After the lovely Berlin city tour , we took at 3:15pm train to Copenhagen. We finally got to Copenhagen at 11pm. Part of our journey included a very posh ride in a great ferry that had shops - it was like a moving mall. We were so exhausted and finally managed to lug our luggage to what we thought was our hostel – Danhostel Copenhagen. After spending close to 15 minutes at the reception without the receptionist finding our booking, she finally asked “Are you sure you are in the right hostel?” “Of course! Danhostel.” “But you do realize there is also another Danhostel out of town. Please look at your booking confirmation.” Aaaaaaaah! Now this does sound familiar. I do have a vague memory of seeing Danhostel Copenhagen and Danhostel Bellahoj online and picking the one of the two that was cheaper….Cheap is expensive. At midnight, exhausted and with huge backpacks, we had to make our way to Bellahoj. We finally got to our hostel and it was like an IKEA showroom – you had to make everything from scratch. The beds were on the walls, and had to be pulled down from there. After that, one had to look for beddings and make the bed. I still have no idea why the hostel would want tired backpackers to take a forced class on masonry and housekeeping!
The following day we planned to take a city tour, but we were all so worn out. We had been invited for dinner by our new Danish friends. Prior to that we linked up with a Kenyan friend of ours who worked with one of our Danish friends. We went to her hotel to have drinks and wait for her to get ready prior to our group dinner. Olale has always been a very great dresser. Her smashing outfit for the night, makeup, manicured nails etc. only made us realize how we all looked like dirty backpackers. It’s funny how a few weeks of backpacking will make one look like those jungus one usually sees in town, emerging from hostels on river road and the neverlands of deep town. I felt solidarity with all my fellow dirty-looking backpackers, the world over.
Our hosts were extremely welcoming and we all felt extremely happy to be in Denmark. We kept on telling and retelling the story of the posh ferry much to our host’s amusement – “Yes….The train got on the ferry…Why is that a big deal?” After dinner, we went for drinks at a bar down the road. Yet again, we were amazed by how tall and handsome the men were. They were shy though – which was very confusing. The Reluctant referred to it as “The gentling of the Vikings.” How did these giants who were once known for their fierce conquests, now get reduced to terribly shy men who would not approach a woman first unless at gunpoint?”
One wonders…
