A City that Never Ends

Edit: Wi-Fi is spotty currently, so all my pictures are unable to upload. More pictures will be added in a few days when Wi-Fi gets a little better.

On our last day in Copenhagen, I spent the night alone. I walked the streets in dusk, wondering when the next time will be that I have the same chance. I ate smorsbrød. I watched the bikes flying down the tracks like perfectly choreographed dancers. I wandered back to my bed, to listen to the silly beat of the Limbo song carry upwards with the laughter of the locals behind it. I spent my Friday alone, wishing beyond all words that I didn’t have to leave. But that’s the bitter sweetness of travel: we arrive, we live, we learn, we grow, and we move forward.

Smorsbrød is a national treasure of Denmark, and should be eaten at every opportunity.

Much as it pains me to jump to the classic writer’s trick of telling the ending first, I’ll hope you’ll forgive me Roamies. My time in Copenhagen was so completely and utterly filling that I found myself, not only unable, but unwilling to write for fear of missing the complete wonder I was surrounded by. How could I justify time at my computer when there’s a city so full of incredible design, tailored to create a truly modern paradise? Well obviously, I couldn’t, so here I am in Helsingør writing again. And here we go again, dear Roamies.

When I left off, it was Monday, and we had spent time in our first rides around the city, discovering the rules of the road, the Copenhagen left, and the interconnectivity of the hundreds of kilometers of bike paths. On Tuesday, the weather cleared, and I learned that even at 55° North, Denmark was not immune to beautiful summer days. The Copenhagen Jazz festival played on every corner, and as we rode through the streets everyday, it was common to suddenly venture into one of Copenhagen’s many parks or plazas and hear the familiar sound of brass. In the never-ending sun of summer, we gathered with the locals after the workday’s end at 16:00 to stop and just enjoy awhile.

But work we did, and so I’ll pick up my story with Kelsey and I’s romp through Copenhagen. We must have traveled over 20km by bike, sprinting all the way up Østerbrogade to the “eastern” neighborhood that lies due north of the inner city. On the way back, we happened into a small park with kids bouncing on mini trampolines. Tasked with taking a picture of a Copenhagener on a bike, I decided to take it one step farther and approached Hans. An unassuming father of two, this highly opinionated and intelligent Dane had arrived at the park with his boys riding in the carrier of his homemade cargo bike. After asking him politely about its creation, we learned that there was so much more to this man and his bike then met the eye.

A keen follower of politics, Hans considered himself a true Copenhagener, committed to the values of old Copenhagen and it’s focus on community welfare over all else. The difference, he explained, is that he believed Copenhagen to be a community for more than just the Danish, but in fact the entire world. As such, he practiced a form of freeganism, in which he scavenged food from restaurants to prevent food waste. A true environmentalist, he didn’t own a car but instead, owned a fleet of custom bikes for all the purposes he or his family could need.

He expressed his deep desire to see war and violence end, and have the values of the social welfare state spread to other places around the world. In the eyes of Hans, the utopian society that Copenhagen had built was fully achievable and attainable at scale around the globe. Listening to him compelling relate his views as he proudly watched his boys freewheeling across the playground, I must admit I felt convinced. But I’ve been thinking about this question a lot in the past days, and I disagree. Copenhagen is uniquely situated and developed, by virtue of its small size and cultural knowledge, to create a working example of ultimate social trust and care. However, this is not a model that can be fully replicated anywhere else in the world.

For example, Copenhagen’s welfare state provides stipends for 2/3rds of rental costs for its most impoverished members. Housing is kept affordably low, comparable with the minor city I live in back in the United States: Eugene, OR. Unemployment is considered a normal eventuality of work culture, and is supported financially by the welfare state. This extends to convicts in prison, whose facilities are designed to rehabilitate and encourage personal development and growth. Mothers leave children sleeping peacefully in strollers outside shops, and bikes are rarely locked with anything other than a small back wheel stabilizer. NGOs and nonprofits are surprisingly limited within Copenhagen, as the municipalities provide the bulk of resources and actionable feedback channels. There is little need for watchdog organizations, as the high trust in government is reciprocated by open forums, discussions, market research, and community involvement in decision making and execution by local offices.

As far as I can see, however, this was born out a unique communal approach to life that has existed in this city of fairytales (yes, that’s an H.C. Anderson reference) for generations. Copenhageners have always lived life in the streets. As we ate a traditional Danish dinner at the city’s 3rd oldest pub and restaurant, we sat nearly a meter below street level: evidence of the centuries of street life in, around, and under the cobblestones. Served by a native Kiwi, we also saw the international presence but still exclusivity of being a Dane. Constantly under threat from its more powerful and larger neighbor to the north, Sweden, Denmark and its capital Copenhagen have become a place for international trade and conversation, but not a place for mixed internationality. A nation of merely 6 million, the welfare state works so well because of the Danish commitment to community life. They’ve been banning together for centuries to survive and thrive; anyone new to the community must do the same.

