You Can See Inside Where the Danish Royalty Reside For One Month Each Summer
Take a guided tour of the Peace Palace north of Copenhagen
As an American, I will admit that I still find the idea of a real Royal Family reigning over a country or commonwealth difficult to understand. But living in Denmark, I have come to accept the fairy-tale charm of this little country full of castles, home to Princes and Princesses. And I have happily attended more than one procession to get a chance to wave at the Danish Queen. Elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist. But what if you could see inside the rooms where they live? Last summer, we took a guided tour of one the Royal residences. Read on and see why you might want to too. Continue reading “Day Out in Denmark | Tour the Danish Royal Residence at Fredensborg Palace”→
FIND YOUR WAY TO FREDENSBORG PALACE FOR A DELIGHTFUL DAY OUT
With one of the oldest monarchies in the world, Denmark has its fair share of palaces and castles. The Danish crown can trace its roots back to Gorm the Old who unified the Vikings and ruled from 931 AD – 958 AD. As an American living in Denmark, I still find the idea of Royals amusing and a bit confusing. But they are beloved here and unlike the British monarchy, the Danes seem pretty down to earth despite all the fancy digs that litter the Danish landscape. Here in Denmark, you might even get to see the Queen herself if you time it right! Queen Margrethe II was crowned in 1972 and was the first female monarch in Denmark since Queen Margrethe I who ruled from 1375-1412.
The Danish Monarchy has existed for over 1000 years and is among the oldest in the world.” – Kongehuset.dk
Stanley Lambchop was a special boy. [Ever since the bulletin board above his bed had fallen and flattened him, he had been easy to fold and send in an envelope.1] This made it so he could travel inexpensively through the mail. [Stanley could mail himself anywhere in the world for a fraction of the airfare. And he had sure had a LOT of adventures that would not be available to a rounder boy. His shape had been a big help to others also. Stanley allowed himself a little smile of pride… wasn’t his mother wearing her favorite ring because he had been able to slip down into a storm drain to retrieve it? Wasn’t Abraham Lincoln’s nose still in place at Mount Rushmore because he had turned himself into a human band-aid? And right now, weren’t there a couple of museum sneak thieves playing poker in the city jail who were very sorry indeed they had ever run into a boy flat enough to pose as a painting?]2
This time Stanley’s adventure would take him around the world again. Somewhere he had never been before – to Scandinavia. Denmark, to be exact. He was super beyond excited that his friend Maggie had sent him here to visit her cousins who were living in Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark. He had been to Europe before. He had loved visiting France, seeing the Eiffel tower, the Louvre and the famous Mona Lisa. But Denmark was different. Continue reading “Flat Stanley visits Denmark”→
Some days, life has a funny way of reminding you of important lessons. Things we should know, but often our requisite daily minutiae occludes access to the personal database. Today was one of those days.
It’s Monday. Mandag in Danish. Mandags are beginnings – love them or hate them. For our family, the beginning of this week was a wee lethargic after staying up late (Copenhagen local time) to watch the Seattle Seahawks clinch the NFC Championship sending them on to Super Bowl XLIX. (From hereto forward known as Super Bowl “CLICKS”.) GO HAWKS! Watching NFL with Danish commentators is always interesting. At least they don’t translate “TOUCHDOWN!”
I decided to take the beginning of this week by the proverbial horns. Got up, rallied kids, got myself dressed, actually put on gloss, made lunches, found socks, found shoes, found backpacks… found car (no parkering ticket!), deposited them at school and was on my way. I was going to get my kunst on today. That’s right peeps. Kunst. It’s ART in Danish. Those who know me, know that this is my happy place. If you don’t know me – two second background… studied Art History at University of Washington and more currently: was part of a team running the Art Literacy program at our elementary school back in Oregon, recent former member of public art committee in my “home” town. 2 seconds. I would love to become more involved in an art community here in Copenhagen, but for now – I will enjoy playing the student again.
Today’s lesson was to be in modern art. In Louisiana. WAIT. Record skips. Louisiana? The state? Oh no you sillies. Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, in Humlebæk, Denmark. I had read about it – it looked amazing. Why hadn’t I been there yet? It isn’t exactly IN Copenhagen proper. It’s 35 km north of the city. They have an Alexander Calder sculpture that overlooks Øresund (where we went fishing). I am dying to compare it to his Eagle that stands bright red in the Olympic Sculpture Park overlooking Puget Sound (also known as “the sound” by locals) in Seattle, Washington. So. It’s Mandag. I am beginning my week with Danish modern art. Or so I think.
