Goodbye Nørrebro

Since arriving in Denmark, kleejourneys has happily based within you, my haven of an apartment in Nørrebro. Nørrebro is an area of Copenhagen often described as being: an extremely dangerous neighbourhood by locals from Jutland, Western Denmark; in a part of the city where as many as 17 drug related shootings were reported in one month last fall; 2 minutes from Jagtvej 69, the riot site of the Ungdomshuset or Peoples House 2 years ago; and just a few blocks from Jægersbrogade, the street where one can find substances that fulfill one's addictive needs.

However, having never felt in danger at anytime day or night in this neighbourhood, this retrospective focuses on the positive aspects that made you such a special place to retreat to and me, nostalgic about relocating kleejourneys west to Østerbro.

The street Jægersbrogade was certainly where I could feed my addictions, but with produce from the best organic suppliers such as the Coffee Collective. There, locals met daily at 7am before work and me, on Sunday afternoons for the takeout latte I needed to keep warm while on my quiet walk around the block. Next door was Kates, the bakery with the best homemade chocolate croissants in the city, many which I enjoyed during mornings on the balcony. And finally, gofood for quality meals at VERY reasonable prices when I just didn't want to cook.

The Assistens Kirkegård or cemetery was once described to me as a Garden of Eden, a place one could cycle through before hitting the chaos of traffic on Nørrebrogade, or where one could be seen relaxing and daydreaming in a hammock, while pretending to work. How nice that the Kirkegård was conveniently across the street, and where I found solace amongst beautiful trees, experienced a stunning sunlit day for photography, and played in snow and leaves at 3am with recklessness and innocent bliss.

(see more cemetery images here,here,here and here)

Basing kleejourneys within your friendly and safe spot in Nørrebro, I was able to be part of 'Human' Copenhagen where at least 50% of the inhabitants are immigrants and where many shops are owned by Middle Easterners or South Asians. Having lived in Canada, a country whose people are primarily made up of immigrants and being one myself, I had a true appreciation of the cultural diversity around me. And as a non-dane banana (as my grandfather used to call me) with Chinese Malaysian yellow skin on the outside but Canadian white on the inside, the immigrant population never hesitated to speak to me, offering jobs, friendships, cheap bicycle repairs, but most interesting, their political, social and cultural views about life in Denmark.

Six months in your neighbourhood also resulted in many good social memories. Not only were they full of colourful cultural experiences, the extensive night scene in your immediate surroundings always ensured for a fun and hyggeligt (cozy) night out with friends. Perhaps it was the first summer picnic in Nørrebroparken followed by beers and pool at Stefanshus that I remember best. Or maybe it was the mojitos at Apparatet or Oak room. Actually there was also the excellent dinner at Wascator, julefrokost at Ryesgade 19A, as well as my first danish conversation at the Copenhagen Green Drinks gathering at Ølbaren. I have not forgotten the live music concert at Rust Natklub, nor the strange people at Louises. Then there was Props, the unnamed cafe on Blågårdsagade where I tasted my first elderflower drink. Nevertheless, the night often ended at Saxons where one had to be careful not to poke someone in the eye or at the Rock Bar (some call it Gauss), where young danish boys were very friendly until they dared to ask my age. The best part was not so much the bars and clubs but instead, that I could easily get a tasty late night sharwarma, and that the journey back to you wobbling on my bicycle was not a long one. I always refused to live up to my "no balance" nickname and managed to get home safe and sound.

Putting organic side streets, cemeteries, ethnic diversity or night life aside, I think I just became accustomed to the sight of the ugly Fiat car dealership across the road or the car tires laying out in the sun down below. As for the shootings, I learned to deal with these tumultuous events with precautions. During my first oral danish exam learning to talk about my neighbourhood, I recounted to my teacher, 'Alt jeg har brug for er min skudsikkervest' or 'All I need is my bulletproof vest'.

So, dear fourth floor Nørrebro sanctuary, there you have it, a retrospective and only a few paragraphs and photos to describe why I already miss you so. Thank you for enclosing your walls around me on those rainy days and for opening the windows to let the sunrise in during the dark November winter mornings.