Rambling Thoughts from Copenhagen
Reflections on Public Transport, Swing Doors, and Waste Management — from Three Weeks in the Land of Rye Bread
I boarded my flight to Copenhagen with a sense of excitement that, interestingly, kept growing on me. I spent three weeks in the land of rye bread last March 2025. The weeks flew by in a flash — and just like that, a month has passed since that trip.
I have kept myself busy, but the thought of writing about my time in Denmark has always lingered at the back of my mind. It took me a while to finally sit down and write — not because I was insanely busy (well, maybe just a little?) — but mainly because I found it hard to condense everything into a neat 2,000-word piece. What should I write about? What style should I use? How deep should I go? The endless choices to be made left me feeling paralysed.
But hey, here I am — itching to write. So forget about the perfect structure; let’s just dive in!
The question
If there was a common thread running through my trip, it was the question I kept circling back to: “Why, how, and what makes Denmark… Denmark?” A country that consistently ranks among the highest in quality of life. A place where sustainability is not just a buzzword but a way of life. And for cyclists? A heaven.
I went to Denmark for a short course on Responsive Project Management, funded by the Danida Fellowship Center— (no, this is not a sponsored post 😉). I thought I would spend my time learning frameworks and management tools. Instead, I found myself on a much deeper journey: exploring the slow, steady story of a nation shaped over centuries, not built overnight with a snap of the fingers.
The answer
Let me start with this — it might sound overly simple. I would not pretend that three weeks in Denmark and a month of reflection could reveal the full answer to how a country develops. But I am trying to make sense of my experience.
If I had to point to one reason why everything seems to work in Denmark, from public transport to waste management, from bicycle lanes to water drinking system, it would be trust. Yes, just five letters: T.R.U.S.T.
The system is built on a foundation of trust. Danes trust their government to distribute welfare fairly and effectively, which is why high tax rates are widely accepted without major protest. The government trusts its citizens to act in the best interest of the common good, which is why penalties for non-compliance are often minimal. It is a mutual understanding that holds the whole system together.
The public transport
I was mind-blown when I found out that the metro in Copenhagen runs 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, without fail. I could not think of any other country where public transport operates nonstop like that. It felt like such a powerful service offered to citizens for the benefit of the common good. I doubt running the metro at 3 a.m. adds much to the company’s bottom line — but then again, is not that the true role of public services? To serve the public interest, not just capital.
When it comes to building a bicycle culture in their journey toward becoming a net-zero city, Copenhagen does not stop at simply painting bike lanes on the streets. They walk the talk. They created special carriages for bicycles on trains. They installed bicycle lanes along station stairs to make it easier for cyclists to travel longer distances. Their city planning includes an extensive network of cycle superhighways designed to prioritise cyclist. When they say they want to make cycling a primary mode of transportation, they actually focus on building a comprehensive, interconnected infrastructure — not just making empty promises.
On the other hand, I noticed that trains in Copenhagen are often covered in graffiti that clearly did not look like part of the official design. At first, I wondered — how could such a disciplined country allow vandalism? So, I asked a few locals what they thought about the graffiti on public spaces and why the government seemed to do nothing about it. Their response was casual: “Yeah, some people do that, but it is not really a big deal.” And in that moment, it clicked for me: the government trusts that not enough people will behave in a way that disrupts public services. Rather than wasting time and resources chasing down every minor act of vandalism, they choose to focus on bigger, more important priorities.
The user-centric culture
Cities in Denmark are built for living. You can tell that urban planners truly had the users in mind when designing the city. This becomes obvious in small but meaningful ways — like how supermarkets are always within walking distance from residential areas, or how close train stations are to apartment complexes. I had almost forgotten how fun it is to stroll aimlessly around a supermarket after a long day of work. It was delightful — yes, I loved it. I have never enjoyed online shopping (call me old-fashioned), but there is something uniquely satisfying about wandering through aisles with no intention of buying anything. It feels healthier than scrolling through my phone, and it offers a spontaneous break after eight hours of structured, planned work.
And what is more user-centric than thoughtful city planning? Maybe a door that swings just the right way. At the building where I took my short course, there were several swing doors. Uniquely, the two sides of each door swung in different directions: the right side swung away from you, while the left side swung toward you. Why? Because in Denmark, people naturally walk on the right side of the lane.
How could you not trust a company that pays such close attention to even the smallest details — like how a door swings — for the comfort of its users?
And finally, the waste management
If you are wondering whether I would write about Denmark’s waste management system — you guessed it right. I simply cannot visit a new country without peeking into a few trash bins and wandering through recycling centers.
