I actually managed to wake up at seven. No snooze, no bs just get up and start doing stuff like a boss. I might have got a bit overconfident and had a shower that wasn't calculated before and as a result, I  had to run, almost jump to catch my train to Osnabruck.

Anyone remembers when I said Germans are hardshell wankers when it comes to trains? My first German operated Osnabruck-Hamburg train was 55 minutes late. When I asked for a refund for the shit service ofc they had some fucking paper form to fill and send it back via post. I couldn't do it cus I didn't have a printout ticket or the opportunity to get a confirmation of my mobile ticket what I was supposed to attach to the form. It felt a bit hypocritical how organized they were about their own problems, and how chaotic it was for the customers. Just for comparing  once my £23 virgin train was late and they paid £50 for a taxi to make sure I get home.

The original itinerary would be something like Amsterdam->Osnabruck->Hamburg->Fredericia->Copenhagen

We missed the one from Hamburg to Fredericia so we had to go to Flensburg and from there...

From there the train wasn't even operating and we had to take the bus.

Waiting for the bus I recognized a lady from the Hamburg station information desk and a girl was also there who I helped to take her baggage off from the Amsterdam train. The lady was traveling to Kolding the girl was also traveling to Copenhagen. At this point I still wasn't too social, but the lady took the extra legroom seat so I sit with her. She was a teacher  from the Netherlands. When they stopped the bus and checked the passports she told me that last time she had a bus trip she kept saying to the kids not to forget the passports and then she forget hers. Was funnier as she said it. She also heard some guy talking in German and mentioned a town called 'Tinklev'. In theory from there we could get to Copenhagen by a direct train. I start checking it on tinternet. Couldn't find any evidence of the existence of that train. Turned back to find the girl with the heavy ass baggage and told her the new information anyways.

Not much after we departed the buss driver mentioned Tinklev, the mysterious direct train and made some joke in German that he repeated in English. Most people were laughing both times.

I was bit hesitant, I lost my trust in the German public transport and at least the bus would take us to Fredericia for sure...

- Fuck it! - I thought - I hate buses too much for this bs.

Probably non of us would ever heard about Tinklev without this fiasco. It was only a few buildings, supposedly belonging to the train station, and the train station. On the timetable there was only one train. It was going to KPH. I was almost sure that it is København(Copenhagen), but there was someone else who also invested more than 5 seconds into staring the screen and on the bus I get in a bit chatty mood so asked if he's more certain about the meaning of KPH.

He was equally sure or unsure as I was. So we just agreed it is better not to be bothered by this question and talk about other stuff. The girl with the baggage just shown up when he said that he came from Amsterdam.

-do you know who else is coming from Amsterdam? - I asked.

-you?

-of course I am, but she is as well!

In the next moment we had a proper little social gathering.

The girl, Patricia lived a year in Amsterdam and she was moving back to Denmark. She was originally from Katowice.

The guy was called Marty. He was from Melbourne. And he was on an interrail trip and was also heading to a wedding in Copenhagen.

We were sitting by the baggage area. When I was talking about Chester and mentioned that we residents or natives are called Chestrians Marty just quickly renamed it Chestiez. The 3 hours trip went really fast, we just kept laughing. And Patricia shared lot of useful information about Copenhagen.

From the train I saw it heavily raining outside and there were also thunderstorms. I was regretting that I cancelled my Copenhagen accommodation. I knew I could make it with the survival blanket, but I wasn't gonna use it on the third day of the 110. The weather was discouraging, I start looking for a new accommodation. On booking everything was gone. I found something for £56 but I'd have felt too stupid If I had paid that amount when my original hostel was £43 for two nights. From the train station I get a bus towards the Bellahøj Camping.

It wasn't pissing down anymore but it was still rainy. The Camping had a little shop/reception. Where they welcome me with a big "the shop is closed for today!"

This was like the shop is closed not because it is 1AM, but because I can't be arsed to deal with one more person who doesn't know the clock.

The guy was about 70 but still the same height as me and about four weight division above.

-I just would like to check in. - said after a few seconds of hesitation.

-uhh so you want to check in now?! - raised one of his eyebrows and wrinkled his forehead for a long second - Come on in my friend! See what we can do!

It was £9/day including the campground and facilities. Leaving the comfort of the reception cabin and the rain brought my motivation  backt ask a favour:

- excuse me! By any chance, would you have a 125cm stick?

-a stick?

-yeah you know a staff of a mop or something

-a staff?

-a 125 cm staff, yes please.

-follow me!

We get to the next cabin where the only item was a 125 cm alloy rod leaning to the wall.

