In which Denmark is overjiggled with jellyfish.

The morning began ominously with a gray, blanketed sky and cold wind off the sea. Not optimal for a planned chill-on-the-beach-and-do-nothing day. Some apricot walnut pancakes were concocted to try and buy us some time while pleading with the summer to come back, which unfortunately hadn't happened by the time the Pfannekuchen had been demolished. So! New plan: leave the country. To the north!

Weyll, technically to the west and then north and then east, but whatever. Hopped in the car and hopped back out shortly before all the signs donned the Danish. Flensburg is the last German stronghold before the border and, as I had only experienced it at night on the one night of the year (the first night... or the last) when everything is exploding and the streets stumble over themselves with intoxicateds, I wanted to take another peek.

A lovely Stadt, but a little droopy in the sudden cold weather. We had a look into one church where a wedding was about to take place and I was a bit spooked out by how dark and dreary it was, each corner creeping with shadows, hardly brightened by the symmetric, tacky white flowers dressing the pews. We did, however, see lotsa fancy schmancy people on their way there as we were leaving, which certainly lightened the mood.

Nuffa that -- gimme some exotic lands! Up, up and across the border and into sporadic sunshine we drove. Slowly the color started sneekling back into the landscape and above as we made our way along the bay.

Landfall was made in sunny Sønderborg, a slowly touristifying town in a prime location. The wonderful colors of the buildings were made juicier still by the now-constant and fluff-speckled blue sky. There didn't appear to be too much going on as we drove in, but an eager opening of the car door let in the sound of a teenage choir rocking out on the other end of the parking lot. I hustled over to see what the bustle was all about and discovered we'd arrived just as a music festival was getting underway, brought to you by joint German and Danish schools on both sides of the border. I was particularly excited when one of the blonde teenage girls nailed Beyonce's key changes. All the parents standing around were impressed, too.

A stroll along the harbor revealed many amusing sights -- doggies napping in the backs of boats, persons napping in the back of boats, people sitting in windows while slurping up as much sunlight as possible, everywhere bicyclists, boat parades lined up and waiting for the drawbridge to Inceptionize (two points if you get that reference) and allow them passage -- cowboys in cute, curtained boats (!), a woodsculptor sculpting, smiling.

 

The harbor peters out to make way for a fortlike castle of sorts, rocking its many shades of red, windows blue with sky and grounds as green as could be. Further still and you find yourself back at the water and, in this case, in the water -- water that was clear clear clear and shimmery above its extensive and colorful palette of stones, some of which were sparkling themselves. Occasionally a jellyfish would jiggle by, blubbing its way over toes and feeling oh, so silly.

A swing back toward the downtown led us past a middle school band honking out SMOOOKE ON THE WAAATER, NUH NUH NUUUH, NUH NUH NUU-UUHHH!!!!
Kind of like I did in middle school. Yeah, that was awesome.

[ < reminisce > ... </ reminisce > ]

Fully pepped, we continued up one of the windey hills into the commercialier district and found -- not much. More colorful buildings, nice afternoon lighting, a creepy ice cream statue, and hardly a soul in sight. Unusual for a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

Confuddled and slightly paranoid that we were in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, we rejoined the remaining humans we could find back down at the harbor, passing a restaurant advertising PULLED PORK SANDWICH(es) -- DEN AMERIKANSKE KLASSIKER ca. 20 cm for 35 DKK (six and a half bucks or so), complete with a picture of Uncle Sam with a cartoon beak and wattle saying "TRY IT NOW! TRY IT NOW!" Ääähhm. How can we prove to the world that all these stereotypes are not true (at least not entirely) when they keep being otherwise enforced?

I didn't have time to be ponder such issues of national identity before being distracted by ice cream and thousands of jellies jellying along, seemingly ballerinaing like salty plum fairies to the conducting of my dangling footies. A satisfying end to one adventure or a great beginning to the next.

Some time later, back in the Deutschland, a quick Supermarket stop was shopped and jazzed up by adorable children and some wandering water fowl, also adorable and even more ridiculous.

That already adventuresome day came to a slow end with a nocturnal beach excursion. T'was already past 11 p.m. but as it was not yet dark, it was decided that we should get as much out of the latenite summer light as possible before it disappeared for another year. Discoveries: golden windows, subtle sunset residue, an angler (who, after much speculation, did turn out to be a live person), wind on the waves, wind in the grasses, wind blowing all the twinkly little skyspecks into the night.

 

In which nothing is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Ha, weeell, I'm pretty sure that's false, as my brain has recently been invaded by a whole lot of Hamlet and (Spoiler Alert!) its multitude of corpses hints otherwise. Not that I allowed ol' Billy Shakespeare to falsely color my initial perceptions of that fine land, of course.

Righto, righto, here we go. Once upon a time, last year, there came upon a midday clear a Special Guest from a faraway land. It just so happened that this Special Guest had Special Relatives in that most Special of Countries known as Denmark. Special Guest's travel lust not yet having been satiated after thousands of miles on the air, it was decided that we would entrust ourselves to further modes of transportation over land and sea, to see what there was to see, and to see Special Relatives. Additional information: The train that takes one from Hamburg to Copenhagen actually trains itself into the belly of a ferry for a 45 minute pleasure cruise across the misty, gray Baltic. Neat, eh?

Along with the added bonus of Special Relatives, København greeted us in a very wintery, that-part-of-the-world kind of way, namely with rapidly darkening skies, rapidly face-licking air, and extremely proficient, high-tech rapid transit.

Our time in this city, however, was spent at a very non-rapid pace. In fact, it was quite leisurely and a delight to simply walk, walk, walk, and practice my simultaneous-umbrella-holding-while-taking-photographs-with-an-expensive-camera balancing act. Here's some fruit salad of those toils:

I think a great story could be written about the characters in this one. Any takers?

Once upon toward the beginning of that time, we stumbled across the changing of the fuzzy-headed guard.

All the monkeys had come out of their tour buses for the show.

It appeared that most of the city had decked its already-colorful walls with boughs of holly for the season. The particularly photo-hogging Nyhavn area looked particularly smashing sporting its holiday best and Christmas market booths and boaths.

Further perusal of the streets unveiled a great abundance of shiny <3 hearts <3, filling the night streets with, uhh, <3 loooove 'n' shyit <3. By which I mean red light. But not in a red-light district sort of fashion. (Well, not everywhere.) Even Danish kroner has <3 hearts <3 on it.

 

 

One evening had us following the rain parade to Tivoli, Kopenhagen's famous realm of family-friendly amusement, which had its best "Russian Christmas" bling on display. (The Blogger spellchecker doesn't yet recognize the word "bling." Snark.) There sure was a lodder purdy lights, ayuh. Additionally, reindeer.

(!!!)

My favorite sight of the evening, however, was this scene found in the window of a lingerie store. The creatures were dancing. With undergarment bling.

And now, a short study of Spotted Blue Baltic.

I watched the storm system above for a while as it slowly tap danced all splitchedy-splotchidy over the wrinkly waters. Standing there reminded me very much of watching storms move across the desert back in the Land of Enchantment, only with more rain and fewer pineapple tamales. (Profound sigh.)

Another stroll along the water later that morning was a perfect breath-provider before training/floating back in a southerly fashion toward the Deutschland.

Now prepare for some great stripes. Ready, set, go!

'Twas a short little jaunt, but a rewarding one to be sure. I was happy visit this exotic land after a year of almost having done so the last time around. As it turns out, the rumors of high expensiveness were true, as were those of high pleasantness. I don't think I really have too much else to say on the matter, except maybe this: <3.