Even before I realized my family lived near the museum pictured above I badly wanted to visit it while in Denmark. What museum is it, you ask? The Louisiana. The Louisiana? My mother repeated, “Why’s there a museum outside Copenhagen, Denmark named The Louisiana?”. Well, that’s a good question, as much as a Danglophile…? No, lets say Daneo-phile, as I am, I really didn’t know why it was call The Louisiana. Was it because the owners went to America and loved Louisiana? NOPE. It’s slightly more odd. The man who started the art museum out of his villa, Alexander Brun, had THREE wives named Louise. So, what do you do if you have three different spouses all with the same name? You name a museum after them, I guess.
However, I have some bad news. The only pictures I got of the world-class museum are shown above. We had the great misfortune of trying to visit the place on the one day a week it is closed. MONDAY. So, do not go to the museum on a Monday! Even worse, the next day I was leaving Helsingor, so I didn’t even get the chance to go back. I’m still sick with regret that we didn’t plan this part of the trip out better.
A few days before we visited the outside of the Louisiana, my relative took us out on a drive while his beautiful wife (and one of my favorite people in the entire world) cooked dinner. We stopped at his favorite kebab-shop where I finally took a picture of Denmark’s bright red mailboxes and snarfed down a doner kebab with my boyfriend. It was my mom’s first time eating a kebab (she stayed in Denmark with my grandparents while we traveled around Berlin). She was quite impressed with the cheap and tasty meal.
After we ate our kebabs, we drove along the Danish countryside towards Hornbæk, which is slightly northwest if you drive along the coastline from Helsingor. We stopped at the Rudolph Tegner Museum, an indoor/outdoor museum near Dronningmølle, west of Hornbæk.
The sculpture museum, dedicated to the works of Rudolph Tegner, is free to enter and explore. The moors surrounding the building is dotted with heather and juniper, while sheep mosey along pooping and ‘bahhh-ing’. It’s a lovely area to spread out a blanket and dine on cheese and wine while enjoying the Viking-lands.
After the museum, out tummies began to grumble just a bit. Now, I’m not sure if this is a Danish-thing or just a “my family” thing, but we all eat ice-cream constantly. It seemed especially pronounced in Denmark where little family-owned ice cream shops are everywhere. I ate ice cream in Skagan and Sæby, walking the Strøget in Copenhagen, sitting in a park in Copenhagen, and now by the sea in Hornbæk.
Every ice cream stand in Denmark seems to slather your cone in thick whip cream with a dollop of jam. I’m not a big lover of Scandinavian licorice (super salty if you haven’t ever had it) but licorice ice cream?? YES, PLEASE. If anyone knows where to find licorice ice cream in the US, let me know.
Before we headed home to drink wine and coffee, we sat with out ice cream melting down our hands and enjoyed the somber ocean scene. Even though it was overcast, licking sweet cream with my toes in soft sand was utterly relaxing. Once again, writing about my time where my family lives is gives me such a bittersweet sadness. If anyone wants to give me a large trust-fund so I can move here, I wouldn’t say no…