Lesson reminder #1. When venturing afield, remember to check the opening hours AND opening DAYS. I knew that Louisiana opened at 11 am. I had no problem with the 90-minute gap between repositing the children at their skole and finding my way north to the museet. I found a cute coffee shop in Helsignør, got my handcrafted double latté and enjoyed the wait. Watching rain turn into snain and then almost into snow from the window of the café; inside warm with candles and people and wafting coffee (dare I say – hygge?), it was difficult to leave. But – I’ve got art to see.
Parkering was easy. And FREE?!? Did I miss a sign? Nope. All good. Why isn’t anyone here? One of the largest modern art collections in EUROPE people… come see it! Oh. It’s lukket. Just my luck – it is closed on Mandag. What a beginning. Somewhat deflated, I debate returning to home and battling Fran or the parkering meter or the grocery store, all still requisite minutiae for today. But no. I came out to see something. I don’t have a sick child at home. My requisite minutiae is actually not too troubling today, and I’m already out here. I put gloss on, for Pete’s sake. I want to see something. How about that slot that I saw a sign for driving up here – that didn’t seem too far back. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go visit a slot. In my head already making checklist for slots that I can physically check off as I visit them. Yes. That is what I will do.
Meander through Danish countryside (which I can relate feels somewhat like rolling Hillsboro sans Evergreen trees); albeit the Danes are very nice at labeling all direct intersections – fairly easy to find my way to Fredensborg Palace (slot). I will admit that as an American, the Royals are still a baseball team to me. We ditched our king hundreds of years ago. Happy 4th of July. We’re independent. Sort of. Politics aside, I am beginning to understand the fascination with these Royals here. They have very lovely and very fancy houses with very gorgeous gardens and tons of sculpture. KUNST. Oh happy girl. So the palace is only open in July and August because apparently they use this one a lot. A lot. As I roll up, the Royal Guard is changing again. How many of these guys are there? A lot. Lucky for me – the Palace Gardens are open to the public alle dage. Every day. Sure, why not. Let’s take a stroll.
IT IS BEAUTIFUL. And seeing as it is the middle of winter truly might have made it all the more amazing. Really? I can hear you. Across the interweb. A garden in the middle of winter? Nothing alive, nothing blooming, no leaves on the trees? I feel your scrunched nose and questioning eyes. I’m telling you … it was BEAUTIFUL. Did you hear me? Like 300 acres of my own private baroque frenchy garden beautiful. I literally saw 4 people in the 2 hours that I wandered. FOUR PEOPLE. I could get behind this. I see why these Royals like to be royals and use this slot a lot.
It’s on a lake. Esrum Sø. Sø means lake. So there. The snain had stopped and I made my way down to the Sø. (After watching another changing of the guards on the back porch of the slot. As if just for me. But don’t get too close. You aren’t allowed EVERYWHERE here. You aren’t ROYAL.) But the rest of the grounds – where you are allowed – are lovely. And quiet. And contemplative. Best to be experienced in the quiet I think. Solo. It was surreal. Like a movie set. Like a twilight zone movie set. 300 acres by yourself. Birds. Snain melting from the trees … dryp, dryp, dryp. Feet crunching on the path. Just me. (And the birds, oh and those random other 4 people.) Luckily I took a picture of the map at the beginning because I did have a destination for my wandering.
“The Valley of the Norsemen.” Sounds epic doesn’t it? It’s about as far away on the map as I’ve started from. Good thing the snain has stopped, cuz I’ve also got a camera with the big lens, no umbrella and my new (vintage) fur on. (Remember I was going to a Kunst Museet to begin with.) After serene views of the Sø and a charming path along the lake, I find the path to the Norsemen. Nordmandsdalen is home to 70 sandstone sculptures of Norwegian and Faroese working class people – fisherman, bakers, teachers, mothers, shop keepers, farmers. You and I. Ok, I don’t know you per se – but I related to these life size (isk) peeps. More so than the palatial property up top with the furry-hatted-gun-toting-heel-clicking guards on watch. Norwegian though – did you read my last post? Norwegian Vikings were the enemy I thought? But this was commissioned by King Frederick V and Queen Juliane Marie between 1764-1784 when Norway and Denmark were a common territory. Hunh. Who knew? Not me. What I know is that I was really taken with this valley. Of common Norse men AND WOMEN. Not just a few women either. Every other sculpture was a woman. And with child some. Very progressive. And not nudes. This wasn’t idealizing beautiful female figures with art. This was real valid appreciation of their roles in the Norse everyday. I appreciate that. I appreciate that now. In my everyday.
