August 8, 2018 by Lucian Mogosanu

This is a rather long one, so grab some coffee while you're at it. If this is a bitch for you, imagine how much labour it took me to sift through two hundred photos and pull out the more interesting ones, while making economy of virtual paper. Anyway, we shall commence this journey abruptly:

Above, a town with lots of people (and bicycles) in it. It may be hard to notice from the photos, but Denmark is a great example of the Western world's feminization, or, as some like to call it, the pizdification of man: while guys are these skinny little ones dressed in cargo shorts and wearing "modern" (ugh) haircuts, many of the females are true valkyries, tall, with wide hips, big boobs and arms that could quite easily knock me unconscious. That aside, I haven't seen too many mayogendereds, and many of the women I've observed were actually beautiful, regardless of their blondeness. And overall I've had the unexpected pleasure of meeting pretty helpful and non-obnoxious folks, all this despite the fact that the Danes are plainsdwellers, which to be honest I don't know how to explain.

So why did I choose Denmark of all places, you ask? Well, some guy once said that something's rotten there, so I decided to check it out for myself. Besides, the weather is supposedly not hot at all in Northern Europe this time of year, only not really, because at the TV they said the globe's warming. What can you do, life goes on. Also, I guess this is somewhat of a continuation to the old Sweden log.

Pictured above, Copenhagen's central train station. Unlike Romania, the trains here work. Below, a shot from the main hall in the Copenhagen National Museum:

Yes, I was in Copenhagen as a tourist, which means I got to see mostly touristic stuff, which in itself is quite boring. Fortunately these northeners also put interesting objects on display, such as this one:

Can you tell what this is? And how it works? Oh, did the description give it away? You see, this is one of the simpler feats of engineering, and if you're going to tell me that you can hold together software that's more complex than that, then I'm gonna find you and pour some salty software on your open sores. Anyway, moving on; below, more state-of-the-art engineering:

Above, a lathe. Below, various objects of interest, among which: a typewriter, a telephone, a pick-up player and a "magnetofon". I actually used to have a very similar item as a kid, I even used it to load games for my HC.

Below, someone is trying to give us a hand.

Above, an accurate representation of Microsoft Windows. Below, a look at the future:

Not too much there to be seen, is there? Amazing, what can I say, all this progress leading us approximately nowhere. Anyway, below lies a photo of the castle where the Danes hold their family treasure:

It was closed, so we all moved on to a place where they have this huge amount of undrinkable water, and we all know that the undrinkable water-museum never closes.

This might be a good time to add that Copenhagen is a town that actually has birds, mostly ducks and seagulls. And yes, having an opening to the sea definitely helps.

Above, a place with much beer. One might be inclined to think that there's not much to see at a beer museum, with the notable exception of beer. The guide at the historical tour however gave a very good account of the Danes' and the Jacobsens' journey into the trade, spiced with other stuff along the way. For some reason he was impressed that I'd heard of Andersen and Kierkegaard, which I suppose says a lot about the people visiting that museum.

Well, it's not like we don't know that the place was full of orcs until recently, so we can suspect the same holds true today to some degree. Back until the nineteenth century, the Danes had no way of getting drinkable water, so they drank some kind of swill which they called beer, which yes, they also gave to their children -- and yes, probably even today's modern bottled crapbeer tastes good by comparison. Overall, not much has changed, so...

Above: immortalized pussy. Below: another look at the castle with the family jewelry, followed by a peek at Copenhagen's Nyhavn, that is, literally, the new harbour.

Nowadays the place hosts mainly yachts and piers with cafes and italian restaurants1. Also, y'know:

Above, a seagull and I were taking a look at Kronborg -- seriously, I think by now I can almost get the pronunciation right -- the famous Shakespearian castle in Helsingør. More views from the castle below.

The goofball above was doing a Yorick. They were actually doing the entire Hamlet play throughout the castle, and while I don't think it was particularly good, it didn't come through as particularly bad either. Here's a young dude doing Hamlet for example:

To be, or not to be -- is that really the question, or is it just a tautology used by the author to mess with your brains? Anyway, not much to add about long-putrefied-and-turned-to-dust Danes here. Instead, let's take a look at some old-fashioned Viking shibari:

and some boats engineered by ear:

and some swords:

In the picture above, the guy was doing a public demo, cutting what seems to be a pork loin (bone included) using a Viking blade. Though y'know, there's no such thing as a Viking blade; they were all imported, given that the Vikings had neither the tech nor the materials to craft their own.

Otherwise, Roskilde -- I can almost pronounce this one as well -- looks like a very neat little town where there's otherwise probably not much going on when they don't host the rock festival. It kinda reminds me of Sibiu, now that I look at it.

We conclude with a view from a bridge down in Copenhagen:

Seeing how it all looks so nice and sweet from this touristic side, the reader might wonder about the other view of Copenhagen (and maybe Denmark as a whole). Walking through town at four in the morning, the population was slightly different. Aside from the drunkards and the bicyclers2, one could easily notice the (mostly black) whores doing their job along with the (mostly white and Asian) pimps. The train station looked deserted at that hour, except for some gay junkies3 expressing their affection to each other in public.

But wait, that's not all. In one particular place one could barely help but notice a group of four dudes, of which one a massive Motumbo wearing a pink hat, all of them talking loudly, ready to stir up some trouble. Contrast this with the three sex-and-the-city Swedish valkyries sitting on the other side of the train, any of whom would readily submit to said Motumbo with all holes open. Meaning that yes, if you're a northener -- or just an overeducated European shithead, for that matter -- you and your shiny museum-objects should feel very afraid of Motumbo, because this guy and his insufferable orcishness are very probably your future.

  1. I had a pretty cheap and good pizza at the Venezia restaurant there. What, I'm not into fish and whatever the Danes prefer... though I guess I had a decent fresh salmon a day later, somewhere else. 

  2. Speaking of which: I managed to ride the bicycle through Copenhagen without breaking any bones. The streets are remarkably well designed for that purpose, so the riders don't get in either the walkers' nor the drivers' way, which looks precisely the way it's supposed to work. And what can I say, I absolutely hate riding bicycles through town. 

  3. Not that there's anything wrong with any of these; of course, of course. 

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2 Responses to “København”

  1. [...] I'm filling my travel log with all these fancy-schmancy towns in Europe, when I haven't seen barely enough of [...]

  2. [...] Seeing as how the story never ends, one early April Saturday, or rather sometime late Friday, ye olde spirit of mountaineering woke up in yours truly and sent him slightly to the north, in the valley of Prahova, in a very small town called Sinaia1. At this point the reader might (or might not) wonder why this one and not the other one: leaving aside the fact that Sinaia's not quite the backwater shithole that Azuga is, it's also slightly closer, i.e. just a one hour and a half train ride from the shithole that yours truly was running away from. So there I am, at 8 sorta waking up while still on the train, and at 8:30 in the train station, where2: [...]

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