The harbour town of Hov in East Jutland, Denmark, has been the frame to my life for my entire childhood and early adulthood. As I grew up, I watched my hometown expand from a small town that was once home to a close-knit community, into a much larger town with new building projects constantly emerging, which seem to be catering to newcomers with substantial wealth.
As a young adult, I counted the days until I could leave this town behind. I wanted to travel, to see the world beyond my little hometown. And so, I did. But I also came back home. And this homecoming made me realize how wonderful it had been to grow up in a small town like Hov. But it also made me sad. Because I realized more than before how rapidly my hometown was changing.
Until a fateful day in January 2023 that I will never forget, the old part of Hov was home to four buildings that will forever be imprinted on my mind as they have always stood out as the very essence of my hometown; the old café at the harbour, a huge building at the harbour that I never knew the function of, and two dilapidated villas opposite the grocery store.
I had walked by the two villas countless times. But somehow, I’d failed to realize that right in front of me, in the town I’d spent most of my life in, were two gems of abandoned places just waiting to be discovered. One day, during a winter sunset, I noticed the setting sun shining its rays on one of the villas, which has a prominent inscription on the façade that reads “Victor’s Loppemarked”, harking back to a flea market once held by a young boy living in the villa. My curiosity was awoken and I decided to see if I could get inside the villa to explore. Several sheds were open and full of broken stuff, but the villa itself was locked. Then I remembered the neighbouring villa, called ‘Luna’. The main building was locked, but several doors opened to tiny little rooms jam-packed with broken stuff. A window was open to the main part, but I decided to wait to break in as the sun had bid farewell. I told my younger brother about the villas and we decided to explore them together one day.
Finally, a year later, during Christmas of 2022, we went to explore the villas. In thick eerie fog, perfect for urban exploring, we snuck in through the fence that had recently been put up around them. To our great surprise, the door to ‘Luna’ was wide open. We were able to explore the entire villa, including the bathroom where the toilet paper was still out, a kid’s room with Winnie the Pooh wallpaper, and a beautiful living room with windows looking out to the main street. The roof was completely destroyed, and we had to be careful where we were treading as the floor panels were rotten. Cobwebs hung all over the room, with hundreds of dead spiders.
Unfortunately, we weren’t able to explore much of Victor’s villa. We did find an open door, but it only lead to a staircase with a locked door at the end of it. But peeping inside the windows, we could see lots of stuff in boxes and rooms that weren’t quite as dilapidated as in ‘Luna’.
The two villas date back to a time when Hov was a markedly smaller town. “Victor’s villa” was built in 1840 and “Luna”, was built in 1910. Both are a testament to the architectural styles that once characterized the town, and until their demolition, they were two of very few buildings left from this time. Within their weathered walls, these two villas carried the echoes of a bygone era, and to me, they have always represented the Hov that I remember from my childhood.
After we had explored the villas, we decided to head down to the harbour to see if we could break into two abandoned buildings there that were soon to be demolished. One of them was a huge building that had stood empty for years, except for a small room on the ground floor which housed a summer crafts shop for a few years.
My younger brother had been inside once before and wanted to show it to me, and I’m so glad he did. What a glorious place. The central room is huge and must’ve been the heart of the place when it was in use. Several small rooms indicate that it could’ve been a hotel or an office building. The door to the balcony was open, offering us a view of our hometown we’d never seen before.
I haven’t been able to find much information about the building, but my dad remembers there being a factory next door, so maybe this building was connected to the factory.
Next to the huge building stood the recently-abandoned Caféen, which used to be the heart and soul of the town. It was a place of community pride that hosted many town parties, family dinners and first dates.
Sneaking into Caféen, I felt overwhelmed with sorrow as we looked around the hollow structure. It was no longer the legendary café that we’d known and loved for our entire lives. Even the iconic sign had been taken down.
The main door was locked, but we found an open door in the back and were able to explore the whole café, including the toilets we once used and the bar we once ordered at. We also found a small room where several ceramics were stacked randomly on a sole chair so I helped myself to a few nice pieces that otherwise would’ve been destroyed. I later learned that there had been a small ceramics shop in 2021 in this little room!
Not even two weeks after our little adventure, I watched as these iconic buildings were demolished and my hometown changed forever. Now, these landmarks will only live on in our collective memories and will one day become part of the fragmented stories that make up our local folktales.
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