The last few days of Cordula's visit were spent at my father's house in the north. Here, we soaked up sun, walked to Elsinore to see Kronborg, ate ice cream, dipped feet in sea, and saw Karen Blixen's house in my old hood in Rungsted. How wonderful it was to go back there, I felt like breathing in my childhood summers by the harbour, wandering around Blixen's garden and listening to birds.
We had breakfast on the top balcony.
Kronborg was nice, I haven't been inside the castle since I was a kid. And of course, I found a dusty old mirror that was perfect for a selfie.
Oh, Elsinore. We walked around the little town while people were having dinner. So the streets were empty, which was kind of interesting.
Rungsted harbour in sun. We didn't see any pastel-clad middle aged men with campari in their hands, but we did see old leathery ladies with orange lipstick. Classy.