Musician stirring ...

I spent today walking around downtown Copenhagen, from the Main Square through Norreport's shops and cafes, to the Amalienborg Palace (which was lovely in its symmetry and with an unpretentious-but-noble presence), to the King's Garden (snowed in) and Rosenborg Castle (stiff, and mostly filled with jewels, which for some reason was singularly unexciting. As the person manning the store put it, it's a storage attic).

The last destination I had in mind for the walking tour was the Fortification next to Osterport station. It was getting dark, and I decided not to venture into the big snowy park across what looked like a frozen moat. Instead, I walked down Esplanade/Brodegade back toward the center of town.

By happenstance, the road passed by the domed building I had seen earlier from the plaza at Amalienborg Palace. On the map, it was called the Marble Church, and I decided to take one more look around. I crossed over to ( ) street, which had festive holiday lights strung across and strolled through the winter night. I arrived at the church and took a few photos of the exterior, turquoise oxidized copper against a twilight sky. As I circled around the edge and prepared to walk home, I glanced in the window and caught a glimpse of an exquisite interior. Amber had mentioned the other day that she always liked to see the insides of churches, simply for the aesthetics -- so I decided to give this one a try.

At the front door, there was a sign that said, "no sightseeing." Apparently the doors were closed for an ongoing "koncert." I glanced at the program posted on the wall, which looked awesome -- my eyes focused on the words J.S. Bach -- and at once decided to stay.

As soon as I walked inside, I could hear strings floating across the room. I tiptoed to a pew and sat down, relaxing into the blanket of sound. The music swelled, and it was absolutely rapturous ... that moment ... you musicians know what I mean, the feeling you get when the music crests into a wave of harmony and togetherness, carrying a particular emotive force ... The sound was stunning, enveloping the audience in its brilliant and lovely timbre. I could have stayed in place for hours, with swimming acoustics that reverberated and bathed you in beauty and light. The scene ... the high rounded dome, soft golden illumination, saints and angels in shining garb standing in 12 panels around the heavens ...

The chamber orchestra played through Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings, and I do not know if I was awake or dreaming in that world awash in beauty and sound. I felt fortunate to be allowed this perfect moment on a winter night.