The Hall to End All Halls

by Erin Gillikin (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Denmark

I arrived on a Thursday. I survived my chatty seat mate, navigated the train sans wifi with direction screen shots taken pre-departure, and had showered and settled in my currently empty hostel room. I was ready to go. As I’ve gotten older my reasons for traveling have ‘matured’. Last year I passed on Oktoberfest, but was very adamant about exploring Christmas Markets. What landed me in Copenhagen the first weekend in April was a quest to see the second oldest amusement park, Tivoli Gardens. I arrived on opening day of the amusement season and Tivoli rang it in with an impressive fireworks display. It was a strong showing. Rapid succession, good effects with the shimmery and streaming ones, and a thunderous finale. I watched from outside the garden walls, standing on a street corner with a cup of layered super food salad from 7-11 in hand. For the thrifty traveler in me, the first night’s stroll was shaping up nicely. The next morning I signed up for a free walking tour. Though they never actually walk as much as I would like, it’s a good mix of knowledge and sightseeing and gets you out and about in a new city. We ventured to the Nyhavn canal, took note of Hans Christian Andersen’s house, passed by the opera house, got shown where the mermaid statue is if we wanted to walk further on our own, and rounded out the afternoon watching a changing of the guard at the Queen’s winter residence amidst our guide’s tales of how he actually went to school with a royal. After the tour dispersed, I referenced my paper map, something I love using while traveling, and walked north towards the Museum of Danish Art and Design. My background in art was telling me it might be worth the venture. I had been an english assistant in Madrid for about six months, which garnered me a student ID. An ID that had thus far proved unhelpful as everyone was adamant about checking my age which ruled me ineligible for discounts. This museum granted me free entry. If it hadn’t have been free, I don’t know that I would’ve gone in. Copenhagen is expensive and we know I ate dinner at the 7-11. But oh my. The first rooms had some unique furniture and design elements. A dress whose folds draped into the figure of a face and a chair that looked to be topographically eroded from layers of gold. A bit of a Ikea-like layout with all the artsy bits on display. But then I entered the hall to end all halls. A heaven of sorts for the furniture lover. Chairs from floor to ceiling. Chairs upon chairs. Chairs that I knew like Mies van der Rohe’s Barcelona Chair, and chairs I needed to know like the bent wood of Thonet and the Wishbone of Wegner. They were stacked three high in individually lit boxes, like a Brady Bunch intro for chairs. It was glorious. I had been having a personal furniture moment in Madrid, hunting down antiques in el Rastro, and this was the holy grail. Nothing I was expecting, nothing I had planned. I still had Tivoli Gardens to visit, but would it compare? At the exit, a giant, orange Wegner Shell Chair begged to be occupied. The adult in me waited patiently for the four year old to finish his turn before clambering up, asking a stranger to take my picture. Pure bliss. I timed my entrance to Tivoli to be close to dusk, so I could see it in the daylight and lit up at night. I passed on riding rides, but took thorough inventory of the food stalls. The grounds were beyond impressive. Path-divided green spaces, dotted with canvas sling-back lawn chairs for taking in a live stage show or watching a wandering peacock pass by. I had a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and watched a pantomime that I followed, for the most part. Red twinkling lights lined the walkways and guided me towards the exit when it was time to go. Tivoli is truly special. But I’ll be thinking about those chairs forever.