The door to my hotel room shut and I walked instinctively towards the window. Across the street, the gates of Tivoli looked smaller than I remembered them as a child. The rides and roller coasters poking up through the barren tree branches in the park didn’t appear as intimidating as I seemed to remember them as a 5 year old.

I unpacked a little bit, then decided I should head out and get some food before it got too chilly. Outside, the sun was already starting to set, even though it was only 4:30pm, and little flakes of snow had begun to fall. I made my way towards the walking streets, gloves hands shoved into my pockets, face half buried inside my scarf. I’d been to Denmark many times with my family, but it had always been during the summer. Freezing as it was, I couldn’t help but smile recognizing streets I’d walked down as a child, and restaurants I’d taken advantage of the 16 year drinking age in, feeling like such a grown up sipping my white wine.

I wandered all the way through the walking streets, down to the harbor. There were plenty of cute restaurants with their lights on, but they seemed a little too nice to be dining in alone. I’m not opposed to solitude. If I was, this entire weekend trip would be be a nightmare. I had just needed to leave the UK briefly to reset my visa, and knowing I’d be going somewhere alone, I picked Copenhagen as it was familiar. I thought it might be nice to revisit the places I remember vaguely from all the previous trips. But I didn’t anticipate how much more alone one feels when it’s cold. Cold is an understatement, it was fucking freezing. The snow flakes had dampened to a sleet, and the wind was whipping them hard onto my nose and cheeks (the only exposed skin I had). And though my body was begging me to just pick a damn restaurant and go inside, literally anywhere with walls and some warm food, I walked away from the harbor and back up the walking streets. It wasn’t until I was almost back at my hotel that I found the perfect dinner spot I didn’t realize I was waiting for: An almost deserted Chinese restaurant with harsh fluorescent lighting that could serve me a massive bowl of noodle soup. With a side of spring rolls. One Night In Bangkok played on the speakers, as I slurped from the oversized spoon. I’d posted a picture to my Instagram story earlier, of several of the iconic Copenhagen towers, silhouetted by the dark sky. It had a reply from my friend Ellen, who is from Denmark but lived in London. “Are you in Copenhagen?!” She asked. I replied that I was here through the weekend. “I literally fly in tomorrow, can we hang out tomorrow night?” She went back. My heart leapt. It was such a random coincidence, and it warmed me more than even the giant bowl of soup could. I think, though I do love traveling, I’ve grown to enjoy the people I can share a place with even more.

The next day I slept in, but still wanted to get out and see the city. Again, it took me ages to settle on a place to grab a bite to eat. I’d already walked to Rosenborg Castle and up to the top of the Round Tower before I found myself a veggie bagel at the cafe at the top of Illum’s shopping center.

I made my way down to Nyhavn, past the beautiful colorful buildings to the water, where the opera house sits across the bay. All the way down to the Little Mermaid statue, then back past Amalienborg, the home of the Danish royal family. I’m not sure how many miles I’d gone, but my feet were very ready to take a break. I made my way back towards my hotel, intending on getting a bite to eat and warming up a little. But walking by the gates of Tivoli, I realized this might be my only afternoon to visit. I considered the moderately expensive entrance fee a gift to my younger self. I adored this place growing up; the rides, the beautifully decorated buildings and alleyways, the sweet little restaurants and the decadent soft serve vanilla ice cream (dipped in chocolate powder, of course). This time, draped in a thin layer of fake snow, it looked much smaller than I remembered it. It was almost deserted, with only a few people wandering through the gift shops and admiring the ornately painted structures. Here and there, elevated fire pits stood for people to warm their hands by. The park has a small population of peacocks, and they too were cuddling up by the fires. I found a mulled wine stand, so a steaming mug soon was also combatting the cold. There wasn’t much to do, other than wander around and take in the sights. There were lots of tiny lights everywhere, leftover from Christmas, and flock of sculpted swans, each with a tiny golden crown, floated on the lake. In the summer, the lanes and little parks would be filled with children screaming and playing, and the restaurants would be bustling with customers. There were only a few rides that were open now, including the fun house, which I took a wander through. It’s not quite the same experience without people to laugh with, riding down slides and running over moving tracks designed to trip you up. Nevertheless, I clambered over enough rope ladders to make it worth my while.

Several hours later, I was walking through the meat packing district, an area I’d never been in before, following the address Ellen had said to meet her at. The streets fluctuated between “sketchy” and “trendy”, sometimes a little of both. After about a 20 minute walk, I found the place. A sign outside the door said “Come in for the worst g&t some guy on Yelp has ever had!” Wandering the crowd of what seemed to be entirely locals, I found Ellen and her friend Benedicte, who I’d met one once London. It was 2 for 1 g&t’s, so we took full advantage of that (they weren’t as bad as the guy on Yelp seemed to think, just quite strong, which I’ve never seen as a negative). We tucked ourselves away in a corner and caught up, soon filling our small, wobbly table with empty glasses. Benedicte worked at a little Italian restaurant close by Tivoli, so we walked back in that direction, stopping by my hotel room to drink a bottle of wine, eat some chips, and have a little dance party.

The restaurant was still open, so we sat at tables outside, drinking Aperol Spritzes in the freezing cold. Benedicte told us about when she’d served Mads Mikkelsen and the crown prince of Denmark in the restaurant one night. We shared stories and sipped our freezing cold but delicious drinks, laughing so hard I worried we might be disrupting the actual customers. Eventually, as the tables inside cleared, we moved in and warmed up, before setting off on another adventure. They took me to Floss, a bar with a heavily graffitied front, thick with customers and cigarette smoke. We found some decaying couches downstairs and chatted with strangers and watched people play pool. Then we braved the cold once more and endured a painfully long line to get into a nightclub, where we danced in projected lights making patterns in the floor, sang along to the music in brash, out of tune voices, and snuck out into the roped off smoking area outside when it got too hot indoors. It’s all a blur. We left around 4am, when I discovered to my delight it was only a 10 minute walk back to my hotel. Once home, I chugged 3 glasses of water, then fell asleep until noon.

I love revisiting places I went when I was younger. I’m an awfully nostalgic person, and I find an odd pleasure in the combined delight in familiarity, and a yearning for past or distant happiness. Yet the people I’ve met as I’ve gotten older, the ones who’ve shown me new sides to the places I thought I knew well, they give me things to love about the places of my childhood which I never would have thought I’d be lucky enough to find. Traveling alone can be a very rewarding and interesting experience, but in this instance, I was so grateful for the companionship, the company, and the new nostalgia to discover the next time I visit.