ENROUTE TV   ENROUTE FM   MEDIA KIT   AIR CANADA   LINKS   WRITERS'   GUIDELINES	COMFORT ZONE In a country best known for its stark, modern design, what the people of Copenhagen really want to do is get cozy. Text: DEBRA WEINER I FIRST READ ABOUT HYGGE (PRONOUNCED "HUE-GA") IN A Danish guidebook. Loosely translated as coziness, it could be found everywhere in Denmark, the guidebook said, and was akin to a national credo. Right, I thought skeptically. The people who are famous for their minimalist modern designs, their environmentally friendly technology, their sexual open-mindedness, at heart prize something as mundane and old-fashioned as coziness? Obviously, there was something I wasn't getting. Then I chanced upon a Danish acquaintance of mine, a highly regarded mathematician at an esteemed American university. "What can you tell me about this hygge business?" I asked. "Hygge?" he repeated, his face instantly lighting up. "Hygge is the spiritual foundation of Denmark." Some people seek a guru; others look for UFOs. Last April, I set off to Copenhagen in search of hygge. Physically, there’s no doubt about it: Copenhagen is cozy. Its narrow, medieval-era streets, many of them off limits to cars, wind past buildings rarely higher than five or six stories, through intimate courtyards and squares. Yellow daffodils sprouted everywhere, as did bicycles. More than a capital city, it feels an urban front yard. My hotel was at the end of Nyhavn, a narrow canal dug in the 17th century that now harbours wooden schooners. Seagulls squawked as I made my way down the quay past gabled pastel townhouses, restaurants and cafés, where, despite near-freezing temperatures, patrons lunched alfresco wrapped in woolen blankets. I was heading for Kransekagehusets Konditori and Café, a bakery-café tucked into a cobbled courtyard in the heart of the old town, to meet ethnologist Karen Schousboe. As the author of the Danish bestseller Det enkle liv (simple living), Schousboe, I figured, could point me in a hyggelig direction. It turned out I was wrong. Hygge, Schousboe explained, is something that Danes prefer to keep to themselves. Not that it’s top secret. To create hygge, which stems from an old High German word meaning "that which gives comfort" or "a confident feeling of peace," Danes basically do nothing. They sit around and eat. But the whole point about Danes, she said, is that they’re "not really interested in the rest of the world. We are happy introverts." Schousboe took a bite of apple tarte, then stared me straight in the eye. "For instance, I could be home walking my dog instead of meeting you. But I felt obliged." Talk about a conversation stopper. I’m sure she didn’t mean it personally. (Or maybe she has a really great hound.) Sniffing around for more tangible facts, I learned that the beginnings of hygge are often associated with Denmark’s Golden Age in the first half of the 19th century, when despite – or perhaps because of – political defeats, a national spirit took hold. Hans Christian Andersen wrote his fairy tales, Søren Kierkegaard his existentialist philosophy. Homely harmony became a cherished virtue, as it still is today. Some people say it was cultivated during Denmark’s long, cold, dark winters: Hygge is a way to not go crazy. Others connect hygge with the Danish sentiment known as the Jante Law, which basically states: Don’t think you’re anyone special. At home with family and friends, sitting around the fire, lamps and candles shedding warm light, everyone is relaxed. Everyone is equal. Everyone is having a hyggelig time. Sound clichéd? To an outsider, yes. But as a Danish gentleman I met explained, Danes have a unique understanding of what it is to be in hygge. "As a foreigner, you’ll have to discover the meaning for yourself. Otherwise, you won’t know you’re having a hyggelig time." That evening, I continued my search at the home of Merete Staack, an educator at Denmark’s National Museum. In keeping with the Danish tradition of entertaining at home, she had invited me to dine at hers. Staack’s flat is on the second floor of an 18th-century rococo building overlooking a narrow lane. The ceilings are low, the rooms small and, like Staack, artsy-looking, filled with books, paintings and sculptures. The sun still shone brightly, but Staack lit at least 20 candles. Lamps illuminated distinct corners of the room. Another hung just a few feet above the dining-room table, enclosing us in a cocoon-like circle of light. Staack is a lively conversationalist, a welcoming host, a good cook. She made me feel at home. The problem must have been me. Even after a Carlsberg or two, I couldn’t seem to unwind. I’d been warned that if you insist on hygge it seldom occurs (just like sleep or an orgasm). "When the sun goes down, it’ll be better," Staack said reassuringly. "A lot of people say when it’s darker outside, this room is very hyggelig." As I discovered the following morning from Jens Bo Fjeldsted, a tall, skinny, fashionably scruffy interior designer, light is a key element in hygge. And the dimmer it is the better, so people have to group together. We were at Café Sommersko, not far from the mile-long pedestrian shopping street called the Strøget that runs through the city centre. It’s a big, bright place with red banquettes and wall-size mirrors: what Fjeldsted calls a French- as opposed to Danish-style café, which would be smaller, darker and, needless to say, much cozier. When it comes to hygge, however, he said, there is no magic formula. It’s a matter of colour, emotion, psychology and the way Danes combine things, mixing old with new to give a place history and make it personal. "Even in cutting-edge design, underneath is a desire for hygge," Fjeldsted said, sipping his cappuccino. "It’s part of us, part of what we do." This may explain why Danish design is so popular around the world: It’s very minimalist, clean and functional, but still inviting. As Fjeldsted put it: "Even when creating a