National Geographic : 1952 May
694 © Erica, Tella Studio "Pint-size" Means Small, Unless It's a Continental Cup of Coffee Jumbo mugs customary in northern Europe may hold a pint. In a Stockholm shop the author (left) admires a Royal Copeland cup; those in the foreground are of Swedish manufacture. Shelves at right hold French pottery. Orrefors and Kosta, Swedish towns, have given their names to glassware. "You can't be a good cook," said the rotund Danes. "You're not fat enough!" Surely the citizens of this little country can claim obedience to the spirit and letter of the law. Foreshadowing the Atlantic Charter, the Danish Constitution forbids anyone to starve! Kitchens Without Stoves To our surprise, we could find no stoves in Danish kitchens. Two or three gas rings stand neatly on marble-topped tables, and small portable ovens appear as needed. We knew we had Copenhagen in the palms of our hands the day we stopped an electric train. Erica's beret blew on the track just as the train started to leave. What was a timetable compared with courtesy to foreign visitors? The engineer himself climbed down to the roadbed, retrieved and restored the beret with a broad flourish. We left Copenhagen early one morning, hoping for a hitch across Denmark. Erica, with her conscience, wouldn't stand sensibly on the corner to flag the cars, but insisted on walking down the road to make it look as if we meant to hike. Not five minutes after they had crammed us and our rucksacks into the back of a pint sized European-made Ford, the jovial types who were our first catch pulled up at a road house and indicated that they would be pleased to have us join them in a beer. It took several minutes to explain, through the language bar rier, that we preferred the road. Three young men of the hitchhiking fra ternity were already on the Sjalland-Fyn ferry when we walked up the gangplank at Kors0r that afternoon. The five of us-as all hostelers do-compared notes. Two of the boys were American-Univer sity of California at Los Angeles graduates, class of '49. They had come to Europe in June as chauffeurs for wealthy compatriots, earning enough so that now they were making a Grand Tour on their own.