Hanging out in Norrrebro

Cyclists cruise down Norrebrogade, Copenhagen

Copenhagen, Norrebro – The next suburb over from my box hotel was Norrebro, a slightly edgy, gentrified neighbourhood in the north of the city.

In Copenhagen terms, it was about as grimy as the city got, with a bustling immigrant population and a history of riots, some as recent as last year (2007) when police squared up to evict squatters at Ungdomshuset (The Youth House).

I headed over there two evenings in a row as I’d heard it was the place to locate some ethnic food. I had found the dining options in Copenhagen uninspiring, with hamburgers, pizzas and sandwhiches the most common. Only more expensive restaurants seemed to offer anything more adventurous.

Alas, Norrebro seemed only to offer Turkish take away joints, complete with photos of the greasy kebabs, pizzas and felafels on the menu boards. Each store decorated in garish hues of red and yellow with the requisite mustachioed cook out the front, smoking a cigarette.

I walked the entire length of Norrebrogade searching for some cheap Asian of Middle Eastern fare. But finally, hungry and beaten, I relented and ordered a slice of semi-cooked peperoni. The mustachioed man poppped it in the griller, heated it up, pulled it out piping hot and served it folded over and wrapped in foil.

And you know what? It wasn’t too bad.

By the beach

The beach at Klampenborg

Copenhagen, Denmark – It say a lot about the English weather that I had to fly north to find hotter temperatures and clearer skies.

Denmark was into its second week of an unusual mini heatwave when I arrived, with temperatures in the mid 20s. It seemed to good to spend in the inner city so after a quick flick through the guidebook I settled on a day out at Klampenborg, a beach about 20 minutes north by train. It was described as the ‘Danish Riviera’.

I’ve never been to the real Riviera but I bet it has more than just a single petrol station from which to get food and drink. Inner city Copenagen on a Sunday morning had been like a ghost town with not a food store in sight, so I boarded my train intent on getting some tasty snacks when I reached Klampenborg. Instead I paid about £5 for a truck stop pastry and small orange juice from the only store in sight.

Euro beach culture is always an amazing thing to behold. My previous experience had been Brighton in the UK on the hottest day of the year. The sharp pebbles made it mandatory to wear thongs (flip flops) right to the waters edge, all the while pushing past scores of people. At Klampenborg there was actually a real beach with real sand. However, at the water’s edge rocks had been dumped to form a low retaining wall. Thank god for the jettys that had been built at regular intervals from which to enter and exit the water.

After my swim I laid back and tried to soak up enough vitamin D to get me through another 12 months in the UK. While doing so I admired the relaxed Danes. Beer seemed to be high on the agenda. With not an esky in sight, beachgoers would arrive toting a six pack of Carlsberg each and plant it in the hot sand. In between swims they’d slowly drink the lot, apparently not minding that the last can would probably be scorching hot.

Strolling in Copenhagen

Christianshavn canal, Copenhagen

I arrived on a warm afternoon so bright the sky was almost white. A few cars cruised the broad city streets, giving the place a slightly deserted feel. Copenhagen seemed more like an Australian city on a Sunday afternoon than a cosmopolitan European centre.

After checking into my very small room at the Cab Inn I soon discovered where everyone was: Stroget. This one kilometre long pedestrian mall running through the centre of town was packed with stylish Danes, fanny pack-wearing Americans and just about everyone else in town. Well built eastern European men set up impromptu ball and matchbox games on the pavement and quickly made a killing. Meanwhile, incredibly good looking Scandinavian couples strolled along in matching dark shades, the men with immaculate quiffs and the girls with flowing blonde locks.

I felt rather scruffy in contrast, but soon found myself more at home, style-wise at least, in the nearby Latin Quarter. Students roamed the narrow lanes in twos and threes, checking out the retro clothes stores and record shops. I escaped the afternoon sun at a lunch bar where I ordered a chicken sandwich in hesitant English, not sure if I would be understood. The brunette behind the counter answered in English more articulately than my Australian drawl and from then on I spoke almost nothing but English for the next week.

Heading south
I walked south through the Government quarter of Copenhagen, known as Slotsholmen. The enormous building of Christiansborg Slot dwarfed the few tourists lazily walking about in the hot sun.

Slotsholme drive by

I continued heading south, cross over the river into Christianshavn where the government buildings and deserted streets gave way to a buzzing canal-side cafe scene. An endless procession of cyclists sped down the hill from town heading towards the parks of Island Brygges. The convenience stores were busy with people stocking up on six packs of Carlsberg and hot dogs for picnics by the water.

Free town
Deeper into Christianshavn I begun to fall in with a line of both Danes and tourists making for Christiania, the former Army barracks that was co-opted by a band of anarchists, hippies, activists and families in the 70s. Even before I made it through the colourful main entrance I was offered hash by a man on a bike. I said no thanks and he politely wished me a good day.

If that didn’t set the tone for my visit to Christiania then the cannabis plant growing proudly in the middle of the flower bed a few metres inside the main entrance certainly did. Walking along the dusty road I came to Pusher Street, where large hand painted signs read “no photos”. Presumably to maintain the anonymity of the dealers still working the street now that the once prominent hash stands had been dismantled after Government crack down in 2003.

Free Town skate bowl

I spent a chilled couple of hours in the run-down neighbourhood. It felt more like a country town than a semi-legal squat in the middle of a big city. The quaint wooden houses with their cottage gardens, the cargo-bike riding residents, the artists, the acres of open space: it all contributed to a relaxed, laid back vibe.

And no more so than the skate bowl, housed within an enormous wooden warehouse covered in graffiti. The walls were decorated with skateboards nailed to the wall that had been broken in previous sessions. Four or five skaters took it in turns to work the bowl, while another dozen or so sat at the top of the bowl, busying themselves with the various stages of consuming marijuana. Some were rolling enormous trumpet-shaped joints, others chopping the leaves to pieces, still more tipping their heads back and exhaling plumes of green smoke.

I stayed to shoot some sequences of the skaters but eventually, feeling light headed, made my excuses and stumbled out of the warehouse and back into the bright sun. I looked at my watch. It was 7.30pm but felt more like mid afternoon. This strange mid-summer light was going to take some getting used to.

For more photos of Denmark, check the Flickr photo album here.

Backpack Storybook tip: Not keen to stay in the enormous 50 bed dorms the central hostels offer in Copenhgen, I forked out for two nights at the Cab Inn Scandinavia. £58 per night bought me a two bunk room with a small ensuite and a central location right next to Norrebro. And the room wasn’t as small as the tripadvisor.com reviews suggested. Recommended.