A weekend in Copenhagen
Some places stay with us long after we've returned home.
I arrived in Copenhagen on a Friday afternoon with a small bag, a camera and no particular plans.
It had been a busy few weeks, and I wanted nothing more than to spend a couple of days somewhere different. To walk without checking the time. To sit in a café for as long as I liked. To notice things again.
The first thing I noticed was the bicycles. They seemed to be everywhere, moving quietly through the streets with a confidence I admired. People carried flowers, groceries, children and sometimes all three.
I left my bag at the hotel and went for a walk.
The pleasure of getting lost
On Saturday morning, I bought a coffee and wandered through the older streets.
There were small shops, beautiful old buildings and windows filled with things I didn't need but enjoyed looking at.
At one point, I found myself in a quiet courtyard. A bicycle leaned against a yellow wall. Someone had placed two chairs beside a little table, and a climbing plant had almost reached the second-floor window.
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I took a photograph.
It wasn't anything extraordinary. That was exactly why I wanted to remember it.
I think we sometimes travel expecting something remarkable to happen. A famous building. A wonderful meal. A view we've seen in photographs.
But often, what stays with us is something much smaller.
An afternoon by the water
Later that day, I walked towards the harbour.
The colourful buildings reflected in the water, and people sat outside beneath blankets, talking and watching the boats.
I found an empty seat and ordered something warm.
For nearly an hour, I did very little.
I watched a small boat pass beneath a bridge. I listened to conversations in languages I didn't understand. I noticed how the afternoon light changed the colours of the buildings.
There was no particular reason to remember that hour.
And yet, I think I will.
Something to take home
On Sunday morning, before leaving for the airport, I walked through the neighbourhood one last time.
The streets were quieter. A bakery had just opened, and the smell of fresh bread followed me halfway down the road.
I bought a pastry and sat on a bench.
Looking through the photographs on my phone, I realised that most of them weren't of famous places.
They were of doorways, bicycles, reflections, café tables and little corners of the city.
Small things.
Perhaps that was what I had really come to Copenhagen for.
Not to see everything, but to notice a few things properly.
I returned home with a camera full of ordinary moments and the pleasant feeling that I had been somewhere else for a little while.
And sometimes, that is enough.