... unless you count me. Spoiled rotten, that is. I arrived in Copenhagen a few nights ago, where I am staying with some dear family friends who are treating me like a queen. From trips into the countryside to museums to delicious meals, I am enjoying myself greatly.
I've explored the city center, enjoying both a sunny day and a brisk "Kultur Natten," an evening when cultural landmarks from theaters to embassies to the Danish palace gave open houses. I've explore Rothskilde, where 5 Viking ships were unearthed and restored and where 1000 years worth of Danish monarchs are interred. I indulged my inner English geek at Elsinore (now spelled 'Helsingor'), where the real Hamlet (whose name was Amled) ruled, and Fredriksborg, another stunning castle filled with exquisite decor. I ate fried fish on a sunny afternoon along the colorfully painted banks of New Harbor; a few days ago I had the rare opportunity to visit the Danish Adventurers' Club, whose clubhouse is hung with Papuan shields and Tibetan headdresses and among whose members sit the likes of John Glenn. And later this week I'm planning a couple excursions across the strait Sweden.
It seems there's more to see in heaven and Copenhagen, Horatio, than is dreamt of in my philosophy...
* Apologies to Shakespeare