As I wandered through Copenhagen, I asked dozens of its residents the question: how do you feel about immigrants? The question was admittedly self-serving: I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to live here. But more than anything, I wanted to address the unsettling rumors I had heard regarding the Danish mentality towards foreigners. I wanted to understand the subcultural tapestry of Denmark. Almost universally, the answer emerged: the Danish are not explicitly racist or islamophobic. They are, however, fiercely protective of the society and culture they have built and expect all who come to live in Denmark to become Danish in as many ways as possible. It’s a migrational pattern of full assimilation rather than integration. And the tensions that have risen in the city, seen in the most ethnically diverse neighborhood of Nørrebro, manifest themselves into forms of prejudice to those of us raised in less upfront and more politically correct environments.

As my week studying transit system and design continued past Hans and his cargo bike, I began to see the patterns of inside-outside life emerging in Copenhagen. Gathered in the tiny bar of Brus for the Women’s World Cup, myself and the two dozen other Americans in the room wildly cheered for the United States as our ladies crushed their way to victory in the finals. Surrounded on all sides by Dutchmen, I had a lovely couple come up after the game for a chat.

Recently empty-nesters, they were on holiday from their small town outside of Amsterdam. Having spent significant time in both countries, they were able to give contrasting visions of the life here in Denmark and back in their native Holland. Often compared in terms of size and scale, Holland and Denmark both have deeply rooted communal cultures and monarchial governments. The difference comes in how they see themselves. Danes have been threatened by large forces many times throughout their history, when as Holland has seen themselves included in large coalitions. The Danish are internally communal: the Dutch are externally. In a few short weeks, I can see for myself if this is true.

But let’s return to Copenhagen for a short minute and the many conversations and visits we had there. Throughout our week, we were lucky enough to visit two world-renowned architectural and design firms, Gehl Architects and Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG). While not an architect myself, I have l deep respect and fascination for the Scandinavian form of design: their tenants of minimalism and form following function. But I never realized the deep commitment by these pillars of Danish architecture to life design. In all they build and create, they focus on systems that start first with people. It takes into account not only the needs of people, but their wants as well. It thinks about simple psychology: designing systems around simplicity. It brings in play and fun. It is designed to bring people together with people, not with more stuff. I believe this is why Danish (and more generally, Scandinavian) design has resonated so much around the world. The beauty is NOT in the simplicity. Rather, it’s in the redirection of focus away from the object and onto those simply enjoying it.

Speaking of enjoyment (so good at it, might as well be studying Segways instead of bicycles), let’s talk a minute about the playgrounds and park systems in Copenhagen. With the building height capped at 6 stories, Copenhagen is a relatively short urban space, keeping sunshine accessible and sight-lines lovely. However, with streets hundreds of years old, the space availability for greenery is rather limited. Most streets are still barren of any plant life, regardless of exceptional sidewalk design sitting a while. Therefore, Copenhageners rely on their plethora of parks and public plazas to get their fix for nature. And luckily, Copenhagen delivers.

On Thursday, we spent the morning with Randa, the director of Staffed Playgrounds. A government run program, Staffed Playgrounds is unlike any other in the world. Within the Copenhagen municipalities, there are 26 (soon to be 27) playgrounds in a network of over 100 that are staffed by 2-4 trained professionals. Coming from a variety of backgrounds, these staffers are there to help kids and parents with anything from boo-boo treatment to educational activities. More than that, having the presence of adults allows kids older than 6 to achieve independence in visiting playgrounds alone. This fosters a culture of trust within the community, and often these playgrounds function as community meeting grounds. As one of our trip professionals explained, “Playgrounds are a valuable tool in any planner’s toolbox.”

Copenhagen maximizes this model, and thematically organizes its playgrounds. Many playgrounds have themes revolving around farming, transportation, nature, or construction. Kids can play with Guinea pigs, grow their own strawberries, build small teepees, dive in the Bermuda triangle, or play in the jungle. There’s a special playground called the Traffic Garden in which children learn the rules of the road for Copenhagen (where was this my first day?). Staffed playgrounds are more numerous in more socially disadvantaged areas (Danish code for immigrant communities), but often serve as a place of safety for these individuals. While they don’t always succeed in Danish cultural immersion, they do function as important meeting grounds and safe spaces for all of Copenhagen’s residents to build trust. We spent the afternoon on Thursday seeing firsthand the effect of these different playgrounds in every district in the city (necessitating quite a long bike ride), and got to play a little bit ourselves along the way.

Bike rides around the city are nothing new to any of us at this point. Having never been a cyclist, I can firmly say that after coming to Copenhagen, I’m still not one. Rather in mayor Morten’s words: “I’m a bike commuter.” I’m comfortable in the saddle, and I’m ready and willing to use a bike just as soon as any other transportation tool. It helps to have good company, and we are lucky enough to be sharing this trip with a group of transportation professionals from the United States to help contextualize our learning. Joined by 5 of Oregon’s most knowledgeable individuals, we learn, share and grow together. Or sometimes just from them, as was the case Wednesday morning.

