August 12, 2010
Hjerting, Denmark
It's lunch time. There is an arrangement of hydrangeas on the table: purples, blues, pinks--all arranged in a sphere; low, stunning. A platter of assorted open sandwiches is on offer: pickled herring, smoked salmon, arranged on slices of toast, with toppings of thinly sliced cucumber, a splash of meat gelatin, some gratings of a spicy radish, lettuce, tomato and there are other dabs of this and that we do not recognize.. Small glasses wait to be filled with aquavit, and a beer mug brims with Carlsberg. We toast with the aquavit, as we eat the herring first. Skol! We are in Denmark.
This house on the sea, built over 100 years ago and added to now and again to ramble here and there, is the home of Tove and Soren Bak, ages 60 and 70. (the Os in both their names have a back slash through them, one of several extra letters in the Danish alphabet and pronounced something like “uh.“) They traveled to the USA in 2005and stayed with us three nights at Ranchito Chupaflor, our homemade house on the mountain side. At that time they invited us to visit them some summer in Denmark. “You must come in August,” they said. “It’s the best chance then for good weather.” And so, of course, we have come. We learn so much about the country from our time with them--their work, play, families, friends, government, politics, customs, ideas. They speak English with ease. They have been unbelievably kind and generous. First they took us, on a rainy day, to see an historic town to the south, Ribe, and the home of the wonderful German painter Emil Nolde, just over the border into territory that was once Danish, but after some conflict with Germany which Germany won, is now German. All this land in southwestern Denmark is very flat, once home to many windmills like Holland, but now full of wind mills that generate electricity. More than 10% of Denmark’s power is now from wind. Nolde’s work is startling, colorful, imaginative. I had not seen any before, but he is well known in the world. He died in 1956, and was an amazingly prolific painter. The exhibit constantly changes at Seebull, his country home now a museum, so Tove likes to go often. He was forbidden to paint by the Third Reich, so he surreptitiously painted in watercolors that did not smell, so were not possible to detect as he worked at home. He was considered subversive as he painted dark skinned people with admiration and flair, among other subjects perhaps as controversial. He also loved to garden, and a flower garden remains, a bright pallet of color and a jungle of growth. Things grow so very well here, in a light soil, with lots of rain, the sea moderating the temperatures, and long summer days of light. The whole country is a garden.
The next day we were off on a small adventure. Tove and Soren drove us and their sea kayaks north to the town of Varde where it is possible to put boats in the Varde River. They hadn’t done this trip, but they were certain that it was a quiet and navigable river to the sea, about 12 miles along. When we hit the sea, we were to turn left, follow the coast, and land at their beach. It sounded simple, and things actually worked as planned except that we hadn’t paddled in a year--or more, in my case--and we ended up paddling 25 kms over the day. We paddled steadily down the river as the current was slow, then even harder once we hit the bay, though at least the tide was going right. My arms were really tired by our 4 pm arrival. This was not a wilderness trip. There is no wilderness in Denmark. The country has been farmed for centuries, and its resources harvested for centuries before that. (There was a giant elk that was hunted to extinction.) So we paddled past fields, cows looking up at us while chewing on the never ending supply of greens. But there was no road access for more than 10 miles, and we saw only a couple of fishermen and one yacht on its way to the sea. The river was bordered by thick stands of a reed that is harvested for roof thatch. Modern buildings here are roofed in tile or metal, but originally all were protected by a thick thatch, and many old buildings are still done this way. A good thatching will last 50 years, but it must be a major job to replace it. The old farms had a sturdy brick house, and then a huge brick barn, for all the animals had to come indoors in the winter--and I supposed still do. Many of these old barns remain, and they are often quite handsome.
The next day we had fair weather, and Tove and Soren took us for a picnic to an island just a mile or two from their beach. They have a small motor boat with a cabin to get out of the weather if need be. Soren always brings the same lunch, says Tove. Small northern lobster tails and whole shrimp, wine, bread. It was a feast to us. Each tiny crustacean was clasping in its little legs great masses of roe. It is easy to see how one can grow a lot of shrimp, but I’m not sure if these lobsters can be farmed. The island was covered in flowers--mostly unfamiliar though there was a marguerite sort of daisy and a purple flowering mini-shrub that grows only on these tidal islands. The bay is really shallow, and so at low tide you have to know where you are going to avoid getting stuck. Kayaking we had to be well off shore for any depth at all.
