Four days, three Baltic capitals, and we were left to mull, again, the apparent goal for which Finland, Sweden and Denmark (and presumably Norway) are striving — a kinder, gentler social order.

While riding the bus around Copenhagen we again heard (for the third time in four days) about the cradle-to-grave benefits guaranteed to citizens. Free school, free lunch at schools, job security, long periods off for maternity and paternity leave …

It seems as if some bits of the U.S. have the same idea. Portland, perhaps, aspires to be Helsinki. Seattle may want to be Stockholm.  With lots of government programs, most of them paid for by income taxes up to 50 percent (in northern Europe) and value-added taxes of up to 25 percent of purchases.

So, as clean and orderly and decent and civilized as the cities of northern Europe appear to be … it comes down to trusting the government to do the right thing with all the money it takes from its citizens while they are gainfully employed.

I often wonder if this would work in countries that 1) have greater cultural diversity than can be found in the Baltic and 2) are not so small as to make a citizen feel like a member of an extended family — and not a competitive, fend-for-yourself capitalist society. (Sweden, 9.5 million people; Denmark, about 5.3 million; Finland, about 4.5 million.)

As for Copenhagen on the ground …
The early forecast was for rain. The reality was more sunshine, which was gratefully preferred, and we went ashore wearing about half the clothes we had for, say, the first day in St. Petersburg when it was in the 30s rather than the 60s.

The Celebrity Constellation was docked, conveniently, about a 10-minute walk from the Little Mermaid, which is pretty much the cultural emblem of Denmark’s capital. Yes. We have pictures of the “Havfreu” — or half-woman.

It was madness on the docks, because another monster ship also was disgorging passengers, and the big buses were so numerous they could hardly move, leaving us to again sweat with the oldies on the second deck of the overheated double-decker bus.

We got off the bus asap, which was at the Tivoli Gardens stop, where we had a sort of Basement of the Alamo moment.

We had operated under the assumption that the famous Tivoli Gardens were, in fact, gardens. Silly mistake. “There’s no basement at the Alamo!”

The Tivoli Gardens are more of a concert center and amusement park. Charming, in its way, but not much in the way of gardens. Who knew? We do now.

In part because we were in the most expensive country to live in, in Europe, we spent the rest of our time in the city just walking, for which tourists do not yet have to pay.

Down to the tourist-trap area of Nyhavn, which still managed a sort of charm, and led to a conversation with a couple of young Yank expats working in Copenhagen. They liked it. A lot. She is an electrical engineer, and Denmark is trying to be solely powered by wind by 2050, and she had a nine-month fellowship to help research the issue.

We talked about oil and gas, which is what the Gulf is about, and whether wind (not to mention solar or nuclear power) would make economic sense any time soon — especially with shale oil coming into the pipeline. Maybe, maybe not, but she is impressed Denmark is willing to try. Another example of the Nordics trying for cleaner, better, forward-thinking.

We took a pleasant walk back along the water dividing the capital’s two main islands, and actually saw the Little Mermaid, getting down to the edge of the water just ahead of the 50 seniors hustling off their bus.

Overall, we probably were least impressed with Copenhagen of the four cities we saw here, the second week. It wasn’t as interesting as Stockholm, not as historic as St. Petersburg, not as tidy and prim as Helsinki.

On the way outta Dodge, at 6 p.m., we stood near the bow and watched the Kattegat (as the narrow water between Denmark and Sweden is called) dwindle to its thinnest spot, barely 1.5 miles of water. We saw the captain steer through, and we were not going to touch land again until Amsterdam, on Wednesday.