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The Christiansborg complex dominates the island of Slotsholmen. The most pleasing way to approach it is from the south, crossing the Frederiksholms Kanal at the 18th century Marmorbro (Marble Bridge), Christiansborg Slotwhich leads you into the Outer Courtyard and gives a fine view of the palace complex. Christiansborg Slot itself a hefty, granite-faced neo-Baroque building, It is topped in the centre by an enormous green copper spire and both wings have copper roofs. It is home to the Folketing (Danish Parliament), High Court, Prime Minister’s office and the Royal Reception Rooms. The low-key Royal family no longer lives in Christiansborg Slot, and uses the opulent and meticulously kept Reception Rooms purely to impress foreign dignitaries.
There has been a castle of some sort on the site since Bishop Absolom built his in 1867, but the current one was constructed in the early decades of the last century, around the remains of the previous palace, which was largely destroyed by fire in 1884. Regular tours of the complex take you through a series of sumptuous rooms, culminating in the Great Hall. Here wonderfully vibrant tapestries depict the history of Denmark in a refreshingly modern and colourful way, leading right up to the end of the 20th centuries and depicting such pop culture luminaries as The Beatles and Bob Dylan. It might sound slightly dry, but the commentary is so informal as to verge on the gossipy, with a strong emphasis on anecdotes relating to Denmark’s past monarchs.

One of the city’s most intriguing landmarks is the 42-metre-high Rundetårn (round tower), which stands two-thirds of the way up Købmagergade. It was built by Christian IV to function both as observatory lookout and church tower. It’s sill a functioning observatory – making it the oldest in Europe – and the public can view the night sky through the astronomical telescope in the winter period (October to March). Inside the tower a wide cobbled ramp spirals its way to the top for a wonderful view of the hive of medieval streets below and the city beyond.
In the spring of 1971 a group of young and homeless people colonised a complex of disused military barracks on the island of Christianshavn (there used to be a huge naval base on the adjacent island of Holmen). Later that year they declared it a “free city,” with the intention of living more egalitarian and environmentally friendly lifestyle than that prevailing in capitalist Copenhagen. Ever since, this post-hippy colony has more or less existed in harmony alongside the city proper, in spite of the controversy it has occasionally provoked for its open selling of hash. This tolerance is perhaps partly explained by the fact that Christiana has often proved to be less reluctant than the established authorities when it comes to, for instance, providing free food and shelter for the homeless at Christmas.
The “free city” stretches for almost a kilometre northwards from the Lille Mølle windmill along both sides of Christian IV’s old Stradsgaven moat. The buildings that make up Christiana are a mixture of huge old barracks, solid warehouses and smaller, more colourful new dwellings – some poised on stilts – that picturesquely hug the water’s edge. The heart of the “city” features a plethora of bars, cafés, restaurants and nightlife, along with the infamous Pusherstreet, where lines of stalls sell pre-rolled joints and an international selection of grass. In spite of its somewhat shady reputation, however, it’s perfectly safe to wander around Christiana. The atmosphere is welcoming and the laid back Christianites are used to the constant influx of the curious – though they aren’t too keen on tourists taking photos.
North of central Copenhagen, poised on a narrow promontory of rocks jutting from the harbour’s mouth, sits Copenhagen’s most famous symbol: the statue of the Little Mermaid. Seen close up, it’s a rather small figure, cast in bronze. But its size belies the fact that it has been adopted as the city’s de facto symbol, conjuring up a period when Hans Christian Andersen wrote fairytales in Copenhagen that captivated the world, rather as J. K. Rowling does now.
The statue was commissioned by Carlsberg brewery boss Carl Jacobson in 1913. The sculptor, Edvard Eriksen, originally intended to use the prima ballerina Ellen Price as a model. But her reluctance to pose nude forced him to model its body on his wife instead – only the face is Price’s. Jacobson originally wanted the mermaid to have the traditional fish’s tail, but Eriksen noted that in Andersen’s story the mermaid exchanges her golden hair and beautiful voice for legs, hence the final statue, with the outline of a mermaid’s tail between two human limbs.
In more recent years the Little Mermaid has been subject to numerous assaults by vandals. She has lost an arm, been beheaded twice, had red underwear painted on her and paint tipped over her and even, in 2003, been blown right off her perch by explosives. Yet she endures all these indignities, continuing to gaze wistfully over the sea for her Prince.
It’s unsurprising that the grandiose Marmorkirken (Marble Church) is one of the dominant features of the Copenhagen skyline, given that its large copper dome, commissioned by Frederik V, was modelled on – and intended to rival – St Peter’s in Rome. Though the grand dimensions of the church’s interior are undeniably impressive, most visitors immediately join one of the guided tours that will take them up the 260 steep, twisting steps between the inner and outer doors that lead to a balcony at the top of the bell tower. On a clear day you can see across the Øresund to Malmö and Helsingør in Sweden. It’s also possible to walk past the Onion Domes of the Russian Orthodox Church, just north of Marmorkirken. Having said this, however, it is well worth pausing on the way back down to wander around the walkway that encircles the nave. There’s a whispering gallery above it with superb acoustics.
This is Denmark’s most popular tourist attraction. Conveniently located next to the main train station, it attracts an astounding 4 million people annually from mid-April to mid-September. However, visitors with children should be aware that it is emphatically a pleasure garden rather than an amusement park. George Carstensen – architect/publisher/entertainment guru – was inspired to create it after visiting London’s Vauxhall Gardens and other such 19th century parks in Europe. Tivoli opened in 1843 with only two rides. It now has around twenty, but it has stayed faithful to its roots, its principal appeal being the relaxing atmosphere conjured by the blend of delightful landscaped gardens, ponds, restaurants, bandstands, theatres and concert halls. What’s more, some of the rides themselves, like the Mountain Roller Coaster, which dates from 1914, are more appealing for their historical value than any thrills they could conceivably provide to today’s jaded youth. Then again, there are two relatively recent rides – the Golden Tower and the Monsoon – which offer stomach-clenching plummets from a height of 60 metres.
