Field Trip: The dreamy island of Aero

I was sitting on a bench in a park in Copenhagen when the elderly lady next to me struck up a conversation.  She was originally from Greece, she told me, but has lived in Copenhagen for over forty years.  “What brought you to Denmark?” I asked.  She told me to guess.

“Your husband?”

“Love would be the only reason to come here,” she said.  “I certainly didn’t come for the weather.”

To be fair, Denmark is pretty cold at the end of October, which wasn’t helped by the fact that it rained practically every day for the ten days my friend and I were there (not usual, the locals assured me).  But there are a myriad of reasons to go to Denmark, not the least of which is the Danes themselves.  I found them to be uniformly tall, stylish, and attractive; they are also some of the warmest, kindest, friendliest people I have ever come across (though if I were tall, stylish, and attractive, I’d be pretty pleased with the world too).  When I got a bit disoriented touring the endless rooms of Frederiksborg Palace, a security guard helpfully volunteered that she thought I had seen that wing already, and walked me to a different section.  When we travelled to the city of Aarhus to see the famous bog bodies, the owner of the apartment we rented told us to just leave the money on the counter on the day we were to leave.

            Another compelling reason would be the sleepy wind-swept island of Ærø, in southern Denmark.  We took the ferry across to Ærøskøbing, a 17^th century fishing town so perfectly preserved it looks fake, like something Walt Disney would build.  The twisting cobblestone streets are lined with crooked, half-timbered, Hobbit-sized houses painted in candy colours.  Affixed to some of the window frames are little “spy mirrors”, which enables residents to keep an eye on any drama and gossip fodder unfolding on the street without having to be gauchely obvious about it.

            We were welcomed to our bed and breakfast with tea and lacy oatmeal cookies.  

     The owner is a transplanted Brit who had the idiosyncrasy of being very particular about her eggs, laid by free range hens living in the back garden.  The first night there were only three other guests; we were awoken the next morning by loud talking and laughing coming from the couple next door.  My friend was not amused, but since we were up we dressed and went down to breakfast.  That couple were the only other occupants in the dining area, where we were to serve ourselves, buffet-style.  We asked the owner for more eggs, since there was only one left, and she said, “But I made five eggs for five people!” then turned and stared pointedly at the couple.  I tried to quash the raucous laughter in my head.

            We rented bikes to tour the island, first stopping at the bakery down the street to pick up some Danishes, or wienerbrød (translated as “Viennese bread”, as they supposedly originated in Vienna).  From the day of our arrival we had been waging a “A Danish A Day: No Danish Left Behind” campaign.  Wienerbrød are nothing like the sickly sweet North American version.  They are lighter, flakier – basically happiness in pastry form. 

            We biked past many U-shaped farms, with three walls surrounding a courtyard of sorts.  Wind turbines lined the shores; Ærø, in contrast to its atmosphere of being frozen in time, is attempting to become completely energy self-sufficient.  We bought some apples from an unmanned stand on the side of the road, leaving the money in a basket.  We made a picnic of it in the churchyard of Tranderup Kirke, a 14^th century church with Viking ships hanging from the vaulted ceiling, rather than your usual candelabras.  My wienerbrød featured a marzipan filling and a poppy seed topping.  It was the best pastry I’ve ever had, and I am a bit of a pastry tramp.

            Afterward, we headed to the cliffs of Vodrup Klint, which descends in earthen steps down to the rugged beach.  I stood on a rock, lost myself in contemplation and gazed out over the grey wrinkled sea.

            And that is one of the greatest beauties of Ærø.  My vacation style is one of frenetic activity, sightseeing and shopping as fast as I can.  Ærø forced me – for two days, at least – to be still and surrender a little to the dreamy air of hushed melancholy.

I’m not kidding about the forced.  After about 7 pm, there is not much open in Ærøskøbing.  We got some groceries and had a supper of smoked salmon and rugbrød, a dark angular rye bread, spread with Danish blue cheese, and dreamed of the wienerbrøds we’d be eating tomorrow.