Categories: denmark, postcards
Date: 09 September 2008 21:58:37
After staying overnight with BigBruv, Big Lad and Northern Star, I set off for the railway station. I purchased a ticket at a very reasonable price (in spite of having forgotten to bring with me my BahnCard giving discounts in countries outside Germany) - destination Skagen (pron: Skai'n). This town is a mere 100km from Aalborg but the journey takes 1:51 hours with a change at Frederikshavn. BigBruv has a theory that Danish State Railways is trying to make Denmark appear bigger than it really is by making the journey times between towns lengthier than they need really be! The change was a nerve-wracking 4 minutes - which proved to be just enough as the station is not big. I felt a bit sorry for the teacher having to count 25 children off one train and count them back on to the other - but was grateful for this as once I boarded I remembered that I needed to stamp my ticket for the next stage of the journey. With rucksack and hand baggage, I ran to the stamping machine at the top of the platform and back again in record time (you will recall I had had plenty of training in Brussels only a few weeks earlier). I leapt into the train as the doors were tooting and almost fell on top of a stamping machine! The train set off again and although it did not seem to be moving particularly slowly we did stop at every station along the way. After Frederikshavn these became smaller and smaller until the stations were no more than the size of a bus shelter.
Skagen is the northernmost town in Denmark at the end of a long thin spit of land. The narrowness of the surroundings is emphasised by the rail track being single at this point. Miles and miles of sandy, heathery flat, wind-blown landscape until you reach the town. The train pulled into Skagen station which was painted an egg yolk yellow. The doors opened automatically and immediately I was struck by a very strong smell of fish. It was not unpleasant but it was extremely strong!
I left my bags at my hotel (my room wasn't ready) and went off to explore the town. I soon came to the harbour area, Fiskhuskaj, where there was a row of red-brown huts all of which were cafés. It seemed from the general liveliness of the place that this was the place to have lunch, so I ordered a plate of fish and chips which didn't seem to be terribly Danish (it was written in English on the otherwise Danish menu) but others were tucking in to theirs so I ignored my embarrassment of being a “typical Brit abroad” and had some too.
The town itself had an “end of season” feel to it. Schools in Denmark start back in mid-August so there were only a few people on holiday - mainly elderly Danes, Germans and... er... me. (The hotel receptionist obviously saw me as something of a novelty as she commented “Oh, you're a long way from home, aren't you?”) I couldn't get over just how quiet it was. I can imagine that in the height of the summer season it is positively brimming with people but on September 1st it could not be described as bustling. One of the reasons for the impression of it being very sedate was that there were few cars on the road. And those that were there were driving very slowly, barely above walking pace. Cars were not parked down the sides of the road, presumably they were tucked away in car parks or driveways, but their absence lent a deserted feel to the place. This was not negative in any way - it just made the town feel sleepier and quieter than perhaps it really was.
The station was not the only building painted yellow. Almost every building was yellow and the colour is known as “Skagen Gul”. I am no artist but the colour did not seem to be uniform to me - ranging as it did from pale scrambled egg to orangey free-range egg yolk colour. The origin of the colour seems to be historic. The townsfolk used to paint the outsides of their homes at Pentecost every year. One year the wrong colour was delivered and, as the journey up the spit of land was fairly hazardous before the advent of rail and road, they didn't send it back but used what was available. The colour became well known and now it is apparently something of a status symbol in the rest of Denmark to paint your house Skagen yellow.
Most of the roofs had terracotta tiles, the mortar of which was painted white along the ridge tiles and the two outermost lines of tiles. The tiles were cemented in place to prevent the winter winds blowing them off. The white paint gives a sort of lacy effect and is found only in Skagen, I believe.