ODENSE

“To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. Not to dare is to lose oneself.”

(Kierkegaard)

“What is your final destination today?” asked the elfin old man at passport control in Copenhagen airport. “Odense,” I replied confidently and with some pride. He looked up from my passport.

“Do you mean ˈoðˀn̩sə?"

I nodded with sheepish bewilderment.

“You had better know what town you’re going to or you might never get there,” he winked, sending me off to baggage claim.

Thus began my first day in Denmark, a day on which I was not infrequently reminded that the considerable time I’ve spent living or traveling outside my home country does not mean I can parachute into any foreign context and expect smooth going.

Au contraire imbécile! Within an hour of my arrival I was baffled by an ATM that offered Danish Kroner rather than Euros, perplexed by train platforms, and attempted in all earnest to pay for a bottle of water with a coin half the needed value. Once on the train I sat in first class till kicked out by a conductor, required assistance in opening the automatic doors into the next carriage, and finally, finding all the standard seats filled (some with better-prepared visitors nose-deep in their Lonely Planets) resigned myself to sitting on my suitcase in the vestibule.

Luckily the ride was not long. We crossed the sea to the island of Funen and shortly reached its jewel, the town of Odense.

Odense is best known as the hometown of Hans Christian Andersen, reportedly born in this cheery little cottage:

Here are his dentures:

Here is the rope he always traveled with to assuage his neurotic fear that fire might trap him on a second or third story:

Here is the screen he painted to gaze upon from his deathbed:

What a fantastic weirdo.

Odense is also the home of the decidedly Gothic Saint Knud’s cathedral (the saint himself is viewable in a glass box below the altar).

I’m not sure if the cathedral was built before or after Odense was the home of a successful cattery. [Any cattery experts among you please step forward and explain this.]

Here is the cute historical museum where I learned not-nearly-enough about the town and its historical catteries.

I was in Odense (I expect you are still saying oðˀn̩sə in your head as you read along) to give a talk at the local university, a gig set up by the excellent Jessica, presently employed there as an assistant professor.