July 2002. In the summer of 2002 I threw some stuff into my backpack and scuttled off to Denmark for a few weeks. There was a girl involved of course. She lived in a tiny little village near Kalundborg, so I headed over armed with a miscalculated sense of boundless enthusiasm. And yet despite our romantic history, things didn’t work out and after just a few days I decided to hit the road and see the country.
July 2002. I found Odense’s prevailing vibe to be one of placidity. The entire place was clean, green and invitingly slow-paced, from its languid café culture and pretty churches, to thought-provoking sculptures and cheerful, bike riding locals. This pretty park, with its winding river and drooping willow trees, is well worth an hour of your time.
July 2002. Much of the city’s tourist industry is unashamedly set around Hans Christian Andersen, Odense’s most celebrated son. As such, paying a visit to this museum, also the writer’s birthplace, is essential. Make your way through a series of creaky rooms and you pretty much get his life story, complimented by an extensive range of personal artifacts and diaries.
July 2002. A thirty-minute bus ride from the city centre, this 16th century structure has been hailed as Europe’s best-preserved renaissance water castle. Shame about the idiot in the picture who thought it was cool to wear a football shirt in public. Oh, the folly of youth.
July 2002. There’s a lot to see and do within the castle grounds, with a glorious network of gardens, an old smithy and a classic car and motorcycle exhibition. There’s also an art gallery and a kooky attraction called Titania’s Place, said to be the world’s most amazing doll’s house (!?).
For more on my adventures in the country, check out my other reports from around Denmark.
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