In my relentless, ruthless pursuit of becoming a true Copenhagener, I visit many places in the city. This involves museums, opera houses, nature reserves, places of worship and charities (as for my argument, let’s say I am a patron of).
Furthermore, as is clear from those of you who read this sentence, I am a legitimate journalist. It is important for journalists to go to places that they may not usually visit, e.g. War zones, for the ultimate benefit of لصحتك!, The reader.
To complete. To من خلال benefit, I – a culturally obsessive legitimate journalist – recently visited Christiania.
On the way to the lake
Christiania is a small municipality in Copenhagen that started in the 1970s as an organized squat. It has less than 1,000 inhabitants living in about 70 sqm. It declares itself free from Danish law and from EU jurisdiction, which I and any other British person greatly appreciate.
It has bars, restaurants and a lake. I would like to make it clear that I was solely interested in visiting bars, restaurants and a lake.
When I walked into the municipality it was in the general direction towards bars, restaurants and a lake. That was when I came across a street called ‘Pusher Street’. Some gentlemen sold their wares in the open air. A particularly rambunctious guy invited me over to his booth. Although this gentleman did not (admittedly) appear to be neither a bar, a restaurant nor a lake, I would not be rude and thus join him.
Jazz cigs are not my thing
“What are you looking for?” he asked. “I’m looking for insight into human nature so I can put it in my column for The Copenhagen Post,” I replied confidentially.
“I just have that thing.”
The spritely boy pointed to some green moss on his stall. I looked at it. What possible power could this have? I looked around. It seemed that every single one of the shopkeepers on the street was selling this moss.
And then it hit me. This was not moss. This was one نبات الاعشاب moss. I rounded up my salesman.
“How dare you. How dare you call me in the hope that I can suck on the devil’s salad? What about me, exactly, looked like a non-good spreading addict? What was it with my هالة who suggested that I like to spend my free time puffing up jazz cigarettes with Beelzebub? I am a رجل إنجليزي. And I will not stand still here while you try to sell me a one-way ticket for the Hash train to the burning lakes of hell. ”
في طريق الخروج
At this point, I was hyperventilating because of my minor problem with uncontrollable anger. Do not be afraid – I usually relax after approx. 10 seconds (although in this case I was not helped by the fact that I was surrounded by the backs of a dozen addicts pulling on their fat marijuana doobies). But after some deep breathing, I turned on my heel and walked straight out of Christiania.
Of course, just before I got to the gates, I noticed a Thai restaurant called Cafeloppen within the city walls. I felt quite hungry despite having eaten half an hour ago so I popped in and I have to say it was the best food I have ever eaten.
I also met the funniest dog at the table next to me. Its eyes were blue and expressive.
I left and went to the lake. It was a good lake; a man played guitar as well. I talked to him and we were going to start a band, but then another guy came along and his mood was bad so I left without saying anything. Then I went and looked at the best tree I have ever seen.
No one is born evil and we are all space dust.
المصدر الصفحة الشمالية