Cycle City
I arrived early into Copenhagen, happy to escape a turbulent flight. The airport metro deposited me at the central station, København H, from where a trip to my airbnb made it clear why biking is so common.
Walking, the first thing you notice is flatness. Like most of Denmark this area was completely pancaked by glaciers last ice age. Next, you see the bike-friendly urban planning. Cyclists flowing along road-side paths are always in view, and sometimes even independent bike tracks like the Nørrebroruten appear. And then you spot the locals. You note the Danes’ height and that various cyclists’ legs remind you vaguely of redwoods, able to pedal the city with ease.
It’s no secret that Danes like bikes of course. Less well known is that they don’t like them in the way serious cyclists do. Danes like bikes in the same way normal people like piped water or the flush toilet - as a mere modern convenience, in other words, and definitely not as a hobby. Most cycling is done on the commute, so people view bikes in a practical light. Suggesting a group pleasure ride to locals will at best get you puzzled looks and at worst deported.
Lucky I guess, then, that I had no such plans - though I did want to skate the cycling infrastructure. Copenhagen’s skate spots are some of the best networked in Europe, thanks to this infrastructure. And skating locally is liberating because of this.
In any city, great skate spots are rare, often far apart, and you want to hit a decent number in a day. This compels skaters to find the shortest path between spots - to solve a kind of intra-city TSP, the Travelling Skater Problem™. Though we have an idiot-savant-like ability for doing this, it’s nice to not bother. One of Copenhagen’s pluses is that it frees you from this compulsion. The cycling network always gets you where you want to go quick enough.
And why hurry when the journey’s so good? Copenhagen is a nice city :)) In the summer weather it reminded me of Bristol strangely - busy but not rushed, green and watery. Mainly I hung in Vesterbro and Nørrebro, where I was introduced to the famous uniformity of Danish architecture. Most buildings in this area seem to take their stylistic cue from some IKEA-inspired school of architecture: flat roofing, stucco walls, brick and concrete rule everywhere. The odd showplace building is weirdly shaped or coloured, but overall the aesthetic is harmonious. I liked the builds in general but suspected some were kitschy. A wrong turn deepened my suspicion. Lost, I walked into an area resembling a Playmobil city block I once had, only life-size, as if now intended for the children of Norse gods.
When all the architectural sameness starts to bore, you can turn your eyes to a lively street life. Danish summers are short, flanked by many months of cold and dark. So locals understandably head out when warmth returns. All over the city I found streets that perpetually felt like the first stirrings of a block party. On leave from winter, people make up for lost time by using public space to socialise. Prime public real estate, benches and park space, rarely lie vacant and even whole pavements and bridges are occupied in the name of summer.
Not to forget the harbour - home to the city’s most ambitious sunseekers. On the waterfront are several “harbour baths” (open-water pools) the best known of which is off Havneparken. The bath here is nicely built, as I discovered when walking the area. On the approach you can see diving towers built out of silvery indigenous wood, the largest shaped like a ship’s bow. A large manicured lawn neighbours the place and the facility itself displays nice touches. There are shallow pools for unsure swimmers and a division between those for lengths or play.
After reaching the baths and changing, I walked out onto the pontoon to size up the company. It was a relaxed crew. Most people were drinking and either sat with friends or lolling on deck, like happy seals nursing brews. Only a few people were in the pools. Assuming tepid water at best, I admired the swimmers for their strength of discipline or denial, but this feeling left once I dove in and discovered the water was actually warm. The pool felt clean and was a crisp turquoise. I did a few blissed-out laps, got changed, and then aahhhed my way home.
It was a good trip.