And so I come to the second lesson (that I already knew, but needed to be gently reminded by the universe every once and awhile)… more than “one door closes, another opens”… But … be ready. Be open. Be willing. One says no. Another says – try this. And you do. And it is good. And valid. And worthy. Happy Mandag. Man, what a dag.
Enjoy the dag’s galleri (click on the first pic and a slideshow will pop up) – it was epic. Even though not as planned. Skål from Denmark.
Ubiquitous Danish Royal Guard
You are not allowed HERE per se
Snain to snow route through palatial grounds
Need “kunst” – how’s THIS for one-point perspective?
Put a bird on Denmark
I see faces – Royal edition
I adore Danish vinter palette
Like blowing ink through a straw these trees
Valley of the Norsemen
Mor = Mom
Her face from the front. So valid.
Rub a dub dub. I found the butcher, the baker AND the candle stick maker here.
Cherubic in her key mastery – one of my faves.
Caught ‘gramming. (Again.)
Me. Mandag, anyway.
Congrats! You did it. You made it to the end of this blog post and galleri!
Me? I’m a Royals fan. Sure. First Major League Baseball game I ever attended was watching the Kansas City Royals at Royals Stadium with cousins in the 1980’s. I was born in Kansas City. Does it get any more royal than that? It was the 80’s – George Brett was king – how could you not love them?
Oh – you mean ROYALTY. Like Queens and Kings and princes and princesses and such? Hunh. Yeah, I’ve heard of them. I will admit that I WAS devastated when I heard of Lady Di passing away. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news. I had just gotten married and moved to Cincinnati, Ohio. I still have the newspaper. It was devastating. (isk – that’s Danish for ish) Since then (1997) I have paid little attention. It’s not exactly pertinent to a middle class domestic engineer with three children in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon.
BUT – I don’t live in Portland, Oregon anymore. I live in Copenhagen, Denmark now. The land of Hans Christian Andersen, Swan Lake in my backyard (literally there are lots and lots of swans on the lakes only a block from my home here), Tivoli and yes… ROYALS. And I don’t think they play baseball. Maybe they do? I’m guessing no. So not knowing a TON about the current Danish Royal Family, I will admit that I am impressed with the amount of castles or “slots” around here that are still active. Like Royal people still live there and are active there, as evidenced by the very official guard type people in fancy hats that stand watch at their fronts. They might look like they are 18, but they are capital O-fficial. And they have guns. As an American where guns are such a hotbed issue ALL THE TIME, this makes me uncomfortable, but that is another debate. Today we saw the Queen. The Queen of Denmark. And she was lovely and waved – not the elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist I was expecting… but a lovely sweet demure wave.
I have to thank Your Danish Life, The Expat Magazine for highlighting the event on my Copenhagen Expats Facebook page. I pulled my 8-year old daughter out of school (she missed music and Danish class ironically) for an adjunct education in Danish culture full of music and fancy costumes and impressive heel-clicking. It was awesome. Why? I don’t know exactly, besides a “when in Copenhagen?” kind of answer. A Danish journalist stopped the wee lass and I at the Amalienborg after the show and asked us precisely that. You can read our response here. I can only relate the level of pomp and circumstance to an American Veteran’s Day parade or funereal procession of U.S. military precision. Having multiple family members (including my late dad who we called Colonel) in the U.S. Army and other branches, it is what I know and am familiar with. Today was similar, but different. Like almost everything here of course.
I would say though, that today was a home run with the wee lass. The home team performed well, pitched a perfect game and we loved the song for the 7th inning stretch. Translation – a band atop fancy horses playing famous tunes while clopping along cobblestone streets leading a gold coach straight out of Cinderella holding the QUEEN. The REAL QUEEN. Of a COUNTRY. Wauw. (wow.) Just Wauw.