Back In Copenhagen
Yesterday I figured it was best for me to take a walk in Copenhagen...be amidst the people and the buildings--get into the tempo of things. Since being back, I've kinda kept a low profile, holding selfishly on to wonderful vibrations gifted to me by my friends and family in NYC and PA. I've been on this road before, and if one is not careful, one could easily fall into a dripping pool of depression, a pathetic malaise of constantly comparing here with there, a denying of oneself to be here, in the present and thus become blinded to the beauty that is also here.
So I put on my sneakers and started my walk. It's about a 10-15 minute walk from where I live to the center, but I decided to walk first to my old hood, Nørrebro, and enter the city from there. Nørrebro is where all the beautiful young people live, side by side with all the beautiful immigrants. You could find ripe mangoes, cheap phone cards and Persian restaurants. The sea of faces together form possibility, a suggestion of the true meaning of what it means to be cosmopolitan. If you want to see other people of color, go to Nørrebro.
The weather has been typically Danish--blustery with fast-track clouds racing in the sky, allowing the sun only minor intervals to shine. You step out and you wish you had worn another sweater. You start to walk and by the end of 10minutes you take your scarf off and are thankful you didn't wear anymore clothes. That's a typical Danish Summer Day...but it's not finished until you find yourself still out in the evening freezing your behind off, because you know what? You should have at least lugged that sweater around with you for the whole day, because this is Denmark, right?
Anyway, I walk into the city directly to pisserenden (that translates directly to urine-gutter, yum yum) which is sort of a hub. There are restaurants, stores, lively pedestrian traffic, cafes--the usual consumer-traps. I had to meet the one and only Viana, who has an adorable little apartment there. She not only has an adorable apartment, but has the gall to be the only person on the block to not only have one balcony, but TWO!!! The great thing is, her family would also be there as well. I love V's family: They are the epitome of New York City Eccentric working against the YAWN of Danish culture.
I get there and the two boys, Theo (V's son) and Jaroki (Zara's son)are at it. They are tired and cranky. V's mom is in the kitchen cooking and greets me always, with a warm hug. She's a painter and has a tongue sharper than a cutlass (machete)and was one of the women to teach me a thing or two about crocheting. She lives in the Village during the winter with her husband, and every summer for the past who knows how many years (ever since the girls were children) they returned to Denmark. Mimi is one of those no-nonsense women who always cuts through the bullshit and has mastered putting her creativity first, which I think, explains how grounded I find her to be.
They've got the best house down in Hundige--seaside view in a house chock-full of eccentric flea-market finds and creations by Mimi. I'm really happy I know the Vang Olsens.
Zara, V's sister is visiting from Trinidad where she now lives and as always, looks healthy and radiant and very much at peace. She lives up on a hill in Diego Martin, my Trini neighborhood. Her son will soon start at the Primary school I once attended! Small world...
The boys continue to go at it, V is exhausted, Zara puts music on, oh, it was great! The noise, the familial flare-ups all bourne out of love. It's great to be around other families and realize that yours is not the only one built on insanity. And all the while Mimi is cooking dinner and I say to Viana, Isn't this great? Your mother is in your kitchen cooking dinner! And she takes a look at me and agrees: Viana is a blessed woman.
Zara says something to me that was pretty interesting. She always has a different take on things, perspectives that I don't think many of us consider. She asked me what I thought about those guys who were accused of trying to blow up the pipes at Kennedy Airport. There was a Trini connection there. I remember my mother calling me and telling me that her friend had called her, "Beryl, I feel so shame!" My mother was like, for what? Trinidadian's always in the bachanal.
Anyway, Zara had an opinion that this incident was used on the U.S.'s side to get a legitimate foothold in the region for two reasons: Trinidad's proximity to Venezuela, and the strong element of Islam which can already be found in Trinidad. I thought that was interesting.
Anyway, Claudzilla swung by and he and I walked back to Nørrebro. We showed up at Kate's Joint which is a restaurant that offers a lot of soul. I can't tell you how many times I have thanked the heavens for this place. Not only did I used to work there, but the characters you come into contact with! Colorful, eccentric, creative--Kate should get a Copenhagen City Award for that place. In fact, I'll give it to her the next time I see her.
We hung out there for a spell then I made my way over to see Pam. She's about to sail the Caribbean with her two kids and husband. They're leaving in about a couple of weeks. Pam just had baby number two and last night she got a little bit of freedom and so we met up with Viana on Skt. Hans Torv (Little Århus) and had some wine, talked about how degenerate the Tour de France is (of course they are ALL doping!) and Pamela made a good point that it was a fine example of Europe's hypocrisy. Do the math yourself.
We talked about the Congo (where Pam and her family had been involved in mine-removals, they've been there for at least 3 years I think) and how the Congo is the wealthiest nation in the world, but who has the wealth?
We talked about the EU's hesitancy (that's putting it mildly)in allowing Turkey in (what is that REALLY about?); we talked about identity politics and Pam offered that we are all too consumed with the superficiality, the surface value of each other. We talked about sailors and their culture and how inclusive it can be.
And then I went home. It was late and the buses weren't running anymore. I left my bike at Ben's before I travelled to New York and so I hailed a cab. The cab driver couldn't resist, "Hvor kommer du fra?" Where do you come from?
The U.S.
What are you doing here?
I don't answer the question. Instead I give him a taste of his own medicine--Where are you from?
Turkey.
The car pulls up to my building.
"Why do you think the EU don't want Turkey?" I ask him.
And then we really start to talk. I love moments like that. People just really want to be heard.
He told me he was born and raised here in Denmark, and all of a sudden one day Danes start talking about integration. He says, is it not enough I was born here, speak the language?" Apparently not. What is integration he asked me yet again.
