Copenhagen – the capital city of a nice feeling

Do you know the Danish term “hygge”?

It is a lifestyle whose credo is well-being, coziness, enjoying the good that life brings. Hygge is not just about candles, a crackling fire in the fireplace, a soft blanket, and a hot cup of cocoa. It’s about the art of enjoying ordinary things, about the art of seeing the goodness in people, and the art of spreading a pleasant atmosphere around you.

The Danes are simply a happy nation. They have happiness in their blood, or, as the CEO of Happiness Research Institute Meik Wiking said, they have it encoded in their DNA.

Čítať ďalej “Copenhagen – the capital city of a nice feeling”

Do you know the Danish term “hygge”?

It is a lifestyle whose credo is well-being, coziness, enjoying the good that life brings. Hygge is not just about candles, a crackling fire in the fireplace, a soft blanket, and a hot cup of cocoa. It’s about the art of enjoying ordinary things, about the art of seeing the goodness in people, and the art of spreading a pleasant atmosphere around you.

The Danes are simply a happy nation. They have happiness in their blood, or, as the CEO of Happiness Research Institute Meik Wiking said, they have it encoded in their DNA.

Čítať ďalej “Copenhagen – the capital city of a nice feeling”

Madeira – hills, Poncha and Atlantic

We shamble up by car more than a precipitous hill. There are low houses on the right side. A few stone stairs at each front door to balance the steep slope and cut from the desperately narrow road. A deep gorge is on the opposite side. I see down the blue Atlantic and the people as tiny as ants. I have number one gears speed, my old Renault roars, and gasps. The clutch begins to smoke. I hold the steering wheel firmly with my sweaty hands. Just don’t stop! Because I’m going to have to reverse down the hill. I’m fainting. The local Fittipaldi appears suddenly from the top opposite, at least by the big tank car! There is no other option, just to squeeze back between the two stairs, which I use as a stop, and pray that somebody does not open doors or shutters… Even this is Madeira.

Čítať ďalej “Madeira – hills, Poncha and Atlantic”

We shamble up by car more than a precipitous hill. There are low houses on the right side. A few stone stairs at each front door to balance the steep slope and cut from the desperately narrow road. A deep gorge is on the opposite side. I see down the blue Atlantic and the people as tiny as ants. I have number one gears speed, my old Renault roars, and gasps. The clutch begins to smoke. I hold the steering wheel firmly with my sweaty hands. Just don’t stop! Because I’m going to have to reverse down the hill. I’m fainting. The local Fittipaldi appears suddenly from the top opposite, at least by the big tank car! There is no other option, just to squeeze back between the two stairs, which I use as a stop, and pray that somebody does not open doors or shutters… Even this is Madeira.

Čítať ďalej “Madeira – hills, Poncha and Atlantic”