemed to be a good excuse for getting out of the cold, so I dipped into California Kitchen, which had a nice aesthetic and the friendliest staff.
After munching on delicious ethnic food that France so hopelessly lacks, I saw my first canal of Denmark, and then sauntered though Ørstedparken. (In case you were wondering just how cold it is here, the park’s lake was frozen over.) I finally made it to City Hall Square, where, as my Airbnb host suggested, I found the Hans Christian Andersen statue. Since I’m poor, I opted to snap a quick picture of the Tivoli Gardens rather than go in (my life pretty much flashed before my eyes when I withdrew a frighteningly large amount of kroners from an airport ATM).
I ambled through the tourist-filled shopping street before getting to see more colorful canals on my way to Christiansborg Palace.
Outside the palace, some kind of event was happening—and though I cannot understand a single word of Danish, I did appreciate the three gay flags. Standing there attempting to learn Danish through osmosis proved futile, so I took the free trip up to the palace tower for a sprawling view of Copenhagen.
Since the wind had essentially turned me into a popsicle, defrosting in the National Museum of Denmark sounded like a good idea. Entry was cheap, and the museum was massive, though I wish I’d had more time for the Danish history exhibits.
By closing time, my feet hurt so much that I promptly rescinded my promise to never use the Danish bus system again. I can’t tell you how many miles I walked today, but I can tell you that I walked so much, I wore a hole into one of my poor socks.