Other attractions include the Chinese-style, open-air Pantomime Theatre, an open-air stage “Plænen” for international rock and pop acts, elaborate firework diplays on Wednesday and weekend nights and an Arabian-style fantasy palace, with towers and arches, which houses over two dozen restaurants, from the expensive to the moderately priced. And on summer evenings 100,000 coloured lanterns illuminate the Chinese pagoda and the main fountain.
Originally built by King Christian IV in 1606 as a summer residence amid carefully manicured lawns, the enchanting Dutch-Renaissance Rosenborg Slot is surrounded by a moat, with a red brick façade adorned with sandstone ornaments and topped off by jumble of spires and towers. At first glance it looks like a fantasy palace out of a fairytale by Hans Christian Andersen. Further Danish monarchs lived at Rosenborg and today its is crammed with royal collections that include artworks, a small armoury and assorted curiosities, along with well-preserved living quarters and the crown jewels.
In spite of its Royal heritage, there is however a powerful strain of the surreal and vaguely perverse running through the castle, which makes it a lot more intriguing than it might otherwise be. On the ground floor, devoted to Christian IV, there is a 17th century armchair with hidden tentacles on the armrests that would grab the wrists of anyone unlucky enough to sit in it. The victim would then be doused with water before being released to the sound of a small trumpet. If this isn’t weird enough, there also a golden elephant chair in room 6 with elephant trunks as legs, used by the King when handing out Orders of the Elephant.
On the first floor – dedicated to seven more Kings – there is the Mirror Cabinet, furnished for Frederik IV around 1700. It was modelled on a similar room in the Palace of Versailles. (During the Baroque period, mirror cabinets were often incorporated in the King's suite as its innermost and most intimate room.) Visitors saw themselves reflected in the ceiling, the walls and in the oval mirror in the flooring. This last allowed the priapic Frederik to peer up female visitor’s fish bone skirts, before whisking them off to the connecting room, which featured a “resting bench” and a wall cabinet containing Frederik IV’s extensive collection of erotica.
Like The Little Mermaid, Copenhagen's Glyptotek was originated by the brewer Carl Jacobson at the end of the 19th century, albeit on a somewhat grander scale. The centrepiece is the delightful glass-domed atrium, filled with lush palm trees and statues – ideal for enticing non-art lovers on cold winter days. The superb collections, spread over three wings, range from antiquities to romantic sculpture to the works of Impressionists, and the museum plays host to classical concerts at the weekends.
The outstanding feature of the ornate Dahlerup Building is French sculpture, dominated by the largest collection of Rodins outside France. Many of them, including a version of The Kiss, were inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy and feature damned souls undergoing various torments for their sins or entwined in passionate, but doomed embraces.
The interior of the Kampmann Building is much barer, with clear sightlines down the interlocking corridors and exhibition spaces neatly framing views of distant statues. Worthy of particular mention is the Greek and Roman portrait sculpture and statues. It’s an amusing mix of greats – like Caligula and Alexander the Great – and some surprisingly warts-and-all portraits of rich commoners.
The last section is the French Wing, opened in 1996 to house the museum’s wide-ranging, if not star-studded collection of French paintings from David to Van Gogh. The result – the exterior in particular – is an architectural triumph: a huge white vault in the most minimalist of contemporary styles, which blends extremely well into its classical context. The wing’s glimmering white surface creates a real sense of light and space, particularly when sunlight spills in through the glass roof. On the lower ground floor, precursors of the Impressionists and artists from the Barbizon school are well represented with works by Corot, Delacroix, Courbet and Manet. The ground floor is given over to the Impressionists, with some exquisite Monets, a few lesser known Renoirs and a complete set of Degas bronze figures. The exhibition continues upstairs with the Post Impressionists, including works by Toulouse-Lautrec, Bonnard and Van Gogh. Gaugin, whose wife was Danish, is particularly well represented by Tahitian Girl and over 30 other paintings and the museum also has rare complete set of Edgar Degas's private sculptures.
For many visitors, however, the most interesting aspect of the museum is the extraordinary collection of artefacts from Etruria. Said to be the finest Etruscan collection outside Italy, it owes its huge breadth of material to Carl Jacobson's relationship with the German archaeologist Wolfgang Helbig, who worked on commission in Italy acquiring antiquities for him from 1887 until Jacobson's death in 1914.
Coming into the Etruscan rooms at the Glyptotek the first thing that strikes you is a boldly-lit sarcophagus from the 2nd century BC. Its lid is dominated by a stunningly realistic portrait of a middle-aged man, reclining on his side as if at a banquet. Nearby is another sarcophagus, with a relief sculpture of a winged woman, pre-dating Christianity and its angels by a good three centuries. On the same lid a dove is pictured, symbolising the peace of passing over to the underworld.
Around the rooms there's a wonderful collection of other artefacts, from the Greek vases wealthy Etruscans would commission from Attica to impress their friends, to cinerary urns, to the terracotta antefixes used to decorate roof ridges and cornices from the 7th century BC onwards. These remarkable, fragile, clay mouldings were mass-produced at the time, and some of those on display here retain much of their original brightly-coloured paint.