"I am thrilled (on the inside) to be here, but I'm too exhausted to enjoy it at all."
- Directly quoted from my travel journal
- Directly quoted from my travel journal
Although figuring out how the Metro worked was a feat on it's own, it was surprisingly easy once I got on. I took the Metro all the way to Christianshavn, got off at the right stop (Hooray!), then climbed the station stairs above ground only to be immediately thrown into a slew of bike riders rushing by me.
Just so you know, when I say "slew", I mean like hundreds. It's crazy. Bikers here have their own lanes (REAL lanes, as in cars can't touch them), and they have their own rules of the road, which they all follow (I'm pretty sure I may have even seen a biker get pulled over, but he was talking so nicely to the cops and everyone was smiling, so this could be totally untrue - or just very Danish). So far, I've seen bikers on phones and one woman actually eating with a fork, but nobody neglects to raise their hand to signal their exit from the lane. Girls in short skirts and high heels, men in business suits, families with children - everybody rides their bike to get from Point A to Point B.
Aside from being remarkably good for the environment, this form of transportation pretty much eliminates obvious signs of social status and has some pretty visible health benefits. According to my guide book, Danes bike on average 375 miles a year. To make things even more interesting, as far as I can see, Danes don't lock their bikes. They lock the wheels, but I have yet to see anybody bother with a U-Lock or, even worse, the curly, stretchy wire of doom. Bikes are parked all over the city and I guess it's just assumed that nobody will steal them.
After my shock at the frenzy of morning rush-hour, I wandered around aimlessly hoping maybe I'd just run into the street I was supposed to be on. You know like, "Oh look, it's Lillehoevenstraedesorvenhavn Street. Go figure!" I like doing this to an extent because getting lost in a city is the best way to figure it out. I say "to an extent" because after a while, my pack started hurting my back, so I was very grateful when I actually found my hostel.
The hostel I'm staying in, Carsten's Guesthouse, is a hostel for gay people. Can you believe it? It's in a great location, right on the water and close to the city center. When I arrived, I had to actually wait for Carsten himself (he was out walking the dog). He checked me in, but then said I'd have to wait a bit because people were still sleeping (fair enough, it was only about 8 am). After about an hour of catching up on emails and reading more of my guidebook, I finally was able to set my stuff down. I took a shower, got dressed, and on zero hours of sleep, prepared for my first day of travel.
Things started off well enough, but after a few hours, I just started to hurt. I knew things were getting bad when I walked into McDonald's. I looked at the menu, ordered (in English of course - everyone here speaks it), only to be told that they were out of chicken. Like, all of it.
I took it as a sign, so I left... and walked right into Burger King. I know, I know - it was a weak moment. I ate a crispy chicken sandwich, then started to walk around again. I basically just found that I wasn't enjoying myself. Here I was, on vacation, miserably tired and lacking energy. I just needed to sleep. I started on my way back to the hostel and out of the corner of my eye, saw a small entryway to a courtyard. I had entered the Radhuset, or Town Hall. I found a bench and sat down in it's beautiful courtyard garden just writing, thinking and relaxing. Every 15 minutes, the clock tower let off an authoritatively soothing "ding-dong" and locals kept walking in and out on their lunch breaks to munch on sandwiches. It was just what I needed.
I headed back to the hostel, took a nap, went out on the town a bit and met some new friends. All in all, although very tiring at first, it turned out to be a wonderful first day in Copenhagen.
Just so you know, when I say "slew", I mean like hundreds. It's crazy. Bikers here have their own lanes (REAL lanes, as in cars can't touch them), and they have their own rules of the road, which they all follow (I'm pretty sure I may have even seen a biker get pulled over, but he was talking so nicely to the cops and everyone was smiling, so this could be totally untrue - or just very Danish). So far, I've seen bikers on phones and one woman actually eating with a fork, but nobody neglects to raise their hand to signal their exit from the lane. Girls in short skirts and high heels, men in business suits, families with children - everybody rides their bike to get from Point A to Point B.
Aside from being remarkably good for the environment, this form of transportation pretty much eliminates obvious signs of social status and has some pretty visible health benefits. According to my guide book, Danes bike on average 375 miles a year. To make things even more interesting, as far as I can see, Danes don't lock their bikes. They lock the wheels, but I have yet to see anybody bother with a U-Lock or, even worse, the curly, stretchy wire of doom. Bikes are parked all over the city and I guess it's just assumed that nobody will steal them.
After my shock at the frenzy of morning rush-hour, I wandered around aimlessly hoping maybe I'd just run into the street I was supposed to be on. You know like, "Oh look, it's Lillehoevenstraedesorvenhavn Street. Go figure!" I like doing this to an extent because getting lost in a city is the best way to figure it out. I say "to an extent" because after a while, my pack started hurting my back, so I was very grateful when I actually found my hostel.
The hostel I'm staying in, Carsten's Guesthouse, is a hostel for gay people. Can you believe it? It's in a great location, right on the water and close to the city center. When I arrived, I had to actually wait for Carsten himself (he was out walking the dog). He checked me in, but then said I'd have to wait a bit because people were still sleeping (fair enough, it was only about 8 am). After about an hour of catching up on emails and reading more of my guidebook, I finally was able to set my stuff down. I took a shower, got dressed, and on zero hours of sleep, prepared for my first day of travel.
Things started off well enough, but after a few hours, I just started to hurt. I knew things were getting bad when I walked into McDonald's. I looked at the menu, ordered (in English of course - everyone here speaks it), only to be told that they were out of chicken. Like, all of it.
I took it as a sign, so I left... and walked right into Burger King. I know, I know - it was a weak moment. I ate a crispy chicken sandwich, then started to walk around again. I basically just found that I wasn't enjoying myself. Here I was, on vacation, miserably tired and lacking energy. I just needed to sleep. I started on my way back to the hostel and out of the corner of my eye, saw a small entryway to a courtyard. I had entered the Radhuset, or Town Hall. I found a bench and sat down in it's beautiful courtyard garden just writing, thinking and relaxing. Every 15 minutes, the clock tower let off an authoritatively soothing "ding-dong" and locals kept walking in and out on their lunch breaks to munch on sandwiches. It was just what I needed.
I headed back to the hostel, took a nap, went out on the town a bit and met some new friends. All in all, although very tiring at first, it turned out to be a wonderful first day in Copenhagen.
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