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[ edited and typed: 07-13 ]


:: 9.55 am: Arken, in front of the museum, waiting for them to open, along with some other people. Slightly shivering & definitely underdressed for this weather. And really, why do these museums have to be so far from the station? :: groans :: Or more to the point, why do I insist on walking rather than just take the bus? But even at home I hate waiting for public transport and the feeling of dependency using it, and I do enjoy noticing details I would miss otherwise and getting a sense of distances and direction. The latter part of the path led through a rather pretty coastal march landscape, too. But still, another 2-3 km walk and my legs are still slightly aching from all the aimless running around I did yesterday.

Grey, overcast skies, a chilling wind. ::


The architecture is really pretty spectacular, right down to the toilets; the café has a nice view of the sea. If I had to compare though, I really prefer the extension wing of the National Gallery, because there the impression you get is that it's been designed first and foremost to serve its function as best as possible and is beautiful almost as an afterthought, or maybe because of that. The Arken museum is rather more self-indulgent, aiming to be a work of art in and of itself, with all the theoretical concept & recurring ship metaphors. That's not to say, though, that it isn't impressive, especially the approach to the entrance and the main gallery with its optical illusion...

The actual collection? :: shrugs :: Not my cup of tea, but then I expected that... I'm rather surprising myself by saying this, but I mostly came out to look at the architecture. No, seriously.


Took the bus back to the station. Go me. Or rather, not.

By train to Roskilde, the weather still hadn't cleared up, dreary, cold, though it at least wasn't raining, which was probably to be expected, seeing as I had not only bought, but taken along the umbrella (unlike the sweater I might have actually needed). The town itself was rather dead on a cold Sunday like that, the cathedral impressive from the outside, gothic for the most part, with some more recent additions, inside brick and white paint, colour only used to emphasise the architectural structure, except for the sidechapels, some of which are covered with frescoes in light, pastel colours; organ and pulpit the same intricately carved, painted & gilded woodwork I've seen before. More graves of Danish kings and queens than i could be bothered to identify.

Made my way down to the harbour and the Viking ship museum, stared at the preserved remains of a couple of Viking ships with a sense of archaeological duty, but decided lack of enthusiasm. Tired, with aching feet, at only 2 pm the day felt it'd been going on forever. Found a coffee machine, which even sold 'Wiener Melange'; dosed myself up with two of those and the remaining M&Ms, but even the sugar & caffeine high didn't really jerk me out of my listless state of mind. Ambled along the harbour and up to some obviously very old church, which was - unsurprisingly - closed. Tiny old houses, flowers everywhere, everything so pretty and picturesque it hurt.

Caught the train back to Copenhagen, took a shower at the hotel, found that apparently the cleaning person had dropped my glasses, because the right lens was gone. The guy at the reception desk said he'd inquire. :: sigh ::

Found myself one of those city bikes and biked along the harbour, sat on the harbour wall pretty much where I'd been on the first day, moodily staring across the water... melancholy, too.

Guy at the reception said he found out nothing, not that I'd expected much. Really had no idea what to do or not to do in such a case, so I called my sister, who said I should definitely complain and try to have them pay the replacement (:: conflicted sigh :: i hate making a fuss), so I went back, explained the story yet again to someone who was helpful, but not in charge either, but gave me the name of the manager who was supposed to be in tomorrow...