Danish life: Its the campaign season

My Danish language lessons have started up again and I'm back at the grindstone. The introduction stage is over and now there is no mercy - the teacher speaks only Danish and we're even expected to ask questions in Danish. Needless to say, class is much quieter now.

On Friday morning I decided that to improve my Danish listening I would watch 15 minutes of television every day. Real television, not the Jeremy Kyle show with sub-titles. After all, I'm finding the Elle magazine in Danish much easier to understand than the chit-chat with parents I meet at the play ground. I made this decision at 10.50 on Friday morning, found the remote control and sat down with a steely determination to conquer the unfathomable mumbo-jumbo. The timing would not have been so important if I had not then switched on the television to find all the Danish channels ablaze with the 'breaking news' that the Prime Minister was to make an important announcement at 11.00 am.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later, Lars Løkke Rasmussen, statsminister and leader of the Venstre party, appeared and called a national election on 15 September 2011. Now, I have to confess that I have not been following Danish politics and until that point would not have known the name of the prime minister, that there is a coalition government (between Venstre and the Conservative People's Party) in power or that an election had to be called by 12 November 2011 (being 4 years after the last election).

And so, by happy coincidence, it was a very profitable 15 minutes of TV viewing: I practised my Danish listening and managed to learn about national politics. Its going to be a feverish few weeks of campaigning I expect. By the time I left the flat on Friday afternoon to go and collect my son from school, the faces of the various election candidates were already beaming down from every lamp post,  tree trunk and railing.

The economy is at the heart of the election as Denmark has, apparently, fared worse than its Scandinavian neighbours in the global recession. I'm a loooong way from knowing the manifestoes or the party positions on the main issues but one of things that has struck me from all the posters is the number of female candidates. The leader of the opposition party (the Social Democrats) is the very formidable looking Helle Thorning-Schmidt. If she wins, she will be Denmark's first female prime minister.

In the meantime there is another poster campaign vying for attention. Its the start of another school year and so there are many more children cycling in the bike lanes and crossing the major roads. These posters are a reminder to roadusers to look out, literally, for the 'small people' in the traffic.

Let's hope that drivers and cyclists will keep their eyes on the road and not be distracted by the charming smiles of the election hopefuls...

Six months in Denmark...

June and July were slow months for me on the blogging front. It turns out that neither photo challenges nor the school summer holidays are conducive to thoughtful reflection let alone formulating thoughts that are worthy of sharing. I could have written about how we made it through a long week of non-stop rain in July with all the indoor play areas 'closed for the summer' or how my trip to IKEA armed with two children and a klippekort panned out. As the title of a very helpful book about blogging rightly states, 'No one cares what you had for lunch!'.

And all this to say that I have been quiet lately but now there is light at the end of the tunnel. A new school year dawns, my thoughts will soon be my own again and I hope to turn them to the pursuit of the sublime. Now that I have paused and looked up from the craziness that is a summer of children at home, overseas travel and the aftermath of trans-atlantic induced jet lag, I realise that we have been living our new life in Denmark for six whole months. Wow, how did that happen?

It seems like only yesterday that we were unpacking boxes, grappling with the plug adaptor situation and finding light fittings. We've faced so many changes over our time here and there have been challenges a plenty but we've also made great strides in adapting to our new surroundings. Its funny how quickly one can become accustomed to a different landscape; when we were in London recently, it seemed incredibly busy, much more so than I remembered it from my 18 years living there! I've simply become used to there being less people around, less queues and more space.

It was while we were travelling that I noticed small changes in my outlook too that have been born of our relatively short time seeing things done the Danish way. Things that I have, subconsciously in some cases, adopted as my own. For example, I was walking through the streets of Ottawa with my children in a double stroller I had borrowed from relatives and caught myself parking the stroller outside a shop fully intending to venture inside unencumbered (by either the oversize stroller or its passengers)!! I remembered in time and checked myself, 'This isn't Denmark'.

There are some things that six months ago seemed foreign but that I now accept as the norm. Whilst we're already on a theme of 'sixes', here is my numbered list:
(1) Riding my bike in a skirt and heels
Everybody does it (well, mainly Danish women) and riding in style is a big part of the cycling culture. And so, I've exchanged my fluorescent waterproof cycling jacket for a very stylish red hooded waterproof poncho and on the few occasions that I have ventured out for cocktails at Rubys, I've ridden my bike in a skirt and heels.

