We’re quite fond of Copenhagen and want to see more of it but we’re finding it rather expensive. Given that we’re going to be here for a couple of weeks to make my doctor’s appointment, we decide to leg it to the countryside where Mike’s found a slightly cheaper (though still expensive) caravan park.
The drive through the Danish countryside is fairly uneventful. The land is remarkably flat and full of green fields and wind turbines. What passes for a main road here is surprisingly narrow.
After our spontaneous voyage across Europe, and a brief flurry of activity in Copenhagen, we’re both pretty keen to settle down in our new caravan park with our respective projects (a familiar tune — we truly are the worst travellers in the world). We’re spending our days being nice and cozy in Nettle watching the late October autumn days pass into more wintry early November ones. The days we spent in Copenhagen were crisp with clear, bright blue skies. Since coming to the country a thick fog has enveloped the land, bringing a constant moistness to the frigid air. The otherwise featureless land takes on an exquisite melancholy, which it seems particularly well suited for.
We eventually manage to drag ourselves out of Nettle and away from our work, spurred by the desire to do a spot of leaf peeping. There’s a little copse of trees not far from the caravan park, which is a nice easy cycle thanks to the flat landscape.
The woods turn out to be absolutely delightful and satisfyingly autumnal. We leisurely trundle along for quite a while, taking quite a lot of photos.
Something we’ve noticed about the houses here is that it’s not uncommon for the roofs to be covered in moss!
We’re both immediately bewitched by the eery coastline. It takes us a while to put our finger on what we find so odd about it. We realise it’s the almost complete lack of anything resembling a beach or a shore. The land ends and the sea begins. There’s so little buffer between the two that the trees are falling into the sea as the gentle lapping of the water ever-so-slowly eats their earth away from under them. Also, intellectually we know it’s the sea and not a lake, yet the stillness of the water exudes a definite lake-like atmosphere.
Every now and then a gust of wind gathers up the autumn leaves with nought but a precarious hold on their boughs and gracefully deposits them in the clear blue water. Every time the wind gusts, Mike and I stand on the edge with the de-nuding trees and watch the dance, transfixed by the simple beauty and unearthly atmosphere of this strange place. If ever there was a land from hence vikings came, Denmark suddenly seems very fitting.
On the way home, the day is marred by the dull twinge in my problem-tooth turning into full-blown pain. I spend the night tossing and turning in pain but also in deep gratitude that Mike is there to nurse me through it. He gets me a Panadol we didn’t know we had, hooks me up with a Neil Gaiman audiobook, and strokes my hair. I’ve got a good one in that man.
By the next morning the entire right side of my jaw is swollen alarmingly. Thankfully, Mike manages to get me a dentist appointment for that afternoon and in doing so manages to find the one man in Denmark who doesn’t speak a word of English. Due to some miscommunication, we end up going to the wrong dentist but they were really kind about it and slotted me in anyway. With a diagnosis of an infected tooth, a prescription for antibiotics, and a recommendation to have the tooth extracted, I’m all sorted. I love dentists. I always find them to be really lovely and they can fix horribly painful things. What’s not to love?