Danish Winter

Danish Winter

For a while I didn't think I'd make it. When I saw the flight crew in
the departure lounge looking out anxiously at ice being scraped from
the plane's wings I almost postponed the trip. If it was this bad in
Manchester what would Copenhagen be like? But I wanted to see Carsten
again. Surely they wouldn't let us take off if it wasn't safe. I was
already apprehensive about the trip, the weather merely added to my
worries. He'd invited me to visit but I had my doubts. All the time I
was packing I wondered about his motives. Maybe he just felt obliged to
return my hospitality. Was he missing me as much as I missed him? I
hadn't seen him for three months, since he'd returned to Denmark. We
had phoned and e-mailed each other, but that wasn't the same as being
together.

The plane took off late. As we rocked and rolled through the worst of
the snow clouds I looked out at white powder blowing in all directions
and felt disorientated, as though I was rotating through a vigorous
wash cycle. This did nothing to settle my nerves and I wasn't even able
to manage some Dutch courage in the form of free airline drinks. After
what felt like a very long haul we came through the clouds and landed
in a haven of tranquillity. The sun shone and Copenhagen airport was
full of cheerful people in bright quilted coats totally at ease with
the cold. I almost missed Carsten despite his brilliant yellow coat. I
was still nervous. We hugged each other but our thick coats precluded
closeness. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I was surprised how different
he looked - I hadn't seen him in his own environment before. His hair
seemed blonder and his eyes bluer. He looked happy and well, surviving
quite nicely without me. In England he'd looked more pallid, fitting in
with the rest of us I suppose. His smile was the same though and
characteristically the first thing he said was "Let's go eat."

We got the bus to the city centre and left my luggage at the station.
We walked past Tivoli. The travel guides had described it as a
"fairytale garden in the heart of the city" and from Carsten I'd been
led to expect romantic restaurants, fountains and fireworks, and lots
of happy people. Behind the closed wrought iron gates all I saw was an
avenue of deserted restaurants and a sea of tarpaulin covers. Maybe I
was expecting too much. It was, after all, the middle of winter.

Crossing Radhuspladsen and down Stroget we mingled with Christmas
shoppers muffled against the cold. We walked the narrow pedestrian
streets lined with tall grey and ochre buildings, snow piled into the
gutters. Carsten took his gloves and hat off and gave them to me. Even
with these my fingers stayed numb and I tried desperately to maintain
the enthusiasm I usually feel at being part of a new city. The narrow
street opened onto a grey cobbled square. In better weather it would be
lined with caf? tables but today dining was indoors in basement
restaurants.

Carsten promised me a special lunch. He chose an ultramodern fish
restaurant with crisp white tablecloths, polished pine floors and no
visible means of heating. I had anticipated a cosy log fire and piping
hot food and I gave up my coat reluctantly to a starchy waiter.

We were shown to our table and given menus. They were in English as
well as Danish but it still looked strange. I like fish but in winter I
prefer it in a nice pie or spicy chowder. Everything here was served
cold. I struggled to make my choice and in the end left it to Carsten.
He gave confident instructions to the waiter.

"Dagens ret til to ?.og aquavit, naturligvis."

"Jubilaeum eller Alborg?"

"Jubilaeum, tak."

It was strange hearing Carsten speak Danish. It was his language but I
had only heard him use a few words, and never in conversation. There
isn't much call for Danish in the north of England these days. I was
dismayed to think that I knew so little about him. I had assumed I knew
him well.

I had attempted to learn a few words of Danish from him but he had
teased me for my pronunciation. There was no chance of getting my own
back because his English was perfect with a soft buttery accent that
made me want to listen to him, whatever he was saying. That is how we
got to know each other. We met at work and I drew him into conversation
at every opportunity just to hear him speak.

On one occasion he had described his home.

"It is very hyggelig"

"What does that mean?"

"I'll tell you if you can manage to say it."

"Hoogly." This was the nearest I could get.

"Very good." He seemed genuinely impressed. "There isn't really a word
for "hyggelig" in English. It means, sort of, warm, cosy or
comfortable, welcoming, enjoyable."

As we got to know each other better we talked less, could spend hours
in each others company without a word. I'd always thought that was a
sign of closeness, but now the silence seemed strained and I was not so
sure. Nervousness made me clam up and that was not helping the
situation.

While we waited for our food Carsten rubbed his hands together. It was
the first hint I'd had that he was feeling the cold too. I clung to the
possibility that he was as nervous as I was.

"I'll show you round the city this afternoon, OK?"

"That would be great." I sounded more enthusiastic than I felt.

In England we'd gone all over the place. I'd shown him the night life
in Leeds, the beauty of the Lake District and his own heritage in
Viking York. Then, too, he'd laughed at my pronunciation of Viking
place names. But even walking along Hadrian's Wall in February I hadn't
felt this cold. We'd spent a lot of time together and shared more than
food and sightseeing. Now, at the back of my mind I wondered whether
he'd only spent so much time with me because he was lonely. Maybe he
had just been passing time while away from home. It had taken me a
while to save the money for this trip - maybe a little too long. We
seemed to have lost some momentum.

The food arrived and it looked good - a banquet accompanied by a bottle
of aquavit. Carsten filled two small glasses with the clear liquid and
handed one to me.

"This will warm us up. Now, down in one. Skal!"

"Skal."

Our glasses clinked and we emptied them immediately. Carsten sat back
with a contented sigh.

We started on the food. Salmon and dill, herring in sherry, breaded
plaice with remoulade, huge smoked shrimps all served on small pieces
of dark, dark rye bread. After each serving we knocked back small
glasses of aquavit. How could something that tasted of gripe water work
so well? I warmed to Danish food.

We finished our meal and Carsten led the way out of the
restaurant.

"Are you feeling warmer? Now we'll go to see the Little Mermaid,
although you may be disappointed. Most people are."

I would rather have stayed where we were, now that I was warm. I almost
said so but decided to show willing. So we set off walking along the
banks of the frozen canals. The green spires and domes of the
parliament and museum buildings reflected in the ice. We left their
shelter and walked out along the harbour where a fishing boat crunched
through frozen sea on its way towards the dock. The creaking sound of
ice being wrenched apart came closer as the boat forced its way home
leaving a thin channel of water behind it.

An icy blast blew straight into my face. The only trace of warmth was a
vague waft of oil in the air. I shrank further into my coat as I leaned
into the wind. Carsten looked at me. I tried to smile but my face
wouldn't move, although my eyes watered.

Carsten stopped walking and turned to face me.

"This is too much. We must be mad." He shook his head. I dreaded what
was coming next but all he said was "it's too cold, I'm frozen. Let's
go home."

"I thought it was just me."

"No, not at all."

"We need something hoogly."

"You remember hyggelig. Yes, that's what we need." I watched a
familiar, enthusiastic smile brighten his face.

He put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me. This time I could feel
the warmth of his breath on my face. We turned to face the way we had
come and he whispered "the Little Mermaid can wait for another day. I
have a huge fire and plenty more aquavit at home. Let's go back and
thaw out."