Tove and Soren loaned us a car and camping equipment so that we could set off exploring Jutland--the westernmost portion of Denmark, which is actually attached to Germany--for a few days. We went north up the coast, enjoying the scenery: old farm houses and barns, rolling fields of ripe oats, seascapes in the distance, incredibly tidy little brick-house towns every few kilometers. And, every town has a public toilet carefully marked with a sign, WC, and these places always have hot water, soap, plenty of toilet paper, either paper towels or an electric hand dryer and are impeccably clean. Each town also has a “bageri” or bakery, and the Danes know how to bake bread. We would buy fresh rolls and make lunch with cheese or salami and cucumbers from Tove’s garden. Each town also boasts a very old brick or stone church, always with a big square bell tower at the rear. They are beautifully maintained, with attached manicured cemeteries, most graves planted with flowers. Many rural Danes, like Tove, are living close to where generations of their families lived, worked and died. One of the prettiest of these towns was called Ydby. I could not imagine how one would say this word. To complicate matters, the Danes swallow or ignore many consonants. So the town of Skagen, which I guessed might be pronouned “skay-gan” is said “Skay-n.“ And Jutland, You-lan. No t, no d to be heard..
George wore his wool shirt to the beach. We didn’t even get a toe in the water. We’ve heard the sun does come out at times, but we think it must be rare. We got all the way to the northern tip of Denmark, where the North Sea and the Baltic collide, a place of pilgrimage for Danes, it seems, for the place was thronging with visitors, most walking the three kilometers or so out to the point, though there was a bus-like conveyance pulled by a 4X4 tractor for those will to pay for a lift.
A day or so later we were ready to head for Copenhagen. We’d been cruising the internet hoping for a Couchsurfing place to stay. (Free sleeping in guest quarters, however basic.) Hotel rooms in Copenhagen are stratospheric in price, so in the interests of frugality, we were looking for alternatives. But no offers of a free bed turned up. Course we were being a little picky. We kind of wanted a bed instead of a couch. So we found Rosie. Rosie had a listing with Couchsurfing that stated that she had a room for rent. We wrote to her and made a deal. It’s another example of spending less and getting more. Rosie has given us another perspective on Denmark, from the point of view of an immigrant from Ivory Coast, a student, and the ex-wife of a Dane, mother of two teens now living with Dad in Jutland. We’ve been cooking dinner together each night (eating out at a moderately nice restaurant costs $100 each or more), and Ivory Coast, with its French colonial roots, has some culinary flair. Or at least Rosie does. And now it’s dinner time.
Copenhagen is a town rich in fabulous museums. We bought multiday passes which saved a little on the cost (most museum tickets are about $10) and did three days worth of museum tourism. There were lots featuring Danish royalty and their dwellings and riches, others with world class collections of art and artifacts, and the incredible National Museum which attempts with great success to chronicle the history of Denmark from the Stone Age. We spent an afternoon there, and felt we could have gone back several times to get a grip on it all. We’ve had really rotten weather (so much for coming in August), so that was disappointing. No beer sipping at charming waterfront cafes for us. Well, a beer costs $10 there anyway, so we’d not have been able to enjoy it much. We did have coffee ($20 for three) at a great outdoor plaza café with Jeff, a friend of Cammie and Loren’s who is living in Denmark, working for Unicef, and is the father of five year old Danish/American twins. He absolutely loves the city and his life here, though sadly he and his wife have divorced. We’ve gotten comfortable on the metro and with the buses. Rosie lives just a few stops from downtown (she has a spacious two bedroom apartment on the third floor of a nine story building for which she pays over $1,000 a month), so it’s been easy to get around. In Denmark rules are posted at relevant points ( beaches, city parks), and for the metro a long list appears in Danish and English. One that I liked best said that you may bring your dog on the metro, but it must have a ticket. However, you can buy the dog a child’s ticket. You may only bring one dog, and it must be on a leash. If the dog is so small that you can carry it, however, it does not need a ticket.
Speaking about the metro reminds me how honest the Danes must be. There is no turnstile stopping you from entering the train unless you put in a ticket. You just get on the train, and no one ever looks at your ticket. Yet, everyone buys a ticket, “clipping” it at a machine that enters the date. The only control is that a conductor might ask to see your ticket, and if you don’t have it, you get a very large fine. But we never even saw a conductor. It seems to me in the US we are always thinking of ways to beat the system, and thus, we must always be thinking of ways to prevent people from cheating, whereas here, the assumption is no one will cheat. At the campgrounds--another example--you pay in the morning, after you’ve spent the night. Which further reminds me that at campgrounds each evening the office takes order for fresh bread or rolls to be delivered in the morning by the local bageri. Camping cost almost $40 a night for us and our tent, but one morning I saw a woman pay a bill of $800. Many visitors are in campers or camping trailers, so I suppose that costs more. Perhaps she had been there a couple of weeks, but that seemed like a lot of money for camping. Or maybe she had a big bakery bill!
