Danish Lessons, part 3

I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map, I'm the map...I'm the map!

Saturday, August 2, 5pm -- Wedding Day

Det er (Det var) rigtig hyggeligt -- This is (This was) very cozy. A very Danish thing to say, maybe the most Danish thing you can learn to say.

We've been told to congregate at the polar bear statue on Langeliniekaj 5, close to Kastellet on the eastern coast of Copenhagen.  The actual location of the wedding has been a closely guarded secret for the better part of a year.  Here's what Sarah says in the itinerary:

"First off, you CANNOT be late to the meeting point.  Not to sound dramatic, but you CANNOT be late.  Ok?  Please get there early."

Helen, Francis, La Doug, Heej and I walk for about 20 minutes til we get to the octagonal ice cream shack in front of the meeting spot.  I think we're quite a striking bunch, strolling down the road in the pearly late afternoon sun.



La Doug and I are wearing the same shade of eyeshadow (because I borrowed some from him).  Along the way, one of Heej's snakeskin heels breaks off.  Once we arrive at the meet-up, Sarah R. manages to snap the other one off.  We're toting two bottles of Herradura silver, imports requested by the groom who insisted that there was no good tequila to be found in Copenhagen.  (The only available choice was a brand topped with a festive sombrero screw top.)

Guests trickle in at the harbor's edge.  We hear English spoken with an Irish lilt, with a clipped English accent, with slight Japanese inflection, with California upspeak question marks, along with the nylon string song of Danish. 



Louise, who's recovering from hand surgery, makes an elegant entrance folded and tucked in the front wagon of her sister's bicycle. 

Sarah's bridal gown has also been a well-kept secret; she's been creating it for months.  It's the first dress she's ever made, and it's been a labor so intensive that none of us were sure she'd actually finish it in time for the wedding.  But I have to say, never has a bridal reveal been so impressive.



Her dress and shoes are the grays of the cobblestones, the gray of the stones that tumble into the Copenhagen harbor, gray like Danish cloud bellies; the tulle is dense, plush and huggable, undulating softly like harbored ocean from her neck to her knees.



She sports an amber-colored vintage hairpiece, originally meant to be skewered into the stiff lacquer 'do of a Japanese bride. I love the way she looks, but mostly I love the way Shannon looks at her. 


At about 6:30pm, a ferry slowly inches its way towards the land, docking and releasing its contents onto the cobblestones.  Once emptied, it becomes our ferry.  The entire wedding party climbs the silvery ramp with anticipation and delight, dispersing themselves among the benches on the top of the boat.

For ten minutes, we chug through the saltwater, introducing ourselves to unfamiliar faces, drinking in the cool evening breeze, resting high heels and dress shoes up on the backs of the row benches. 

I had my suspicions, but I can hardly believe it -- the ferry makes its wide, slow turn into the harbor of a tiny island, the lighthouse like a tall, white push pin stuck at 12:00. 



According to our wedding program, we are at Trekroner Fortress, King Christian VII's fortress.  It was meant to be a safeguard against Napoleon.  It is now a novel blip in the Danish sea.  If you're interested, you can read the full program here -- if there were a Pulitzer Prize for wedding programs, Sarah and Shannon's would be a shoe-in for sure.



We start with champagne in a clearing, framed by the tall, blond-frosted grasses being blown out by the sea winds.  Then we head in to the party house for dinner and the rest of the wedding festivities.



There's no way for me to really encapsulate the evening/morning in words -- besides, what happens in Trekroner ought to stay in Trekoner.  Here are a few key snapshots for those of you who want to feel like you wuz here:

• We arrive at around 7pm.  The first ferry back leaves at 1am.  The only other ferry back leaves at 5:45am.  Word.
• We apparently manage to break the record on most alcohol ever consumed at a single event on Trekoner.
  
• The Danes have some great wedding traditions, my favorite being the one where if the groom leaves the room, all the men in the room descend on the bride for an obligatory kiss.  The opposite happens when the bride leaves the room. So charming.
  
• Sarah's poofball dress flaps and bounces like Donald Duck's tail when she's on the dance floor.
• Heej discovers Anders passed out at the top of the hill.  She rouses him to let him know that the only ferry is leaving in ten minutes.  Jens has also passed out on the lower hill, his shoes and the bottom half of his legs peeking out from a shielding patch of grass.
  
• 7am -- After a heroic evening and morning of dancing, a bleary-eyed Helen piles into a cab with eight life-sized, inflatable penguins.  The cab driver sternly refuses to take her unless she deflates her buddies. 
  

And this extraordinary, quiet sunrise, 5:19am, hot pinky orange over slate blue:


To be continued...