The end of the shopping street where I started my walk is home to the more modest establishments. As I ambled toward the water the prices increased with every step, finally reaching the rarified Gucci and Chanel showrooms at the harbor end of the street. The entire area was crowded with strollers looking for bargains or luxuries, enjoying the mimes and succumbing to the “Viking” shills standing outside restaurants. More tempting, several stands offered the glories of Denmark’s summer bounty.
Royal Copenhagen has a design featuring seagulls floating in the blue air. I once had a beautiful and heavy dish of that design – until the day I was reaching for something and knocked it off the shelf. It fell on my head dropping me to the ground. The dish was shattered and my scalp was bleeding as I sat dazed.
As I was browsing around the shop a clerk was behind me fussing with a tall rolling cart filled with porcelain. Before I could get out of the way she gave it a shove. I came within a hairsbreadth of crashing into a display with the force of the impact. Not wishing for a third misadventure any future encounters will be confined to looking in their window. But not to worry: Illums Bolighaus, next door, was having a sale: bed and table linens, cookware, gorgeous glass and all manner of other wonders for the home. So I walked right in. And – yes – I staggered out with treasures to fill up the few empty spaces left in the suitcase. One was a leather shopping bag to hold yet more.
On the way back to our hotel I passed the horn-blowing Vikings again. They hadn’t moved.