Action-man, 10 June, Kobenhavn, Denmark
We took a bus through the night from Goteburg to Copenhagen. The seat made my head and legs and neck uncomfortable. At 2:00 AM, Kent, a fat Swede with a mustache twirled on the end, explained that we were stand-by.
Now, I sit in a chair at a table in a plaza near downtown Copenhagen. Three wicker chairs circle each wooden table, across a pavement of bricks. The bricks are wide and bits of grass grow between with cigarette butts. Two tables near me are full of college-aged girls. They're taking their time with half-finished plates of Sunday dinner. They look wealthy and one has a bull-dog on a leash. They drink and chat in Danish.
Beyond the tables is a fountain, carved with ugly Norse heads. From their mouths comes the water. Five or six men and women sit there, smoking and drinking, still sloshed from Saturday night. To my right is Drew, stretched out for a nap with his big baggage and mine at his feet. He could pass for a vagrant too.
Drew and I went to church this morning. The bell in the tower rang as 10:00 approached. On both sides of the sanctuary were statues of the apostles. Paulus and Petrus bearded, Johannes with a young and lovely face. Gold candles at the end of the pews glowed the whole service. The preacher wore lovely robes, one blue, one white and gold. He baptized a baby girl, who wore a long, white gown. We took communion, and it was very good. After the service, I asked a kind-looking woman if we could eat Sunday dinner with her or someone else. She went to inquire and returned saying, "I'm sorry we can't help you. It's not the Danish way. We're closed." Norwegians, Swedes, and Danes seem a quiet and secure people. Now I can hear jazz from a window in the top of that building. How nice.
Sam
Now, I sit in a chair at a table in a plaza near downtown Copenhagen. Three wicker chairs circle each wooden table, across a pavement of bricks. The bricks are wide and bits of grass grow between with cigarette butts. Two tables near me are full of college-aged girls. They're taking their time with half-finished plates of Sunday dinner. They look wealthy and one has a bull-dog on a leash. They drink and chat in Danish.
Beyond the tables is a fountain, carved with ugly Norse heads. From their mouths comes the water. Five or six men and women sit there, smoking and drinking, still sloshed from Saturday night. To my right is Drew, stretched out for a nap with his big baggage and mine at his feet. He could pass for a vagrant too.
Drew and I went to church this morning. The bell in the tower rang as 10:00 approached. On both sides of the sanctuary were statues of the apostles. Paulus and Petrus bearded, Johannes with a young and lovely face. Gold candles at the end of the pews glowed the whole service. The preacher wore lovely robes, one blue, one white and gold. He baptized a baby girl, who wore a long, white gown. We took communion, and it was very good. After the service, I asked a kind-looking woman if we could eat Sunday dinner with her or someone else. She went to inquire and returned saying, "I'm sorry we can't help you. It's not the Danish way. We're closed." Norwegians, Swedes, and Danes seem a quiet and secure people. Now I can hear jazz from a window in the top of that building. How nice.
Sam
posted by Unknown at 5:42 PM
1 Comments:
this reminds me of the time we went to church somewhere in cape town and you asked the pastor at the church to give us a ride home..and somehow we ended up not getting a ride but sitting on the beach outside the church and spending all our money on peanut butter and jelly sandwitches and a choclate bar and then walking about 2 or 3 hours back to the ship...where you kept asking for rides and we kept being deniged.. i laugh everytime i think about it. I even tried asking for a ride once, thinking being a girl it'd work to my advantage...but even then they had an excuse. That night I was burnt crisp. You were too. im laughing.
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