- like this? - he asked like it was there in the past 20 years and he'd be suspicious why anyone would ask for it now.

- exactly like that.

- what do you need it for?

- my tent has a single pole design it is for that one.

- take it, but bring it back when you check out!

- of course! Thanks a lot. 'nite!

Even most of the tents were set by the fence or trees, I felt more comfortable to set mine in the middle of the field.

As a result I hadn't even opened the package of the tent since I purchased it, I had no idea how to start. I sticked the pole into the wet earth and started to improvise. Not having tent pegs didn't help either.

I put one shoe in one corner, an other one to an other corner, my back pack in the third and my food bag in the "last" one. I only found out next day that it had six corners.

I slept reasonably well. After I woke up I rented a bike for 80 DKK(~£9.5) and bought 500 gramms of Danish bread. It was like a 2" x 2" x 2" cube and hard AF. It was running out of date so instead of 12 DKK I had to pay only 5. After I had my breakfast in the nearest park I was ready to ride.

So let's talk about cycling!

I think that the history of cycling in the Netherlands is a bit over romanticised. As I felt in the city, from the government's side I would consider it as the outcome of the 1973-74 oil shortage rather than people protesting against cars killing children. I mean it must have played a role, but please. It feels that it isn't the outcome of the willingness to build something good, but destroying something bad(cars). And felt more like the people following the rules rather than the rules following the people's needs. In Amsterdam I had the feeling that cars are intentionally just fucked over, and it would be stupid at a personal level to drive. People seemed to be discouraged to use cars. While in Copenhagen it felt like people were encouraged to ride and they did it for their own good and for the city as well. It just felt like people would naturally know what good for them(cycling) as a community. Denmark had the first organization in Europe for promoting cycling as public transport and when people in the Netherlands were protesting against cars, people in Denmark had their annual protest for making the cities more bike friendly. There were relatively few roads where cars were banned from. And actually I think Copenhagen must be one of the best cities to drive. Everyone's cycling, so there's no traffic. And cyclists are basically never on the road, because there are cycle lanes everywhere. While in Holland I saw many prohibitory signs against bikes public transport, the Danes had their bikes on the train. Bikes were on the train without a designated place, ans nobody was whining about it. People were just cool and cooperative without having a fucking rule. 

So I was riding my rented bike being in love with the vibe of the city. I went to Cristiania, because I promised to a friend and I wanted to see how a hippie district is in such a lovely place. It was disappointing. The populated area was just a tourist bazar with weed. I felt too good to take any. I rode through the district. There were a few houses by the river in the forset. They were pretty, but not because of the try hard anarchy but because of the preservation.

After I rode through every road, I could say I've ridden in Christiania I started to search on the map for a place to go. I wanted to do something chill, just enjoy the vibe. Never been to museum since I left school, but I wanted to visit the Zoological museum.  And I also have never been to a museum alone, now I'm not sure if I'd ever go with someone else. I stopped, by every story to read them. And it was actually cool. After the museum I cycled to a beach, but it wasn't too interesting so I went to a near park and get a few sticks for tent pegs. Finally I set my tent "properly" and had a nice afternoon nap.

I woke up for a female voice. She was offering pastries to someone not too far away. I was like "wait I've got a friend who got pastries from a randon girl before!" So I sticked my head out. There was a guy on a touring bike with 5 paniers and stuff, my déjà vu got more intense(as my mentioned friend also prefers to take his favourite sofa with him on a touring bike). After the girl rode away we start talking. Pierre was riding from France. Our main common interests were traveling, and Slavic girls. He also had the "why not?!" attitude. So when next morning he invited me for a coffee that he made, we also made a plan to get our life together and go for a yoga class that is instructed by the girl he get the pastries from. It was at 1130. We really couldn't find a reason "why not" to go, but I still had some tobacco left from my Amsterdam kit and he also had some French tobacco  so we got way too comfortable with the coffee, we swapped tobacco for a roll. He had a big chunk of hash in his pocket. I asked if he's sure about that he's not been to Christiania. He got it from France through the bloody Germany and Denmark. He made that bit on train so basically one day. Was funnny that he still risked it when he could get from Chrisiania. I talk to him about my new "spiritual experience" with Copenhagen why I didn't smoke. Then really start getting my life together but it was already too late for the yoga. I went to check out and returned the rod. The same guy who told me to bring it back offered me that I can keep it if I need for the rest of the travel. I told him that I wasn't gonna carry it and I'm hoping to get an other one when I need it.

"You cheeky motherfucker!" - he was laughing. 

I left Copenhagen with the thought that one day I could be living there, maybe repairing bicycles or something.