Copenhagen, episode 2. In which I hunt for Easter egg cups.

Here I am doing my best to look like a casual shopper among the colorful display of secondhand goods set up in front of a row of Copenhagen vintage shops.

Mari and I were thrilled to enter the browsing flea fray (once we had finally found our way).

Despite my printed map of the area, our excitement led us to walk a little too far past Ravnsborggade (that's the name of the street and neighborhood) and we ended up walking in a big circle circumscribing the area we actually wanted to find. Kind of like every time I'm driving Mari somewhere I've never been, but I'm positive I know where I'm going.

Always stay positive!

(especially if you know you're wrong)

If you do find yourself in Copenhagen on a Sunday (pre- post- or in-lieu-of cruise), do yourself a favor and immerse yourself thoroughly in the Ravnsborggade street market. The street is already colorfully and historically lined with secondhand stores and antiques shops, but Sundays bring out even more local vendors (streetside and in a large parking lot) who were a little surprised to find way-out-of-towners like us rummaging their reserves. The market is just across Queen Louise's Bridge which you will find a few beautifully walkable blocks west of the National Gallery, Rosenborg Castle, and the Botanical Garden (all of which were themselves a leisurely beautiful walk from the Admiral Hotel, our temporary Danish home--more about the Admiral next time).

The atmosphere that Sunday morning was bright and boisterously friendly with lots of families exploring the streets and searching for bargains. It will always remain one of my most favorite fleamarket experiences despite the fact that we made only a few purchases. Fleamarketing is not always about closing a deal, as you know, but about the joy of the search.

Since it is Easter Sunday, I thought I would share with you one particularly appropriate item rescued that Sunday morning.

Happy Easter!

Funny thing is I don't like soft-boiled eggs. One of my earliest food memories is actually an aversion to eggs I developed the summer before my 5th birthday that lasted for about six months. It happened during our first family visit to my father's family farm in Portugal in the summer of 1971. Without getting into too much memorable detail, I accidentally witnessed my mom killing a chicken.

"Kill" sounds kind of strong, but slaughter may be just a bit dramatic,

although technically accurate.

All I remember now is feathers everywhere and that entire summer the eggs tasted funny. Maybe because they were fresh?

Somewhere in time, however, I managed to become a collector of egg cups despite my early culinary barnyard trauma.

I'll see about gathering all of the egg cups up for a photo shoot, maybe in time to celebrate Easter next year. Some of them are on display in the kitchen curio and some reside in long-term holiday hibernation.

As I was setting the Easter collectibles out recently, I remembered the newest addition to our breakfast accoutrement collection.

Don't laugh, but the blood-orange and white plastic egg cup jumped out at both Mari and me on a crowded glass shelf in the front window of a small secondhand shop just as we were beginning to flea that first Sunday morning in Copenhagen.

Miss Æggebæger is displaying one of my favorite Easter collectibles for her photo shoot, a floral polka-dotted golden paper-mâché visual treat we've had in long-term holiday hibernation for over two decades.

Although my days of dying and coloring Easter eggs are long behind me (with many thanks to gal pals Marcie and Peppermint Patty for their invaluable instruction), I do enjoy the colorfully creative bounty of an Easter egg and the cup on which it perches. As a result of visits to Europe over the years, Mari and I have also come to realize that soft-boiled eggs are a popular breakfast staple, so much so that any department store, home store, vintage shop, even grocery stores, will have some variety of egg cup to make the work of the most important meal of the day as visually pleasing as it may be delectably satisfying (if you go for that sort of thing).

I'll gather all my egg cups (and stories) for an Easter basket special next year, I promise.

In the meantime, I tease you with our first fleamarketed Danish souvenir, the 15 krone (about $2.50) egg cup that reminded me of something that belonged in The Jetsons' kitchen.

More culinary treats next time along with a short video summary of our Ravnsborggade fleamarket morning.