Suawi and the two quiet hosts

Time to recharge

On the journey to Copenhagen, one stop was mostly for the car. Yannick’s white Tesla got some electricity. Suawi got a view. With her long front paws draped over the parked car’s wing mirror, she studied the charging stations.

“Do I need plugging in somewhere too?” she asked. Yannick stroked her back. No. A good window seat and an occasional hug were enough for plush lionesses. Suawi thought that was a remarkably practical design.

Please join the queue

The Little Mermaid was waiting by the water. More precisely, she was sitting on her rock while everyone else waited for a photograph with her. Yannick and Suawi joined the queue. Ahead of them, phones were raised, heads tilted and hair quickly tidied.

Suawi didn’t need a hairstyle. She had fur, and today it looked much as it always did. “For someone who never goes anywhere, she gets an astonishing number of visitors,” she whispered.

Her little hostess’s story began long before this queue: Hans Christian Andersen wrote his fairy tale in 1837. After seeing a ballet based on it, brewer Carl Jacobsen commissioned sculptor Edvard Eriksen to create a statue. It was installed at Langelinie on 23 August 1913, a gift to Copenhagen.

A place on her lap

When their turn came, Yannick stayed behind the camera. This photograph was for Suawi. She was carefully given a place beside the mermaid, her soft front paws resting across her lap. Bronze was noticeably cooler than a car seat. On the other hand, nothing here wobbled at all.

“You look out to sea, and I’ll look at Yannick,” Suawi suggested. “Then we’ve got everything covered.” The mermaid said nothing. She was very good at sitting still. Suawi kept still too. At least until the picture was taken.

The gentleman with the enormous key

On this trip, Suawi met someone else who wasn’t in a hurry: an enormous metal thinker. He sat bent over a giant key, his head resting in one hand. There was even room for a plush lioness on his lap.

His name is Zinkglobal – Nøglen til fremtiden, “The Key to the Future”. Artist Kim Michael, known as THEZINKER, made him from discarded metal and machine parts. He has sat at Nordre Toldbod since 2012. His pose recalls Rodin’s Thinker: old parts have become someone who seems to be pondering the future.

Suawi examined the bolts and wheels. “So you’re put together from pieces too,” she observed. “I just have more stuffing inside.” Then she looked at the key. It was probably a little unwieldy for the Tesla. But perhaps it would fit their next adventure.