6. Shop in the Strøget
7. Go to Tivoli (the second oldest amusement park in the world)
8. Have a beer and fast food at a street food market
9. Discover Freetown Christiania (an independent community in the middle of the city)
“What about the Little Mermaid statue?” I ask him.
“That’s a touristy thing. Overrated.”
“A lot of the other things are also tourist attractions,” I say, although I agree the statue site was a bit less exciting than I imagined. “I might be able to cross some items off the list already.”
“What have you completed?”
I try to recall. “Hmm... I saw Amalienborg, the residence of the royal family, of course. I went to the National Museum, Christiansborg Palace... Botanical Garden... Oh, and I’ve shopped at Strøget many times.”
“Good. I would have found it strange if you hadn’t. Crossing number six off then.” He strikes it through. “I guess you have also done item three to some extent.” He draws a line over Visit parks, castles, and museums. “Anything else?”
“I’ve brought chips to eat while tanning on the grass in a park near my old place during the summer. Does that count as a picnic?”
“I wouldn’t say so.” Erik clicks the pen, seeming like he isn’t done with the list yet. “I missed one thing.”
He writes down number ten, and when I see what it is, I laugh in disbelief.
“Winter bathing? Like, getting in the ocean when it’s freezing cold?”
“Yes, that’s the idea.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You people are crazy.”
“And yet you want to be like us, so you better join the madness.”
I keep laughing and say, “No way.”
He throws me the notepad with a mischievous grin. “Too bad. You’ll never be a real Copenhagener then.”
I shrug. “I’ll never be anyway.”
“Only if you don’t want to.”
We keep gazing at each other, and our smiles fade at the same time. A chilly gust of wind shakes our hair, and I press my jacket against my body.
“Trivia night starts at seven,” Erik says, checking his watch. “We have a few hours to try some of the things on the list.”
I look at him, surprised. Did Erik just say what I thought he said? Is he suggesting we hang out for the rest of the day?
I better not discourage him. I really want the company.
The reason why I explored so little of the city in my six months here was that doing all those things on my own felt strange. Empty. The times I felt hygge alone were at home, wearing my cozy socks, drinking hot chocolate, and watching a romantic movie under my blankets.
Out there, in a beautiful but strange city, I felt like an ant lost from her colony. All I wanted was to be in those wonderful places with someone I liked.
My main motivation to explore was to take pictures or make calls with my family and my best friend and show them what I’d seen and done.
Every time I was out somewhere, observing others, I hoped someone would sit by my side on a bench and start chatting, or that a coworker would cross my path. But it never happened. I made no actual friends.
“Sol?” Erik calls, snatching me out of my thoughts. I look at him, and he smiles. “Let’s cross off some items.”
Ten
We go back home to prepare for our tour. I put on my pink sneakers and my floral workout leggings. Then I pack a backpack with water, a thermos of coffee, and the cotton pareo with a Copacabana sidewalk print that I bought in Rio. It’s the perfect blanket for a quick picnic, as it’s light and doesn’t take up much space in a bag.
I check my phone before leaving and see a message from my dad: Everything good? You’ve been silent.
I type a quick answer: Sorry, I’ve been busy with work. Maybe we can have a call tomorrow? But yeah, everything is great.
It’s true. Everything is great.
Dad types: The big guy next door is not bothering you, is he?
I laugh, imagining Dad in his jealous, protective stance. He doesn’t say it, but I’m sure that me living with a man is eating him alive.
Don’t worry, Dad, I reply. The last thing on his mind is messing with me.
Sadly.
No. If I love myself and my new life in Denmark, I should never try to turn our fake relationship into a real one. Ruining the mutually beneficial agreements we have would ruin everything.
