I must admit... Copenhagen was a bit of a let down. All the hype about it being "the happiest place on earth" and all the pictures of the quaint fishermen's town of Nyhavn were kind of just that. I enjoyed myself, don't get me wrong.... but Disney still earns the title of "happiest place on earth." It doesn't help my southern soul that there was snow and ice on the ground.... After perusing the city, castles, changing of the guards, and quaint restaurant stops, I returned to my private hostel to get ready for the night. It was Wednesday but, there was a popping pub crawl in Rome on a Tuesday so I thought I at least had a chance. Wrong-o. So, after snapchatting some friends back home, I conducted research of places nearby to drink and begin my own pub crawl. Fun fact: "club" is not what you think it is. Strip bar is exactly what it is. Exhausted after my 20 minute google search, I glanced at the temperature only to scream a little inside. 1 degree Celsius. Yeah, I'm going to go somewhere close.... Even three blocks chapped my nose, cheeks, and fingers through my thin red gloves. It was probably the most unique bar I've ever walked into in my life. No, I don't remember the name... I guess it could fall under the classification of a dive bar. It was the closest one from my hostel, aside from the one inside my hostel, which closed at midnight. Once inside the warmth, there were four seats at the bar and tables set up in a colorful room reminding me of TGIF Friday's. Various bright signs coated the walls and tables were filled with excitable groups with glass bottles in front of them or attached to their hands. The bartender was as inviting as a Black Widow. Already frustrated that it was painfully obvious I wouldn't know a word of the language, she tapped her bony, wrinkled finger on the bar for me to decide what I wanted. To my left, was I kind of older man with a goofy grin. I could feel his eyes resting on me while I tried to make this decision. Do I want a beer? Should I get a cocktail? I don't even know what they're known for in Copenhagen. What if I order the wrong thing? My mind is racing and I feared it wouldn't make it to the finish line. "Try us something 69," the deep voice to the left of me suggested. To this day I still don't even know what it's called because my phone was dead, so I couldn't even take a picture of it. "Oh is that good?" "I'll say; this is my fourth one and I'm feeling it! It's much stronger than American beers." "That obvious ehh?" "Well I'm from the states as well." Surprised and relieved, I replied, "You've got a bit of an accent." "Yeah, I've lived here over 10 years now." "That makes sense." Spitting a word at me in Danish, the spider-like bartender had about reached her limit. "Ummm yes, can I please get that this something 69?" Rolling her eyes, she whipped around and threw it on the counter. "Do you have a bottle opener? Not amused by my unpreparedness to walk into a bar without my own bottle opener, she did so and spit out a number with a thick coated accent that I couldn't comprehend.... "umm.... How much?" I said as I fumbled with A 50 krenn. She snatched it from my hand before I could do anything else and moved to the cash register. I took a seat at the bar stool directly behind my legs, failing to notice someone in my age bracket was seated directly to my right. Throwing my change on the counter, she returned to whatever it is spider bartenders do. After noticing the attractive man to my right, it didn't take me 3 seconds to realize his posture hunched over the bar and droopy eyes. We made eye contact and I mustered up a "Hi." Hello he slurred in an accent different than anyone I didn't countered so far on my Europe trip. Iranian I guessed? He possessed very dark features and a slightly muscular build. He slurred something else with a smile but, like the bartender, I couldn't make it out. Smiling awkwardly, I shifted my eyes toward the older man whom had proved he could articulate. We talked about the states and what brought him here. We talked about the 60's and how not only did he smoke pot with Janis Joplin, but he did her a couple times. Okay sir. He inferred it was an orgy, but I wasn't buying it. The girls to his left had an antique ring on her left finger and looked Danish from what I could tell. She was a very attractive woman and looked at least a decade younger than him. But that's not saying much... I feel like Europeans age better than Americans from what little I've seen. She revealed after my inquiry to pull her into the conversation, that she was indeed Danish, mixed with Swedish. That explained her gorgeous accent. The older gentleman spoke Danish with her to prove his bilingual status. At some point during this conversation, the attractive man left; hopefully went to find a bed somewhere. The American certainly was right about the beer. It was notably stronger than your average lager. Feeling much thirstier than I typically do with beer, I spoke softly to the spider-bartender with as much etiquette as I possibly could. "There's no way I could get a water is there?" She grabbed a bottle and I asked for tap water. "Please?" Curtly, she spat, "No. I don't even think the tap works." "Okay thank you..." But she didn't hear me. She whipped back around and returned to her spider tasks. Five minutes later, she used the same tap she pointed to to wash dishes. Okay lady. Okay 30 minutes later or so, my couple friends left for their train back home. They lived about an hour from Copenhagen. I told him how great it was to meet them and slipped out of the bar with them.
As soon as you opened the door, a doll that was connected to a string and two wheels lifted up. After closing the door, the doll returned to its original position. Bizarre. I wish there would have been some sort of bar crawl so I could have enjoyed a little bit more of the nightlife and Copenhagen, but, I still enjoyed myself and was able to make a blog post out of it ;))
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