When I landed in Copenhagen I went to the ticket kiosk to buy a metro ticket. I could understand the Danish but not why my debit card wasn't accepted, so I tried to get cash. I didn't see an ATM but I did see a vending machine that accepted cards, so I tested mine. I somehow ended up with a 20-kroner coin, chocolate milk, and a candy bar, so my card worked, and then some. I found an ATM after easing through customs and withdrew a 500 kroner note, but the ticket vending machine only accepted coins. I bought postcards, but received more notes in return. The shop assistant pointed out a window where I could buy a ticket from a real person, so I did, and my first impression of Denmark was, "This place is a production."
My second impression of Denmark was the sea air that came in through the sliding glass doors of the metro train, and the coral-colored peaked roofs of the houses along the tracks. My third impression was of the city itself, scalloped peaks at the ends of brick buildings; brick lanes; bicycles upon bicycles. I dropped off my bag at the hostel and went back out in the misting rain; slipping around the canals, watching the red and white flags snapping in the breeze, feeling cozy with cups of tea and good spelt bread.
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