A Viking Winter Tale
I now know why the Vikings spent thousands of years trying to get out of Denmark. The winter landscape is bleak and unrelenting. I searched the horizon for some relief but was only rewarded with wind bent leafless trees and stark white technologically marvelous but character bereft wind mills. The oxidized aluminum skies meet the sodden wool grey farm lands on a distinct but gut gnawing horizon. The wind is depressingly cold and no matter how well you dress it sucks the heat out of your inner soul leaving you empty and suicidal. I started thinking about the level of despair it would take to wade into the cold grey North Sea and not turn back. That was where I was in Denmark during the Viking winter.
Esbjerg is an old fishing port. Fishing is what the Viking did before they plundered and pillaged their way across Europe to Rome and Moscow. Fishing is what they did until there were no more fish in the North Seas. Then Esbjerg was reinvented as an international port for offshore oil and gas and from here a small Danish company started flying helicopters to support the same industry. The only problem is that the North Seas Oil is not expected to last nearly as long as the fish stocks and no matter how well you manage it the oil isn’t renewable. In other words, this port and the supporting helicopter industry has a time life. That too was depressing.
So although there is a hustle and bustle around the town and there is evidence of wealth and prosperity there is also a hint of quiet despair. The drunks in the town square at all hours, the teenagers staggering out of the night clubs at 5am, the gangs of loud drunken tattooed arms and shaved heads rough necks hanging around and drinking Heineken in public all remind me of a society in decline. The Porsche 911 GT3, however, was a bright spot in an otherwise dull day. I guess I am too shallow to wade into the sea. Instead, drooling over a car I can’t afford somehow makes me feel better all over.
|Danish Porsche 911 GT3|