So here I was. Copenhagen. A city I had dreamed of visiting ever since my mum had told me stories of the architecture and the danish way of life and Hygge. I was finally here as my third stop on my month long Interrail trip.
With my monstrously heavy rucksack in tow, and stepping off the train I had last boarded five hours ago in Hamburg, the towering wooden ceiling of the antique Central station with its chandeliers reminded me more of a cathedral than a station. The air outside was warm and filled with the smells of cars and hot dogs from the steaming stands near the bike racks filled to the brim. This was the city of cyclists after all. Cycle lanes were bigger than most road lanes.
For Wanderers and Wonderers 