Copenhagen once more

August 21, 2006- Yves
(photos:Christiania,
police presence)

I got to sleep late this morning. David woke up early enough for breakfast and fought an old lady for the last banana. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Yves isn’t feeling well. I think he caught David’s cold since David doesn’t have it anymore. We learned a bit more about Yves. When he was twelve his parents sent him to live with friends in North Carolina. There had been lots of correspondence about the arrangements but the North Carolinian family had never seen Yves. When Yves landed there was no one there to meet him. He was in tears until an airport employee put two and two together. There was a couple waiting for a little girl named Eve who hadn’t arrived on the flight as expected. To their relief it was all sorted out. When Yves arrived at their home he was shown to the newly redecorated pink bedroom they had for him.

The next time he was in North Carolina he was at Duke University. His parents paid his fees and set up an account he could draw on for living expenses. He hated it there especially the drug culture on the campus in the 60’s so he left. He traveled all around the U.S. for six months before Duke returned his parents check saying they had no student by that name. When he was busted his parents told him he was welcome to wander but it had to be on his money. He held odd jobs and paid his way until he decided to return to Norway and get a free education in anthropology courtesy of the state.

During his excursion in the States he made it to North Dakota. He walked into a store, greeted the clerk, who said to him with that Minnesota/Dakota singsong twang, “ How may I help you?” He was incensed that she would make fun of his accent until she explained the area had been heavily settled by Scandinavians & that was how they spoke English. His English intonations were exactly those of the area.

Happy Hippies

Yves took us by Metro, the newest underground in Europe, to visit Christiania, a hippie section of town. We saw that people here travel with their dogs and the dogs ride the escalators. People frequently have two bikes so they don’t have to drag them on the trains. They ride one bike to the station and pick up their second bike at the end of their ride and pedal to work.

On the way to Christiania we toured the Church of Our Savior a 400-year-old Lutheran church with a 400-step spiral tower with a magnificent view of the city. We took it on faith and didn’t climb. It’s famous for its ornately carved wood organ and is quite “gilt” compared to the simplicity of Lutheran churches in the States. David noticed the Hebrew for the name of God “yod-hey-vav-hey” over the pulpit. We pronounce it “adonai” but if sounded out it is “yahweh.”

The canals and buildings of Christiania were constructed in 1650 by King Christian IV as a buffer against Sweden. The military occupied the site and buildings until 1969 when they abandoned them. In 1971, four hundred squatters organized and took over the land and buildings. They cleaned up any chemicals in the soil the military might have left and sent the bill to the government. There are now nine hundred people living there. Communal living is rare but they live as a community. It likes to think of itself as independent from Denmark and has its own economy and its budget of about $3 million a year. But they pay taxes and are subject to Danish law. Buildings have been added since 1860 but the government realized it sits on some of the most valuable land in the city. They’ve forbidden any additions to existing buildings or the building of new structures. They want to freeze them out. The right wing Danish government wants to be able to sell the land. The problem is that most buildings in this prime waterfront community were declared historical treasures and cannot be torn down. That means there can be no building for speculation. It will not become a subdivision. The community has lived there long enough so that they own it by adverse possession. There’s talk about the government taking it by eminent domain but the cost would be astronomical. Even though the residents are aging hippies they have an understanding of reality. If the worst happens and they have to sell, they’ve collected $50,000 to start a Christiania Foundation.

It’s an aging community but even if young people want to move back after university there’s little room for them. The community votes on who can live in any vacancies that occur. Water and sewer sanitation is still an issue with more indoor plumbing being installed daily. Electricity isn’t used regularly. Streets are poorly paved and we leaped over puddles as rain and sun alternated keeping us busy juggling sunhats and umbrellas.

