The Center of the World
Applied psychotherapy was one hell of a class to end my first day with. To be fair, I was excited about all my classes, but this one was going to be my fun class. It meets twice a week. The first time we learn a therapeutic technique and the second time we practice it. I’ll be doing therapy and receiving it with my classmates all semester! I know most people probably wouldn’t care, but I’m all about this.
Per-usual, after class I found my bike on a rack in the DIS courtyard. Hey Excalibur, I said silently, patting the seat and unlocking the back wheel. We rode out of the courtyard and into the busy cobblestone street. I was really starting to bike like a Dane. Merging with other cyclists as we peddled beside motorized traffic became automatic, instinctual. Most Danish streets have three layers to them. There is the regular road where cars and busses do about their business. Then there is the biker’s lane, which is about the size of a small car lane. Here, cyclists mimic their automatic cousins by passing on the right while ringing their bell or, if they didn’t have a bell, while yelling, “RINGADINGALINGALING” with spontaneity. Finally there are the sidewalks where bikes are walked and strollers are pushed among the many independent pedestrians.
The road I was on, however, was more inner city. There was no bike lane and the one-way street didn’t have enough car traffic to need one. There actually isn’t that much car traffic at all; most Danes do the practical thing and bike Copenhagen. As I putted down the cobblestone, I searched for a café down the street that I had been to once before, but couldn’t quite remember how to get to. Okay, it was more of a bar than a café, but they did sell discounted food as well as drinks to students. A few years ago, students at Køpenhaven University formed a union with other students in the area. Obviously a bar filled with cheep drinks for all Danish students was the first thing the union created.
I left Excalibur at my closest approximation to the bar and started walking on foot to find it. What I came across instead was Trinitatis Church. Trinitatis was built in the 17th century primarily for students at Køpenhaven University. The main body of the church is very church-like. A large organ occupied the upper scaffolding in the back while the altar resided in the front. White walls with golden trappings gave an aura of majesty, purity, and wealth. The pews were rather unique. Rather than benches, they resembled a restaurant booth with the table removed. This allowed the faithful to watch the production in back of the church just as easily as in the front by switching from one side of the booth to the other. The church’s loft was a library, as requested by the KU students, and was eventually opened to the public along with the rest of the church. Finally, there was the Round Tower. Religion and the arts have been connected before, but the tower brought the third part of the trinity to this church: science. A long circular ramp, large enough to fit a horse on (which was tested and proved), brought scholars on a 34.8 climb above city rooftops to use an observatory. Trinitatis Church brought religion, the arts, and science together. Galileo would have been so proud.
For 25 kroners I climbed The Round Tower. This was the first real tourist thing I’ve done on my own and it was an incredible experience. I spent an hour making a climb that could be made in about five to ten minutes. I tried to put myself in the shoes of students who didn’t see the separation between religion and science the way many contemporaries do. And although my walk was an educational experience, it was also filled with leisure. In Greek, school and leisure are the same word. Every once and a while I can see why.
I strolled past the library, which has been turned into a museum and, unfortunately, was being renovated at the time. The bell loft had also been turned into a museum and displayed artifacts that had held their breath for centuries. One of these objects was a chalice that held the sacred host and it didn’t seem to have staled, so I guess that ends the consecration debate.
Almost at the top of the tower was, what seemed to be, a passage to the towers core. Tourists stuck their heads in and looked around before returning to the circular ramp. I found a pamphlet nearby explaining that the tower’s center was Denmark’s zero point and that other buildings were calculated based on this location. It also mentioned tourists standing on the zero point, but I had yet to see anyone do it.
I dropped my bag on the ramp and used the flashlight on my phone to add light to the walls of the small cave that lead to darkness. Crouching down I leaned over the 25-meter drop to the bottom. The only separation between my view and impenetrable darkness of the fall was a thin sheet of glass with a compass on it. From the pamphlet, I knew it was possible to stand on, but damn this was scary. I squinted my eyes and my body shook as my foot slowly slid onto the glass. Breathing heavy I put some weight on it and then my other foot. I looked down to see my feet above a deadly fall. Then, almost crying, I stepped away from the edge and right above the compass, the zero point of Denmark.
I made it up the rest of the tower rather swiftly. At the top, tourists circled around taking pictures of the city below. An astronomer’s hideaway held maps, constellations, and a grand telescope for sky watching. I spend a good two hours up there taking pictures of the city, people watching, and trying to remember which castle was which, while I mapped out Denmark in my mind. My pocket map helped me find Rosenborg to the north standing proudly above the trees in Kings Garden, south was Vor Frue Kirke and far behind it City tall within King’s Gardens. To the east of that stood Christiansborg which was once considered the center of all of Scandinavia but now acted as a house of government just for Denmark. North of Christiansborg was Nyhavn, the waters of which flowed to Christianshavn. It took quite a while, but I finally developed a sense of where everything was in Copenhagen and where I was in relation to them.
The center of the world has been a constant theme in our history. Whether its Christiansborg, a pharaoh, or Delphi, civilization has always deemed something to stand out as its center. I think in contemporary times people are still trying to make something the center of the world; now the task is preformed more individually and by a creative conscious rather than discipline population. What would it have been like to have the visualization of our zero point that the old myths and palaces once brought into existence? I know my place in the world is probably not in relation to The Round Tower, but, to be honest, I’m not sure if I have a better reference.
The next day, while in-between classes, I wandered through The Botanical Gardens. As the name suggests, there were a lot of plants in them. I left Excalibur by the gates and ventured through the kingdom of nature. Of course the Danes of Copenhagen love nature; all city people love nature. Nature itself is a city-word. Our ancestors probably referred to it as: that uncivilized area, or, that dangerous unknown. I suppose because our existence is no longer constantly threatened by the “natural” we needed a better word for it. Nevertheless, The Botanical Gardens, like all Danish gardens, were beautiful. Grassy hills protected by shady branches overlooked viewing ponds. Danes sat, ate, and slept on these hills, watching exotic birds swim between the blossoming lily pads in the ponds. Watching these Danes was an event. Like seriously, they just sat there silently looking at plants, water, or nothing. They sat there for hours at a time, assumingly thinking, reflection, or just daydreaming. I tried giving it a shot but ended up falling asleep.
Smaller paths brought visitors on a botanist’s dream, up small hills and through leafy forests. Thousands of small plants cluttered the edges of these paths, each with a little nametag with a Latin scientific labeling. All of these paths lead to, what I call, Plant Palace, an extravagant greenhouse proudly governing over the serenities of her kingdom.
When in Europe, I go to churches. It’s just what happens. But, despite all the churches I’ve been in, Plant Palace was the first place I really felt the power of sacred space. The plants came at me in such a forceful way that their vibrant green leaves overpowered me. It was impossible to focus on the rooms because in each of them there was an over copious amount of plants. The plants themselves carried an aesthetic sense of wonder and awe and being with them called for silence. They were untouchable, unjudgeable, and incomparable. They were, I was. It was awesome. I think the pictures do a fair job showing how appealing it all was.
These two experiences closed my first seven days here. In them I realized how much I love going places and doing things, even if it’s by myself. Exploring at my own pace has allowed me to fully appreciate the city without feeling rushed or slowed down. I think mostly though, one week in, I finally began to feel my place here. Getting lost began to happen less often and for shorter periods of time. I adjusted to Copenhagen in hours but becoming acclimated to this new place is where this storyline seems to be taking me.
