Bottle Collecting (and Dodging): Denmark for the Cheapskate

Decades of poor U.S. fiscal policy mean that, as an American student, I have to eat on a budget here.  $1 is equivalent to 5 Danish Kroner.  The Danish Kroner is pegged to the Euro, and 1 Euro is equivalent to $1.4.  So, things can get expensive, and one has to look for the right grocery store to get good deals. 

Some common grocery stores in Copenhagen are:

• Fotik (expensive)
• Irma (expensive, but good deals on wine)
• Super Bruget (not too bad)
• Netto (wonderfully cheap)
• Night Netto (for all your Netto needs, 5-10 p.m.)
• Ghetto Netto (the one in Nørrebro)

My $600 grocery stipend allows for a budget of $35/week.  Thanks to Netto, I am actually spending below that amount.

Approximate Netto prices, based on some items that I have purchased:

Food

Bread (cheap, 1 bag): 5 Kroner ($1)

Pasta (1 bag): 5 Kroner ($1)

Rice (1 bag): 10 Kroner ($2)

Eggs (carton of 6): 10 Kroner ($2)

Potatoes (1 bag): 5 Kroner ($1)

Carrots (1 bag): 5 Kroner ($1)

Asparagus (18 pieces): 12 Kroner ($2.40)

Apples (1 bag): 12 Kroner ($2.40)

Cheese (cheap, 1 pack): 5 Kroner ($1)

Pretzels (1 box): 5 Kroner ($1)

Chips (1 bag): 10 Kroner ($2)

Polish sausages (1 box): 10 Kroner ($2)

Salt (1 box): 2 Kroner ($0.40)

Olives (1 jar): 5 Kroner ($1)

Pickles (1 jar): 8 Kroner ($1.60)

Beans (1 can): 4 Kroner ($0.80)

Olive Oil (1 jar): 20 Kroner ($4)

Beverages

Orange Juice (1 carton): 12 Kroner ($2.4)

Instant Coffee (1 jar): 20 Kroner ($4)

Gin (70 cl): 100 Kroner ($20)

Wine (cheap, bottle or box): 20 Kroner ($4)

Beer (cheap, single): 5 Kroner ($1)

Beer (regular, single): 10 Kroner ($2)

Other

Soap, Shampoo, Detergent: 10 Kroner ($2)

Sponges (10-pack): 18 Kroner ($3.60)

Toilet paper: Foolishly stocked in abundance in the DIS bathrooms

There are two ways to save even more.  One is to look for deals in the Netto catalog, which I receive in the mail.  The other is to collect cans and bottles.  Denmark has a magnificent can and bottle return system, as explained in this video:

So last Sunday night, I decide to try my hand at bottle collecting.  And where would the biggest concentration of bottles be?  Downtown.  Specifically, the part with the bars.  More specifically, the part with all the bars for wasteful Americans who just leave their bottles on the sidewalk.

 The city was dead, and although Copenhagen is extremely safe, I took only my bus pass and keys with me, leaving my wallet, watch, and phone at home.  I spend an hour walking around the main streets and plazas near DIS, picking up plastic water bottles outside restaurants left by tourists, and empties sitting in doorways, left by drunks the night before.  Bottle collecting is a common enough activity that I don't gain any stares. 

After filling my big Ikea bottle bag, I start walking back to the bus stop.  The street is still very empty as I pass Fruh Plads, the large plaza near the University of Copenhagen.  An old man with a cane is walking by the university, and three drunk Danish kids are howling and smashing glass bottles on the ground. 

Passing the plaza, I can almost hear the bottle as it soars over my head.  But it is most definitely audible as it shatters against the brick building behind me, and I just escape the spray of glass.  For some reason, I just keep on walking.  The irony of the fact that it is a Sunday night in Copenhagen does not escape me.  That’s when I spot it.  Two 2-liters sitting on the curb on the other side of the street.  I peer over my shoulder.  The Danish kids have started down the street in the opposite direction.  Maybe it's because they've decide they've committed enough terrorism for one night.  Or it could just be that they've run out of bottles.  For several seconds, my mind engages in a furious debate.

"The coast is clear.  Those bottles are mine."

"What if those Danes come back?  They’re only a half a block away."

"Them?  They're drunk and their backs are turned.  I can outrun them, easy.  And that’s six Kroner.  SIX KRONER.”

Dare I?

That may as well be a bag of pretzels sitting on the curb.  Of course I dare.

Crossing undetected by all but the old man, totally undisturbed and still on his walk, I put the bottles in my bag.  That's when the Danes wheel around.

“Told you so, dumbass.” one part of my mind snaps to the other.

“Shut up.  What are they gonna do, come over and fight me?  Picking up bottles?  Yeah, right."  I look over again.  "Oh, wait -- yes, it indeed appears that's what that one fellow in the blue jacket intends to do.  Yes, there he goes, making that "You wanna go?" gesture that resembles a retarded pterodactyl flapping its wings.”

The blue jacket's friends are persuading him to turn around.  I am not inclined to wait around to see the result.  Still, they are very drunk, and since I at the moment I am smarter than the three of them put together, I merely turn the corner onto Skindergade.  To my delight, the Danes have decided it isn’t worth the hike.

On the bus back to Brønshøj, I tally my catch.  17 Kroner worth of bottles.  Was it worth an hour of walking and a run in with a few local ruffians? 

That’s eight and a half boxes of salt.  Damn right it was.