We survived Danish New Year 2007

Our last day of 2006 was quite a memorable one. Morning brought peeks of actual sunshine, so we took advantage by hopping on the train with our bikes and getting off 30 minutes later at Farum, the last stop on the H line, and a small town at the edge of Copenhagen's metro area.

Just beyond the residential lanes, we passed a farm that had a traditional-looking barn and ponies grooming each other in pairs.

After riding on roads through a small forest, we reached the small hamlet of Kirke Værløse (Værløse Church, above). From there we followed well-maintained trails around a small lake and through another forest, and then took a designated bike route (mostly off the roads) as it wound through residential areas. Especially once you get beyond the apartment buildings, Copenhagen's suburbs are really a joy to behold, laced with bike trails and quiet, charming streets holding attractive homes with lots of trees and green space. In other words, they are nothing like American suburbs. A strong wind helped push us home, which thanks to the train, we hadn't needed to pedal against on the way out.

Later that evening, we headed out to watch Copenhagen send out 2006 with a bang (several million of them, actually). Although the Danes do enjoy wearing silly hats and making noise with kazoos on this holiday, their true passion is fireworks. The sound of explosions had been a fact of life for the last couple weeks. One might have thought the Swedes had launched a surprise aerial bombardment on their Nordic neighbor, but no, it was only the sound of another five second fireworks display. One guide had mentioned something about Danes not being too hot on fireworks safety, and this turned out to be a colossal understatement. As we biked toward downtown, hoping to witness a pleasant climax to the New Year pyrotechnics, we first saw a boy, maybe nine years of age, lighting a large cone-shaped firework next to the bike lane. Reaching a small plaza, we briefly took shelter inside a café as teenagers started shooting powerfully explosive fireworks at each other and all over the plaza. Shaken but still determined, we eventually made our way to the central plaza downtown. It was an hour before midnight, and the crowd not too dense yet, but here more fireworks were being shot directly into crowds of people, and we were very lucky not to be struck by anything. We soon fled the area and went back to the lakes separating downtown from the rest of the city, where the guide had suggested a calmer New Year's celebration might be in store. As we watched, the volleys of fireworks reached their furious peak, and we heard (though Amanda put her fingers in her ears) more explosions per second than a bag of popcorn in the microwave. There didn't seem to be any official fireworks display (midnight passed without us noticing). Instead, everyone just bought and set off their own fireworks (regardless of age, experience, or blood alcohol level). Eventually, the smoggy haze became unbearable and we headed for home, dodging explosions and flaming debris on nearly every block. Back at the apartment, Fern seemed unphased by the whole experience – she had probably skipped out on the whole tumultuous scene and celebrated with a nap on the couch. For us, it was an evening we are not likely to forget any time soon, but we're already hoping that next New Year's Eve finds us somewhere else, maybe some place a bit more tropical.