Halfway down the ladder, my toes touch the frigid water of Copenhagen’s Nyhavn canal. I’m in my swimsuit in the two-degree December air, and it’s too late to abandon the dip: coming in hot down the ladder is the next brave person and, gasping and giggling in the pool, are Danes in beanies already angling for the nearest exit. In I go!
After, the Kanalhuset hotel’s weekly swim club attendees dry off and tug on coats as the morning light strengthens. The ice is officially broken, but we’re not through with the day’s bonding activities. We share coffee from a Thermos and sing a Christmas carol, while I admire a bloke who dries his naked body, shamelessly alfresco, taking precise advantage of the pool’s barely waist-high fence, before donning a sleek suit and cycling off.