Sitting in Ørsetdparken, a lovely little park on the northeastern side of town, a group of Americans discussed the possibilities of creating Copenhagen back home. And after 2 hours of deep thought, reflection, and conversation, we realized that it’s too damn complicated to determine. But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t try. Copenhagen is a utopian place, but not unattainable. It has lessons to share, such as the simple design of elevated bike tracks, that we can utilize. But it also has structures, such as funding projects from the reclaimed land built out from the Metro’s construction, that are likely unattainable. Rather, it’s a question of trying. The choice to try and improve is always preferable to stagnancy.

Roamies, I doubt many of you are here to take a deep dive into my consciousness. In light of this, let’s take a short side trip down into the depths of Copenhagen’s beautiful, wild, and insane nightlife, which I certainly had the chance to sample on this trip. Unapologetically, Copenhagen has a nightlife that feels incredibly safe and secure. Interesting for a town consistently full of drinking and whippets. As a young woman roaming the streets at 2 AM, I felt nothing but friendliness coming from the many people I met still enjoying the streets. Perhaps it’s because everyone in town speaks my native English. But I genuinely believe that the Danish are just genuine people.

On Tuesday night, we ran into this firsthand as we took my dear friend Tenley out for her first night on the town, EVER. At 20, Europe represents a foray into more freedom and a different lifestyle for the younger members of our group. After first having dinner at Puk (the ancient pub and restaurant) and drinking like a proper Dane there, together we stormed the confusing streets of Indre By to check out the best Copenhagen had to offer. As it was Tuesday, you can imagine, we ran into a whole lot of nothing. At an old pub, I bought Ten some blueberry ciders and we got rowdy enough that a member of our group, feeling poorly since Puk, left an unfortunate gift in the windowsill of their restroom. After many embarrassing apologies and some cleanup, we wandered the night streets. As many of the younger Danes were out doing the same, we eventually stumbled upon Hive, a jumping spot for 20-somethings. It was their 18+ night, so there were a fair number of scraggly whiskers in the bunch. But that didn’t stop the dancefloor from absolutely popping. Highly recommended for their as-much-as-you-can-drink model, the Hive is an excellent spot for younger travelers to meet both an international and local crowd.

If you’re looking for something within your group, I also highly recommend taking out a GoBoat. A group of 8 costs 799 Kr for two hours, and that’s plenty of time to see all the side canals of the city. Plodding along with our adorable little electric motor, we drank, danced, and touched each and every bridge we passed beneath. Rounding the bend in Christiania (naturally), we came upon a wooden boat of Danes, drunk as skunks and begging us to come party. So naturally we did. An intrepid young suitor, wooed by our lovely Kira on the bow, stripped to his skivvies and jumped in to come talk with her. A whispered conversation, a kiss, and a shove back into the water later, we continued on our journey down the waterways. But the nightlife didn’t stop there.

Climbing gyms make a great lunch spot. The boys, Carl, Thomas, Christian, Ryan, Tenley and myself.

For instance, on Thursday afternoon, we were invited to a rooftop party in the heart of the city… that I was unable to attend as myself and a few friends had already met some of Peter Pans lost boys at the climbing gym. These Danes were the picture of stereotypical Scandinavians: strapping, gorgeously fit men, carefree and wild in the summer night. We climbed, we backflipped, we wrestled, we danced, and we sang. Many cocktails later, we sang along in the sand to the Latin jazz electrifying the food-court block in the north of the city known as Reffen. As some of us piled into their little skiff, and some of us mounted our bikes, we reveled in the idea of a night of carefree freedom.

Aboard a beautiful houseboat in the southern harbor, we spent the night telling tales of past loves, diving in the harbor, and ended up flopping down together in a heap on the big couch on the floating porch. Surrounded on all sides by friends, I remember thinking to myself that life is all about taking chances: on people, adventures, and moments. A choice to go up and talk to a tall, blonde guy eating cheese next to a climbing wall led to 4 new friends and a night of memories. Now, it’s not about being stupid. If something is dangerous, trust your instincts. But if you’re willing to test the waters first, you might end up walking back up the harbor front with a wonderful guy, swapping stories of your deepest fears and hopes for miles and miles. You might see a sunrise over the waters of one of the world’s most unique and lovely cities. You never really know.

Now that you’ve sat through this post that never ended, I want to thank you Roamies for reading on. This experience in Copenhagen truly has been defining for me. I’ve traveled to every continent save one, and met generous and beautiful people every step of the way. But never have I been in a city like this. A city that never ends. The days of summer float on as the sun slowly glides by for 18 hours. The nights of the winter drag on into eternity. The bike paths are always there for your ride, no matter the street you turn down. The people are hearty and resourceful, always choosing to improve their knowledge and systems. The nightlife is loud and boisterous, partying well into the mornings. It is a place where nothing truly ends. But unfortunately for me, my time in Copenhagen has done so. Or at least for now. Perhaps there will be a time in my life in which Copenhagen will truly never end.