Copenhagen…

I’ve been looking back through some old photos and found myself recalling memories from Copenhagen. I went on a whim in June 2014 on a cheap Easyjet flight. I stayed in the Copenhagen Downtown, the cheapest I could find, which, adhearing to Copenhagen standards, meant it was clean, with excellent wi-fi, central and a perfect backpacker spot.

I fell in love with the city immediately. Everywhere is spotless, the trains run on time and I never underestimate the value of an efficient train. It is pricey, London prices, which attributes to the high standard of living. I had an excellent list of tips from a friend who lived there for one year and it was just as her photographs had suggested. Exceptionally cool and exciting, with bikes, fantastic food, gorgeous gardens, museums, shops and architecture. As always, photos don’t necessarily capture the best moments.

Amalienborg Square

Torvehallerne Glass Markets

I was continuing my quest of independent travel and, staying in an eight-bed dorm room, it was impossible not to meet people. On my first day I met two Swedish boys who lived in Germany. They put London hipsters to shame. They were so cool, both wearing black and one of them wearing what I can only describe as pirate pantaloons. What I loved about them was that they were unpretentious and just hilarious. ‘Fi-Fi’ and ‘Nay-Nay’ as we all struggled to pronounce each other’s names (mine became Gi-gi) and I had at once found new friends. ‘We like your humour’ they said to me. They also had a penchant for trainers and house music, which, coupled with their friendliness, I have found to be great qualities in people.

We set out with the intention of a raucous night in the meatpacking district, which began with us getting lost in Vesterbro and walking into a sex shop to ask for directions. The shop assistant conked on cocaine did not prove to be much help. But I am a firm believer in maps (as Laurie will know, with our eyeliner marked map of Milan) and eventually we found ourselves in what was quite literally meat shops intersected with bars. The evening began with some very pleasant drinks and a discussion of cultural differences – turns out us English do not have as bad of a rep in Europe as I thought, just that we sunburn easily. And I was set to learn a great deal about Frankfurt and Berlin. And trainers. The evening ended in a club called Jolene with Nay-Nay shaking his head at the appalling euro trash music and Fi-Fi ordering shots, and then racing outside on meatpacking trolleys. 

I spent the next day nursing my hangover on a street called Jægersborggade in Nørrebro, home to Grød. Grød in the most delicious porridge restaurant and I urge anyone in Copenhagen to pay a visit. I spent a whole day eating porridge for both breakfast and dinner and, interrupting my porridge gastronomy, exploring the surrounding shops and coffee houses. There is an incredible record shop on Jægersborggade where I spent well over an hour chatting to the shop assistant, with him allowing me to play a huge selection of records on the turntable - my first and last introduction to Scandi techno. They had a back room full of artwork and I was no rush to leave. Eventually I purchased Air’s Moon Safari, a safe bet, one of my favourite all time albums, and I was delighted to find it on record. The lovely shop assistant also gave me some wonderful tips on museums, clubs and bars to visit whilst in Copenhagen. I still have these scrawled in his handwriting on a record sleeve. I’ve always had this determination to find places off the beaten tourist track, to see where locals frequent and understand their culture far better than a guidebook can give. The best way to do this is always to talk to local people.

Record Shop, Jægersborggade

Record Shop, Jægersborggade

This was how I ended up in Bo-Bi bar. I’m afraid I cannot remember Mr Record Shop’s name, but he marked on my trusty map exactly where this amazing bar was. Sure enough, after a few twists and turns off a main road, was a bar that was like stepping back in time. The décor was deep red with dark wood, with dim lighting and soft music, and you could smoke inside! Even as a non-smoker, except occasionally on holiday, this excites me. And there was something incredibly atmospheric about the haze of cigarette smoke with the ambient lighting. The drinks were cheap, the place was so unassuming, and I was reminded once again why I love travelling.

Most people, even if they don’t ask, think ‘doesn’t it feel awkward or uncomfortable going places on your own’. And the truth is yes. Yes it does feel very awkward and uncomfortable. You are aware that people are looking at you and judging you, making assumptions that you must be sad, friendless, or ‘up for it’ – particularly if you are young and female. Just to be clear, I have not felt the need to gather air miles in order to find a romantic liaison, and I have never had a night of passion with someone I have met travelling. Safety first.

So why was I travelling on my own? There was a point in my life where I wanted to do something for myself. I wanted to explore at my own pace, and to push and challenge. It is remarkably freeing to not be concerned about someone else and to worry if they are enjoying themselves. I am aware that I would not have the patience to travel in big groups and that they would get impatient with me. I love sharing experiences with others; Milan is an example of such and I cannot wait to explore Nicaragua with Helen! However there is a time and place for travelling solo too and so much to be gained from the experience.

Independent travel forces you into uncomfortable situations, you become more open to talking to others, trying new things, you can join with a group when you want to and equally you can leave when you like. Personally, it is imperative not to let going alone stop me from travelling. Solo travel will build your confidence and resilience like nothing else. More importantly, you are only alone if you limit yourself, friends can be found in the most unlikely of places.

So yes, I did feel self-conscious and exposed, but I sat myself at the bar, drank gin and tonics, read my book  - a must for a solo traveller – and intermittently chatted to the barmaid. She was a university student herself, and we compared universities in England and Copenhagen. I talked to a guy from Luxembourg, who used to make violins in Newark, near my hometown. I walked back to the hostel that strange summer evening, feeling oddly familiar and at home in these unknown streets. As I admired the beauty of the cobbled stones and ancient architecture, I reminded myself that anything is possible.

Imogen

Bo-Bi Bar