CHRISTMAS AT THE PIG FARM

Christmas markets start popping up all over Denmark after Thanksgiving. These sprout up for several weeks in December, on the "walking street" in Copenhagen, in numerous small town squares and even inside castles and courtyards  Like this one in Copenhagen:

Sister Brookes, determined to find every. single. one.,  has been  dubbed  our "Christmas Market Tour Director."  We started out with the Barnholm Ferry (a winner), found the Hans Christian Anderson Market in Copenhagen (a bit over-rated), and tried the public square in Roskilde (a bust because of rain.)  Well, she outdid herself last weekend. She found one in a small town called Borups, and the picture on the internet lured her with an old manor house, plus wagons pulled by horses, and promises of a "unique" experience.  Elder Buxton's job was to translate the Danish website for the details such as transportation and time tables.  Right.

We (Buxtons, Ottleys and Brookes) arrive via train, and find the good citizens of Borup not sure where the market is,  but think it is perhaps about 3 km. out of town.   On a farm.   No problem; we'll take the bus.  Problem:  seems it doesn't come by very often.

Bus stop.  No bus. (Check out my winter boots.)  

Thankfully, a kind couple who were on the train offered to take some of us in their car.   Problem:  It is a tiny car.  Chivalry demands that the 3 women ride and the husbands wait for a bus or walk.  Good plan.   Sure enough,  about 3 km. along a windy asphalt road, we three are dropped off at a muddy farm track lined with Danish flags.  Cars are filing in, so we figure it's the entrance.   As we get within smelling distance, we find out two things real fast:   1. This is a PIG farm.  A big, pig farm.  2. People are arriving in cars because there are NO buses on the weekend!

A farm employee named Michael took pity on us and drove his rusted, red farm truck back down the road to find the stragglers.   Bless the man.  With a lot of apprehension, we got in line with the cars,  paid the entrance fee, and followed the muddy road around a turn.  To our delight,  a beautiful, old estate unfolded before us at the end of a pine tree lined path.

The estate is called Svenstrup Gods and it is indeed a working farm.  Thousands of hectares of farm and forest.  They raise 10,000  pigs and pheasants a year.  The pheasants are let loose in the forests for hunters.  Thankfully, the pigs are in sheds way over by the entrance.   The house inhabited  by "The Baron" and "The Baroness."  She ladled stew inside the market.

Families strolled up and down the road and bunched around the out buildings and the estate mansion (dating back to 1700) .  Big-hoofed horses, breath puffing out in the cold, pulled wagons full of rosy cheeked riders in a wide arch around woods full of  huge, rough-bark, crooked-limbed trees, hiding an old thatched-roof,  mushroom-shaped hut. Green fields stretched in all directions.   SUNNY. Pastoral.  Perfect

Riding in the horse cart with  the Brookes and circling the estate .  Every time I tried to take a picture of the hut, we jiggled.  You get the idea.

Meet Michael, our rescuer (top picture) with Elder Buxton.  Michael supervises all the buildings and was a fountain of information about the estate. 

The Christmas Market, located in the old horse stables was a delight:  cobble-stone floors with bits of straw still underfoot and  horse stalls lining the walls; each framed with a fancy, carved, wooden arch and ceramic tiles on the back wall.  Lucky horses. Each stall was strung with tiny, twinkling lights, draped with greenery,  and stuffed with home-made goodies from vintage clay ornaments (made by Daria and Diana, Romanian sisters) to the cutest stuffed moose and mice, woolen clothing and  intricate folded paper ornaments.  And the food: wine (of course), home-made hot mustard,  hard tack candy and black licorice to buy, and stew and æbleskiver for lunch. We browsed for hours.

The arches separate each stall.  Can you see the tile on the walls?  Pampered, just pampered.  I hear the Queen's stables are marble.

Just a tiny glimpse of all the booths, overflowing into several other outbuildings.  One booth, sandwiched between a tangle of glass ornaments and the dessert pancakes caught our attention.  Can you pick the picture that is SO OUT OF PLACE HERE?  Yes you are seeing right.  TUPPERWARE.  In Denmark.  In a horse barn Christmas market.  Criminal.

We ate too much and spent too much.  Reluctantly, we turned to leave and Michael, who had generously given us his phone number, offered to shuttle us back.  We decided to walk because it was such nice weather.  We voted it the best Christmas Market yet, and promised ourselves to return next year.  Sister Brookes really scored on this one.

The view from the road as we are leaving.  

Side Note:  This was so interesting to me because in my Danish Census Research I have found rural records with huge lists of multiple families and employees listed as workers on the farm.   I'm guessing much as this one was a hundred years ago.  I can't image how harsh the Utah deserts much have seemed to these faithful, stalwart Saints.  I am so thankful for our Danish ancestors who had the courage and strength and testimony to leave this beautiful place for the gospel.