(2) Shopping at a loppedmarked
The loppedmarked is very popular here. The word translates as 'flea market' but it is more than that and encompasses jumble sale, yard sale and car boot sale too. Selling things that you no longer want or need is a national past time and there are many bargains to be had. At the weekends, children stand on street corners selling their old toys, dealers set up stalls of antiques and nick-nacks at more organised sales and many ex pat families take a pitch to sell their purged belongings before moving on. I love stumbling upon a loppedmarked and have bought some great things (mainly second hand toys and English children's books). It would seem that I have acquired the Danish talent for rummaging!

(3) Candlelight
Walking around our neighbourhood in the evening, there are always candles burning in the windows. This is all part of the Danish concept of hygge, which translates as 'cosiness' but is, as I understand it, the warm and fuzzy feeling you have when you are spending time with loved ones over a shared meal in the home. These occasions are usually candlelit and the glowing flames symbolise the warmth. Our use of candles came about in rather more practical circumstances (when we moved into our flat, there were no light fittings) but we do still have a tray of white church candles that we light from time to time for cosiness.

(4) Letting my son play out in the shared courtyard unaccompanied
When we moved here we swapped our garden flat for a third floor apartment and sacrificed our private outdoor space. This was a conscious decision as we thought that living downtown would be less isolating. Rather than a private garden we have access to a shared courtyard with a common play area. This is proving to be a wonderful space to meet our Danish neighbours and their children. And the day came to pass during the recent school summer holidays when my son (who just turned 4) could hear his friends playing downstairs and asked me if he could go out to join them in the courtyard. I took a deep breath, weighed up the risks and decided that I could give him a small taste of independence. I watched from the kitchen window on the third floor as he and his friends rode around on their bikes. I can't imagine the same scenario back in London and I think this has more to do with the access to outdoor space being different. Having said that if anyone had told me that I would be letting my son play out on his own at this age, I would have struggled to believe it!

(5) Having my hair blow dried and straightened with straighteners to within an inch of its life before it's cut
Yes, this is the way it is done here. On that first trip to the hairdressers it puzzled me and I did wonder if perhaps when I had made the appointment I had been booked for a wash and style but when every kink and curl had been obliterated, the scissors finally came out. I have been happy with the results and now I know the procedure, I know not to panic when the straighteners appear!

(6) The weather
Now, coming from an English girl, you might think it sounds a little rich that I have had to acclimatise to the Danish weather. I don't really have an issue with it and for the most part it is what I expected but what took some getting used to was the fact that at any time on any given day it can change (sometimes quite dramatically) without much warning. One minute you might be sitting on the beach feeling pleasantly warmed by the sun and perhaps even contemplating a dip in the sea - the next minute the wind will have picked up, the clouds gathered and its a race to get home before the rain sets in. At least I've learned never to give up hope on the weather - when I wake up in the morning and the sky is grey, I always remind myself that by the end of the day the sun might be shining!

Whilst these are some of the things that I am getting used to, there are many things that I continue to struggle with. I still can't get my head around not saying 'please' before I ask for something in a shop and I am also still to learn not to offer an older Danish lady my seat on the bus; on the couple of occasions I have tried this, it has only provoked enraged looks, tutting and a heated rant channelled in my direction. The Danish mindset is very much one of 'can do'.

My photos in this post are from the various crafts on display at this weekend's Kunsthåndværkermarkedet. It was Scandinavia's largest collection of crafters and designers from the Danish Arts and Crafts Association. The beautiful work included textiles, jewellery, ceramics and glass. For further information on the fair visit www.craftsfair.dk 

Danish life: Is this why cycling works?

It was during the London tube strikes a couple of years ago that my husband first started cycling to work. We lived in Swiss Cottage and he worked at Canary Wharf so it was quite an effort to add the 35 minutes of hard pedalling (70 mins for a return journey!) to his weekly workout schedule. Then he gave up his annual tube pass and cycling became his preferred means of commuting. I was already a cyclist but this was how we became a biking family. When we moved to Copenhagen, maintaining our cycling lifestyle was effortless but we upgraded our wheels with two major purchases: first we invested in a cargo bike, which is used for school runs and whenever we need to transport both the children, and then my husband bought a very stylish road bike (see pics). If you also take into account our little boy's first bike with stabilisers, we're now a 13-wheel family!