spoon, designers ask, ‘Does it create a good emotional feeling? Will people say "Ahhh" and be relaxed?’" Stirring my café au lait, I wondered if, here in Denmark, I ever would. Imagine a small field. Divide it into tiny plots. Plunk down teeny houses. And there you have what many Danes consider to be hygge incarnate: an allotment garden. Conceived in the early 1600s as a source of fresh food, Denmark’s 60,000 gardens afford folks of all classes a green, albeit Lilliputian, space to call their own. One sunny afternoon, I visited the fenced-in garden-colony of Vennelyst (which means "meeting place for friends"), some 300 densely packed plots in the busy Copenhagen neighborhood of Christianshavn. I’m sure that in the thick of summer, when flowers are abloom, the troll-like homes painted every colour of the rainbow atop postage stamp-size lawns have their charm. As one Dane told me, "I remember the gardens as a child – the sun always shined and the grass was always green." Yet what he described as "safe and familiar," I found claustrophobic. But perhaps that’s the point. Over the next few days, wandering around town, I got different tastes of what the Danes consider to be hyggelig. To retiree Ib Haagen in the suburb of Bronshoj, hygge is two people sitting outside in candlelight with a six-pack of beer. His wife, Lene Mattsson, on the other hand, can create hygge with cakes and coffee at breakfast or in the afternoon. Writer Ebbe Mork finds "meaningful hygge" by having friends over for dinner at his lovely, flower-filled home in Hellerup, just north of Copenhagen. He considers dishes that take longer to cook, like duck with cabbage and apples, more hyggelig. But without a doubt, at the top of his list is frikadelle (small pork meatballs), the Danish national dish, "made the way Mom did it. They’re part of childhood. You feel at home when you have them." Hoping that food might be my entrée into the world of hygge, I joined architect Jens Thomas Arnfred for dinner one night around the corner from his office in Christianshavn. We met at a simple neighbourhood joint, which he assured me was very hyggelig. According to Arnfred, hygge has to do with informal space. You need to feel enclosed and crowded. At the restaurant he picked, I certainly did – too much so. Plus the food was bad, and most of the patrons looked grim. To me, the place was anything but hyggelig. Clearly, hygge is in the eye of the beholder. My last afternoon in town, Staack took me to see some of Copenhagen’s lesser-known treasures: a Victorian home now owned by the National Museum, preserved as it was in the 1850s, furnishings and decor intact; the archaeological ruins of a medieval fortress and castle in the basement of Christiansborg Palace; a set of bronze sculptures of a merman and his children, submerged in a canal near the Danish Parliament. If it hadn’t been for my Danish guide, I’d never have spotted any of them. I felt honoured, as if I’d been let into the club. Our last stop was Grabrodretorv, considered by Staack to be Copenhagen’s most hyggelig square. Instantly, I saw why. In the heart of the old Latin quarter, surrounded by baroque buildings painted red, yellow and green, this cozy cobblestone square is without question a jewel. "This is definitely hygge!" I exclaimed. Staack smiled. "Now you’re getting it." I shook my head. Maybe intellectually I was beginning to understand hygge, I told her, but I despaired of ever feeling it. Then Staack offered up this tidbit of wisdom: It’s possible to have hygge by yourself. In a big sweater, with candlelight, a good book, maybe a beer. While chatting on the phone. Even taking a bath. I could hardly wait. That night at my hotel, I lowered the lights, slipped off my shoes and settled into a comfortable chair. It didn’t take long. Sipping a glass of wine, thinking about nothing in particular, I was at last content. Was it hygge? Probably it wouldn’t count for a Dane. But it worked for me, and when it comes to hygge that’s what matters. ------ COPENHAGEN Get cozy in a city that blends traditional charm with a modern design aesthetic. WHERE TO STAY Hotel D’Angleterre In the business of royal pampering for more than 250 years, this hotel is the place to stay for elegance and refinement. 45-3312-0095 www.remmen.dk/dangleterre/index.htm 71 Nyhavn Hotel For a modern design experience, try this spot overlooking the harbour, located in two exposed-beam warehouses that formerly stored spices. 45-3343-6200 www.71nyhavnhotelcopenhagen.dk Hotel Alexandra Traditionalists with an eye on their budget will take to this place, not far from Tivoli Gardens. The interiors are classic, the service down-to-earth. 45-3374-4444 www.hotel-alexandra.dk WHERE TO EAT Meet the Danes Yearning for a home-cooked meal? Sign up with this service, which pairs guests with a Danish family for a – dare I say it? – cozy meal in their home. 45-3346-4646 www.meetthedanes.dk 1.TH. This elegant dining experience is tucked away in a private flat. Cocktails are served in the parlour, followed by an exquisite 10-course meal in the dining room. Seating is limited, reservations essential, for one of Copenhagen’s finer dinner parties. 45-3393-5770 WHAT TO DO Walk. Copenhagen is made for pedestrians. In the city centre, almost every street is a find. On Saturdays, half of Copenhagen seems to stroll down the Strøget. Or bicycle on one of the free City Bikes available at more than 100 stands scattered around town. Many streets have special cycle lanes. Dansk Design Centre In 2002, Denmark celebrates the centennial of one of its most famous sons, Arne Jacobsen. Catch the essence of Danish design here. 45-3369-3369 www.ddc.dk INFORMATION Danish Tourist Board 212-885-9700 www.visitdenmark.com HOW TO GET THERE Air Canada, in conjunction with Star Alliance™ members Lufthansa and Scandinavian Airlines, offers daily service from Toronto, Montreal, Calgary or Vancouver to Copenhagen via Frankfurt.
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