Could it be six? Or perhaps it was eight years? Memories came flooding back as the familiar forest of wind turbines that populate the sea of Denmark’s southern coast announced our approach to the Kastrup district and Copenhagen’s airport. So many years of recollections returned along with the apprehension of comparison: how would the present compare to the joy of all the special times from past visits?
However, slowly but surely, the days would unfold just as they were meant to be. Throngs of cyclists accompanied us as we headed to the house – the garden, upon arrival, still full of spring fragrances: lilacs, mock orange, rose blossoms, bridal wreath spirea and more. After a big welcome hug, the conversation began right where it had left off so many years ago. We shared news of what had changed in our lives and thoughts on the state of the world. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air as we sat in the garden and filled in the gaps of that half-decade.
The beauty of Copenhagen, and Denmark for that matter, lies in the warm welcome of its familiar serenity. Decades ago we would have been on our bikes whizzing into the city centre or headed out along the coastline to ride through the nature preserve. But habits have changed and health and aging have introduced limitations. The absence of riding was replaced by the careful steps of daily walks and thoughtful conversation. The neighbourhood beach had come alive with skateboarders, surfers, paddleboarders and joggers. Strolling along the shore, we watched kids at play and the more daring cranes and herons high-stepping it through the rivulets.
In between walks we enjoyed familiar culinary treats that had also remained unchanged over the years. The hearty open-faced sandwiches and a bottle of elderflower (hyldeblomst) soda pop here and there. Also, the rich cakes and tartes that quickly satisfied one’s sweet tooth; my only regret being new restrictions on how much rhubarb I could consume. The wonderful flavours of local baked goods quickly reminded me that I would need to raid the local store to hoard up my favourite Den Gamle Fabrik jams: hyben (rose hip) and raspberry. Both of which have added pizzazz to my morning porridge since my return to Prague.
Memories continued to replenish my soul as we moved north to Nykøbing and the Rørvig area. The road to the summer house had been repaved with a mix of tar and gravel. Not sure that was a good idea. But the excess saplings in the front yard and been cleared and the rhododendrons moved to form a beautiful floral wall at the back of the property. The ever-changing Danish weather did us a solid by allowing the sun to shine and accompany us on our walk along the north shore beach that looks out on the Kattegat. We were lucky to have the coastline almost all to ourselves with the exception of an intrepid family that wanted to test the possibility of swimming in the still chilly spring waters and a sole windsurfer who was preparing to try his luck in taming the less than threatening waves. The walk seemed at times overwhelming as it brought with it mental images of past rainy Saturdays in the cottage and cycling adventures along the windy levee and through flooded fields. Or the surprise sight of a windmill on the horizon.
The pleasure of Denmark is that it is easy. No matter how long the gap between visits, each new arrival brings the same warm welcome. And each departure has a sadness of things left unsaid. Still I know I will return, because in København I feel loved.
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