Christmas comes early to Copenhagen, and the Danes know how to make the most of the festive season, writes Michael Kelly.
Too often these days, visiting EU cities feels like a trip to Sameville, which is why a trip to Denmark is so refreshing. The Danes resisted joining the euro and stuck with the krone, so you still to have to use complex currency conversions to work out how much everything costs. There are even coins with holes in the middle; ah the memories. To add to the sense of "going foreign", Danish is an unbreakable code of a language.
Mrs Kelly and I were in Copenhagen to charge up our festive batteries. Copenhageners adore Christmas - they even have a special word, hygge, which does not have an English equivalent but sums up the essence of warmth and snugness that can be achieved in winter with soft lights, open fires, woollen blankets and the laughter of friends. What a wonderful way to deal with the long, dark, Danish winter when the sun sets as early as 3pm.
We started our weekend with some light shopping around Strøget, which is Europe's longest pedestrian street and winds its way east to west through Copenhagen's old inner city. It has its fair share of department stores and international fashion houses, but far more fun is to be had on the surrounding alleys which are full of little antique stores, boutiques and arcades.
Strøget terminates at the eastern end with a large square, Kongens Nytorv, the centre of which is laid out as a massive outdoor ice rink in winter. I've tried skating a few times in Ireland and enjoyed it. I'm useless at it, of course, but then again, most people in Ireland are, so you never feel too mortified. Not so in Copenhagen. There is a giant thermometer overlooking the square which can go as low as minus 20 degrees, and in a climate like that you can just imagine how expert the natives are on the ice. As I tie up my skates, I am concerned to see children whizzing past at alarming speeds. In no time at all Mrs Kelly is gliding around like Nancy Kerrigan, so I am, at that moment, officially the worst skater in Denmark. Entire families stop what they are doing to stand and laugh at me.
When I am done embarrassing myself, we get lattes at one of the cafes around the outskirts of the rink. Each of the chairs has a fleece on it that you can put on your knees if you're cold. I can't help thinking that cafes at home would be afraid to leave the fleeces out in case they were stolen, or there would be a €10 deposit required to rent one for a 10-minute knee-warming. In Copenhagen you have to pay to rent skates, but it's free to go on the rink and, since most natives seem to have their own, it is in a very real sense, a civic amenity.
It is worth making a return trip to Kongens Nytorv at night to see the venerable Hotel d'Angleterre in its Christmas finery. High up on the balcony there is a miniature carousel, and thousands of fairy lights are arranged to look like giant curtains - truly magical.
Near the rink is the district of Nyhavn, a canal port opened in 1671 to bring maritime commerce to the heart of the city. Hans Christian Andersen lived at no less than three addresses along the canal. There are boats moored along the dock, restaurants galore and markets selling Christmas trinkets. We ignore those and go instead for glasses of Glögg, a high-octane, hot drink made with spices, red wine, port, and schnapps.
As dark descends, we head for Tivoli, which was allegedly the inspiration for Walt Disney to create Disneyland. It is one of the oldest amusement parks in the world and Denmark's most visited tourist attraction. Nothing can quite prepare you for the assault on the senses it becomes at Christmas. There are more than 500,000 fairy lights up (there's a house near Tramore that has a similar number), the gardens are laid out as miniature Christmas villages and there are more than 60 stalls and 40 restaurants. We tire quickly, the ice-skating having taken its toll.
We retreat to the hushed opulence of the Library Bar at the Sofitel Plaza hotel which is apparently where Mick Jagger hangs out when he's in town. I wonder if it is the combination of their delectable Mojitos and the Glögg from earlier that leads me to ask Mrs Kelly: "Is that Christmas tree upside down?" But indeed it is. The tree is upside down and hanging from the roof, with the star on the top (or bottom) just reaching the top of the grand piano in the centre of the room. It seems almost sacrilegious, but I can't help wondering how it would look in my sittingroom.
The next day, it takes us all of two minutes to walk from the front door of the hotel to the train station, from where three trains an hour depart for the airport. Twenty minutes later we arrive at departures. Compare that with the immense battle we fought on Friday afternoon to get across the M50 to Dublin airport (including one whole hour to get from the Red Cow to the toll bridge). Even the airport in Copenhagen seems to embrace hygge for Christmas. u