Kevin’s Sabbatical Blog

Anne walks me through the film production facilities to the wing with Nete Kristensen’s and other faculty and grad students’ offices, and finally I see my office. It overlooks a courtyard with large leafless trees, many evergreen bushes (laurels?), and a gazebo. Students congregate below my window to joke and smoke, and when I look out with my camera they smile, shout, and pose.

Vesterbrogade takes me most of the way through Frederiksberg, the forgotten borough — not in the guidebooks — until its beginning at Rådhuspladsen (for å or aa, pronounce the deep o as in lord), city hall plaza, where I turn right on Hans Christian Andersens Boulevard (named for, well, you know), with the Rådhus (city hall) on my left. But after I cross the Langebro bridge over Københavns Havn (the harbor) onto Amager Boulevard and take the first right turn, Thorshavngade, I’m off the tourist maps again. My next left turn takes me onto Njalsgade (say the j like a y), named for a clever 10th-century character in an Icelandic saga, Burnt Njal, whose enemies (after many other goings on) burned down his house, he and his family inside. 

Today is my first try at commuting by bicycle. My route from the courtyard behind the building is right on Kingosgade, then left onto Vesterbrogade, a bigger street with dedicated bike lanes. It's so clean and organized — everybody so polite (even drivers), and they have greatest bike system. It’s fun!

Today starts as a grey day. Quiet and peaceful. The attic apartment is five storeys above the street, Kingosgade 13, a minor avenue (gade) named after Thomas Hansen Kingo, a Danish poet, hymn writer, and bishop of the 17th century. The building’s old but not that old. The corner cornice reads Kingohus, and the ground floor houses a Kingo driving school.