Copenhagen: Too Good to Be True

At least, that's how Frommer titles his chapter about Denmark's capital city. His opening text:

After Copenhagen, Europe can become a footnote. This city has everything: a populace with friendship in their very souls; an astonishing variety of sights and activities; prices that are among the lowest on the continent.

Wait. What?! Let's go ahead and put that last part in the My How Things Have Changed category. These days, one's first impression of this city is, "Um, those prices are typos, right? All of them? Or am I really going to have to sell a kidney to pay for a meal?"

In general, in my experience, prices on the continent are not terribly expensive (compared to back home). In Copenhagen, though, holy crap. I'm guessing--hoping, praying--that it's now among the highest-priced European cities. Wandering the streets today, I don't think I saw much food under 30 DKK (about 5 DKK to the dollar right now, I believe). Even the strudel at the open-air market was 40 DKK (although they were massive and looked delicious; I'll be sampling them in the days to come).

Speaking of food: one Power Bar down the hatch. Already. This is not good. But by the time I checked in to my hotel, I'd been up for ... um, I don't know how many hours; my brain is not working right now. A lot. Over 24. Well over. Enough that I was disoriented, discombobulated, and dazed in a profoundly "people pay a lot of money for this in Amsterdam" kind of way.

So I broke the cardinal rule of fighting jetlag, which is not to sleep until it's actually bedtime in your destination. Mind you, it was only going to be a quick nap. An hour, maybe two. And then back out into the world, refreshed, clear-headed, and hungry for some Danish cuisine. . . . Seven hours later, I awoke, still groggy and seriously tempted to just roll over and fall back to sleep. I hope you'll understand my lack of interest in heading outside, in my severely disoriented and jetlagged state, to explore a now-dark city, armed only with a tiny hand-drawn map that, in addition to being over 40 years old, does not include the portion of town in which I'm staying.

But let me tell you: that Power Bar was delicious.

Back to sleep.

[UPDATE: this post originally included some notes on Scottish pubs, Dutch trattorias (yes, Dutch trattorias), and culinary authenticity. But I'll save those for another day, when my brain is more functional and I can write more coherently.]

What's in my bag?

I was going to write this in the style of The Things They Carried (possibly my favorite book ever), but then I decided that you'd probably rather just see the list.

Contents of my backpack:

• Europe on Five Dollars a Day (1963-1964 edition)
• Eurail pass
  
• A few print-outs of my parents' letters to each other in 1967 (for the sake of saving space and weight, most of the letters and postcards are saved as PDFs on my computer)
• Six t-shirts (I know that seems like a lot, but they're microfiber--packs small, dries fast!)
• Six pairs of socks
• Six pairs of boxers
• Four button-front shirts (two long sleeve, two short)
• Two pairs of trousers (actually, only one in the bag; I'll be wearing the other)
• Canon digital camera (basic point-and-shoot variety) and little Gorillapod tripod
  
• Netbook (so that I can amuse/bore you from the road. And show my new friends from all over the world the innovation that proves American Exceptionalism: Spider Solitaire.)
• Multi-nation adapter plug
  
• About a dozen little pocket-sized notebooks, plus a larger one. Also a few Post-Its.
• Lots of pens
• A few rubber bands, safety pins, and paper clips
• Belt
  
• Bungee cord clothesline
  
• Small alarm clock that ticks really loudly and may be replaced very soon
  
• Deck of playing cards (I thought about packing a Frisbee, but I don't have room)
  
• Rather a lot of medications and medical supplies. Long story. (You've heard of Crohn's Disease? Fun stuff.)
• Assorted toiletries
• A few Zip-lock bags
  
• Small towel (doubles as pillow cover in sketchy hotels/hostels)
• Little laminated map with the world on one side and the US on the other.
  
• Rain coat
• Light jacket
• A couple of Power Bars, most likely to be consumed in Germany (I'm kind of afraid of their food. I understand they've been eating it for a few years and many of them--and even one or two non-Germans--apparently like the stuff. But my gut is made of parchment paper [did I mention the Crohn's Disease thing?] and therefore I am something of a culinary coward. German food seems particularly well-calibrated for maximum lack of enjoyment, at least on my part: heavy, dense, not especially flavorful, and likely to contain animal parts that I'd actually rather not consume knowingly. I'm terrified of accidentally ordering the daily special of Boiled Esophagus Stuffed With Eyeballs And Raw Onions. So: Power Bars. Just in case.)

. . . And that's about it. Anything I'm missing? Anything I should take out? Pass judgment in the comments.