How Did I Get Here? Part Two: København.

Københaven H train station is an odd place. About ten minutes ago, I felt the need to relieve myself of some excess internal luggage, and so went to the downstairs bathrooms by the GAD bookstore. Just at the entrance to the bathroom is a manned kiosk, offering shower time at a hefty price. Why would people shower, at a cost, underneath the central train station? In any case, the most fantastic part was the sign which read:

Kondomer, 50.00Kr.

Why would this not be an automatic dispenser? Why do you have to buy them from the dark, dirty, unshaven man from the dingy kiosk? And 50Kr is a little more than AUD10 - how many do you get in a packet? Because it could turn out to be a very expensive rendezvous, indeed.

Tonight will be my last night in Denmark. I first made these travel plans about five years ago, when I realised that almost everybody in my first year French group had been to Europe, except me. When I first made these plans, I had somebody I intended to go with. That didn't quite work out for me. So I got myself into the position where I could save up my scholarship money, and I could take five months to just wander around Europe. I knew I'd miss Adelaide, but everyone told me that I would catch this highly contagious 'travel bug', and never wish to return.

Tomorrow I will catch the 8.26am train from this very station to Oslo, Norway - home to even more vikings, and the paternal side of Benn's family. And the whole trip I will be wishing that the train would take a slight unexpected detour and somehow end up at an old farmhouse in suburban Melbourne.

When I first got here, I was delighted. The architecture is stunning, and I found myself wandering through lofty 400-year-old apartment blocks and hoardes of cyclists. After a few hours, I was horrified. I was alone, on the other side of the world, unable to read the signs or eavesdrop on people's conversations. There was nobody to run into on the street - nobody to drop in on when I was bored. I couldn't e-mail Benn and ask to catch up for lunch, and (more than anything) I couldn't spend my entire day shooting e-mails back and forth with Erica.

Really, Copenhagen reminds me of Melbourne, except with beautiful architecture. I took a (rather frightening) long walk into suburbia last night, to the point where I was surrounded by Arabic fruit and veg stores and Domino's Pizza. Even then, 45 minutes walk from town, each building is five stories tall with magnificent stone frontages and beautiful rooves. It is Melbourne because it is incredibly multicultural, and commercial life doesn't cease to exist when you happened to have left Rundle Street. But for all of this wonderful architecture, I'd still rather be taking my holiday to Sydney Road than Vesterbrogade.

I have had a Danish Danish, and eaten ice-cream in Copenhagen. I have seen the Royal Castle (photos forthcoming), the Art Gallery (exquisite, but full of impressionists), and followed the High School Graduates on their annual expedition of getting completely shitfaced and yelling at passers by on the backs of specially-decorated utes, while wearing the strange sailors caps which are their version of our graduation boards. This began at 11am and continued until midnight, when I finally got to bed, only to hear the fireworks start from the small room in my hostel.

So today I intend to find a Danish cookbook, buy my first European notebook, and buy a train ticket to Norway.