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Virgin.net - City Guides -
Copenhagen
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By Chantal Martineau
Perched precariously atop a too-tall bar stool,
I was sipping my Martini in a stylish bar in the city's bohemian
Norrebrø district when the bartender I'd been chatting
to asked: "So, do you want to come clubbing with me and
my mates from the Fire Station later?" The Fire Station:
obviously the name of some trendy drinking establishment.
"My mates - they're firemen," he clarified. Choke,
splutter, cough. Danish firemen. (Boys, read: nurses or airhostesses.)
I silently thanked every god I could think of and tried to
repress the urge to do back flips. You might not get as lucky
as I did in Copenhagen, but you're sure to be treated to some
delightful sights.
Denmark's small-town capital suffers from a
severe multiple personality disorder. It oozes Scandi savvy,
but is coloured with Dutch liberal attitudes and has even
been said to seem a bit Japanese. Maybe it's
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Copenhageners flair for design and technology
or its cavalier approach toshopping. Or maybe it's the countless
sushi bars. With a population of 490,000 in Copenhagen proper
- 1.5 million in Greater Copenhagen - the city feels like
a giant Benetton advert: all fresh faces and astute fashion
senses.
Like the inhabitants of any northern city, Copenhageners
make the most of their summers. As soon as the weather shows
signs of warming up, they're out in the many parks and squares
with picnics and puppies and the compulsory football to kick
about. And when the weather isn't up to scratch, the locals
are loathed to go inside if they can help it. Even at posher
restaurants, you're likely to find rosy-cheeked Danes wrapped
in blankets, hovering over candles at outside tables well
into the wee hours.
A night in Copenhagen must start with a hearty
meal. As cutting edge as the city is, mealtimes are as old-fashioned
as ever with huge spreads and boisterous banter - in the Danish
eateries, anyway. (Actually, Danish food has just recently
become de rigueur again after that horrible health
kick we all went on in the Nineties.) Although the city has
endless international options, you really can't pass up the
opportunity to sample the local fare. Heaps of pickled herring
might scare you, but less exotic choices are available; lots
of pork and fresh fish.
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When you head on to the bars after your meal,
you might come across a few rowdier types swigging jugs of
Windolene-blue liquid in the queues outside the clubs. Drinks
in Copenhagen aren't any more expensive than in the UK, but
young ones still find it necessary to stock up on moonshine
before having to pay for booze inside. And, again, this is
a common sight well past midnight. Queues for clubs (especially
on a Saturday night) don't begin to reasonably shrink until
way past 3am.
Which brings us to the hour most
Brits will throw their hands up, defeated by the relentless
Copenhagen nightlife. Although kebabs and chips are available,
you'd do better to head for one of the unassuming hot dog
vans usually a convenient few steps from the club. The infamous
Danish dog with onions and pickles is a must-try at the end
of a big night. Many of the clubs and bars are near Sankt
Hans Tovr in Norrebrø, although there is a quaint cluster
of more commercial establishments in Boltens Gaard, a hidden
piazza by the main square of Kongens Nytorv. Both of which
both have their own resident vans.
One of the most common myths harboured
by tourists is that Copenhageners avoid the main attractions.
We know that Londoners areloathed to head for Oxford Street
and Parisians hate to make the trip to the Champs Elysées
- although they inevitably do - but natives of
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Copenhagen are happy to visit Tivoli
a few times a year. In the summer, they can be seen strolling
through the theme park, especially at nights, horsing around
or just taking in a romantic stroll.
Surely the most interesting day
out is a trip south of the centre to Christiania.
Strangely enough, it also feels like an amusement park, with
the outside gate crowned in a psychedelic, multicoloured painted
wooden sign. There's a strict no-photographs rule in the Free
Town, but you should eventually overcome the urge to snap
at every oddity you come across. Founded in 1970 as a rebellion
against "the man,"
Christiania now has its own bars,
restaurants, music, art and shops. (You'll see the Christiania
bikes-cum-carts all over the city - they're incredibly popular
with young, yuppie families.) The stalls that line the main
path through the town sell various herbal "refreshments"
and are manned by some of the most bona fide hippies you're
ever likely to encounter.
"So what does 'lukke' mean?"
I asked a stringy-haired crusty, displaying his array of products.
"It means lucky, man. You buy the joint, then you smoke
the joint, man. Then, when you get to the filter, mean, you
unroll it. If it says you're a winner, you could win another
joint, man." "I see." "Or a
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gram of skunk, or a hash cupcake,
man, or another joint..." "I see." Enterprising,
real-life hippies.
The whole of Copenhagen seems geared
toward the navigation of the city. For the warmer months,
communal bikes are available via a trolley-style coin-drop
system. (You get the coin back when you return the bike.)
However, if you're likely to be tempted at all by any of the
countless big-name or independent-designer shops, you'd do
best to leave the bikes and foot/cab it. Copenhagen can keep
any range of shopper happy - from the upmarket antiques aficionado
to the slinky, customised jeans junky. As for me, I fell somewhere
in between. In between a few firemen, that is. For just one
weekend, boy, was it ever good to be me.
Chantal flew to Copenhagen courtesy
of Maersk Air and
Wonderful Copenhagen.
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