Copenhagen
In late October a trip was made to Denmark, specifically to Copenhagen. It was highly anticipated on the grounds of good food, good architecture, good design, and, hopefully, good autumn leaves, still on trees. The visit was short but wildly exceeded expectations, charming me senseless with its exterior clean lines and crispness, and interior warmth; the care taken and consideration placed on each detail, each ingredient on smorrebroed, each candle upon a dining table.
The first day was cold, grey, and misty, with winds rolling in from the harbour and mist settling over the city, forming droplets on coats. The views into the distance were limited, a misty blur, and woollen layers were wrapped closer, pulled tighter against the encroaching weather.
Bearings were made by walking through the centre of the city - up and out, following the gentle line of the harbour. The walk turned into a meander, as vague plans combined with curiosity. Was that a mid-century focused design shop, specialising in Scandinavian wares? (Yes it was and hello there, was the response) Is that an art deco detail above a door? Is it time for a sticky, chewy, perfectly-hits-the-spot cinnamon bun?
The next two days were far brighter. Glorious, shining skies, and crisp, cool air. Exquisite. A trip was made out to Humlebaek, a pilgrimage of sorts to the much talked about Louisiana Museum of Modern Art. The train went north out of the city and the concrete and buildings soon turned into soft, wide fields, the blue sky becoming near glistening in the sunshine.
Stepping out from the station, a yellow tree shone, the leaves luminescent and welcoming, as a pool of leaves flared from its feet. The walk from station to gallery was near comedic, a trail of people walking two by two past a row of shops and then down a long, two-lane main road of sorts. Two by two the trail went, past A-frame houses and thatched roof cottages, two by two it went past trees of yellow and trees of red. I hung back a little, keen to soak in the details: the model sailing ship in the attic window, the wooden spine upon the thatching, with details not dissimilar to a Viking ship, the trail of woodlands and the way the sunlight shone through them.
The museum - with its focus on art, architecture, and nature - more than lived up to the gushing recommendations.The scope and scale of exhibitions, the layout and design of the museum itself, the view out over Level Bay. I had lunch in the cafe, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace, and looked out as a storm rolled in and out and over towards the Swedish coastline, just visible in the distance.
The final full day was spent largely by the water. Crossing over canals and the harbour, I explored Christiania, the free-spirited commune at such a contrast to the considered detail of Danish design elsewhere in the city. I walked up and over a hill, following a group of people, and - one foot in front of the other - found myself upon a woodland trail down along the water, up and around the harbour shore towards the famed noma. The walk was crisp, the light shining brightly through trees, the ground muddy and wet and patterned with autumn.Â
The trip was short but made an impact. The founders of the Louisiana were on to something with the restorative power of the trinity of art and architecture and nature.Â
 "There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them."
– The Naked City, 1948