Day Twenty

So this is Denmark.  We’ve come in through the south which is pretty much farmland. Potato crops are the key planting and  they’re full flower – acres of white and sometimes pink blossom.  One artistic farmer has planted his field in stripes, a blazing row of pink in between the white.  I’ve only known white flowering potatoes but Google helpfully tells me that pink flowers are from pink potatoes. Who knew.

Our first stop is Tonder in the Jutland district. Once a fishing village in the middle ages, it was then famous for lace making and in the 16th and 17th centuries, for ornate ceramics, including blue and white Delft style tiles which adorn walls and fireplaces of the older buildings.

It’s Sunday and no one is stirring.  We have the main street to ourselves and it makes for a few nice photo opportunities.  The oldest buildings here are from the 1600s, with beautifully ornate doorways.  Danish design has definitely been pared down over the centuries.  These days better known for simplicity in the extreme, in the 1600s it was clearly a case of more is more.

The oldest of the buildings is Set Gamle Apotek, the old pharmacy, dated 1671. It’s now a busy curio/homewares stores and one of the few places open.  It features one of the fabulous tile fireplaces and stocks just about everything imaginable.

We stop for lunch and stumble through translations and ordering (missing our smattering of German and French).  It’s interesting that most tourist information is also presented in German. After lunch we explore the market square, Radhouse (town hall) and head back.  Our next destination is halted briefly by a stray in need of help.  A black tom, who’s been bettered in a fight – his eye is glued shut and has the beginnings of an infection.  I have the means to help and he accepts a pat, so with a bit of eye rolling from Chris I head back to return with a kitty medical kit.

Poor boy, he reminds me of Outdoor Cat, a fiercely wild stray I befriended years ago, who would accept food from a distance but no contact, except when his poor body failed and he’d lay his weary self into my hands, desperate to have whatever ailed him fixed.  Consequently, I learned the power of even the simple first aid. I had no choice, try as I might, I could never get a vet to give me antibiotics for him.  This boy starts, but then settles and lets me help him. Poor boy, what he really needs is a home.

Kitty attended to, it’s time for our next stop.  We head out to Romo an island linked to the mainland by low lying wetlands and a causeway.  In spring, this area is known for its migratory birds, which nest here in their thousands.  I can see why, there would be no predators (bar other birds) no one would want to get their paws wet!

The island boasts extraordinary beaches, well over a kilometre wide on the western shore and a strong fishing heritage, specialising in the common school prawn.  Tiny little ones, compared to our king prawns at home.

Romo is also very quiet, with the main activity centered on the beach front where a brisk trade in ice cream and cafe treats is being done.  The weather can’t make up its mind.  It’s both hot and cold and very windy.  Not the best exploring weather. We walk the beach hoping to see some of the Icelandic horses that are available for riding, but there are none.  The Danes seem used to the changing weather and carry on ignoring it.

We find a spot to settle for the night.  They’re well designed, the motor home stops, pristinely kept and with every conceivable amenity, set around a grassed lake.  A family of ducks keeps us company.  Not too sure about Denmark so far.  Hopefully it will get a bit livelier.

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