KolleKolle
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
A disease? A relative of the sloth? An exotic fruit? No. It's a place in Denmark, with a conference centre that I've just been to.
The exciting thing about living in a new country is that you can go from not even being aware about the existence of a drink/foodstuff/place/tradition to having drunk/eaten it/visited it/taken part in it (in any order) within a very short space of time. Sometimes it is more trouble than it's worth (Gammel Dansk springs to mind) and sometimes it's a bit of a delight (cf. Magasin and Illum entries).
More often than not, it's a bit of a "ho-hum" experience falling squarely between the two extremes.
Which brings me, slowly, to KolleKolle.
I work for the IT department of a Danish pharmaceutical company called Løvens kemiske Fabrik (or Leo Pharmaceuticals for short). One of the joys of Danish companies is the almost compulsive desire for meetings, sometimes away from the office. Our trip to KolleKolle was one of those.
Interestingly, last month there was a conference on "Activated Sludge Modelling" at KolleKolle. Just to give you a feel for the high-flying nature of the place.
The place is rather nondescript, but the decor is completely tasteless, with each part presumably chosen by six buyers located around the world communicating by damaged fax machines. "Green and ... what, puce, is that? Stripes? OK". Bill Bryson once described the carpet in a Las Vegas casino as being like yard after square yard of woven vomit. I wouldn't say that the KolleKolle carpets are quite as bad, but they are very close. I won't mention the pink and green stencils at the top of the columns in the dining room, picked out by spotlights ... oops. Obviously seemed like a good idea in the 80's.
I shall shortly submit an entry on the paradox of Danish design and art, once I understand it myself. Sometime in the next 40 years, I think.
The meeting room was large enough for eight people, with overhead projector, soft drinks, pads and pens. "Breakfast" was disappointing (we were there at 8:45am) - rolls (with rasperry jam) and coffee. Other Europeans _must_ learn, and soon, that "breakfast" is fried, consisting of bacon, eggs, fried bread and sausages _at least_.
The first half of our business was concluded by 12pm.
Lunch took one hour and was a delight, a hot and cold buffet. Slices of lamb, beef (beautifully done on the outside and deliciously raw on the inside), chicken, salmon (cooked and cold), shrimp, salads, three types of potato (2 x fried or baked), boiled eggs, sild (pickled herring - love it myself), beer (yes, a Danish lunch favourite), soft drinks, tea, coffee, four types of cakes (which were OK) and three types of cheeses, grapes, and walnuts to finish. I hasten to add I didn't have the lot ... just four servings.
The second half of our business finished by 3pm
We went for a walk down to a sø (lake), the name of which escapes me but which I know joins up with Bagsværd Sø, another nearby lake (see entry for canoeing on Bagsværd, coming up soon!). There, we walked to the end of a small jetty from which we could see the beech and chestnut trees in the woods on the shore which were a glorious just-Autumnal mix of green, yellow and brown. The lake was like a mill pond close in by the jetty, clear as crystal, with small red-finned fish darting around. Apparently, this lake (sø) supplies some of the water for Greater Copenhagen, so I was gratified to find it so clear, if presumably full of fish-pee. Further out, there was enough of a breeze to keep a small armada of yachtsmen gently moving around. Our motley band chatted a little more, then we drifted back to the conference centre. To add a small air of the surreal, a group of schoolchildren, either escaped from a nearby school and holding their teachers cooperative captives, or there as part of a small historical reenactment, were waving large foam swords around and threatening each other cheerfully, in Danish.
We finished off with small cakes and coffee in the KolleKolle library, a pleasant room with a chess board set in to the floor in sparkly tiles, with each chess piece being about 1 metre high. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, and an open fireplace in the other.
In short, lunch and the surrounding countryside were the best bits. Maybe you could deal with the inside of the place better with your eyes closed. I wish I had.
The exciting thing about living in a new country is that you can go from not even being aware about the existence of a drink/foodstuff/place/tradition to having drunk/eaten it/visited it/taken part in it (in any order) within a very short space of time. Sometimes it is more trouble than it's worth (Gammel Dansk springs to mind) and sometimes it's a bit of a delight (cf. Magasin and Illum entries).
More often than not, it's a bit of a "ho-hum" experience falling squarely between the two extremes.
Which brings me, slowly, to KolleKolle.
I work for the IT department of a Danish pharmaceutical company called Løvens kemiske Fabrik (or Leo Pharmaceuticals for short). One of the joys of Danish companies is the almost compulsive desire for meetings, sometimes away from the office. Our trip to KolleKolle was one of those.
Interestingly, last month there was a conference on "Activated Sludge Modelling" at KolleKolle. Just to give you a feel for the high-flying nature of the place.
The place is rather nondescript, but the decor is completely tasteless, with each part presumably chosen by six buyers located around the world communicating by damaged fax machines. "Green and ... what, puce, is that? Stripes? OK". Bill Bryson once described the carpet in a Las Vegas casino as being like yard after square yard of woven vomit. I wouldn't say that the KolleKolle carpets are quite as bad, but they are very close. I won't mention the pink and green stencils at the top of the columns in the dining room, picked out by spotlights ... oops. Obviously seemed like a good idea in the 80's.
I shall shortly submit an entry on the paradox of Danish design and art, once I understand it myself. Sometime in the next 40 years, I think.
The meeting room was large enough for eight people, with overhead projector, soft drinks, pads and pens. "Breakfast" was disappointing (we were there at 8:45am) - rolls (with rasperry jam) and coffee. Other Europeans _must_ learn, and soon, that "breakfast" is fried, consisting of bacon, eggs, fried bread and sausages _at least_.
The first half of our business was concluded by 12pm.
Lunch took one hour and was a delight, a hot and cold buffet. Slices of lamb, beef (beautifully done on the outside and deliciously raw on the inside), chicken, salmon (cooked and cold), shrimp, salads, three types of potato (2 x fried or baked), boiled eggs, sild (pickled herring - love it myself), beer (yes, a Danish lunch favourite), soft drinks, tea, coffee, four types of cakes (which were OK) and three types of cheeses, grapes, and walnuts to finish. I hasten to add I didn't have the lot ... just four servings.
The second half of our business finished by 3pm
We went for a walk down to a sø (lake), the name of which escapes me but which I know joins up with Bagsværd Sø, another nearby lake (see entry for canoeing on Bagsværd, coming up soon!). There, we walked to the end of a small jetty from which we could see the beech and chestnut trees in the woods on the shore which were a glorious just-Autumnal mix of green, yellow and brown. The lake was like a mill pond close in by the jetty, clear as crystal, with small red-finned fish darting around. Apparently, this lake (sø) supplies some of the water for Greater Copenhagen, so I was gratified to find it so clear, if presumably full of fish-pee. Further out, there was enough of a breeze to keep a small armada of yachtsmen gently moving around. Our motley band chatted a little more, then we drifted back to the conference centre. To add a small air of the surreal, a group of schoolchildren, either escaped from a nearby school and holding their teachers cooperative captives, or there as part of a small historical reenactment, were waving large foam swords around and threatening each other cheerfully, in Danish.
We finished off with small cakes and coffee in the KolleKolle library, a pleasant room with a chess board set in to the floor in sparkly tiles, with each chess piece being about 1 metre high. There was a baby grand piano in the corner, and an open fireplace in the other.
In short, lunch and the surrounding countryside were the best bits. Maybe you could deal with the inside of the place better with your eyes closed. I wish I had.
