The following few (16) photos are from my early spring trip to Denmark to walk in the footsteps of Hans Christian Andersen.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Sun As A Face
The original of this paper cut made by Hans Christian Andersen is in the H. C. Andersen Hus museum in Odense.
HCA
I spent hours in this museum. Hours. And each exhibit was more interesting than the previous one, each room had more to offer. The library room had bookshelves filled with Andersen's fairy tales in many languages, 144 to be exact. I don't know if I could name 144 languages! While I knew Andersen was a traveler (He had stayed with Charles Dickens in England, that I knew, and the Grimm Brothers in Germany.), I really understood that he was a traveler when I saw his well-worn leather satchel.
To Travel is to Live
To travel is to live. Or, as HCA put it, At reise er at leve.
Andersen entertained his hosts not only by telling (or reading) his stories, but by making paper cuts. Using large shears, he cut intricate designs, and gave them as gifts. This paper cut of an oriental mosque captures a ship sailing into Istanbul, at least that is what I see. Andersen was a great traveler, and did travel to Istanbul. He chronicled his travels in his journals and in books. Michael Booth walks in the footsteps of Andersen's 1840 journey, and shares that experience with readers in his book "Just As Well I'm Leaving."
Andersen entertained his hosts not only by telling (or reading) his stories, but by making paper cuts. Using large shears, he cut intricate designs, and gave them as gifts. This paper cut of an oriental mosque captures a ship sailing into Istanbul, at least that is what I see. Andersen was a great traveler, and did travel to Istanbul. He chronicled his travels in his journals and in books. Michael Booth walks in the footsteps of Andersen's 1840 journey, and shares that experience with readers in his book "Just As Well I'm Leaving."
Follow the Sun
In Odense, with a very soggy (because it was very rainy) guide map in my hand, I followed the sun cutouts across town, stopping at the spots indicated. There are thirteen of these markers, some in granite on the ground, some, like this at the H. C. Andersen Hus, more easily found. You can follow, virtually, by checking the website Andersen Was Here.
http://www.andersenwashere.com/default.asp?languageid=2&menuid=40&documentid=249
http://www.andersenwashere.com/default.asp?languageid=2&menuid=40&documentid=249
A Visit to the H. C. Andersen Hus
The museum dedicated to Hans Christian Andersen in Odense is built around the birthplace of the writer.
The Plaque
Called Hans Christian as a child (his father was Hans) Hans Christian Andersen was referred to as Andersen as an adult.
The house from the street
Seen from the outside, this is the house where Andersen was born. The streets and homes and shops surrounding the house are the definition of quaint - seemingly three-quarter sized, freshly painted, with doors that open directly onto the cobbled street. Many had window boxes with just budding spring bulbs. But what is now quaint was, in 1805, cramped and dingy.
Read what the "Andersen Was Here" guide says about the birthplace.
"In times past the attractive yellow house on the corner of Hans Jensens Stræde and Bangs Boder used to be part of the city's slum area. The corner house, which looks so romantic today, comprises actually 3 dwellings, and was home for up to 5 families or about 20 people. Hans Christian Andersen's grandmother and later his father's aunt lived in the room – the flat – furthest down Bangs Boder. It is with all likelihood here that Hans Christian Andersen was born."
Read what the "Andersen Was Here" guide says about the birthplace.
"In times past the attractive yellow house on the corner of Hans Jensens Stræde and Bangs Boder used to be part of the city's slum area. The corner house, which looks so romantic today, comprises actually 3 dwellings, and was home for up to 5 families or about 20 people. Hans Christian Andersen's grandmother and later his father's aunt lived in the room – the flat – furthest down Bangs Boder. It is with all likelihood here that Hans Christian Andersen was born."
The Inside
Reconstructed to appear as it likely was, visitors get a sense of Andersen's Odense home.
Paper Cuts
Do you see the ballerinas? Do you see the hearts? Do you see the swans? All appear commonly in Andersen's paper cuts. And I am sure that you know a story of his where there are swans.
His Mother's Work
Stop #4 on the Andersen Was Here walk is this spot on the Odense River. While Hans Christian's mother was a washer woman who took in laundry, she worked at a different spot than this. But, you get the idea.
In Front of the Odense Town Hall
Statues of Hans Christian Andersen can be found in other cities and on other town hall squares in Denmark, but this one is in his birthplace of Odense.
Read this bit from Andersen's autobiography "The Fairy Tale of My Life" about his reception on December 6, 1867. He stood in the town hall on that night as his hometown honored him.
"I was to fulfill the prophecy which the old woman made when as a boy I left my birthplace, --Odense would be illuminated for me. I stepped to the open window; there was a blaze of light from the torches, the place was quite full of people. They sang, and I was overcome in my soul. I was physically overcome indeed, and could not enjoy this summit of fortune in my life. The toothache was intolerable."
You won't be surprised to know that the lost story in Andersen's last collection, published in 1872, is called "Auntie Toothache."
Read this bit from Andersen's autobiography "The Fairy Tale of My Life" about his reception on December 6, 1867. He stood in the town hall on that night as his hometown honored him.
"I was to fulfill the prophecy which the old woman made when as a boy I left my birthplace, --Odense would be illuminated for me. I stepped to the open window; there was a blaze of light from the torches, the place was quite full of people. They sang, and I was overcome in my soul. I was physically overcome indeed, and could not enjoy this summit of fortune in my life. The toothache was intolerable."