We’re always on the lookout for Danish design and innovation. There’s no doubt these are clever folks. Has anyone been at another bus stop where an electronic sign tells you how many more minutes you have to wait before your bus will show up? From door entry systems (we swipe the apartment number with a wafer to open the downstairs door) to water faucets, every thing they do is simplicity, functionality and beauty. I love that about this country.
Today near a museum I asked a worker guy in the area a question. First I said, “Do you speak English?” It seems rude to presume, even though most all Danes do. “Of course,” he said. Of course. So he then clarified for me how to get into the Christiansborg Palace, which is Copenhagen’s government house, used for business and ceremonial occasions. The fact that English is so commonly spoken, and so well, makes Denmark a great destination. You are about to jump on a train. “Is this train going to Copenhagen?” you ask desperately, hoping someone around you will answer. “Yes, yes, this is it. Get on.”
Despite the rainy weather, Copenhagen’s bicyclists were out in perhaps their usual numbers. You see moms with two smaller bicycles behind them, escorting children to school. Dads may be riding a bike that has a double child carrier placed in front. Grandma and grandpa are off to shop. Tour groups cruise on rental bikes with matching waterproof satchels. Workers, dressed fashionably, ride to their jobs. What makes biking so appealing in Copenhagen and other cities in Denmark is that each street has a wide one-way bike lane on each side between the sidewalk and the roadway. As a pedestrian you soon learn not to stray into this lane. I almost got run over our first day as I wandered into the bike lane trying to pass three walkers who were too slow to suit me. I failed to look behind me for bikes and suddenly heard a shout--no doubt a Danish curse word. I leaped back to my right and felt the speeding bike brush my side. All over the country many roads have parallel bike lanes well off to one side, often completely separated from traffic. I suspect bike-car accidents are low here, in spite of the large number of cyclists. If only the weather were better.
We ended our Copenhagen stay by taking the train a short ride to the west of the city to the very old town of Roskilde, once the major port and market town in Denmark. There archeologists have raised five Viking era boats--900 years old--that were probably anchored to protect one route through the fjord into the harbor, and had sunk and been somewhat preserved by the cold water. The museum there has become a research center into the Viking explorations and boat making, and they have made many new boats based on the designs gleaned from these raised ships as well as other found in Scandinavia. They have sailed the largest of these ships to Ireland, Scotland and England, and there is a great film shown at the museum of these voyages. On stormy days, you would probably not want to be along. Everyone gets wet, and the seas tower over this low-to-water boat. They sleep out in the open, curled up on the floor in foul weather gear.
There are only 5 million Danes, and they are determined, it appears, to maintain their language, culture, identity. There’s controversy about how much “non-western” immigration to allow, and the generous social welfare system may be in trouble, though unemployment is only 5% and the place seems totally prosperous. Tove estimates that only 5% of Danes are really religious, though lovely old Protestant churches are maintained in part by taxes, and everyone baptizes their kids and is married and buried with help from the church. No matter what you make you are paid a stipend for each child you have (maybe not much different from our tax deductions, but I don’t know), and of course there is free health care and free education through college for all. Oh, and a pension too. Old folks can stay at home and get home care from visiting professionals.
I am finishing this first posting on August 20, just as we are about to leave Denmark. As we walked this morning I thought of a couple of details I wanted to add. Here in the seaside town of Hjerting there are wild roses growing along the beach. They are not native, but grow prolifically. They are huge husky shrubs--over six feet tall--bloom with pink or white flowers, and make rose hips the size of small tomatoes, and about that color--a bit more orange. Locals make a wonderful chunky jam from them that is tasty. Some folks want the shrubs removed as they are invasive. Others point out how lovely they are, and what great natural fencing they provide.
As we walked this morning we were passed by dozens of children pedaling off to school. They were on bike lanes--no cars. This is a great small town for kids.
Otto Frello is a local artist whose work we saw yesterday at a museum in Varde, his home town. He is so unusual. He places humans, portrayed with Rockwellian detail, in most all of his pieces. But they are phantasmagorical instead of reality based. Painting in oils, he creates Gaudi like buildings, bizarre plant and animal backdrops, and often a sort of wasteland seems to be encroaching. It’s a post apocalyptic universe, but with visual connections to an ancient past. I’m not sure if he’s on line, but some of you artists out there would like to see his work, I know. It is fascinating. He is 86.
There are no bags given away at grocery stores. Unless you bring your own, they cost 40 cents each. And recycling is the norm. Garden waste is picked up one day. Glass, paper, cans another. General waste is separate. One man drives a truck and does all the work: the bins are automatically dumped after the man fits them into a slot. Two or three can dump at once.
And, new mothers get six months off from work with pay, and an optional second six months leave allows them 80% of the unemployment benefits. Tove says most women take a full year. Tove and Soren have a brand new grandboy named Julius, and they are helping out with the older child, Tilda, who is two.
