Odense

People come to Odense looking for fairy tales. It is, after all, the birthplace of that notable spinner of yarns Hans Christian Andersen, not that we were aware of the fact when we booked our stay here. We had our minds on other things entirely.

But now here we are marching through Odense's streets on a cool but sunny late September morning. We have an appointment at the City Hall. It turns out that Denmark is the easiest place in the European Union to get married, and my partner, Ana, and I - tired of the snail's pace of Spanish bureaucracy in these matters - have decided to speed things along a little. With the help of the excellent Getting Married in Denmark agency, we've got our marriage papers processed in record time and we are now dressed in our wedding finery on our way to complete the process.

At the City Hall our small party comes to an abrupt halt. It seems that all we can do is wait on the first floor to be called for our ceremony. After what seems like much longer than it really is, a suited official emerged and calls us into a chamber with .... at one end. "Nervous?" he asks. "Yes," we answer. He looks at Ana: "Don't worry," he tells her, reassuringly. "He can't get away. If he tries to make a break for it, I can lock all the doors with this app on my phone."

Ice duly broken, the short ceremony whizzes by. A little speech from the lady officiating; rings, vows, a kiss and we're outside again, in the hands of Brian the photographer. "I know one or two places to take you," he says. And he certainly does. After a quick group shot by the river, Ana and I are whisked from one end of the city centre to the other and back again, grateful that we're wearing comfortable shoes.

Although we've really only chosen it because it had wedding slots available on International Translators' Day, and the fact that it's just an hour and a half by train from Copenhagen, it turns out that Odense is a charming city. We've already seen how pleasantly lively it could be at night and now we're walking through cute little streets full of brick and half-timbered houses with roses growing round the doors. We're photographed in what seems like all of them and then some more. The tour ends at the river, the very place, we later discover, where Hans Christian Andersen's mother used to wash rich people's clothes to earn a paltry living.

It's now almost time to meet up with our wedding party for the lunch we've arranged. Again, we've booked the Under Lindetraeet restaurant almost blind, but it turns out to be a delight, full of old-fashioned charm and with excellent food, including the cake they've made specially for us on request. Danes seem unphased by almost anything, so even though we haven't booked a wedding lunch, preferring something more informal, when they see us coming in suit and bridal gown the staff don't turn a hair, serving us gracefully, without any comment on our attire or the fact we've obviously just got married except to congratulate us. They also seem to be singularly unaware of their country's reputation as the Las Vegas of Europe when it comes to getting hitched. "I have noticed we get quite a few couples in here after weddings," says the waiter when I chat to him afterwards. I enlighten him and he seems quite proud of the attraction his country offers to so many foreigners.

It's mid-afternoon and we're not meeting up with the others again until the evening at the lively Storms Pakhus street food market. We could return to the hotel or set off sightseeing. The city has a cathedral, dedicated to St Cnut, a Viking king of Denmark who was murdered in the nearby St Alban's church in 1086, other picturesque and interesting churches and several museums.

Eventually, though, we decide to visit Hans Christian Andersen himself, or rather his museum. Originally based around the shockingly poor little cottage where he was born, this is now an interactive celebration of his life and stories. Once again, staff don't turn a hair to see a bride and groom entering their domain, offering only smiles and the Danish congratulation "Tillykke!", which we've heard from people in the streets all day. We happily investigate the interactive exhibits covering stories ranging from The Ugly Duckling to The Princess and the Pea, and learn about Andersen's storytelling brilliance and rather sad life, full of unrequited love for both women and men. Perhaps that's why his stories contain such cruelty and melancholy alongside their undoubted charm.

But the museum has turned out to be a joyful way to spend our wedding afternoon and Odense has proved the perfect place to get married. We walk slowly back to our hotel through its pretty streets in the autumn sunshine, with nothing else on our minds but continuing to weave a fairytale of our own.

Main photo by Brian Lichtenstein. All other photos by me or Ana Carolina Ribeiro.