It’s a lovely island. Enchanting, beautiful, windswept, and enduring all at once.
Its name is only three letters long, and apparently I can’t pronounce even one of them correctly. It’s spelled Ærø. To my ear, that sounds a lot like “Air-rue” [with the “r” trilled slightly]. But try as I may, I can’t seem to tell about it to anyone who actually lives in Denmark. The conversations go like this:
Me: “We visited this really great island. We liked it a lot.”
Danish person: “Oh? What island is that?”
Me: “Ærø.”
Danish person (with a squinty-eyed, puzzled look): “Uh… where?”
Me: “Maybe I’m not pronouncing it right. It’s spelled with that letter that looks like an A and an E combined, then R, then an O with a slash through it.”
Danish person (with a broad smile of recognition): “Ah… Ærø!”
They pronounce the island’s name in a way that sounds to my American ears exactly, but exactly, like the way I pronounced it.
My linguistic failures notwithstanding, I loved the name with its alluringly foreign letters. And I loved the island even more. Its soul is sailing the seas, and its heart is on the land.
Seafaring is particularly evident in Marstal, the largest town on Ærø, from the building of large wooden ships to the small details on the buildings.
The ferry from the mainland town of Svendborg arrives in Ærøskøbing, a delightful town of cobbled streets and colorful houses.
Everywhere, there are hollyhocks and roses, and many of the windows seem to be made for passers-by to look in as well as homeowners to look out.
Outside of the towns, the island has its beauty as well. Sea and sky and land come together very harmoniously on Ærø.
