Teaching Through the Baltic – Copenhagen



Rosenborg Castle

I kept a journal as I visited ports, befriended people of various nationalities, and taught writing courses on sea days. My trip informed my writing. I learned a lot about people from the Baltic, an area of the world I’d never explored. True of all my trips abroad, travel exposed me to the authentic cuisines of other countries, important since I’m a food writer among other genres.

http://sistersofthequill.blogspot.com/2013/07/teaching-through-baltic-part-three-beer.html   I conquered preconceived notions while conversing with post cold war Russians and two beer-drinking, twice-our-size brothers from Amsterdam: I wiped out a few stereotypes like discovering that few Scandinavians are tall, blonde, and model beautiful--at least in the cities we visited.

Crown Jewels

I learned that people on the other side of the pond are even more politically frustrated than we are. The Brits and Danes resent high taxes, welfare run-amok, national health care, and immigration of Muslims who don’t assimilate. The Scotts resent the Brit’s control over them “for the oil” and their disparity of wealth. Every country represented on ship and shore was crushed by inflation (9 dollars for a gallon of gas).


Rosenborg Castle

 Unusual characters in life might just inspire protagonists and antagonists on the page. We found super quirky in Copenhagen. Danes have a sense of humor. Or at least Christian the IV did. He covered his insecurity and paranoia with hodgepodge décor, a slapped-together art collection, pompous attempts to wow his visitors, and a penchant for practical jokes. Though St. Petersburg’s Church of Spilled Blood had the most remarkable building exterior of the trip,  http://sistersofthequill.blogspot.com/2013/07/teaching-through-baltic-part-two.html The Rosenborg Castle had the most memorable interior. Built between 1606 and 1617 it contains peep holes in the bedroom doors, as if enemies could somehow make it past guards. He added secret tiles in the floors that allowed music to mysteriously drift up from the orchestra the king relegated to the basement, all to wow his guests. He had deceptive tapestries woven to depict himself triumphant on horseback, leading Denmark as it won battles against their neighbors; we were assured by the museum docents that they won some sea battles but never the land battles and ultimately they lost.



Unicorn Horn Chair


Envying other royals the king had minions travel about purchasing random art. They trimmed them down to fit panels in his home, creating a mosaic of unidentified works on his ceilings and walls proving him to be a snob with bad taste. He claimed his ivory throne was really made of unicorn horn. An ornate tile restroom reminded us of the wanting hygiene of the day; a hole in a wooden bench led right out to the Castle’s moat. If the King’s bad taste didn’t drive them away the stinky moat surely would have. The four corners of a long hall had different corners of the world represented.  Europe with an owl, Asia with a camel, Africa with a lion, and the Americas with a head with an arrow shot through it.

The highlight of tacky was the king’s “wet pants chair.” He asked a guest to sit in a red velvet chair, anchored him in at the arms then poured water down a custom cut hole in the back. It dripped down and wet the pants of his victim. Then to add insult to injury, when the hapless visitor stood, the chair made a farting sound, a velvet whoopee cushion. This king was a piece of work, and if the portrait of him in a long hall was any indication, he was extremely ugly, too. So ugly Wen thought the painting might even be a joke, but I doubted it since his Majesty was insecure and wouldn’t likely allow anybody to depict him in this way without chopping off a head.

As writers we sometimes go on unexpected adventures. Copenhagen was no different for us. We hopped on and climbed to the top of an open-air bus to make our way past the famous Tivoli Garden amusement park (claimed to be the most famous in the world – Disney step aside). After several minutes and the departure of other tourists, Wen noticed we were quite a ways off the map’s route. Fun sidetrack? Not really since we were going to be late for the departure of the ship if the route wasn’t as advertised. I climbed down and heard the gasp of the driver as I approached with a map and asked where we were. He didn’t realize anybody was still up top and was almost to the bus depot! So he headed to the port, huffing resentment that his day was going to be thrust back on its usual schedule; he wouldn’t get to quit for the day an hour early.



Little Mermaid

We got off before the usual port stop a short walk from the ship to see the Little Mermaid who inspired the Disney movie but had a more European fate, having lost her land-locked love after giving up her tail for him. A forlorn wisp of a girl, she was smaller than I had imagined her.
Many things in Copenhagen weren’t as I’d imagined them. I like that about travels. I like that about writing fiction. What was the most unexpected thing you ever saw or did while traveling? 