Cycling here in Copenhagen is so easy. Looking back, the London commute was a death wish. Here there are cycle lanes on most roads and at junctions there are usually separate traffic signals for cyclists. There are different rules from London too: for example, you signal to slow down and when you want to turn across traffic you have to cross with pedestrians not the cars (ie you continue across a junction and then wait for the signal to change and cross again). But it isn't just the cycling rules and etiquette that makes it a very agreeable way to travel, there is a different attitude between the road users of Denmark and their English counterparts. It is an attitude of mutual respect. I have encountered only one incident of 'cycle rage' and that was a woman who swore at me when I was cycling along and eating ice cream with a fellow mum-friend in slow moving mid-afternoon traffic. She stood out like a sore thumb from the otherwise very pleasant biking masses.

I'm not alone in my awe for the Copenhagen cycling culture, it is renowned across the world and the Danes should be proud that in their capital city 55% of inhabitants commute by bike every day. This statistical tidbit comes from the Monocle's 'Quality of Life' survey that places Copenhagen at No 3 amongst the world's most liveable cities. An article discussing what liveability means to urban planners quotes one architect as saying that liveability means 'joy, leisure, health, communication and interaction, and not just fulfilling basic needs'. So far as urban transportation is concerned, this must mean that a city should provide not just a means of getting people to work but it must be an enjoyable and healthy experience. Ask anyone who has ever travelled on the Northern Line in London between 7 and 9 am and I would hazard a guess that being pressed up against the arm pit of a stranger does not fit the bill and neither does cycling to work when it means sharing a traffic lane with anything from a milk float to a concrete mixer.

It is no secret that owning a car in Denmark is expensive; the sales tax on a car is 180% and so this might explain one of the incentives for sticking to two wheels. However, this week I learned of another very important reason why the bike is a safe as well as a cheaper option. When my husband set off for his 30 km commute from Copenhagen to Hillerød on Wednesday morning on the beautiful road bike with vintage parts that I have been known to refer to as 'the other woman' in his life, he was hit by a car that came out of a side road and didn't stop. When he walked through the door as I was having breakfast with the children, carrying his beloved white beauty over his shoulder with its crumpled Campagnola back wheel, of course I was relieved that he was safe, that he had been wearing his helmet and that his injuries were only superficial. Obviously the damage to the impossible-to-source Campagnola bits and the inconvenience of this happening in July - the month when the city has shut up shop and retreated to the summer houses - was nagging but the personal injury lawyer in me couldn't help but wonder who was to blame.

Then I learned about the hierarchy of road users that protects the most vulnerable. Apparently, the road traffic law of Denmark provides that when a car hits a bike, the most vulnerable road user is protected and there is a presumption that the motorist is to blame. Likewise, if a cyclist hits a pedestrian, there is a presumption that the cyclist is to blame. Compared to the position in England where the Highway Code applies equally to all road users, the Danish approach has a ring of common sense to it. It might also explain why cyclists stop to allow pedestrians to board or alight from buses and why I can still not come to terms with the fact that I can be a couple of bike lengths away from a junction and with the lights green a car in the lane next to me will wait for me to pass before turning right.

I read a debate in the English press recently about whether or not it should be a legal requirement to wear cycle helmets. Naturally, if you're in an accident, wearing a cycle helmet might reduce the extent of the injury but I can't help wondering if it would be better to legislate to reduce the likelihood of road traffic accidents occurring. Do you think the motorists of London would drive differently if, in the event that they hit a cyclist, there was a presumption that they were to blame? Its just a thought.

P.S. I can't imagine that anyone would use this blog as an advice on Danish road traffic law but, just in case, here is my disclaimer: this blog post is written for the purposes of comment and discussion only. It is not a statement of the law or how it might apply to any particular set of accident circumstances and should not be relied upon as such.

Danish life: Open all hours? Nej

One of the biggest adjustments we have made to our family life since arriving in Denmark is our shopping habits both generally and, more specifically, shopping at the weekends. Things here are expensive (this has been said before) and so we don't consume as much as we did in London but our old home city was also one with a 24/7 culture. It was an open all hours culture that was as natural as night following day. Growing up I remember the shops being closed on Sundays but then gradually the trading laws changed and within a couple of decades it wasn't unheard of to go supermarket shopping on the way home from the cinema on a Saturday night. Eventually, Sunday became like any other trading day so that at any time the streets were busy with shoppers.

