The Daze...

So the other day my neighbor complained about all the noise I make. It was rather embarrassing, especially since she chose to let me have it in the backyard where other people could hear. She particularly complained about my "loud African music"...hmmm, did't know I was playing anything that would fall under that heading. It was funny though, cause it was just one of those typical Danish things to say. Drums? Rhythm? Ahhh...yes, it must be, oh dear, AFRICAN!
Speaking of which I went to what is one of the few Reggae clubs in this city the other night. It was the last night for a while, and I hadn't been there in YEARS. Let's just say that the last time I was there I was in my early 30s. That says a lot.
Anyway, when I was there I realized why I liked it so much. Besides the obvious, reggae music, it manages to pull in a pretty neat group of people. There's the young, college crowd, the Internationals (people who come from all over the world and feel at home there), there's the Brothers looking for white chicks, the white chicks looking for brothers (that's always fun to watch), all sorts of characters come out of the woodwork. Honestly, you see a versatility in the city that's pretty rare to see. But then again, if you're coming from New York or Brooklyn, it's still pretty white.
What's also fun about these parties are the Black men. Kai once asked me, "Mommy, why do Black people smile at each other?" I thought the question quirky, a good title to a poem, perhaps? Cause it does happen here, a lot. Often you would be walking down the road, or walking into a shop, and if there is another Black person there, there is a smile, a recognition. I'm not saying this happens all the time, and some white friends question me about it all the time, "Isn't that racist?" As if I don't smile to human beings in general...
But the guys at the reggae club are funny. The same questions are always asked, "Where are you from?" "How long have you been here," that question supposedly a key into some inner information that would perhaps reveal more about the person asked. Mundane questions indeed, but ones which for whatever reason, cannot be avoided. I dance with some and unlike Brooklyn, signals are misunderstood or forgotten. When I was growing up, a dance was a dance, a ritual, a necessary exercise of celebration. It didn't mean I want to marry you or spend the rest of the night dancing with the same person! The best dancer however, hands down, was a young Turkish dude who was the ONLY one at the club who understood the concept of "drop down!" I really do live on another planet.

Any way, then my neighbor apologized to me for complaining about the noise level. sigh.
Last Friday my job held its Christmas party. Hamid's haiku for the evening: Champagne in a coffee cup. It was a good evening, where I, for the first time in the entire time I have lived here, ate pickled herring. It wasn't too bad...or maybe I have been here too long?
Saturday I visited my friend L. I love L. She's this funky writer/photographer woman who lives in Christianhavn (fabulous apartment). She's originally from Jersey but moved to Israel in her late teens and settled there...she lives a fascinating life as a photographer, writer and just plain enjoyer of life. I went over there while the snow fell softly on Copenhagen, a bottle of champagne under my arm. While there I met a friend of hers N...he's from Siberia and plays the guitar. As he said regarding L's place, "this place just provokes creativity." Being around L is all about inspiration. I had my notebook and camera in hand and reveled in the surge of creativity that you feel submerged in while in her house. While there, they were cooking up a storm. I spoke to N about Russia and Putin, and he said something quite interesting: "During the Russian Revolution all the progressive thinkers were murdered, so who do you have left in Russia?" Hmmm...never thought about it that way.
L made the most fantastic chicken soup I have ever had. Afterwards, not feeling 100% I stretched out on her couch and she gave me a foot rub...visiting her was like, seriously, chicken soup for the soul...
It's the day before Christmas Eve, which is the evening Danes celebrate Christmas. I am in my apartment, alone, enjoying the quiet, contemplating the year just past, the year ahead of me...what's next? Sigh, only time will tell. Who needs plans anyway? I don't feel like making the Gods laugh...it's time they made me laugh...;-)
farvel,
the lab