A still deeper problem is the place of Odense with reference to the rest of the nation. According to anthropologist Richard Jenkins, Copenhagen, on the island of Zealand to the east, has long been the cosmopolitan metropolis, site of creativity and high culture; and the peninsula of Jylland, to the west, is held to be the rural heartland, site of tradition and the national essence. Odense, and the island of Fyn around it, sits uncomfortably in between, neither rural enough to charm nor urban enough to thrill.
Though I am not the city's biggest fan, mostly because I like cities and countrysides but dislike the neither/nor inbetween (cough, suburbs, ahem), I admit to having become rather defensive about it when faced with cooler-than-thou Copenhageners who can't imagine there is anything to see or do here. There are plenty of things! the wonderful art museum! the swell restaurants and cute cafes! the post-industrial attractively-graffitied harbor! the storybook downtown! And more! Okay, not a lot more, but more!
Unfortunately, in most minds, the city's identity centers on one thing and one thing only: Hans Christian Andersen. Sure the museum is great, but do we really need so many H. C. Andersen festivals and marathons and countless statues? Hardly anyone seems to know that Odense is actually the 3rd biggest center for robotics in the world -- could we at least get a statue of H.C.A. as robot?
Fortunately, I have a brilliant idea for a re-branding.
There have been human settlements in Odense for more than 4,000 years, and you know what that means: lots and lots of sex. Those Vikings weren't just full of bloodlust, they were full of actual carnal lust (I'm going to assume the titular HBO show backs me up on this).
Clearly their descendents aren't far behind, given that all of the statues here that aren't of Hans C. are practically pornographic. At first I thought it was a civic-sponsored attempt to increase the Danish birth rate, but now I suspect deeper forces at work. Behold, the evidence:
I first noticed this on my daily commute to campus. I have since changed to a more efficient route, with the side benefit that I am not forced to consider the moment of conception every morning and eve.
This awkwardly reclining giantess sits in the square adjacent to Odense's attractive city hall.
And she has clearly been rubbed in all the right places.
Two words: crane orgy.
Of course nothing comes close to this tribute to reproductive organs. When I told a colleague I was planning on writing about the erotic art of Odense his immediate response was "did you get a picture of the c#$% and v@g!n* on Vestergade?" Yep.
Two more words: sheep buttplug.
I don't even know anymore, but I'm pretty sure this is somehow dirty.
So that's my brilliant idea. You know where to find me Odense City Council --- I've moved to Copenhagen. Of course, the jokes on me, because even though I only commute to Odense about 3 times a week I have to pass by shops like this one every time I go to the train station.
The Vikings would have been huge fans.
