An Øresund odyssey

The Sage of Kettering and I have been on another trip, this time to Copenhagen, obliging the self-loathing poster of that poster, with flits over the Øresund to Malmö and to Helsingborg in Sweden. On landing in Copenhagen’s pleasant airport, we immediately leave Denmark for Sweden by train, taking in the well-known bridge, onto which we emerge after a few minutes in a tunnel. It is an impressive piece of engineering. Bizarrely, well, to anyone from the UK, it was finished in time and within budget despite them finding over 20 WW2 bombs. At our first stop just over the bridge, the sign announces a check by the Swedish border guard, but nothing materialises.

We then emerge into central Malmö late lunchtime. It is all rather pleasant, none of this violence one hears about. Malmö, soon to host the Eurovision Song Contest, is a fine enough city, thinking back, reminiscent of Liverpool in some ways but without the decay seen today. There are many fine buildings, testament to a prosperous late 19th century.

We have a lunch of meatballs and beer at Gustav Adolphus square, outside in April,

before going to pay our respects at the Raoul Wallenberg park.

On the way back, we see a group of four police officers challenge some youths in the middle of a square.

The architecture here is mainly modern, but with lots of little gems.

In the Old Town core (Gamla Stan) it certainly has a nice feel to it.

There is plenty of Commie agitprop, but I’ll take the food offered.

We then take a train to Copenhagen as the only rain of the holiday starts to fall (and it was a downpour). There is, for some unknown reason, a prohibition on balloons on the Malmö station platform, perhaps because they go ‘Bang!’?

On the train, we find ourselves sitting next to a Sami lady, and then it is back over the bridge to Copenhagen. On approach by train, Copenhagen is reminiscent of Manchester.

In Israel Square, there is no obvious sign of any agitation.

We also see a perfect example of how modern rubbish ruins old buildings, like sewage in milk.

On our first full day in Copenhagen, after coming across evidence of a religiously-inspired hate crime,

we take a double-decker train up the coast to Elsinore (Helsingør), a delightful town at the northern tip of the Øresund, where it faces its less historic and less glamorous Swedish twin, Helsingborg, and we catch a ferry for the 20 minutes trip across the strait, with a fine view of Elsinore (or Kronborg) castle.

Our ferry, Hamlet, is the only one on this route not electrically-powered. Soon enough, the announcement comes that they have stopped selling alcohol, a sign that we are in Swedish waters? These boats sell tickets that allow passengers to sit on board shuttling back and forth all day whilst dining and boozing, and it seems to be quite popular. So much better than the days when the Wehrmacht were granted (under duress doubtlessly) passage through Sweden to Norway in WW2, their trains would have crossed here.

On disembarkation, we pass a deserted Swedish Border Police post (there is no counterpart post on the Danish side) and into Sweden. We visit a church, built in Denmark but moved into Sweden by the Treaty of Roskilde when Cromwell was in charge in England. A very pleasant church, more ornate than one might imagine a Lutheran church would be.

I then pop into a barbers’ shop for a haircut, a snip at 200 Swedish kronor, comparable to UK prices and cheaper than over the Sound. The barbers’ has an amazing range of products, a moustache-guidebook and a pair of Japanese stainless steel beard scissors for around £50, as well as a stuffed bear, not for sale. There is a sprinkling of old buildings here too.

There is a fair bit of agitprop, more discrete than Malmö, in Helsingborg, and perhaps some hooligan stickers. The last sticker says ‘lower the prices’ and that large enterprises should pay for their own crisis, ‘sake, learn some economics, sir.

We stroll through the town up to the delightful Två Systrar cafe for lunch, a marvellous smoked salmon salad and a cardamon bun. The cakes here are marvellous, part of the offering.

We then stroll to the Kärnan.

This tower guarded this side of the Strait (again once a Danish building) handed over to Sweden long ago, and we climb to the top for the view over the Öresund and towards Helsingførs 4 kilometres away. We walk down through the new ‘ramparts’ of the tower, over looking the town.

The troubles of the Middle East make an audible appearance as we descend the stairs. Yes, a group of Iranian exiles and their supporters are staging a demonstration against the Ayatollahs and a planned execution.

Browsing in a bookshop, the Sage finds what appears to be a Masonic Lodge the entrance to which is through the bookshop. We do not enquire of the gentlemen entering what brings them here.

Catching an electric ferry back to Denmark, it glides silently out of the harbour and over the Sound and we set off for Elsinore Castle, Hamlet’s old ‘haunt’ as it were. A delightful castle, well worth a visit, although the (State run) café seemed to expect you to make your own tea from the bags and hot water provided, but they could not mess up a canned beer. The Danish mythical hero Ogier sits in the basement.

We then stroll along the shore, with fishermen enjoying the sunny weather, and one landing an eel in front of us. Off then into Helsingør, we encounter a group of heavily-drinking, pleasant young Swedes, who tell us that alcohol is not cheaper here than in Sweden, but the minimum drinking age is 16… Skål!

After dinner in the main square, we return to Copenhagen.

Next day, we set out on an elephant hunt, and we are rewarded at the Carlsberg campus.

On the way, we found this delightful co-habitation of eateries.

There were also some striking buildings.

Off then to central Copenhagen (Indre By) and stroll around, making our way to Kastellet, a magnificent star fort and still an Army barracks with views over the harbour and over to Sweden in the distance.

And there is a memorial to Nordic volunteers in the Dano-Prussian War.

There are lots of political posters in Copenhagen, like the self-loathing expressed in the first poster above. This sinister slogan was on a school.

No visit to Copenhagen would be complete without a visit to La Glace, the Royal Confectioners. A superb Black Forest Gateau and a Sachertorte were enjoyed.

Whilst dining on a good pizza, the Sage spots some graffiti about Greta, is she spying on her Danish neighbours?

And then on our last evening, in Israel Square in Copenhagen, we see flags held out in solidarity, a rainbow flag and a Palestinian flag side by side.

A throughly pleasant trip, highly recommended.

EDIT: Natalie informs us that she has never been to Copenhagen. Here are some more photos of the city.
The University main building, with busts of its most distinguished, including Niels Bohr, only Trinity College Cambridge may smile in polite condescension at this.

The Town Hall:

And some curious ‘winged rhinos’ that adorn the Town Hall plaza.

And Rosenborg Palace in central Copenhagen (from its gardens, a park).