The official museum of Copenhagen is set in the mansion-ish former headquarters (1787–1948) of the city's old shooting club—you'll still find the membership seals/shooting targets supplied by each member filling the stairwells. The essential function of the museum is to give a nuanced and yes, somewhat liberalized look at the city's history, so much of the ground floor is dedicated to showing what life in Copenhagen has been like for a range of citizens, from the century-old door of a Jewish tailor's to a satellite dish that marks the home of many Asian immigrants. That's interesting and it will re-shape your preconceived notions of all Danes as slender, blue-eyed blondes, but the real treasure trove is upstairs under the chandeliers of the former ballroom. There, arranged artfully in a circle of glass cabinets, are relics from one of the city's favorite sons, philosopher Søren Kirkegaard. Each case is themed to a turning point in the writer's life—a five-diamond ring a girlfriend returned to him when they broke up, a lock of his hair taken on his deathbed, his quill, his original gravestone plaque (which broke; the one in Assistens now is from 1927). On the opposite side of each case, past museum visitors have donated a token that reflects a similar period in their own lives (for example, someone's first apartment key as demonstration of Love of Self), and push-button displays in both Danish and English explain the connection. It's a smart way to bring the eternal tenets of a 19th-century philosopher to life. In the attic, the Dream of the City playroom purports to be about civic planning but is really just a savvy excuse for bored kids to play with Legos for a while.