Copenhagen for Christmas
Copenhagen before Christmas is the ultimate weekend winter wonderland.
I went with a few friends for a quick 48-hour trip, taking the three-hour Ryanair flight up north Friday night to Monday morning. Naturally, with any Ryanair flight, you can expect to arrive at least an hour later than scheduled. My only qualm with this city? The public transportation. Confusing, unreliable, and downright unattainable—we had to abandon the idea of taking the train from the airport to our hostel after three canceled trains and nearly an hour of waiting.
Arriving at our hostel at 1 AM meant our weekend really started Saturday morning, but not before a beer. Probably the best beer in the world, actually. I tried a Carlsberg Danish Pilsner, and after not having a real beer in years due to my aversion to gluten, just one sip made those years without beer feel unbearably long.
Saturday morning, we found ourselves at a local coffee shop for a quick caffeine fix and some pastries before heading to the tourist mecca that is Nyhavn. A picturesque photoshoot location among the canals and colorful houses, we quickly understood why it was so popular. It’s immensely beautiful, in a way that’s completely different from other European cities. After a long photoshoot and leisurely stroll, we made our way to the Christianshavn neighborhood for lunch. Known for its hippie, alternative vibe, the stereotype rang true with signs boasting, “Warning: Hippies have been spotted in this area. Peace, love, and understanding could break out at any moment.”
We had lunch at Restaurant Lola, a quaint old mill converted into a cozy bungalow lunch haven. Perched atop a hill, the yellow barn was surrounded by fallen leaves in rich shades of orange, yellow, and red—a perfect autumn escape from the brisk cold. The place was busy, so we took seats at the bar, where the strange but friendly bartender awkwardly corrected Mark’s eating etiquette. Who knew it was practically illegal to eat toast with your hands in Copenhagen?
We enjoyed classic Danish fare—smørrebrød atop rye bread—though some of us were forced to enjoy it, as our server insisted it tasted better when eaten with a fork and knife. I ordered the confit duck leg and bitter greens under the warm dishes section, not realizing it was also a smørrebrød. I was surprised to see just a small slice of rye bread with duck and greens on top. Nevertheless, I was satisfied.
Realizing we were near the Ganni Archive sale, I had to pop in. I tried on the most gorgeous, simple cream-colored yarn sweater—perfect for layering in winter or wearing alone in summer.
Our favorite part of the whole trip came that evening: visiting Tivoli Gardens. For those who don't know, Tivoli is an amusement park and home to the oldest wooden roller coaster in the world.
The temperature was around 20°F (-2°C for my European friends), and we were bundled to the core. To combat the cold, we had to get a healthy serving of glögg—Denmark’s version of mulled wine. I found the Danish version to be my favorite, topped with sliced almonds and tart dried cranberries. Of course, we had to add a floater of Fireball. We walked through the park with our glögg in hand, admiring the Christmas decorations on every surface imaginable. Christmas trees around every corner, covered in twinkling lights and ornaments. String lights draped over rooftops, the base of every ride, and a stunning light show to conclude the night. Willow trees adorned in cascading lights provided a false sense of warmth. Watching the light show over the lake, I truly felt like a child again—full of wonder, like visiting Disneyland for the first time.
After a few hours, we fully embraced our inner child, finding an empty playground big enough for four twenty-somethings to play around in as the rain started to drizzle. When we finally sought shelter indoors, we decided espresso martinis were necessary to fuel the rest of our night. Unfortunately, there were no espresso martinis—only undrinkable, strong Irish coffees. I don’t think I’ll ever order one again.
A local recommended we check out KB3, a nightclub in the Meatpacking District. It was absurd and strange. But we paid to enter, and we were going to have fun, dammit. Slightly overdressed for the club, we removed some layers, ordered drinks, and hit the dance floor. The crowd was a bit odd—everyone seemed to know each other except us. It felt intimate, but the DJ was great, and we were on vacation with nothing to lose. We danced until about 2 or 3 AM before calling a taxi back to our humble hostel.
I found Danish people to be a bit strange—not in a bad way, but in an endearing, socially awkward way. Dodgy eye contact, a reserved demeanor—sometimes I wasn’t sure if they understood me. I’d met some Danish guys in Mallorca earlier in the year and thought they were just unique, but visiting their country made me realize—it’s just a Danish thing. I’ve found that the further north you go, the more introverted people seem. Maybe it’s all the layers of clothing; it takes time to get to their core.
Day two began with my mission to find a gluten-free Danish. H.U.G. Bakerie was our first stop—slightly disappointing, but that didn’t stop me from trying five different pastries. We were near Rosenborg Castle and the King’s Garden, so we explored the park while in the area. The castle was stunning—rich brown brick and iron scaffolding standing stark against the lush green grass and crisp orange leaves of late November. Friendly swans roamed the gardens, unbothered by tourists, while hedge mazes wove through the landscape.
Our tired feet needed fuel, so we headed to Torvehallerne food market—a vibrant spot filled with fresh produce and independent food stalls, offering everything from classic Danish smørrebrød to focaccia to Indian cuisine. After a glass of wine and a snack, I was ready to shop again. We visited a few stores in the city center, and I made my favorite purchase from Boii Studios—a brand known for its effortlessly cool Copenhagen style.
Before dinner, we stopped at The Library Bar, a moody, book-filled cocktail lounge in a hotel lobby. It felt like stepping into an 18th-century study—dark wood, dim lighting, and shelves of books lining the walls. I had the best drink of the night, called Blonde Redhead: blended scotch, pimento dram, honey syrup, ancho chili, lemon, and ruby port. The kind of drink you’d sip while reading in a leather chair.
Dinner was a short walk away at Delphine, a modern Mediterranean restaurant with a stylish, airy ambiance and dancing blue women painted on the walls. The space was buzzing, and I was lucky to have snagged a last-minute reservation on our flight to Copenhagen. We started with an espresso martini—easily in my top three of all time. Smooth, with the perfect bold coffee richness to balance the sweetness. The food was fresh and delicious—I had the grilled lamb, and we shared fries and burrata salad.
After a perfectly giggly evening, we paid the bill, using calculators to convert DKK into euros, and set off on our walk home. Secretly, none of us were ready for our vacation to end. When we stumbled upon the cutest Christmas pub next to the train station, we silently agreed we had to stop for one last drink.
Inside, Christmas ornaments dangled from the ceiling, wrapped presents were strung with bows, and the walls—possibly covered in wrapping paper—were lined with a motorized train running back and forth. It was so perfectly decorated, I wondered if it looked like this year-round. The atmosphere was warm, a fireplace flickering in sight. The bartenders—old men shaped like Santa Claus—were long past tipsy, so you had to order at the bar. One beer turned into two before we finally called it a night, heading back for our 5 AM Ryanair flight to Madrid.
Copenhagen at Christmas brought out my inner child—just for a moment, it felt like anything was possible, wrapped in twinkling lights and a little vacation magic.