Befriended Strangers

I stumbled into the infamous Christiana district of Copenhagen, just as the sun was setting. The first thing I noticed was the complete absence of cars. Wherever you go in a city, at any time of day or night, one can always hear these damn things chugging along some highway for probably the least necessary of reasons. In Christiana, not silence, but machine silence...bliss!

Broken walkways, but still neat. Kept and unkempt communal gardens. The spirit of idleness runs deep there. I was slightly wary as I walked through crowds of weathered looking types, but I guess that's natural when on foreign soil. Of course the first thing to do was to get hold of a beer. A bar with a free table in the sun, perfect. Quietly supping away on that, watching everyone else, contemplating getting my book out to look busy, and then resolving not to. If there's anywhere in the world where people don't expect you to be doing something, it's Christiana.

Within 10 minutes a shifty young fellow sits opposite me on the bench. I greet him politely. I was in the mood for some kif, but only a tiny bit for the evening, and I didn't want to be hassled by explaining this, then being forced into buying more than I actually needed. Should we, shouldn't we? Well, why not?! Conversation ignited, like the universe.

He was from Mexico, in America, and been over in Christiana for 3 years, though he couldn't remember clearly. His sister lived in Copenhagen, has 2 flats, 1 she rents out to tourists, is doing "well" for herself. Is frustrated by her brother's lifestyle: There she is getting up at 7am working 12 hour days, making money, and he drinks and smokes when he wakes at 3pm, every day until sunrise. I see his point. A balance between the two I think is where I should be headed, though leaning more towards his style.

His mother is mexican, and his father was american. They met in Morocco in the 70s. She was travelling and bumped into him in a hotel. He was there setting up hash trade agreements and planning to ship it to Copenhagen. Like father like son. That's a rather impressive heritage for any dealer. To be able to say one's father set up the original hash trade between Morocco and Christiana!

I bought him a couple of beers, he rolled a joint with a huge roach. Must be a Danish thing? I never understood why in England we make tiny roaches and then struggle with the dregs. A lady sat next to us, late 40s, Danish, "respectably" dressed, not an inhabitant of Christiana. She'd just come after work to soak up some atmosphere. She liked Christiana, and thinks the spirit here is so important to Denmark. I have to agree. All movements that ignore governments are important. I bought her a beer too, £1.50 a bottle of Danish lager...I was most impressed!

We all shared the joint. I felt ecstatic and shameless. There was a black girl, beautiful child, playing with a ball amongst all these care free adults. Two old Chinese ladies walked by with cans of beer in their hands, a dog sat mournfully in a bike trailer waiting for his master. It must have been the hash because no-one else found the dog in the trailer the least bit amusing.

I left my befriended strangers and tried to make my way back to "civilisation", with great difficulty. My orientation had quite up and left me, but also, thanks to the spliff, I wasn't bothered.

Out of all the lonesome travelling I've done over the last 6 years, this trip I have been most comfortable and confident with. I no longer canvas restaurants for eternity wondering whether the conditions are right, or fret about in train stations under departure boards wondering if my train really does exist. If I need to know something, I simply ask the nearest suitable looking citizen. Oh the anxiety I used to suffer was overwhelming at times. Now I have my reasoning down to a fine art.