Today I got up and headed to Roskilde for a few hours – check out the ‘hood (everything is good), see if there is anything new (nope) and wander through the cathedral for the eleventy-billionth time (love that place). As a wonderful welcome back to Denmark, it took an extra 30 minutes to get there because of issues with one of the train tracks. Lovely, as usual. Over priced and hardly ever on time. (*smooches for DSB*)

I don’t know what it is, but the Roskilde Domkirke is one of my favorite places to visit. Something about how massive it is mixed with the hundreds of years of history – legit, this thing was started in ca. 1170.

Photos don’t even do this place justice. There is just a *feeling* when you go inside. 20 kings and 17 queens (and a few unfortunate kiddos) are buried inside with varying levels of decorative coffins – feel bad for the few that are in the boxes in the pillars (one, two, three – fold ’em up tight). Even as a small child I loved to come here and ‘visit the fat king’. That would be King Christian the 4th – something about the full wall mural and the towering statue that just captured my imagination.

No… I don’t know why they aren’t lined up. Oh well, such is a blog.

I didn’t take any photos from inside the chapels along each side, but I did get one of the giant mural of my favorite king. Hey Buddy!

What is it about a specific place that grabs me. What, at six years old, made me want to ‘go see the fat king’?  Does everyone have a ‘place’? Have we been there before, perhaps in past life?  Does everyone have a ‘place’ or does it vary person to person, maybe some having an item or a person or… is it a building or a piece of land? Do you have a place? A place you feel safe? A place where you can shut off the mind numbing internal chatter? For me, my mind shuts off, tuning out any thought that doesn’t have to do with the history of this place and all I seem to think about is how it was built, what was it like, what did the people thought? Then I wonder about Denmark current Queen, what does she think of this place? From an early age she’s known where she’ll end up when her time is over. Does she think about that? Is this her ‘place’ too? I always notice the slanted, smooth steps, worn down from hundreds of years of wear. Just knowing that it’s been there for so long, that I’m touching the same steps, the same hand rests as priests touched 700 years ago is grounding.

I can’t say that I’ve ever much of a church person, but this… this isn’t just a church.