They woke up in yet another hotel room. The room was claustrophobic with the three teenagers crammed inside. The stifling closeness of the room was compensated for, by the one end of the room that provided a portal to an otherworldly expansive view, of the city of Copenhagen. Out of the same portal, directly below, along the banks of a river, the sight of wood plank walkways, slides, work out areas, and places to relax in the sun, brought immediate character to this unfamiliar place. With the sun glinting off the water, and the residents of Copenhagen taking their routine morning swim, the view from the window more than atoned for their restricted accommodations.

Their after breakfast wander, led them down narrow streets that seemed alive due to the amount of people, and bicycles, moving about on its cobblestone surfaces. Visible at the first floor and basement levels, in buildings all around them, were antique shops, bakeries, ice cream parlors, and souvenir shops with people, smells, and sounds, pouring in and out of the door ways. Rounding a bend from a narrow street, they were startled by a substantial square with magnificent old building that reminded them of the magical Disney castle, a perspective made complete, with real royal white horses in the front pasture. It was as if, at any second one of the Disney characters themselves, would burst through one of the stained glass windows.

At their next destination, they boarded a rickety boat to begin a tour of Copenhagen from the water. From the perspective on the boat the water resembled professionally cleaned glass, like the ones that display jewelry at a high end store. The tour started as the bow of the ship sliced its way through the clear blue water, downstream. All around was a mish-mash of architecture, bridges, schools, apartment buildings, abandoned warehouses, churches, and historical monuments. Each instance of architecture was distinct, in design, color, and age. All of this diversity between new and old, modern and rustic, gave the city of Copenhagen captivating charm. With the cool spray from the boat’s carving of the water, and the sun’s warm rays draping over them like a blanket, they combatted the compulsion to close their eyes, in fear that they would miss any of the sights. The air on the water was thin and cool, with a twinge of salt. On the boat, the people were just as diverse as the buildings that surrounded. Dutch, German, Norwegian, American, and French people spoke excitedly in their native tongue, as they all gazed at the marvels. The tour guide, by the time the jaunt was over, impressively gave the tour with all the details of Copenhagen, in Dutch, German, and English. 

Off the boat, they all became aware of the emptiness in their stomachs. The father, after seeing a young boy walk past with an ice cream so tall that it put the Eiffel Tower to shame, asked for directions. Following the directions, given to them in broken English, it was a stroke of luck that they eventually came upon the ice cream shop. Unfortunately, they were not the only ones with the same craving, judging by the line that protruded out the entrance of the ice cream shop. The line for frozen goodness, on this warm summer day, gave an opportunity to observe the likely hundred-year-old, yet well-kept street in which they were waiting. In the center was a canal-like body of water. Separating the water and the 17th-century buildings, was an uneven, dark grey cobblestone footpath that was worn, weathered, and in place for many years. The most interesting thing about this street were the buildings, not the shape or height, but rather the colors. The buildings were very close together, like sardines in a can, and each was expertly painted a different shade of the rainbow. Dazed by the wonder of this little street, that they discovered is called Nyhavn Street, they were startled when it was their turn to order ice cream from the elderly man behind the glossy, glass counter.

Now equipped with ice cream, they were content to explore more of this magical city. Walking on the aged, uneven cobblestone down an alleyway, they came to a charming, quaint souvenir shop. Outside stood giant revolving racks, tilted slightly due to the uneven cobblestones, of postcards, with pictures and catchy sayings, that all were somehow related to Copenhagen. Inside were shelves upon shelves, lined with anything ranging from shot glasses, key chains, to sweatshirts, all with the same or similar pictures of Nyhavn Street. Still excited about the events of that day, they held their breath and bared the mysterious stench coming from stained carpet, and bought some trinkets. Even though the keychains and postcards they bought were grossly overpriced, they represented a trip full of memories that will be cherished forever.

Following a rest taken in their hotel room, they were driven from their beds by the hunger radiating from their stomachs. Back on Nyhavn Street they came to an outdoor restaurant along the cool edge of the canal. The glorious scent exuding from the food atop the waters tray as he hustled from the nearby pastel pink building that housed the kitchen, was the ultimate encouragement for them to sit down. With the sun starting to fall from the sky, the air becoming crisp and cool, their portions of white asparagus drenched in hollandaise and a side of fingerling potatoes that had been cooked with a generous helping of butter, seemed to warm them up from the inside out. Another benefit of siting outside was the ample entertainment from people watching. Everything from the bored, almost-noble British family with cardigans expertly wrapped around their shoulders, to the unnaturally-tanned, dog-accompanied Copenhagen locals. The evening ended perfectly with a stroll along the waterfront, the sun setting on the water, and the scent of an after-meal cigarette, they ambled back to the confines of the small hotel room.