You won't be surprised to know that the lost story in Andersen's last collection, published in 1872, is called "Auntie Toothache."
The Prindsen
This hotel, Prindsen, located in Roskilde, was the first hotel in Denmark, having received a license as a public inn in 1695. Andersen stayed here and writes in his diary about the visit.
Home at eight, first time I sleep in the town, where kings sleep, I sleep badly. I sleep at Prindsen.
I stayed here, too, but, unlike Andersen, my sleep was undisturbed.
Home at eight, first time I sleep in the town, where kings sleep, I sleep badly. I sleep at Prindsen.
I stayed here, too, but, unlike Andersen, my sleep was undisturbed.
Breakfast in Aeroskibing
Above the breakfast buffet in Aeroskibing is this painting of Andersen, an homage to his many fairy tales, and is just one example of the many reminders of Andersen's prominence in Denmark.
Look!
Take a look at your book shelf. Bet you can find some fairy tales there by Hans Christian Andersen. If you have a minute, read The Princess on the Pea. It is only a few paragraphs, and Andersen's tales are meant for readers and listeners of all ages.
I look into myself, find the idea for older people - and tell it as if to the children, but remembering that Father and Mother are listening.
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/PriPea.shtml
I look into myself, find the idea for older people - and tell it as if to the children, but remembering that Father and Mother are listening.
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/PriPea.shtml
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
"Toad began it."
“Toad began it.” So begins Heidi’s Alp by Christina Hardyment.
Once a year, Cricket magazine has a feature called “Famous First Lines” which I particularly adore. These “first lines’ are lures so sparkly that they can hardly be denied, and pull readers into the book immediately. This first line, however, lured me into life. Reading the book with a pre-schooler and an infant, squeezing reading time in between children, home chores and work at the LJCDS library and a weekend library job as well, the story of a mom who sets off to discover the places of the literature she shared with her children was for me the story of an amazing adventure. I wished it was I, and I wished it so hard and for so long that the dream came true. It came true in several ways, to be honest. It was the spark that fueled the original Children’s Literature family summer trips. It was the reason for joining two of the annual Nye Memorial Children’s Literature Trips, trips for adults planned by experts in the field of children’s literature. It offered me the plan for many day trips with my children, who will tell you, for example, they see Oz when they see the Hotel Del Coronado. And, most recently, Heidi’s Alp clutched in my hand, it was the map for my travels in Denmark. You could even say that this book was the reason for my sabbatical.
When I was a child I was given The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. I did like the maps on the end papers (I am a fan of interesting end papers.), and I started the book many times. But I never got past the first few pages. This is the only book I can remember not liking, and this was a surprise to my parents as much as to me, for I was a reader, always with an open book in my hand. But, not too many years ago, while teaching Junior Great Books in summer school, I read a selection from the classic. Shocked at how much I enjoyed it, and how interesting the discussion that followed was, I took that same book that my parents had given me, saved all these years, to the beach and read it, cover to cover. What a great story! So, when I started Heidi’s Alp, I certainly knew where the sentence, “Toad began it,” was going and that great adventures would follow.
“Here today, up and off to somewhere else tomorrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The whole world before you, and a horizon that’s always changing!” Those are Toad’s words. Do they capture you, too? I built a dream on those words, as, apparently, so did the author of Heidi’s Alp.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Ponder and Produce
I am at my Colorado home. Tomorrow, my California home. Today, the mountains. Tomorrow, the sea.
The clouds, white and wispy, are racing to the East across the crisp blue sky. The crows are dipping and diving, spiraling up on the currents so that I imagine they are playing and happy in the gusty winds. Taking their place as they spin towards the mountains are the swallows, hurrying in every direction. The river I sit beside is stronger than the days previous as spring deepens and the snow that fell two days ago melts. A jet trail, pinkish in the late afternoon, disappears quickly.
Everything I see is moving quickly. Everything I see is going somewhere. Everything I see seems to have a destination, and is moving towards that destination with natural determination.
But I feel stuck. After two months of moving, after two months of traveling, after two months of being alert, aware and attentive, I am home. I imagined that I would be spending this time at a dining room table, with open guide books, brochures and my journals in stacks and piles. And that is indeed what the table looks like as I sort through, organize, write and rewrite. On my calendar pages I blocked off the week with the words "ponder and produce." But it is slow. I open a journal page or look at a photo, and the "ponder" half of the equation takes over.
So I do what I usually do, I open a book. This book, A Sense of Place by Michael Shapiro, gives me more to ponder. And generates a whole new list of travel books to read, and, I anticipate, to love. Shapiro's book is inspiring. Several of the travel writers Shapiro interviewed admit to wandering around each new place with a big grin. That was me. Every morning when I woke up, my very first thought (apologies to my loved ones) was, "Wow! I am in a new place today!" (On those rare days when I woke up for a second or third time in the same place, that enthusiasm was still there.) Walking into those great, arched European train stations was a thrill I never grew tired of. And I delighted in finding bus stops, and then figuring out the timetables. Always, there was a crookedly folded map in my hand. "Here is where I am!" Or, turning the map this way and that, "I think this is where I am..."
I got used to the going.
And now I need to find a way to share. Stick with me friends, because there are things I want to share, so "ponder" will have to yield a bit to "produce." Any day now.
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