Liv og hverdag på Vesterbro

Distortion på Vesterbro

“Nå, ikke noget om Distortion på bloggen?”, sms’ede min datter Ann.

“Har faktisk tænkt på det, men det skal jo helst ikke blive for surt”, sms’ede jeg retur og tænkte på noget, jeg havde læst et par timer tidligere i dagens avis. En ung mand fik spørgsmålet “Hvilke mennesker fascinerer dig i byen?”, hvortil han svarede: “Det gør gamle mennesker... Enten er de vildt søde, eller også er de eddikesure”.

Og ja, hvis jeg skal vælge, vil jeg da helst være det der “vildt søde” gamle menneske.

Så da min datter fortsatte sin sms-række: “...og egentlig er det jo fantastisk at 85.000 mennesker kan være så glade og ha’ en fest sammen uden ballade”, tænkte jeg: “hun har jo ret, det er jo fantastisk”. Selvfølgelig skal bydelens største fest have et par ord med på vejen, set fra en 68’årig, som gemte sig oppe i sin 4. sals lejlighed.

Denis og jeg plejer at tage ud af byen på Distortion-dagen og overlade lejligheden og bydelen til mit barnebarn Nicolaj og alle de andre tusinder af unge mennesker. Men i år var vi hjemme og vidste det kunne blive en, for os, temmelig støjplaget eftermiddag og aften. Så vi så på hinanden og blev enige om at forkæle os med noget god mad og en flaske vin. Den flaske blev åbnet, da de første lydprøver satte ind tidligt på eftermiddagen og den blev drukket – ikke en dråbe var tilbage, da “musikken”, mirakuløst og efter planen, ophørte på slaget 22.00.

 

Eftermiddagen og aftenen igennem var gaderne var fulde af glade, feststemte mennesker og fra vores altan og vinduer så vi ikke et eneste optræk til ubehageligheder eller slagsmål. Vi fik besøg af mit yngste barnebarn Sofie. Hun og veninderne skulle tisse og så stod der pludselig fire smukke 20-årige piger i vores lejlighed og fortalte, at en dame nede på gaden havde sagt, at hvis de manglede et sted at tisse, så kunne de bare komme ind til hende. Dagen efter fandt vi ud af, at den søde dame er en af de meget aktive beboere i vores andelsboligforening – og tak til dig, Frederikke, for at tilbyde ungmøer i nød, hjælp i en situation, hvor der bestemt ikke var nok opsatte toiletter til 85.000 mennesker, hvis det overhovedet kan lade sig gøre.

Og det er så her, det, om end ikke ligefrem eddikesure, men måske i stedet “pisse-sure” gamle menneske alligevel titter frem. Der blev tisset overalt og det stank i hele bydelen dagen efter. Det værste var de mange, mange unge, som klatrede over hegnet ind til børnehavens legeplads for at tisse (og forsørge). Legepladsen ligger lige under vores altan, så der var frit udsyn, men umuligt at råbe dem op både pga musikken og fuldskaben (deres). Vi kan godt forstå, der ikke var børn på legepladsen i dag. Selv ud på eftermiddagen var de ”bedste” tissesteder stadig ikke tørret ind.

Men hov, jeg kom jo væk fra det positive, at “...egentlig er det jo fantastisk at 85.000 mennesker kan være så glade og ha’ en fest sammen uden ballade”. Hun har ret, Ann, og i dag cyklede Denis og jeg ud i Valbyparken, satte os på en bænk, nød stilheden og fem små ællinger og tænkte over netop det.

 

 

 

 

 

Distortion at Vesterbro

Copenhagen Distortion is a mobile street party festival lasting 3 days in 3 different Copenhagen districts. An estimated 100.000, mainly younger, guests take part in the music festival.

 

"Well then, nothing about Distortion on your blog?" asked my daughter Ann in a text message.

"Actually I had thought about it, but it preferably shouldn't be too negative" I texted back and thought of something I had read a couple of hours earlier in the day's newspaper. A young man was asked:  "What kind of people fascinate you in the city?" To which he replied: "Old people do... either they are really sweet or they are as sour as vinegar" (Danish expression).

And yes, if I should choose, I would rather be the "really sweet" old person.

So when my daughter continued her text messages: "... and really it's fantastic that 85,000 people can party together and be so happy without any rows," I thought, "she's right, that's amazing.” Of course, the city's biggest party should have some words from a 68-year-old, who was in hiding in her 4th floor apartment.

 

Denis and I usually leave the city on Distortion Day and leave the apartment and the township to my grandson Nicolaj and all the other thousands of young people. But this year we were at home and knew it could be, for us, quite a noisy afternoon and evening. So we looked at each other and agreed to spoil ourselves with some good food and a bottle of wine. The bottle was opened when the first sound rehearsals started early in the afternoon and it was emptied - not a drop was left when the "music", miraculously and according to plan, stopped at 22:00.

 

In the afternoon and evening the streets were full of happy, partying people and from our balcony and windows we did not see a single sign of disagreements or fights. We were visited by my youngest grandchild Sofie. She and her girlfriends had to pee and suddenly there were four beautiful 20 year old girls in our apartment and told us, that a lady down the street had said, that if they needed a place to pee, they could just come in to her flat. The next day we found out, that the sweet lady is one of the very active residents of our housing association - and thank you Frederikke, for offering these young damsels in distress help in a situation, where there were certainly not enough toilets for 85,000 people, if that was at all possible.

 

And this is the situation, where if not the "vinegar sour", but perhaps the "piss sour" (another Danish expression) old person shows it's face. There was peed everywhere and the whole city stank the following day. The worst were the many, many young people, who climbed across the fence into the children's playground to pee (and that which was worse). The playground is just below our balcony, so there was a free view, but it was impossible to say anything to them, both because of the music and the amount of Carlsberg they had consumed. We could understand, that there were no children in the playground today. Even in the afternoon, the "best" peeing corners had still not dried up.

 

But, oops, I have come away from the positive that "... it's fantastic that 85,000 people can party together and be so happy without any rows". She is right, Ann, and today Denis and I biked out into a park, sat down on a bench, enjoying the silence and five little ducklings, thinking about that.