An entry in The TFS Travel Journal
(I’ll tell you another thing this country could use more of: screens for their windows! Our upstairs bedroom (which is literally that — a room with two adjoining large twin beds and room for not much else, though with some hearty dark wood beams along a high ceiling, and an adjacent beautiful, green marble-floored bathroom) was stuffy, like a lot of places in this country, we’ve noticed, so we opened the screenless windows. We then lay in bed reading for 1/2 hour or so and in that time killed several winged insects with our bare hands and with some unpleasant consequences for the bedsheets.)
We dined al fresco on our little patio on poached quail eggs, bacon, salami, cheese, a bread basket, and some yoghurt in honey that was like clotted cream ricotta style; fortunately, we had ordered just for one!
The ferry availability (who would have suspected such a thing?) was not cooperative, so we adapted. Milton borrowed one of the Kro’s antiquated bikes (boy, was that a precursor of the day) and rode the surrounding countryside for about an hour. Very pretty, but redolent of upstate N.Y., or nicer parts of Northern California, since this area also borders much water (it is an island, after all). We drove to Faborg to catch the 14:10 ferry to Aero Island. Docked after a nice 1 hr. ride and drove the 16km to Aeroskobing to rent bicycles. We had been assured that there would be plenty of availability and there certainly was, though not quite what we were looking for. It has been quite a while since I rode a 3-speed with a coaster brake, but I can’t complain — it came with a kickstand and a bell! And this in a country where bikes are ubiquituous and revered and are ridden by families, the elderly, at night, etc. Whoever opens the Trek/Specialized franchise here will assuredly kick ass.
The bikes did the job (and cost $5.75/day) and we rode around what is basically the Block Island/(uncommercialized) Martha’s Vineyard of Denmark. Bucolic, some small hills, lots of flowers (most with accompanying intoxicating aromas), rolling farm fields, and water all around, but virtually no people. On the south side are some beautiful cliffs abutted by a long winding pebbly beach. We rode for about 3 hours, stopping at the only place we found with any provisions - a house with a little snack bar along side that was unattended despite having all candy and drinks accessible until one rang a doorbell that summoned an older gentleman who came out of the house to serve us and who had a small spider apparently living in his mustache. We greedily devoured our mineral waters and a Snickers bar.
We rode back into the metropolis of Aeroskobing (permanent population ~326), a quaint port town of cobblestone streets and tremendously multicolored little buildings. We dined at the only place the guidebooks recommended, and Milton finally got to enjoy the scrambled eggs and eel. The rest of the meal was remarkably uninteresting and involved the plainest fish and some Germanic boiled potatoes, but A: they were the only non-fried things on the menu, and B: Germans are their (by far) largest tourist group.
On our way back to get the car, we enjoyed a few minutes of The Red Rockets rather loud pop concert in the town square, then took the 9pm ferry back to Svendberg, and drove the 43km back to the Kro, seeing perhaps 5 cars and 15 bicycles along the way.
Showered in our lovely bathroom, but (how European) only a tub and detachable shower head but with no wall fixture to attach the head. So Wendy played that role for Milton, and she then went solo, all in all leaving litres of water along the floor, counter, walls. . .