- Inkpot

ARE YOU A FOOD TOURIST?

I started traveling long before I began writing about ethnic foods.  I've been lucky to have flown to many countries around the world.  80% of my trip memories are of delicious and occasionally not-so-laudable cuisines.

In Asia:

Beijing had the most exotic food I’ve ever eaten—scorpions. But the scariest was their black tofu, maybe processed with lead. But they also have the most amazing tourist sites: The Great Wall, Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, and the Hutong, where a whole neighborhood shares one outhouse and the soup is boiled over sidewalks--their kitchens.

The best vegetarian offerings were in Taipei, Taiwan like mung bean milkshakes, fried stinky tofu with pickled cabbage, and durian that was NOT stinky. It’s also the most polite and considerate city I’ve ever visited; ask strangers how to get to Taipei 101, where there’s a food court to die for, and they’ll walk you there.

The best shellfish?  Step aside wine mussels in Nice and garlic mayo-doused mussels in Paris. It's the grilled foot-long prawns in Singapore. By the way, Singapore feels like the safest place on earth, but no gum allowed, and the island is so small, there isn’t much to do besides eat—which I suppose is not all bad.


Best snails were stir-fried in a little fishing town in China, near Hangzhou, but I had to first get over walking through the restaurant’s door and maneuvering around a sweaty man beating a three-foot-long fish to death.


Best dumplings were in Shanghai, made with special crab; it seemed likely that the chefs had to suck at the shell to get the small amount of meat out of the palm-sized crustaceans. It’s a specialty of a multi-story restaurant. The farther up you go, the cheaper the menu. Fine with me, my legs are strong.

The best spare rib soup is in Wuhan. The city suffers hot monsoons, but it’s only half a day from the Three Gorges Dam, convenient for me because I was able to study the dam for a screenplay I was writing with Janet Fogg (AKA Folio).  The script is set beside those giant controversial turbines.


In the West:

Venice had the best pasta—gnocchi. It’s also the most relaxing and romantic city I’ve ever visited.


The best snack was the conch fritters in St. Thomas—but also the least welcoming locals.


The best sauces and worst steaks were in Paris as well as the most aloof servers (I lived there and spoke French, but still!). Paris has an endless list of things to do, more than any city I’ve explored. I don’t judge the French by the Parisians; those in the countryside are very friendly and know a thing or two about food also.


Milan had the best appetizer I’ve ever eaten—stuffed squash blossoms. But Milan also has my least favorite shopping since I have little interest in fashion or spending that kind of money.


Germans had the cleanest hotels with the most welcoming, gracious and efficient staff. But they also served up my overall least favorite meals. I don’t like dark beer or endless sausages and kraut. The only memorable thing I ate was a liver meatball soup, which I promptly made once I returned home.

The best fish I've had was poached bass in Cannes. They also have the best film festival but I’ve never been there at that time of the year, though I'd love to go there with one of my screenplays someday!


French fries are best in Belgium, doused in one of a dozen flavors of homemade mayo, a habit I still have. The barges are worth the money, but you may question yourself if you pay to climb their giant molecule.


Switzerland had awesome fried beef fondue with homemade mayo. Mayo is sounding like a theme, isn't it?


Like a trite traveler, in London I favored the amazing Indian food. Austria, Wiener schnitzel.


Mazatlan had the best tortilla soup with generous chunks of avocado. But before you get to the restaurant, you must buy many little boxes of Chiclets from the sad little kids along the sidewalk.


The best gelato was in Rome, but I didn’t like having to pay more for it if I sat down rather than take it to go. Gelato is not my all time favorite dessert. My favorites are here in my own back yard. Best cake, a tie between the chef’s special order cheese cake at the Lake Valley Golf Course and Whole Foods’ flourless chocolate decadence cake.


Now that I’ve flown back to the U.S. with my list, the best fruit falling off the trees were in Maui--guavas. But I couldn’t live on an island so small with little to do beyond hiking, beaching, and eating icky Loco Moco (rice, hamburger, egg, blopped with gravy).

I’m sure I’m forgetting many wonderful foods from my travels but I’m hungry and have to go plan dinner.


What are your favorite travel foods?  Please tell the Inkster.