Here in Copenhagen things are very different and the reduced shop opening hours which were at first slightly frustrating are now much appreciated for the organisation and increased family time that they have foisted upon us. There are three local shopping hour customs that we have had to learn: first, on Saturdays the shops are only open til around 1 pm (3pm at the latest). This means that there is a greater degree of planning that now goes into how Saturday mornings unfold.

Whereas in London we could pick up groceries or do errands late into the afternoon, we now have a lunchtime curfew on getting those jobs done. In the early days a state of panic would set in around noon on Saturday when, after a couple of hours of spontaneous unpacking, we would venture out into the world and find everyone else on their way home and the shops closing. As we've settled in we are adjusting and when the Saturday morning jobs are taken care of, its great to have the rest of the day to do fun things.

The second custom is in relation to Sunday shopping. On Sunday the shops are closed except for supermarkets, which are open on the first and last Sunday of the month. Again, this means a bit of weekend planning is involved and most of the time we try to do a weekend food shop on Saturday morning. There have been many a Sunday afternoon when I have breathed a sigh of relief as I've discovered that a vital ingredient for the evening meal is missing but then realised that its 'one of those Sundays when I can pop to the shop'!!

Finally, the shops are closed on public holidays and at this time of year there are lots of public holidays. This morning we set out for a beach picnic with friends and we planned to buy some of our supplies en route. Today is the first Sunday in June and so we shouldn't have been caught out - except that Thursday was Ascension Day and today is the corresponding public holiday! And so, even our best laid plans....

Aside from remembering these three rules of thumb in order to plan and organise, the reduced shop opening hours change the landscape of the neighbourhood at weekends. Back in the great metropolis that is London I would rarely see a high street that wasn't bustling with trade. It may be stating the obvious but with the shops closed there is less shopping to be done. Instead, at weekends you will find the Danes out in the parks and at the beaches, the playgrounds and the cycle lanes are full. The reality is that reduced shopping means more leisure time - not least for the people working in the retail business!

We've just had a four day weekend and our family outings included a trip to the Frilandsmuseet near Lyngby. These photos are all from this fascinating open air museum, one of the largest and oldest in the world, which has farms, mills and smallholdings dating from 1650 to 1940 and recreates daily life and working processes from old times.

Copenhagen Marathon: the agony and the humility

This weekend one event dominated our neighbourhood - the 2011 Copenhagen Marathon. On Saturday the children ran a 'mini marathon' and were seen all around Fælledparken with their sporting medals dazzling in the spring sunshine. This morning the road blocks were put in place, the politi stood at the junctions re-directing the traffic and when I took my toddler out for our Sunday morning pastry 'run' (perhaps, given the day, I exaggerate slightly), there was an air of excitement and anticipation as spectators began to gather.

We decided to stop and watch the first of the athletes as they crossed from Strandboulevarden along to Østerbrogade. I completely misread the route map that had been handed to me and thought that the runners looked a little worse for wear after only having run 8 km. Didn't want to sound too judgmental but many of them didn't look like they were going to make it. Then I realised, we were actually standing at the 33 km mark. Oops - looking good...

I recently read a blog of a girl who ran the London marathon and she talked about how she enjoyed the cheers of people in the crowd who called out her name, which she must have had on her race number or her t-shirt. With this in mind and because the anticipation and the race atmosphere before a big run is so infectious, I decided to stay at the sidelines and do some cheering on. But first, I stood by in awe as some of the elite runners sprinted past. I'm not exaggerating when I say that at 33 km, they looked like they were out for a walk in the park - it was humbling indeed.

Maybe because they made it look so easy, it didn't look like they needed our cheers. They were clearly 'in the zone' and simply clocking up the miles. I'm ashamed to say that my son's hunger and the fact that the weather turned, it started to rain and we were totally unprepared for a downpour meant that we headed back indoors for lunch. I clearly wasn't committed to the cause and the pangs of guilt gave me indigestion. These runners had trained hard for months, were pushing their bodies to physical limits and I had bailed at the first drops of a spring rain shower. An hour later, I headed back out (without toddler) to cheer on the runners that I anticipated would need it most - the masses...

