Tivoli: the "original" Disneyland keeps a charm long gone from Anaheim

My first holiday with the man who would become my husband included a trip to Disneyland. Back in the early days of our relationship and still keen to impress me, he managed to repress his cool disdain of the place. A year later he introduced me to Tivoli Gardens, and I started to uncover how he really felt. Disneyland, in his mind, is just an over-commercialised copy of Copenhagen's historic amusement grounds and would never match his childhood days at Tivoli.

Given my own idyllic Disney track record in both Anaheim and Orlando, I'm never going to concede
victory to his opinion. After years of visiting Tivoli, however, I've come to treasure the place's distinct magic and understand why Walt copied it. Yes, copied. A stroll around the grounds makes it quickly obvious that the original Anaheim park did not spring solely from Disney's imagination, but evolved from his visits to this Copenhagen original.

There are the themed areas sweeping you to another part of the world with relentless attention to architectural detail. A balance of high-quality shows with rides. Attractions for all ages. Gorgeous landscaping lining winding walks between attractions. The Pirateriet (pirate ship) is a dead ringer for the sailing ship Columbia that plies Disney's "Rivers of America" and the Roller Coaster is the Matterhorn in miniature.

The similarity is even stronger if you are old enough to remember Disneyland in the '70s, when entry to the park was a reasonable admissions fee, on top of which you bought tickets for each ride. Tivoli still works that way, and it makes me nostalgic for those old days in Anaheim. The difference is distinct. Tivoli is a pleasure garden, not an amusement park. People come here just to stroll, appreciate the gardens or eat at one of the restaurants. Like Disneyland, Tivoli is an oasis completely surrounded by urban mayhem; though it's so much smaller that you can spot the towers of central Copenhagen from almost everywhere inside. This doesn't diminish the sense of quiet relaxation that permeates, however. I remember the original Disneyland being much like this. Grown-ups would go to dine, relax and shop, handing us books of ride tickets to go amuse ourselves. It all seems much more sophisticated, and far friendlier for the visitor's wallet.

Adult entry is £16. You can add an unlimited ride pass for about £30 pounds, though pricing varies depending on weekends, weekdays, whether there's a big concert on, etc. But you can grab a single ride ticket for around £5. So if all you want to do is have a wander and go on a couple of rides, it's a steal compared to Disney's modern all-inclusive model.

This was my fourth visit but my first to try a ride. Which had to be the proto-Matterhorn (photo above). Built in 1914, this wooden coaster is one of the oldest still in operation in the world and thus has earned the right to its simple name: the Roller Coaster. (Perhaps with an emphasis on "the".) The Alpine setting around the boarding area and the model mountain above you are a dead ringer for Disney's adaptation, though you're in regular cars rather than bobsleigh and it's only about a third of the size of its Californian daughter. But size isn't everything. It's still gives a fine ride, with plenty of speed, incline and plunges. Some of the journey, like the Matterhorn, is in the darkened interior of the artificial mountain, adding to the suspense. But here you have the satisfying "clickity clack" of the wooden tracks, which lends a charm that modern rides can't match.

There are plenty of modern options here, too. The Demon is a triple loop-the-loop in a Chinese fantasy land, with the option of virtual reality headsets if you want to enhance your chills and spills. Fatamorgana is a 45-metre tower with spinning cars and discs hanging off it, the Star Flyer is an 80-metre high swinging carousel (based on the planetary discoveries of Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe) and Vertigo's spinning arms take you on a high-G plane ride. On some future visit I'm particularly keen to check out The Flying Trunk, which in design looks suspiciously like It's a Small World and in description (travel through 32 fairy tale scenes!) sounds like it spun off about half the attractions in Fantasy Land. If you splashed out for unlimited rides you could certainly get your money's worth, with 28 attractions ranging from the high-thrill stuff to innocent, child-friendly pursuits like an old-fashioned carousel or two-person boats on the lake.

Plenty of people just come here for the atmosphere, restaurants and entertainment, however. Locals get a particularly good deal on season tickets, from as little as £5 a month. We chatted with one couple in the gardens who come regularly for concerts (there's a large hall that hosts both classical and popular artists) and to appreciate the gardens. And their fantastical backdrops. The Nimb Hotel is a particularly famous centrepiece, looming above dancing fountains like Ali Baba's palace.

This low-bar entry fee also makes Tivoli a logical place to go out to eat, meaning that restaurants here tend to be higher quality and better value than their Disney counterparts. (Though, to be fair, Disney does have some great places to eat, which I've written about here.) We whiled away the afternoon at the Bryggeriet Apollo (the Apollo Microbrewery), a charming place that looks like an old Danish
inn, or "kro", sitting on the lake just across from the pirate ship.

 There are decks along the lakeside with moveable shades and heaters, offering al fresco dining and drinking for much of the year. Indoors ... which was empty on the glorious summer day we were here, is all exposed brick, scrubbed wood and shiny copper brewing tanks. The Bryggeriet offers a variety of classic Danish open-faced sandwiches, including a delicious trio of seafood options. There's a heavier menu for dinner.

The home-brew is delicious and there's a separate snaps list for those all-important toasts. (If you're going for a proper Danish lunch, you drink both beer and the local acquit called snaps, saving the later to toast your friends and accompany your fish dishes.) They had some more unusual options including "Porse", or Danish bog myrtle, which is extremely herbal to the point of being medicinal. It reminded me of drinks made with another herb, genepi, in the French Alps. While it did provide a satisfying counterpoint to pickled mackerel, it's not something I'd order again. Certainly not when my favourite dill snaps is on offer.

While Tivoli's tiered fee policy brings the nostalgia of the Disney of my youth, is has changed, most notably in its opening days. My husband speaks fondly of an attraction that was only open during the summer, making Tivoli time something particularly precious. No longer. There's now a winter opening for the month of February, presumably to capitalise on Valentine's Day. When Easter is early there's a separate opening or, when late as this year, it's rolled in with summer. In 2019 the gates opened 4 April and will close 22 September. But not for long. The newest holiday opening is for Halloween, 11 October to 3 November. (This one leaves my husband sputtering with rage at the incursion of a commercialised American holiday into European traditions.) Then about two weeks later Tivoli re-opens for its Christmas extravaganza.

Considering that all of my visits before this one were in these extraordinary holiday times (twice at Christmas, once at Easter), I'm delighted about the change. In fact, though summer was a hazy, lazy joy, I think the other times are more spectacular. The Christmas decorations are magnificent, as is a holiday show on the lake with dancing water and lasers. It can also be bone-numbingly cold at that time; booths selling blisteringly-hot mulled wine every few meters make the outdoors survivable. Easter brings a display of bulbs just as impressive as the famous Dutch gardens at Keukenhof, though on a much smaller scale.

Whatever the season, Tivoli is one of the wonders of Copenhagen. Don't miss it.