Feline Judgement & A Missing Hangover.

My first stop was to find a stationary store, to pick up a new notebook. I knew that if I went in search for coffee, I was bound to come across one. 

I was warned, heavily, by hotel staff to make sure I stayed out of the bike lanes when walking. The city overall, they added, was very walkable and easy to navigate.

"Just wander around," the bell man told me, when he delivered my luggage to my room the evening before. "We have museums, but the most interesting things you will see will be from just walking around the city."

Which worked for me, because I didn't make any plans before arriving in Copenhagen. I didn't even look up how to get to my hotel before walking out of the airport. And here I was, 12 hours later, heading out to find coffee and a notebook on a cloudy, grey day.

Before I got the food hall where I wanted to nourish myself, I noticed a corner shop hidden by scaffolding. It was slightly below ground. I could see there were stationary supplies inside. I spent a few minutes looking at notebooks before choosing a bright red one, and took it up to the counter.

I was greeted in a few sentences of Danish.

I looked like a local.

"Tak," I said, "For thinking I am from here."

He then addressed me in English and helped me navigate the payment system. (I had no idea my smart chip card could be tapped. I'm so used to just using Apple Pay on my phone.) I grabbed my notebook and then walked around the corner to eat.

I went with a cappuccino and a tiberkes (a Danish croissant with marzipan in it).

I sat and consumed... Opening my phone and trying to determine what my plan would be for the rest of the day. I could see I was near a park, and that there were museums in the area. 

I shared part of my pastry with a local pigeon hovering nearby, then picked up my to-go cup and began walking. There were school children laughing and shrieking. And people walking their dogs. I walked past a gorgeous smell that stole my attention from the animated energies...

Lilacs.

Springtime.

And a museum just beyond them. Statens Museum for Kunst. 

Kunst. Art. Danish Art. European art. French art.

Lots of Munch - which I didn't like. Some Modigliani - which I did.

And lots of Carl Bloch... Which I really liked, when it wasn't the religious stuff he painted.

It's the feline's expression in this painting that I find relatable. Pure judgement.

After the kunst, I walked through the King's Garden, visited a castle, then eventually found lunch at a tourist trap. 

I went back to my hotel and crashed for a few hours. Deep sleep. I'd booked a late supper nearby, so I had time to rest.

The supper was four courses, with wine pairing. I was drunk when I left the restaurant, and full. I laid down to sleep when I got to my room, wondering how much I would feel it in the morning.

But morning is here, and I don't feel tired or hung over.

Maybe my body doesn't register my age here on this side of the world?

Maybe it's just all in my head.