7 intrepid antipodeans + 7 cheap arse Ryanair tickets = 7 tired travellers. And tired = ugly. Oh well at least we'll be in our element. From all accounts the Copenhagen locals are absolute pigs (see above) ;-)
Anywayz a coupla hours later, we arrive in Kobnhavn and everyone comes down with a funny skin irritation. Turns out it was sunlight.
Rakesh sets the record for fastest person lost on the continent. Within an hour, he hops in to a "7 Eleven" and was not seen again for an hour.
Strange Danish custom 1. - "7 Elevens" have a red light out the front with discrete rear entrances.
I don't know how Uncle Fester got in the background, but he did.
Whirlwind sight seeing tour, ended in the purchase of a stylish Man-bag. How postively Continental. Qualities include real leather and hand stitching. Intangible qualities include no more random police searches for "Articles Related to Terrorism"!
Dinner was fab (and not for the food either). Had no herrings but the lobster bisque substitued well. Dazel showed why no fish-head has ever made President of the Phillipines. White people present were most disgusted.
Much drinking ensued in a Bierhall with the locals. Too much alcohol blurred the locals vision and judgement and somehow we were accepted by the crowd without a vicous beating for not being blonde (or having no hair in 50% of the cases). Though i did suffer a savage mauling in the Foosball match... twice. What a silly game.
Strange Danish Custom 2. "Hi" means hello. "hi hi" means goodbye. "hi hi" means fuck off. Left the bar at 5am to a chorus of "Hi Hi". So sweet of them.
Day 2 was spent nursing a hangover at the Tivoli Gardens. Due to a boiled sausage with skin tags for brunch, an executive decision was made by moir not to ride the rides, made easier since i didn't make the height limit anyways!More food and drinking was had at Nyhavn (left) for dinner. Well drinking anyways cause my steak still had a pulse. Dazel true to form unhappily ate all of his.
Strange Danish Custom 3. The bins are automated... they open and close by themselve with red lights flashing. Where the rubbish goes is anyone's guess. Rumour has it, it goes to Sweden.
Day 3 was much of the same - wet and cold. Statue of the Little Mermaid is whats the word for it .... shite! We did climb the staircase to heaven, only to find out that Heaven did not accept non-believers... So i was cast down to Christiana. Its like Nimbin with Riot Police.
A long trip home ensued. At Stansted we waited in a queue for non-eu citizens (i could swear it was meant to say "Thy of non-eu heritage, behold the queue of infinity"). So after a difficult and cold journey home, the trip ended where it started - 3am in my bedroom.
