weekend in copenhagen

a perfectly hygge evening in love

While living in San Diego I started a cold water ocean swimming club. I had read about the effects of swimming in cold water and I really wanted to try it, but I wasn’t motivated to do it on my own. Swimming with friends was a great way to start. There is nothing like the feeling of jumping in the water with friends after a long day by a computer. You feel totally alive.

One of the reasons I was so excited to go to Copenhagen is because Danes are known for their cold swimming hobby. Copenhagen’s summer water is similar to San Diego’s, around 62 degrees F. Due to Denmark’s commitment to sustainability, the water around Copenhagen is clean enough to swim in. While we were there I really wanted to try cold swimming, so we booked a sauna and La Banchina.

We took a lovely bike ride through Copenhagen, passing over bridges and canals, my hair blowing in the wind behind us. Finally, the bike traffic thinned out, and we ended up in a rather green neighborhood. We passed Noma on our right, and I slowed down to peer through the greenhouses and see if René Redzepi was walking the grounds. We passed some Danes having a dinner party in a park, the tall candles lighting the long table, their bikes strewn to the sides. Onwards trolled Bjarke Ingels’ monstrosity of a power plant, creeping above the edges of the park and leaving a path of steam in the air. We finally rolled up on our bikes to a little blue cabin perched upon the edge of the harbor.

We walked in, and the bartender informed us that the sauna was ready for us. We crossed the stone courtyard and a group of friends cooking around a bonfire in both Danish and English. Cautiously, we stripped of our clothing, careful not to expose ourselves to the group of friends outside the tiny window. As I opened the little wooden door from the changing cabin to the sauna, the heat blasted me in the face. We sat in our own little cocoon and shut ourselves off from the rest of the world. The branches from the trees hung over the glass window like a painting, and the harbor in front stared at us, daring us to go running in. As we watched the sky turn Barbie pink, the discomfort grew. The dry heat crept up my nose, burning my nostrils. I tried to take a deep breath but a sharp burning sensation snuck down my throat. Instead, I took light shallow breaths, and tried to look outside and be in the present moment. The perspiration started lightly rolling off our bodies, and I wondered if my husband might divulge any secret confessions, the air sucking everything out of you like the desert in California. After we couldn’t make it any more, we threw open the wooden doors and walked barefoot across the stones and down the path to the harbor. My body felt light and airy, the cool air tickling my skin. I jumped right into the harbor and let the fresh water caress me. People were sitting peacefully around us with blankets and a glass of wine, chatting and watching the sunset. I laid on my back in the water until the fun finally set and the last twinkle of light remained. I could hear the girls across the bank from us giggling and laughing. There were a few people docked on their boats nearby, and I could see them doing their chores from their round boat house window.

We finally came out of the water and went back into the sauna for round two, this time staying longer. After a final dip, we sat on the bank in the dark, drying off in complete symbiosis with the air, and my husband brought me a nice natural red wine. I took a little sip and cuddled close to him under the twinkle lights of the harbor. I felt a deep sense of calm and rest with person in the world I love the most. I think this was hygge.