I started to reflect on what this day of running might mean to them. What was it that had driven these people to spend months in training, putting miles and miles on their legs preparing them for a day of yet more mileage pounding the streets. When you watch a marathon on the TV you see the highlights; the enthusiastic start line, interviews with spirited and determined individuals and then the raised arms and collapsed bodies at the finish. Watching the highlights doesn't give a clue as to what the reality must be like - the agonising mile after mile of hard slog.

Is the challenge of a marathon keeping going for 40 km when, quite frankly, although its race day and there's a buzz in the air, no-one is really looking? Is it about taking your body to the edge and waiting to see what will 'break down' first; the hips, the knees, the shins or the feet? Or is the challenge of a marathon more about what it takes to have the self belief and discipline to make it to the start line? As I watched, I was humbled and to all the runners who are soaking in baths (hot or cold!) tonight, I salute you.

 From the old...

... to the young (yes, that is a pregnant lady with 'løb baby' written on her belly!)

...those 'running' together and the guy who thought running shoes are for wimps (!)...

... well done! And by the way, nobody did have their name on their t-shirt or race number - that must be a London marathon thing.

Going away to go home

This weekend we went on our first trip back to the UK since arriving in Copenhagen 3 months ago. We had a wonderful time but I couldn't help feeling a bit 'displaced'. We spent four days in Edinburgh celebrating my brother's wedding and if seeing your youngest sibling getting married isn't enough to make things feel a little surreal then being in a country that was at once familiar and yet foreign sealed it.

When preparing for the trip, I was so excited to be seeing my parents and family again and to be going shopping in my favourite shops (oh, how I have missed the Gap) that I overlooked how it would feel to be 'abroad in the UK'. From the moment we landed at Edinburgh airport, things started to feel different.

For a start, everyone spoke English (or at least a version of it!!). For the last 3 months, I have been wandering around Copenhagen in a language vacuum. I have no comprehension of what is being said around me and tune out. Sometimes I might pick up on intonation or volume of speech but I have enjoyed being immune to the detail of other people's conversations, especially those on the mobile phone of the person next to me on the bus or train.

Back in Blighty I found it (quite frankly!) intrusive to be amongst English-speakers again so that walking through the streets of a busy city, my thoughts were interrupted by snippets of stranger's conversations.

It was like seeing an old friend again when I stumbled across a Prêt-à-Manger and decided to take a pit stop for a cappuccino and an almond croissant. That was a regular part of my morning routine when I worked in London and I relished every minute of it. As I sat in the window watching Edinburgh open up for the day, I still had a niggling feeling that something fundamental in the landscape was amiss.

And then it dawned on me - there were no cycle lanes and hardly a bicycle in sight. In 3 short months, I have become accustomed to the whirring and clanking of the Copenhagen bike culture. The cyclists of my newly adopted city are the third dimension of its traffic scene that give it a very unique vibe. Its not just the fact that people are on their bikes, its their sheer number, their stylish bikes and cycling attire and the mutual respect between the different road users. I have to admit though that the topography of Edinburgh does not necessarily lend itself to two wheeled ambling.

On any view, Edinburgh is a beautiful city and the hilly walks up the cobbled streets led to spectacular views up to the castle and back to the surrounding lowlands.

By the end of the trip, when I had celebrated with my family and had my fill of shopping, I was looking forward to coming 'home'. Obviously, it was hard to say good bye to loved ones and I had the slightly unnerving feeling that we weren't going 'home' but rather we were going away again. In any event, I needn't have worried, a very sunny and clear Copenhagen evening welcomed us and, give or take a few pangs of homesickness, we're back on our bikes.

But what does all this have to do with pictures of a tea cup, saucer and side plate? Well, these beautiful and delicate pieces of antique china were the 'favours' given to the lady guests at this weekend's wedding. My new sister-in-law sourced probably close to fifty of these unique sets and placed the bundles of sugared almonds in the tea cups. Apparently she collaborated with my mother to choose this set for me and I think it is one of the most original and beautiful personal touches I have seen at a wedding. It was inspired and I hope these photos do it some justice...

The company of books...

I love books and when I get time to myself I love reading. One of the joys of living in London was the number of independent bookshops and we were lucky enough to live near a couple of the best: Daunt and England’s Lane Books. They were more than bookshops, they were shrines to the written word with beautiful books temptingly displayed. Even my toddler son appreciated the pleasure of stopping by to browse on our way home from nursery or shopping.

