UVA Today Blogs: Semester at Sea

At first glance, docking in Korsor left some of us wondering. Don’t get me wrong: the way that the town welcomed us our first morning had a sweetness that we all appreciated. But that aside, Copenhagen is where you go to find out about Denmark. Right?

 

That all depends. As co-voyager Julia Kudravetz, who lived for a while in Copenhagen, pointed out, anchoring ourselves in Korsor rather than an hour away in Denmark’s largest city has its advantages. Sure, Korsor lacks the sophistication of the big city. But here you can see a slice of Denmark up close. If you prefer quiet adventure over glitz, Korsor is the place to be.

 

The town is very manageable and can easily be explored in a couple of days. You can rent a bicycle for 85 kroners, or $17 per day. And the American dollar goes a little further here than it does in the big city. You can also get a wonderfully rich cappuccino for 20 kroners ($4) and an ice cream cone for the same amount.

 

Korsor curls itself along the coast and has beaches, a lovely golf course and a bike trail through a nice forest. It’s about a 5-minute walk from our ship across the little drawbridge into the town’s center. As in most coastal towns, restaurants and cafes dot the area along the harbor. The Dansk Bank ATM is around the corner. One of the nicest things is, you can tell the town exists for reasons beyond tourism. Along the streets are businesses – a household appliance store, florist, bicycle repair shop – that cater more to Korsor’s inhabitants more than visitors.

 

On my last day with the SAS voyage, I wandered into town on my own. The ship felt deserted, as so many co-voyagers had left for overnight stays in Copenhagen and Sweden. I ran into U.Va. professor David Gies, who was just returning from lunch at a place called Madam Bagger. An odd name. But David gave it a two-thumbs-up recommendation. I decided to check it out for myself. Along the way I ran into a lifelong learner named Leah (don’t know her last name) who also had lunched there. She offered to lead me there, introduce me to the chef and show me the menu.

 

Madam Bagger is housed in a bright mustard yellow building fronted by a small courtyard. A nice little dog was sitting outside. In we went. As if on cue, the chef appeared – a big, burly man in his white uniform. Leah left, and I chatted with him. He had grown up in Korsor but left to get his culinary training in Copenhagen. He stayed for 10 years and then decided to return to Korsor. Here, he said, he could buy a large home for the same amount of money he had paid to rent a small, one-bedroom apartment in the city. Like so many of the Danes I talked to, he had blond hair, blue eyes and a bright, open face.

 

The menu looked good, so I decided to return for dinner. Two hours later, I re-entered the restaurant with Lavahn Hoh and his wife, Mary Frances. Dinner went off without a hitch. Well, except for one small snafu.

 

After we had been seated, Mary Frances excused herself to find the women’s restroom. She encountered another patron – an older, nicely dressed woman – who directed her toward a door. When Mary Frances came back to the table, she explained that the restaurant had a unisex bathroom with urinals in the front room and a toilet in an adjoining “water closet.”

 

Later, when I excused myself to find the restroom, Mary Frances said, “Look for the door on the left.” In the main hallway, I noticed 2 doors: the one on the right had a picture of a little girl frolicking in a field. With MF’s advice in mind, I reasoned: Okay, that must be some sort of special bathroom for children. And with that, I opened the door on the left.

 

So far, so good. There were the urinals. And there was the water closet, which I entered. Then, just as things were getting underway, I heard the main door open and a man’s cough followed by the sound of a zipper.

 

Uh-oh.

 

What’s the protocol with a unisex bathroom?! Do I wait until he finishes and leaves before I open the closet door, wash up and leave? I wasn’t sure, but that seemed like the wisest course. A minute passed. Then I heard the main door open again. I figured the coast was clear and congratulated myself on handling the situation like a pro.

 

I opened my door. Alas, there he stood, facing the urinal. The sound I had heard was that of yet another man, accompanied by a little boy, entering the bathroom…which by now had become quite crowded! We all looked at one another. It’s hard to say who was more shocked. The father spoke first. “Here.” He opened the main door and pointed to a picture of a small boy frolicking in a field. Now it all made sense. There was no unisex bathroom. I was in the men’s room.

 

I apologized quickly, tucked my head and dashed out. As the door slammed shut, I could hear the men laughing. After reliving the drama with Lavahn and MF, I consoled myself with a dish of delicious Danish ice cream.

 

Korsor may not have the exuberance or splendor of Copenhagen. But for me, the memory of this little burg will last a good while.