My brief 3-day stay in Copenhagen ensures that Scandinavia is a part of the Grand Tour. Copenhagen holds up to the fairy tale status that would make Hans Christian Andersen proud. There is an amusement park, Tivoli Gardens, in the center of the city, across the street from the main railroad station. There is no shortage of cathedrals nor parks. Canals provide a touch of Venice.
Copenhagen seems to be short of hostels, forcing me to compromise by staying in a monstrosity. The Danhostel Copenhagen towers over the otherwise low-lying buildings on Hans Christian Andersen Boulevard, reminding me of certain eastern European capital cities, such as Bucharest, Sofia, and Sarajevo, that have a skyscraper hotel where foreigners stayed during communist times. It is a far cry from the “boutique hostels” that, for the weary traveler, satisfies the craving for a place that feels homely. In Berlin, the hostel I chose, Easterner Hostel, even displays “This is not a party hostel” on its front page. Danhostel Copenhagen, in contrast, caters to every type of traveler. I am sharing a 6-bed dorm room with a British senior citizen and 3 French backpackers who, based on their frequent use of the word “manger”, are evidently doing their best to explore the city's culinary culture.
At first glance, the hostel lobby does nothing to make a big building feel smaller. I arrived with herds of children on field trips gathered outside the front door and in the lobby. These are groups that I usually only encounter in museums. In Eastern Europe, these kids would come up to me and say “Hi! What...is...your...name? How...old...are...you?” Presumably, it was their first chance to speak to a native English speaker. A Turkish girl, perhaps 10 years old, once said “How are you?” to me, and when I responded, the 50 surrounding children giggled while the teacher scolded the girl. At first, I thought the scolding had to do with speaking to a stranger. Then, I realized that she probably got scolded for talking to a male. Anyways, since Copenhagen is a multicultural, immigrant-fueled city, there was no reason for the children in the hostel lobby to practice English with me.
Out of my dorm window, the neighborhood of Christianshavn shines across the Inderhaven river. The 30-story Radisson Hotel on the other end of the bridge seemingly stands at its site to respond to the demand for symmetry by mirroring the Danhostel skyscraper. A stroll in Christianshavn reveals an endless maze of canals and cafes. The neighborhood is noticeably more multicultural than others within walking distance of the city center. Immigrants to a small country like Denmark probably feel like lone rangers. It's one thing to immigrate to the US or France, joining generations of fellow immigrants and learning a language that is widely spoken. Moving to Denmark and learning Danish, on the other hand, must be an adventure from another world.
Alas, it is time to leave Copenhagen – my wallet will thank me. The cost of living here roughly correlates to buying everything at your local Major League Baseball stadium: $4 hot dogs, $5 ice cream, $10 main dishes. It's a far cry from the bargains found in the developing world. Holland is next on my itinerary.
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