We never did go and find another giant after getting food from The Gasoline Grill (read about it here) but that wouldn’t be the end of the giants.
Instead we went back home after the burgers and retired from sight seeing for the day … because Wednesday was full of more exciting things to see and do. We took it slow in the morning and then headed out for Christiansborg Palace.
Our first stop was another Coffee Collective for a cortado (omg).
The bus stop is right at the front of the palace and one of our sons favorite things to do this trip was to climb everything that wasn’t fastened to the earth. Whenever we got off the bus here, he would jump from ball to ball and, this time, Aaron joined.
I was never more aware of the fact that we didn’t live here, were American and tourists, when they did things like this. And our son did this CONSTANTLY. Oh, well!
Before we really got into our day – there was even more food. We stopped at a hot dog stand before we went into the Palace and had our last hot dogs of the trip (DØP was so much better, but these were still delicious).
I was particularly excited about this Palace because you could tour the Royal Kitchen and, I said this on instagram too, but it was maybe the best ever. First, though, we went through the ruins of Castles and Palaces that this one was built on top of.
It was an extensive tour (self-guided) underneath the Palace and after about an hour underground, I couldn’t get to the sunlight fast enough. The history of the Ruins is really interesting though; complete with a princess being locked in a tower for 22 years, multiple fires and re-building processes and even more rudimentary plumbing attempts. So much of the history we learned was about the first bathrooms … they believed their “secrets” were part of their bowel movements so guarding their release was hugely important. I’m not even going to touch that with commentary.
Once we were at grade-level again we wandered to the entrance and got a look around. This is what I pictured when I was researching this trip, Castles with gold and crystal and color and all of this – but seeing it, it was something else. I loved walking through Christiansborg.
In one of the halls there were amazing tapestries on every wall (they were in most of the rooms, actually, it was awesome to see) and in this particular hall – it took 60 weavers ten years to complete them all. It was a history of Copenhagen – and the colors were beautiful.
Once we toured the Palace we went straight for the Royal Kitchen, let’s take a moment of silence for the copper, shall we? This room made me weak in the knees.
Not only was there eye-candy everywhere you looked, there was an entire room dedicated to flower arranging, and another dedicated to ice cream making.
Kitchens, cooking, gathering … this might not light your fire. I commend you for knowing this, congratulate your ability to allow me the time and space I will undoubtably take here to gush over these very things. My first memories in life are of the taste of mangos, the smell of rain, the noise around a table. I was very content as little girl to spend all of my time in a make-believe world where I was hosting, cooking, and caring for my imaginary family.
I don’t have the “best meal I’ve ever eaten” stories that most people might, like you can trade secrets over the best tapa’s, cocktails or tacos – I’ve tried and tried to contain one meal into this kind of legendary story to share at parties and they never stick. Instead, I have the best conversation I’ve ever had with a group of friends – it happened to be in a taco bell, or sitting cross-legged eating nachos in a cabin, or watching the flames spit as we sat under the stars and I spilled my guts after a glass of wine. I have tipsy dance floor confessions and late-night drives to Holland with friends where the tears down my cheeks tasted like both salt water and sugar. Very literal bittersweet memories.
I remember the smell of my Grandma’s red sauce simmering while my Grandpa grills salmon and the commotion of 4 generations permeates the air and punctuates the stillness of the moments before a meal. I remember my Grandpa’s hands as he blesses the meal, the way my Grandma wants to offer snacks and food at every opportunity.
Sunday dinners at my mom’s house, her bread and baked goods and chicken that always reminds me of belonging. Meals in a motorhome (fries out of a microwave, sips of wine coolers, first puffs of a cigarette – everything tasted like rebellion. Including a boy who kissed me under the stars in Maine, soft and real and new.) and turkey sandwiches after school. I don’t remember one meal – one meal doesn’t cut it for me. I remember every single kitchen of every house I’ve ever lived in. I remember how each one smelled in the morning, and after dinner.
I know where the silverware goes in all the drawers, what kitchen table I sat at when I first had toasted bread with melty cheese on top. I remember chocolate milk and birthday cereal. I remember being loved.
So. The Royal Kitchen wasn’t just a kitchen. It was the space where meals and feasts and treats and legends had lived. Where recipes were passed down, where daughters learned to cook and sons learned to wait patiently. It’s where life was sustained. Where it happened, in the spit and the boiling and the cutting and the blood of living and dying to eat.
It is the very place that proves we were once, perhaps have always been, bound together in a hunger for something more. Fires and death and sieges and wars happen. Calamity is a main artery of history – and yet, the stove lights up, the soup simmers, the bread rises. And there’s always a table to come to.
Just ask my family, we spent more time than they wanted to ogling the butcher block counters and studying the stock pots and sinks. This might have been the highlight of the trip for me. I’ve always felt like an archeologist of my own life, excavating my soul. And kitchen rituals are the very center of my universe.
After they finally got me to say I was satisfied, we moved on to the Stables.
There were signs every where telling us not to approach the horses, so we just quickly walked through to say hi and see them. These are maybe the cleanest horse stalls I’ve ever seen.
Before we went back to our AirBnB for the night we found one more of Somebody Feel Phil’s locations – this time, Tacos!
I was so freaking happy after touring the Christiansborg Palace – once we got home, I poured myself a glass of wine and took some time to read and reset while the kids watched a show and Aaron napped. I didn’t want to forget anything about this – and I figured the best way to let it sink in was to let it marinate.