When we moved to Copenhagen, I wondered where I would wander to find reading inspiration. Scouring the English section of the big Danish bookstores didn’t compare to losing oneself in a nook or cranny of a small independent bookshop. I was therefore curious to hear about the English bookstore in Hellerup, Books & Company.

It was while we were still deliberating over school options for my son that I first called by at Books & Company for the Tuesday morning story telling session. My son loved it and I bought a coffee and browsed the bookshelves with my baby daughter. It was everything I looked for in a bookshop and immediately felt like a home away from home: the familiarity of English book covers, the company of the other expat mums, the taste of a warm cappuccino on a winter’s morning and the welcoming smile of the storeowner, Isabella.

In those initial weeks in Denmark when I was still in shock from the ‘foreignness’ of it all and weary from the daily onslaught of the unfathomable language, the bookshop was like a refuge giving respite from the battles of settling into life in an alien land. I was intrigued by the store and arranged to meet with Isabella to find out more.

No strangers to expat life themselves, Isabella and her husband lived in Holland, New York, Hong Kong and San Francisco before returning to Denmark to settle with their young family. It was her experience of overseas bookshops that made her consider starting up a bookstore business. She was a lawyer specialising in human rights and refugee law with no retail, commerce or accounting experience but a vision and a desire to recreate something that she had enjoyed abroad; an environment where people could meet, linger and browse and relish the experience of buying books.

Back in Denmark, Isabella missed the sense of community that a bookshop (usually incorporating a cafe) can inspire. Her time abroad had shown her that book shopping was different in Denmark. As books here are expensive, the Danes don’t tend to go into a bookshop and browse or buy on impulse. Instead they are more specific in their shopping - have a book in mind, locate it and buy it. Isabella set about to offer expats something more familiar.

Nearly two years ago, at the height of the financial crisis, Books & Company opened its doors in Hellerup. Picking the right location was crucial and the leafy suburb north of Copenhagen is the city’s largest English-speaking expat neighbourhood and home to most of the international schools. It is also a wealthy suburb and the rent of retail space doesn’t come cheap.

Notwithstanding this daunting beginning, the bookstore has gone from strength to strength. It now has a full calendar of events (weekly story telling for pre-schoolers, book launches, workshops, book club meetings, talks by authors), a Facebook page, a mailing list of 700+ and as Isabella and I sat in the window chatting and sipping coffee, the bell above the door rang with a busy stream of customers and passers by calling in to ‘say hello’ and wish Isabella and her staff a Happy Easter.

There is no doubt that Isabella’s dream is now a reality and there is no better testament to that than the ladies of Hellerup who call the store ‘the living room’. While the focus of the shop is the sale of books, and to this end there is a careful selection of titles and their presentation on dark wooden tables and shelves is immaculate, the piece de la resistance is the comfortable seating area by large windows at the back of the store and the fact that customers are encouraged to linger by the lure of competitively priced coffee.

To get here Isabella has worked incredibly hard. With no prior relevant work experience but combining a new business and motherhood, she has risen to every challenge - from the first draft of the business plan when a McKinsey consultant friend asked pointedly, ‘Is this going to be a hobby or a business?’, to the tricky task of how to price an English paperback novel so as to trigger the all important impulse buy and the thorny question of whether she could or should be competing with Amazon (Isabella decided from the outset that she couldn’t and that dedicated Amazon customers may not help her pay the rent through book sales but might still stop to browse and buy her coffee!).

She has been both creative and resourceful, for example the mural painting of Eloise in the children’s section is by an American expat friend and when she needed a long list of titles on which to build up her stock, she emailed 60 of her friends asking for their lists of favourite authors and must-reads. Involving the people around her from the start was all part of building the community and the environment that would be the essence of the bookshop.

The irony of this story is that it is not the expats but the Danes who now make up the majority of Isabella’s customers. The reason for this is simple: more English books are printed and therefore they are cheaper than the limited number of titles that are translated into Danish. But the Danes are well travelled and they like to read in English and so, it turns out, they are prepared to buy the original rather than wait for the translation. This is something that Isabella admits she underestimated. However, it can only be a good thing for her that the natives too are making Books & Company their own.

And I’m lucky that Copenhagen’s one English bookstore is on my bike ride to school so that I can call by for a coffee, a book browse and inspiration, whenever the mood catches me.