With little to get angry about in Scandinavia's cosiest and most PC community, post-Viking Danes have had to file down their horns and make their mark in more civilised fashion. The Danes have responded by inventing Lego, being the European Union's cagiest member. Brand recognition persists due to the Danes baking pastries so delicious that the addiction of the entire gap-toothed world is assured.

Copenhagen--København in Danish--has no glittering skylines, few killer views, and only a handful of meager skyscrapers. Bicycles glide alongside manageable traffic at a pace that's utterly human. The early morning air in the pedestrian streets of the city's core, Strøget, is redolent of freshly baked bread and soap-scrubbed storefronts. If there's such a thing as a cozy city, this is it.

Copenhagen packs an awful lot into a relatively compact space, which is not surprising seeing as it's the capital of design. The city pioneered modern conveniences now taken for granted: Strøget, a meandering line of stores said to be Europe's first pedestrianised shopping street; Bakken, just out of town and the world's oldest amusement park. Then there are some decidedly original innovations such as the social experiment of Christiania, the popular independent hippie enclave. Many summer attractions wind down around now, but early autumn offers numerous markets and cultural capers. And don't be surprised if you encounter the odd court jester, as it's Medieval 99, when Copenhagen celebrates its historical innovations with events and exhibits.

Extremely livable and relatively calm, Copenhagen is not a microcosm of Denmark, but rather a cosmopolitan city with an identity of its own. Filled with museums, restaurants, cafés, and lively nightlife, it has its greatest resource in its spirited inhabitants. With its backdrop of copper towers and crooked rooftops, the venerable city is humored by playful street musicians and performers, soothed by one of the highest standards of living in the world, and spangled by the thousand lights and gardens of Tivoli.

Denmark's capital, the "toe-tapping toy-town" of Copenhagen, is an urban mosh pit of the most fragrant persuasion. Its flannels are always laundered, its grunge never more lank than just the other side of swank, and its Jensens, Hansens and Neilsens are a cacophany of excuse-me's as they elbow their way to the bouncer-line. And given all the fun that there is to be had in this festival-happy scattering of islands, Denmark's status as the least bank-breaking country in Scandinavia deserves glad-handed shake me happy thank you letters from travellers all the way.