Enchanted

by Gabrielle Laske (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Denmark

Magic sparkled in the air, glistening with the promise of an adventure orchestrated entirely by mishaps, the moment we arose out of Christianshavn metro station. Scandinavia, Denmark, and Copenhagen were all uncharted territory for myself and my two companions, and my skin tingled with the excitement of possibility as we set out into the city before us. We had no agenda, just a flimsy, paper map and unbridled enthusiasm that can only belong to three American girls gallivanting through Europe. As we set off in the vague direction of the city center, Copenhagen dazzled us with its picturesque canals bordered by townhouses and restaurants in burnt orange, marigold, maroon, and sky blue and the beautiful architecture of the city’s churches, their towers keeping watch over all below. Soon enough, we stumbled upon Christiansborg Palace, and on a whim, decided to take a tour. The rooms of the palace were magnificent, none more so than the stunning entryway with a white marble stairway framed by a banister trimmed ornately in leaves of gold. The tour of the palace was everything one would expect: elegant, stately rooms with walls covered in intricate tapestries and lit up by cascades of Murano glass chandeliers. Like all of the best castles across Europe, Christiansborg had a tower to climb, which even on that gray day in February gave a magnificent view of the courtyard below, the city’s church steeples in the distance, and all of Copenhagen stretching out as far as the eye could see. In other words, to the untrained eye of an American tourist, there was nothing particularly special about this castle to distinguish it from any other royal stomping grounds across the continent other than the pure thrill of having discovered something we never would have seen had Fate not nudged us in the direction of Copenhagen several weeks earlier when we huddled together in the basement of the British Institute of Florence planning a weekend getaway. Nevertheless, the entire castle had to be explored before we moved on with our day bumbling throughout the city, so we descended into the ruins underneath the castle. Dim lighting illuminated stretches of blocks of stone, meticulously formed into a wall, that stood the test of time despite the rubble of their unlucky and weathered brothers scattered around the base. We followed the well-worn, circular path that traced the castle’s history, and just when we were about to head back up the stairs in pursuit of our next adventure, we noticed another room off the other side of the landing. This room was lit much better than where we had just come from, and stepping into the pools of light dampened by the stone walls made me feel like I had entered into a medieval-themed video game. Centered on one of the walls was a throne, but unlike the official thrones upstairs, this one was not blocked off by maroon velvet stanchions. Instead, it had a chest next to it, filled with toy crowns and swords: an invitation. My friends and I looked sidelong at each other, smirks creeping across our lips. This castle had a play room in its basement! We dashed to the box, scrambling to pull out swords, and soon enough a sword fight had broken out in the basement of Christiansborg Palace. Our laughter echoed off the stone walls. It was a wonder no one came down and broke the magic force field that had descended upon us there. For that little while, we were knights and kings. When our imaginations had thoroughly run wild and the swords and crowns were stowed away once more, we climbed back up from whence we came and emerged into the chilly air. The spell was broken: three young women who had just unleashed their inner children turned back into indistinguishable, giddy American tourists, just as Christiansborg, from the outside, was an average European castle once more. The gleam in our eyes was the only hint that we had just experienced something enchanted.