Copenhagen for The Night Owls: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

Sourdough pizza in a meatpacking hall with long tables and a crowd that is going out afterwards; order the one with the nduja.

The 1956 trade union hall turned concert venue, with its original teak and brass; the main room is where the touring acts play.

A bar in a former meat hall with DJs on the floor, no door policy and no sign, open until the small hours with the smokers outside.

Brunch by the tick box: pick seven small plates of eggs, chorizo and pastries at a Vesterbro corner that has seen your kind before.

A cocktail bar in a canal-side townhouse's salons, no sign on the door, and a list that leads on gin and Danish aquavit.

The city's techno institution, two rooms and a good sound system, open until seven on a Saturday; the queue is shortest before one.

A 1930s-style café on the French street, eggs Benedict and a Bloody Mary under the old enamel signs; expect a wait on Sundays.

The painted houses and the old ships at dusk, when the lamps come on along the quay; walk it once, then leave it to the crowds.

The city's oldest jazz club, a small dim room with a Sunday jam session that runs late; a beer at the bar and a chair by the piano.

Opens at seven thirty for avocado on rye with chilli and a filter coffee, in a room of ceramics and good light; the first eggs are the best.

The king's garden by Rosenborg, flat paths and benches, the rose garden and the hedges; the quiet before the lunchtime crowds.

An organic hot dog from the stand by the Round Tower, with remoulade and crisp onions, eaten standing before the metro from Nørreport.