From The Armand Diaries:
Park Hotel, Copenhagen, Denmark, Sunday, July 28, 1957.
Another day, another country. Trouble with airplanes is that it's difficult to feel you've moved. At 1 P.M., it was called Sweden. By 3 P.M., we were across a piece of land and 3 or 4 minutes of water, and it's Denmark.
For dinner, I walked over to the famous Oskar Davidsen. Had a thin soup and a rich hunter stew. All very rich and slurpy, even the thin soup, which had a brown stock. Horrible U.S. diners all around me, very uncouth, almost caricatures.
Pretty good, lots of it and reasonably priced for such places. He makes over 200 different kinds of the open type sandwich, 9/10's of them impossible combinations of shredded raw meat, raw egg yolk, etc., but some look (or sound) good, and they are supposed to be very famous. Oh, well.
In eve went to a movie The Paradise of the Nudists rather nicely done paean to virtually (and entirely at times) no clothes - filmed at Ile du Levant near Nice in southern France at famous nudist colony. The rules say must wear a minimum something (but they often didn't). Not dirty but shallow worship of the sun and body beautiful. A swell idea while it lasts, but it's so empty.
