On the way home from our recent trip to Paris, my mother and I had a fourteen hour layover in Copenhagen, Denmark. Neither of us had ever been to Copenhagen, and we both jumped at the chance to spend even a few hours in a new city. After snagging a couple of hours of sleep on some obliging benches in the airport, we took a predawn train into town.
It was early on a Sunday morning, and, except for some early risers and a few others who hadn’t quite made it to bed yet, the cobbled streets were quiet and mostly empty. Despite not having quite the right timing to see the famous “bicycle rush hour,” the streets were full of beautiful bicycles, and I couldn’t help but stop every few feet to admire them.