The story of Nyhavn · 3 min · English

The Hand-Dug Heart of Copenhagen

A narrated story about Nyhavn — press play, or read it below.

Avsha narrates a story about wherever you are — any street, in your language. Free to start, no account.

The story

Take a moment to look at the water stretching out before you, perfectly framed by those iconic, candy-colored townhouses. You are standing at Nyhavn, or New Harbor, arguably the most photographed spot in all of Denmark. But before you get lost in the charm of the cafes and the bobbing wooden masts, I want you to look closer at the canal itself.

Beneath this tranquil surface lies a story of immense physical labor and the grit of a different era. In 1671, King Christian V decided he wanted to bring the sea directly to the heart of the city, specifically to the new King’s Square, Kongens Nytorv. But this wasn’t a project of modern machinery or steam power.

Between 1671 and 1673, this entire waterway was dug out by hand. The men holding the shovels weren’t paid laborers; they were Swedish prisoners of war, captured during the various conflicts that defined the 17th century. Imagine thousands of men, working through the freezing Danish winters and the humid summers, carving this channel out of the earth just so merchants could offload their spices, salt, and wine right into the city’s lap.

As you walk along the northern side—the side with the bright, vibrant houses—you are on what locals call the sunny side. This was the place where the wealthy merchants lived. Look for number 9, the oldest house on the quay, which dates back to 1681.

Its elegant facade stands as a testament to the prosperity the canal brought. However, for centuries, the southern side was a very different world. It was known as the shady side, a place of rough-and-tumble taverns, sailors looking for trouble, and houses of ill repute.

One of Nyhavn’s most famous residents spent a significant portion of his life caught between these two worlds. Hans Christian Andersen, the legendary storyteller, lived at number 20, where he wrote some of his first fairy tales. He later lived at number 67 and finally at number 18.

If you look at the historic wooden ships moored along the canal today, many of which belong to the Danish National Museum, you can almost hear the echoes of the bustling port Andersen would have known—a place of salt air, shouting sailors, and heavy crates. Today, the atmosphere is far more relaxed. At the end of the canal, you’ll see the Great Memorial Anchor, a monument to the Danish sailors who lost their lives during World War Two.

It serves as a quiet reminder that while Nyhavn is now a place for celebration and leisure, it has always been a place deeply connected to the sea and the sacrifice of those who work upon it. So, as you continue your stroll, remember the Swedish prisoners who first broke this ground three hundred and fifty years ago. Their labor created this masterpiece, turning a vision of a king into the soul of Copenhagen.