HALIFAX, Nova Scotia-- I have long wished to visit the Danish home of Karen Blixen because she is for me something of a literary lion. My teenage son constantly reminds me of my obsession, every time he spies yet another related book or notices that I am once again watching Out of Africa. Recently my husband and I traveled to Norway to visit my grandfather’s birthplace and I naturally tacked on a side trip to Copenhagen.

My pilgrimage began on the morning of May 18, 2007, a warm, sunny day that promised to be perfect for a trip to Rungstedlund, a former Danish country inn and the long-time residence of the famed writer before her death in 1962. The house and grounds are now operated as the Karen Blixen Museum and Bird Sanctuary, maintained by the Rungstedlund Foundation and opened to the public since 1991. Karen Blixen herself spoke eloquently of her home in a radio address in 1958, remarking that many people who visited her from abroad later wrote to her about her unforgettable house.  

The home is located in Rungsted, 25 km north of Copenhagen. We took a pleasant, 25-minute train ride through the pretty Danish countryside, and a welcome respite from busy Copenhagen. We departed the train at Rungsted Kyst and opted to take the 20-minute walk to the house rather than wait for a connecting bus. There were a few directional signs but it took a while before we were confident that that we were getting close to the site. Rungsted has become a fashionable, high-end residential enclave and my first view of the property was somewhat disconcerting because the once sleepy shore road is now a busy roadway that borders on an extremely crowded marina. Rungtedlund is a large, sprawling white residence with the red tiled roof so characteristic of Scandinavian architecture. The front of the house has a distinctive courtyard that echoes its past life as an inn.  

We entered the west wing of the house (formerly the coach house, stable and hay loft) and paid the reasonable 25 kroners (about $6.25 Canadian) admission price.  I opted out of a pre-booked 45 minute guided tour partially because the price seemed to be high at 550 kroners  (about $22.00 Canadian) and also because I had quite a bit of prior knowledge. The attendant suggested we visit the furnished rooms first and then return to the see the smaller exhibit Since we were already in the first wing, we chose to visit the upstairs exhibit first.

The exhibit was a fairly simple one with walls of photographs circling glass display cases that housed early versions of Karen’s writings, her ancient Corona typewriter and to my great delight an original letter written to her by her lover, Denys Finch Hatton, as well as a small bible also signed by him. The small room that housed books from her personal library - a key to the writer’s soul, intrigued me. I discovered classical books in several languages which probably inspired some of her tales, a later novel by Truman Capote, an author whom she once met, as well as a copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, a work much admired by Denys Finch Hatton, with its Song of Myself reflected in Karen’s Song of Africa passage from Out of Africa.

We then exited out into the courtyard and waited a short time for entry into the rooms in the west wing. All visitors must don cloth overshoes provided to protect the expensive Oriental carpets. After viewing a small gallery of Karen’s exquisite African paintings, we entered the Dining Room. The room was beautiful, with graceful proportions, and a gleaming mahogany table. The window at the end of the room framed a lovely view of the green back gardens. I was disappointed to learn that we were not permitted to take pictures of the interior of the house, although I later consoled myself with the purchase of a guidebook and a veritable library of postcards.

All the furnished rooms had laminated descriptive sheets with tidbits about the rooms and the objects they held. A tall, young Danish male guide was also available to answer questions and I was not shy in asking them. The Drawing Room was large and elegant, with Karen’s famous flowing lace summer curtains gracing the floor like a bride’s train. I was intrigued by the 18th and 19th century framed oval portraits and the Scandinavian stove. I was surprised to also see a wonderful landscape painting that Denys had given Karen as a gift. The room also contained the wooden folding screen painted with Oriental figures, which inspired some of the early tales spun by Karen in front of the fire at her African house.

Next came the small study used by Karen for her writing. Ewald’s Room was named after a famed 18th century Danish poet who had lived for a time at Rungstedlund when it was an inn. Karen’s brother Thomas had donated a number of African objects for the room, including several spears and shields. They lent the room a rather masculine, club-like appearance. The window in this room faced the sea and it was generally too cold for Karen to use it in the winter. Too small silver-framed photos of a young Denys sit in the window, silent testimony to her love for him.

I was disappointed that we were not permitted to view Karen’s bedroom upstairs but the guide suggested that it was not considered proper to open the room to the public since she had died there.  

I was pleased to see the brass-studded chest that Karen’s servant Farah had given her displayed in one of the rooms.  Fresh flowers in the home, arranged in the uniquely stylish manner favoured by Karen, reminded visitors of the writer’s special decorating talent.   

We backtracked to see a bird display, which admittedly did not hold my interest, and then on to view the Green Room, a smaller study in a warmer part of the house used by Karen during the winter months. I was thrilled to see the famed gramophone, which Denys gave to Karen, as well as a slightly frayed wicker chair, apparently his favourite at her farm in Africa.  

We followed back to view a 12 minute film of Karen’s life as a storyteller and as a conservative Canadian, I was slightly shocked to see snippets of nude scenes in Danish films based on some of her tales. This would not be a common sight in any films shown at national historic sites in North America!

I was determined to make the most of my visit to Rungstedlund and I dragged my ever- patient husband on a walk through the gardens on the way to visit Karen’s grave. Rungstedlund looked more unified and solid from the back and this time I was free to take pictures. The grounds were green and enchanting, with a small white bridge mirrored perfectly on a pond. It had rained the day before, and the woodland path to Karen’s grave was muddy. A solitary black and white cat was doing her best to create a mockery of the bird sanctuary. The grave was at the end of the path, underneath a magnificent spreading beech tree. It was a plain, large stone slab, simply inscribed with the name Karen Blixen, befitting her elegance I think. I had neglected to bring flowers to put on the grave and I was somewhat saddened to see that the grave was bereft of any floral adornment. Still, that tree seemed to be decoration enough. I muttered to my husband - “Poor Karen, from Denmark, to Africa and back again.”
My husband Barry and I had spent a total of three hours at Rungstedlund. Although Barry admits to not being a fan of that “eccentric old lady”, he admitted that her home was lovely and that he honestly enjoyed himself. The experience for me was wonderful and it was as I had imagined it, but with a few unexpected visual surprises. My next wish is to visit Kenya, although my best friend tells me that it can’t just be to visit a certain house.