Denmark’s system is impressive but not perfect. Around 53.9% of waste is collected for recycling and less than 1% ends up in landfill, but about 45.2% of waste is still incinerated.
Some of the waste workers I met during field visits shared differing views. A few doubted that the EPR system could truly work, while others argued that waste-to-energy is the most viable circular solution — since no material can be recycled indefinitely. I agree to a certain extent: we cannot recycle our way out of the mess we have created. So the point? It is not the perfect world I initially imagined. Sustainability is still a work in progress. Not all Danes are passionate about recycling. Not all Danes love rye bread either… okay, maybe I was wrong about the rye bread.
But it is not all gloom — there were definitely more bright stories (as you expected duh).
I visited one recycling center on the outskirts of Copenhagen. The center is designed for self-service drop-offs: no securities, no checkpoints. People just walk or drive in with their waste. For households, it is free (already covered in their waste retribution fees); businesses pay per visit. Surprisingly, there is no staff at the entrance — only a few CCTVs that capture license plates and automatically register and bill accordingly.
Of course, I asked, “What if a business owner uses their private car to dump waste instead?” The manager replied with the same mindset I had heard before: “It does not happen that much. Not enough people cheat the system.”
My next question was, “How do you ensure there is no contamination across the 20 different recyclable categories?” He then said, “If someone makes a mistake, we let them know and ask them not to repeat it.”
“And if they keep doing it?” I probed further. “We do nothing. Maybe less than 5% of people are stubborn. We can tolerate that.”
Another mind-blown moment: trust, again, is a powerful behaviour change enabler. The system trusts that most people will do the right thing, so they focus their resources on helping, not policing.
And that trust is matched by thoughtful system design. Containers are placed underground — essentially large holes — making it easier to dispose of waste properly. New waste categories were introduced slowly over decades to avoid overwhelming households (for example, food waste sorting was only introduced in 2021).
And their waste retribution fees? Completely transparent. The fees are calculated based on the total costs of collection, transportation, incineration, and recycling, minus the revenue earned from selling recyclables. The final cost is divided equally among all households. It is a dynamic system: if households sort better and recycling value increases, fees can go down.
Importantly, this fee is separate from taxes. The philosophy is simple: waste will always exist, regardless of national politics or budget priorities. Waste management should be funded based directly on the real cost of handling waste, not influenced by unrelated government spending.
On my final day in Copenhagen, I had the chance to visit one of the city’s incinerator plants. Surprisingly or not surprisingly, the massive facility was managed by just 4–5 people at a time — only two in the control room monitoring the indicators, and another two on standby for any needed repairs. As I walked around, I barely saw a soul; only the heat humming, doing their work. The chimney was stabbed with dozens of measuring instruments, all working overtime to ensure the final smokes were clean, pure white, and non-toxic.
During the visit, the plant manager casually mentioned a surprising challenge: it is getting harder to find enough waste to burn. Denmark’s rising recycling rate means less and less waste is arriving at incinerators, even though the plant must operate 24/7 to remain efficient.
What an irony, I thought — succeeding too well at recycling is now creating a new challenge.
The final conclusion
“How do we build trust in the first place?” I wonder about that a lot. One thing I am sure of — it does not happen overnight. In one of the classes I attended, the instructor shared this formula:
Credibility is about your words — do people believe you know what you’re talking about? Reliability is about your actions — do you do what you say you will do? Intimacy is about safety — do people feel comfortable being honest with you? And finally, self-orientation is about intent — are you in it for others, or just for yourself? The lower your self-orientation, the stronger the trust you can build.
Trust is not just about being good at what you do — it is about showing up with integrity and empathy, consistently, over time.”
Trust is built through reputation. It is built through history. In one introduction to Danish culture, I learned, “Danes generally support their monarchy due to a mix of tradition, national unity, and the royal family’s approachable, down-to-earth demeanour. The royals are actively engaged in public life, which makes them relatable.”
That trust was not built overnight — it has been earned over time, layer by layer, until it became a strong and lasting foundation.
I could go on — there were so many things that fascinated me, from Denmark’s pork industry to the sight of babies left napping in their strollers outside restaurants (yes, you read that right — alone without adult supervision). But I guess I should stop here. I had a truly enjoyable time in Denmark. Oh also, I met wonderful friends, got a little drunk dancing to Swedish music, and played international ping-pong matches with friends from three different continents. Now, it is time to get back to the grind in Jakarta — hopefully, with a little more clarity and trust in the process.
