For a single day, I have lived in a free city. A city who has no laws. There are, of course, some vague rules: "Do unto others" being the sum of them.
I write by the grace of the full moon. It is only fitting in a municipality that seems to be ruled by free-spirited world-worshipping pagans. The river makes this place feel just like home.
Fuck yeah, Copenhagen. I spent nearly my entire stay in the free city of Christiana. It felt like Christiana was a blend of a trailor-park, music festival, and hippy commune.
Just to the left out of view of the picture, there is a stand selling a single beer for 20 Danish Kroner, or two beers for 30. I decided to take advantage of the deal, and met a new Danish friend named Michael. I am really glad I did, because he informed me that the "No Camera" policy of Christiana only applied to Pusher Street, where openly-selling drug dealers would market their weed. Even though marijuana is illegal, Police aren't allowed into Christiana. But sometimes pictures taken from Pusher street could be used to identify the dealers, they don't much like cameras. I wanted to take a picture of one of the signs, but instead I just found one on the internet.
I partied all night. I kicked a ball around in a game that was a hybrid of soccer and badminton. I sat outside of a bar that would have felt like an old western saloon, except it had the most diverse bunch of people I had ever seen. There was a man with a turban at a table, and a group of preppy brittish guys next to him. I sat and bullshitted with a swedish professor about how awesome guitars are. I hung out to the late hours of the night with an African care-worker while discussing world politics.
Fuck yeah, Copenhagen.