My routine to compose Ruling Woman would work like this. I worked offline, downloading and editing my photos. After writing my dispatches, I would head out to the city to find an internet cafe. In Rome, they were very easy to find: well-located, techo-savvy, cheap. Even espresso bars on site.

The first time I was in København, I had to search hard for an internet cafe. When I found it, it was situated in a dark, cavernous basement. I was convinced the men around me were Al Qaeda operatives communicating directly with Osama Bin Laden.

This trip, I settled myself into my room at the Cathedral rectory, turned on my computer. And, bingo! I was wired. My suspicion is that the church was equipped with Bluetooth®. Now maybe there is something slightly unseemly -- leeching free internet time off of priests -- but I guess that's the beauty of the 'net. Here I was, an ocean away, IM-ing my friends back home. I could keep abreast of New York City news online. I even found a travel article about Copenhagen that inspired me to visit the Jewish Museum, which otherwise I would not have done.

It just amazes me -- how differently this trip unfolded compared to my first visit. Here I was, in the same country, the same city, albeit engaged in significantly different activities. What changed, simply speaking, was my P.O.V. Of course, I was helped by my friend the priest, a "native". He was intent upon showing me Denmark, as lived by the Danes. I think I had a better understanding of the culture without comparing it to the others I already knew.

On my last night, as I sat on a park bench in the amusement park of Tivoli, eating my cotton candy (which they called Candy Floss) -- Father Gregers remarked to me: each person that passes us is a different soul, has a different destiny, each one living in their own world.

While last time, I saw the Danes as controlled and unemotional -- and myself as a detached observer, I moved among them this time. I think on this voyage, I experienced the people as who they are, not who I expected them to be. Influenced as much by its light and Northern climes, the Danish appear controlled. I suspect because they save their energy to cope with their harsh winters. They don't bog themselves down with unnecessary activities.

It is a clean country, the people taking the added summer hours in stride, with light from dawn to dusk lasting almost 20 hours a day. They're all about the "tribe". This is probably why, more than anything, they were the one European country who saved their Jews.

I marvelled at the fact that most of them could speak English. Which was good, because dare I say it -- to me, Danish sounds like so much mumbling. And, it takes almost sexual tongue calesthenics to pronounce those words.

I loved these people. They're cordial. They're kind-hearted. They've got service down to a science. Yes, it did seem a little absurd to have to stand and wait at midnight for the WALK sign to flash, with no cars in sight, in order to cross the street. But, when in København…

How fitting that the scribe of un po P.O.V. should have to rediscover the power of Point of View. Yes, you were right, Hans Christian Andersen: to travel IS to live.