Friday, August 24, 2007


We reached Copenhagen, the chin cleft of Scandinavia. Lonely Planet finally took a back seat to a personalized concierge service... Brad (aka Neo or Kevin Richardson) hooked us up with the brothers Kjendlie, 3 transplants from Norway now all making Copenhagen their home. These guys rolled out the red carpet for us… which was a heck of a lot better than our walk through the red light district to our hotel. (note to self: the wider the street on the map, the less sketchy.)

Each night, we dined at some of the hippest, trendiest, swankiest, just downright, bumping spots in town… and since these eateries were all up and coming, the prices were quite reasonable. We even hit up a smørogbrød (smorgasbord) for lunch in the heart of the city… a spot with only 6 tables so not large enough to make it any tour books. It’s a great sign for a hungry traveler when there are no fake flowers eating up valuable table turf. Instead, this spot had one of those metal doohickeys, the ones that they normally have a pizza parlor to lift up the tin on the table. Hello extra surface area!!! Which means more food, and more full!

For the most part, we’ve tried to distance ourselves from the putative loud, obnoxious Americans (temporary moratorium in international waters). All we take are pictures and we leave only footprints. At the same time, I believe there are some time saving techniques that I believe I should share with my fellow citizens of the world. Top of the list: jaywalking. Cosmopolitan professionals living the big city can’t wait for these plodding traffic lights that take longer than baking a chicken pie in the conventional oven. Jaywalking tends to be a bit more dangerous here as the concept of “pedestrian right of way” is clearly not taught in driver’s ed. Oh, and watch out for the bikes too!

This city, and almost all Scandinavian cities, is very bike friendly. They have their own lanes, one lane on each side of the road… and the riders even use the hand signals.

The cheapest spot for a cold beer is the Carlsberg brewery. They have quite a rich history and also the largest beer bottle collection in the world (nope, I didn’t see any He’Brew—The Chosen Beer bottles). The beer is pretty good, or as their curious motto proclaims, “possibly the best beer in the world.” Probably not, but I’m starting to dig these midday buzzes.

On our final night here, we hit up one of those super-exclusive roving warehouse parties with only models and rich bankers/trust fund kids on the guest list. The password “open sesame” might work for Popeye in the cartoons, but not at this spot. Instead, the brothers Kjendlie have the scoop by tossing out the name of a Sony exec listed as a VIP all around town. I’m not quite sure how I slid past the bouncer with my bright yellow flip-flops and Hammer pants. Must be good karma.

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