Don't you think it is a forgetting of who you are and a saying yes to becoming more like them?
He turns around in his seat and looks me in the eyes, Yes, he says, You are right.
And who wants to do that?
Peace,
lab,
So I put on my sneakers and started my walk. It's about a 10-15 minute walk from where I live to the center, but I decided to walk first to my old hood, Nørrebro, and enter the city from there. Nørrebro is where all the beautiful young people live, side by side with all the beautiful immigrants. You could find ripe mangoes, cheap phone cards and Persian restaurants. The sea of faces together form possibility, a suggestion of the true meaning of what it means to be cosmopolitan. If you want to see other people of color, go to Nørrebro.
The weather has been typically Danish--blustery with fast-track clouds racing in the sky, allowing the sun only minor intervals to shine. You step out and you wish you had worn another sweater. You start to walk and by the end of 10minutes you take your scarf off and are thankful you didn't wear anymore clothes. That's a typical Danish Summer Day...but it's not finished until you find yourself still out in the evening freezing your behind off, because you know what? You should have at least lugged that sweater around with you for the whole day, because this is Denmark, right?
Anyway, I walk into the city directly to pisserenden (that translates directly to urine-gutter, yum yum) which is sort of a hub. There are restaurants, stores, lively pedestrian traffic, cafes--the usual consumer-traps. I had to meet the one and only Viana, who has an adorable little apartment there. She not only has an adorable apartment, but has the gall to be the only person on the block to not only have one balcony, but TWO!!! The great thing is, her family would also be there as well. I love V's family: They are the epitome of New York City Eccentric working against the YAWN of Danish culture.
I get there and the two boys, Theo (V's son) and Jaroki (Zara's son)are at it. They are tired and cranky. V's mom is in the kitchen cooking and greets me always, with a warm hug. She's a painter and has a tongue sharper than a cutlass (machete)and was one of the women to teach me a thing or two about crocheting. She lives in the Village during the winter with her husband, and every summer for the past who knows how many years (ever since the girls were children) they returned to Denmark. Mimi is one of those no-nonsense women who always cuts through the bullshit and has mastered putting her creativity first, which I think, explains how grounded I find her to be.
They've got the best house down in Hundige--seaside view in a house chock-full of eccentric flea-market finds and creations by Mimi. I'm really happy I know the Vang Olsens.
Zara, V's sister is visiting from Trinidad where she now lives and as always, looks healthy and radiant and very much at peace. She lives up on a hill in Diego Martin, my Trini neighborhood. Her son will soon start at the Primary school I once attended! Small world...
The boys continue to go at it, V is exhausted, Zara puts music on, oh, it was great! The noise, the familial flare-ups all bourne out of love. It's great to be around other families and realize that yours is not the only one built on insanity. And all the while Mimi is cooking dinner and I say to Viana, Isn't this great? Your mother is in your kitchen cooking dinner! And she takes a look at me and agrees: Viana is a blessed woman.
Zara says something to me that was pretty interesting. She always has a different take on things, perspectives that I don't think many of us consider. She asked me what I thought about those guys who were accused of trying to blow up the pipes at Kennedy Airport. There was a Trini connection there. I remember my mother calling me and telling me that her friend had called her, "Beryl, I feel so shame!" My mother was like, for what? Trinidadian's always in the bachanal.
Anyway, Zara had an opinion that this incident was used on the U.S.'s side to get a legitimate foothold in the region for two reasons: Trinidad's proximity to Venezuela, and the strong element of Islam which can already be found in Trinidad. I thought that was interesting.
Anyway, Claudzilla swung by and he and I walked back to Nørrebro. We showed up at Kate's Joint which is a restaurant that offers a lot of soul. I can't tell you how many times I have thanked the heavens for this place. Not only did I used to work there, but the characters you come into contact with! Colorful, eccentric, creative--Kate should get a Copenhagen City Award for that place. In fact, I'll give it to her the next time I see her.
We hung out there for a spell then I made my way over to see Pam. She's about to sail the Caribbean with her two kids and husband. They're leaving in about a couple of weeks. Pam just had baby number two and last night she got a little bit of freedom and so we met up with Viana on Skt. Hans Torv (Little Århus) and had some wine, talked about how degenerate the Tour de France is (of course they are ALL doping!) and Pamela made a good point that it was a fine example of Europe's hypocrisy. Do the math yourself.
We talked about the Congo (where Pam and her family had been involved in mine-removals, they've been there for at least 3 years I think) and how the Congo is the wealthiest nation in the world, but who has the wealth?
We talked about the EU's hesitancy (that's putting it mildly)in allowing Turkey in (what is that REALLY about?); we talked about identity politics and Pam offered that we are all too consumed with the superficiality, the surface value of each other. We talked about sailors and their culture and how inclusive it can be.
And then I went home. It was late and the buses weren't running anymore. I left my bike at Ben's before I travelled to New York and so I hailed a cab. The cab driver couldn't resist, "Hvor kommer du fra?" Where do you come from?
The U.S.
What are you doing here?
I don't answer the question. Instead I give him a taste of his own medicine--Where are you from?
Turkey.
The car pulls up to my building.
"Why do you think the EU don't want Turkey?" I ask him.
And then we really start to talk. I love moments like that. People just really want to be heard.
He told me he was born and raised here in Denmark, and all of a sudden one day Danes start talking about integration. He says, is it not enough I was born here, speak the language?" Apparently not. What is integration he asked me yet again.
Don't you think it is a forgetting of who you are and a saying yes to becoming more like them?
He turns around in his seat and looks me in the eyes, Yes, he says, You are right.
And who wants to do that?
Peace,
lab,
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