In the early days of my wife's appreciation of baseball, she would observe the spectacular catch of a hard-hit ball and say, "He should get some credit for hitting the ball that hard." I am five days into taking me 93-year-old mum-in-law on her royal Scandinavian tour and somewhere somehow I should get SOME credit for doing this.
Mum's back is not so good. Things are progressing -- slowly. Copenhagen is filled with white people on bicycles. Think of a languid Tour de France with less attitude. I need to get back to the room and assist in the movement of things and people, so I will stop short of the expected travelogue. Just let me say that it's a pleasant city, but not one that makes one think, "Wouldn't it be fun to learn the language, rent an apartment and stay for a while."
Herring is good, though. We walk a little, we sit and a little, and thus we make our way around the block.
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