As we entered Yves pointed out a pair of tennis shoes hanging from electric lines outside the arched entrance to Christiania, a universal sign that drugs were available nearby. Hashish is sold openly on what is called “pusher” street in the market square. No photos are allowed in that area and Yves warned us that the locals would take our cameras and there was nothing he could do about it. Police make frequent sweeps to ferret out those who smoke or otherwise ingest hemp products. In fact, there was a police presence when we were there. They rarely make arrests since residents announce their presence. One man follows them around with a video camera to be sure they don’t unduly harass the locals.

There are hard and fast rules in Christiania: no selling stolen goods, no gang symbols, no bulletproof vests, no weapons, no violence, no cars, no hard drugs. In 1979 gangs moved in and were tossed out for selling hard drugs. The only punishment they use is expulsion. In the case of users of hard drugs they’re sent to rehab and will not be readmitted to Christiania for six months after they complete treatment.

The few independent businesses pay a fee to Christiania’s coffers. They prefer not to call it a tax. Several residents work outside the area and some residents of Copenhagen work in Christiania. There are no schools in the community because they want their children to mix with the outside world. We visited the women’s blacksmith shop, an antique auto restoration company, an antique stove restoration company, stables where horses are kept for lessons and pleasure riding, a bike factory that makes custom bikes, and a grocery. There are pre-schools, bakeries (we were warned not to eat the brownies), cafes, and an auditorium. There’s a local post office. If mail is to be sent within the community only one stamp is needed. To send mail outside the community the stamp of Christiania is required and a Danish stamp as well. It seemed to me like a third world country in a first class city. There was no temptation for me to stay. I treasure my porcelain conveniences. As we left we laughed at the inscription on the arch. It read, “You Are Now Entering the EU.” For those who are interested try christiania.org or christiania.org.dk

After leaving Christiania we crowded into the bakery we’d visited yesterday before walking back to the hotel. We sat by a huge open window and ate sandwiches while thunder and lightning criss-crossed the city. The woman seated at the counter next to me asked if I’d purchased my salad there. At first I thought she was going to report me or ask me to leave if I hadn’t. One of our group was not permitted to eat a sandwich at a café where he ordered coffee. Sharing meals is also not permitted. It seemed that the lady just didn’t realize salads were available in the bakery.

Down Home Danes

Our home-hosts were a couple in their 70’s and are well traveled retirees. Their adult son joined us. Their home sat in a lovely garden and consisted of three bedrooms upstairs with an apartment on the third floor where their son had lived as a teenager. The main level had a living room, dining room, den, and small but modern kitchen as well as a lovely enclosed porch where the table was set for our dinner. The home is heated from steam generated from a central trash recycling plant. Recently a hot underground body of water was discovered under all of Copenhagen and will be tapped for heat as they do in Iceland. They entertained with panache and used their finest china, silver, and glassware. This was unlike our usual hosts where they opened their homes to augment their income. They were used to entertaining foreign guests and were financially comfortable enough to travel to the U.S. yearly.

I mentioned that the U.S. was in the midst of a debate on immigration and asked Ib about the immigration situation in Denmark. He said that they were getting fed up with the population from Pakistan, Iran, etc. who came with nothing, took from the government, didn’t learn the language, and now was a danger to the country.

The husband spent time in Fiji as a young man and learned Urdu to communicate with the Indian sugar cane workers there. When he returned to Denmark to work with SAS they frequently called him in to translate for Indians stranded in Denmark while in transit to England for schooling. He brought them home until things were sorted out. His open-home policy was how he met an ophthalmologist from somewhere in Ohio. The young man was nineteen and an exchange student who got off at the wrong Metro station late at night. Our host was twenty-nine and took him home. They corresponded for many years but lost touch with each other until recently when some Danes went to a wedding in Washington, D.C. The Danes were asked if they knew our host. They didn’t but looked him up when they got home. Ever since then our hosts have been visiting them at their vacation home in Salt Lake City. a

We have an early morning tomorrow and a hectic day ending up at the ferry for a nighttime crossing to Oslo.

Toby