HANNA'S WALK

The Fortification of Copenhagen, Kastellet

Kastellet in Copenhagen is one of Northern Europe’s best preserved fortifications. It is a wonderful place for a stroll on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

The Magical Power of Snow

The hoarse cries of a raven put me in adventure mood. A few kilometres further on, only the creaking of snow under my shoes breaks the silence, This is an amazing day after the blizzard and the light makes my heart sing.
I’m grateful for being alive.

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the withered air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, and housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

The Snow-Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The old town of Elsinore is like stepping into a fairy tale. One sunny day we went for a stroll from the harbour to Kronborg Castle. Old medieval buildings lure with history, interesting facts and legends. Elsinore and Kronborg Castle always entice with a tale.

Mural, Hamlet
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet


Copyright © Hanna Greenwood, Hanna’s Walk 2016.

Note
Elsinore by Wikipedia

I’m standing on top of the Citadel’s ramparts looking over the harbour while swallows fly closely by. I am sure the birds benefit from the steep ramparts one way or another.

Particularly two traditions link the Citadel to the public holiday, Stor Bededag and the night before.

Best known is the custom of eating warm wheat buns on Stor Bededags evening. The reason is that not even the bakers were supposed to work from sundown the night before Stor Bededag and throughout the following day.
Therefore very large wheat buns were baked the day before which people could take home to heat and eat the next day.

However, the wheat buns were eaten the same night – while they were still warm and crisp.
Today it is possible to buy the wheat buns all over when Stor Bededag is approaching.

The second tradition normally associated with Stor Bededag, was the habit of Copenhagen’s bourgeoisie walking on the ramparts on the evening of Stor Bededag. The custom can be traced back to the 1700s and is said to be caused by the melodious chimes of Our Lady Church’s carillon, which lured people of Copenhagen out on a stroll to enjoy the newly sprouted, spring green linden and chestnut trees.

The carillon was set up in 1747 and destroyed by the British bombardment in 1807 the church’s spire was hit and crashed into the main building, which burned completely.

It seems that the tradition once again is popular among people from Copenhagen and every day might work

Notes
Useful information on this site: Copenhagenet.dk
Kastellet
Kastellet, Copenhagen, Wikipedia

The Mythological Gefion

The Gefion Fountain never stops to fascinate me. I came here as a child with my mother. Now I’m back as an adult being a tourist in my home town.

Gefion

Notes

The fountain depicts the mythical story of the creation of the island of Zealand on which Copenhagen is located. The legend appears in Ragnarsdrápa, a 9th-century Skaldic poem recorded in the 13th century Prose Edda, and in Ynglinga saga as recorded in Snorri Sturluson’s 13th century Heimskringla.

According to Ynglinga saga, the Swedish king Gylfi promised Gefjun the territory she could plow in a night. She turned her four sons into oxen, and the territory they plowed out of the earth was then thrown into the Danish sea between Scania and the island of Fyn. The hole became a lake called Lögrinn and Leginum (locative). Snorri identifies the lake Löginn, as the lake of Old Sigtuna west of Stockholm, i.e., Lake Mälaren, an identification that he returns to later in the Saga of Olaf the Holy. The same identification of Löginn/Leginum as Mälaren appears in Ásmundar saga kappabana, where it is the lake by Agnafit (modern Stockholm), and also in Knýtlinga saga.

In spite of Snorri’s identification, tourist information about the fountain identifies the resultant lake as Vänern[1] ,[2][3][4] Sweden’s largest lake, citing the fact that modern maps show that Zealand and the lake resemble each other in size and shape.

Snorri, however, was well acquainted with Vänern as he had visited Västergötland in 1219. When he referred to this lake he called it Vænir[5] Wikipedia

Is this the top of the tower, Mom? The boy stepped out into the sunlight as the first of a small English family. He looked eagerly over the red-tiled roofs of Copenhagen, with the beautiful verdigris copper spires and towers.
I can take a photo he said and soon the little group established themselves in front of a lovely boy with a camera.

They chose the right day to enjoy the view from Rundetårn. There is an obvious reason to consider the other towers in Copenhagen, when standing at the top of Rundetårn.

Frelserkirken, Christianshavn

Frelserkirken, Christianshavn

The view is spectacular and so is the sight of the Saviour’s Church. I told the family about the famous spiral ramp on the outside of the tower and how it inspired Jules Verne in his book, A trip to the bowels of the earth.
But I forgot to tell them about the English Bombardment of Copenhagen in 1807 and how the soldiers chose to aim after the spires in Copenhagen. Luckily the Saviour’s Church survived but Our Lady Church, Vor Frue Kirke, burned down and so did many old buildings in the centre of the city.

Before We Die

Before us great Death stands
Our fate held close within his quiet hands.
When with proud joy we lift Life’s red wine
To drink deep of the mystic shining cup
And ecstasy through all our being leaps—
Death bows his head and weeps.
by Rainer Maria Rilke

In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln

Happy Weekend ❤
_____________________________________

Mariebjerg Kirkegård

I’m walking in steep hills among ancient trees in an icy cold rain. I put my course towards the Norwegian Hut.
High above the lake lies the little wooden house as a part of an artistic installation, Eremitagen og bjergbestigersken.
In former time at the same place was a house where poets could sit and write.
In 1993, when the art work was complete, an author could receive the key to the house.
In the middle of the wood with a view over the water artists can meditate or write inspired by nature and tranquillity.
A pale concrete foundation under the house is the starting point for the work of art. The concrete protrusion faces Norway. Thus the name the Norwegian House.

My walk continue towards Sophienholm with its associated buildings and greenhouse. Today I stick to the humble buildings if one might call the Cobra Room for humble.

Some of the most outstanding artists in Denmark are represented at Sophienholm.

WHERE DID I TAKE YOU?

__________________________

Facts about:

Sophienholm

Cobraloftet

Eremitagen og Bjergbestigersken

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