Forelsket i København

Forelsket i København er titlen på en gammel dansk sang. Den handler om at være forelsket i en person i København.  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1glUyBcId0
Men for mig handler ordene om det, jeg er – forelsket i byen København og, må jeg indrømme, især i Vesterbro. Det måtte jeg igen konstatere for nylig - en smuk sensommerdag, som meteorologerne havde varslet som årets sidste sommerdag. Nu skal man ikke tro på alt nyt fra de danske meteorologer. Men denne dag blev smuk – omend heldigvis ikke den sidste!

Af forskellige årsager havde jeg ærinder både i og udenfor København den dag. Ja, faktisk var jeg på gaden tidligere end jeg plejer. Af hensyn til den arbejdende del af befolkningen vil jeg helst ikke røbe tidspunktet, for selv om det for mig føltes tidligt, var der allerede fuld tryk på byen. Solen varmede og jeg sugede alle indtryk til mig. Ved Matthæuskirken var nogle unge mennesker ved at opsætte en pavillon – den var væk, da jeg igen kom forbi sent på eftermiddagen, men efter deres glade ansigter at dømme, skulle der ske noget festligt.
 

Og så gik det med ét op for mig, hvad der var det helt særlige ved byen den dag – ALLE københavnere var i glade og i godt humør. Inge sure miner. En kollektiv beslutning om at gøre dagen til en ganske særlig dag. De skolebørn jeg passerede ved Tove Ditlevsens skole gik rundt i smågrupper med deres opgaveark og mobiltelefoner – og smilede. Jeg mærkede, at jeg selv smilte og følte en brusende glæde i hele kroppen.

Jeg flytter aldrig herfra, tænkte jeg, mens jeg samtidig så og hørte alt det, som også hører storbyen til, snavs, affald, evindelig støj fra vejarbejde og nedrivningen af en stor bygning, osv.

Senere på dagen var jeg i Lyngby og sad lidt tid og nød stilheden ved den gamle mølle ved søen – mens en and padlede rundt med bagdelen i vejret for at få det bedste af, hvad den må mene er særligt lækkert nede i det plumrede vand. Det var smukt, fredeligt og meditativt.

Men vel tilbage i København gik jeg gennem Enghaveparken og også her var smukt og fredeligt, med folk der lå og sugede varmen fra meteorologernes sidste sommerdag til sig – og de så stadig glade ud.

Nå, det forheksede København viste alligevel også sine andre sider. Da jeg sent på eftermiddagen foretog de sidste indkøb, var københavnerne blevet trætte af at være så glade og tilfredse. Surheden kom frem i supermarkedernes kassekøer mv. Også jeg mærkede en snert af trenden – og skyndte mig hjem og nød resterne af den smukke dag sammen med Denis ude på vores altan.

At Vesterbro faktisk er særlig, har jeg netop fået bekræftet gennem Lonely Planet, som nu udnævner Vesterbro til at være blandt “the 10 coolest neighbourhoods in the world”

http://nordic.businessinsider.com/vesterbro-among-the-coolest-neighbourhoods-in-the-world-2017-9   

In love with Copenhagen

In love in Copenhagen is the title of an old Danish song. It's about being in love with someone in Copenhagen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1glUyBcId0
But for me the words are about what I am - in love with the city of Copenhagen and, I must admit, especially in Vesterbro. I had this confirmed again recently - a beautiful late summer day, which the Meteorologists had pronounced as the last summer day of the year. Now you should not believe in everything the Danish meteorologists say. But this day turned out beautiful - and fortunately not the last!

For different reasons, I had errands both in and outside Copenhagen that day. Yes, actually, I was out on the street earlier than usual. With regards for the working part of the population, I would rather not reveal the exact time because, although it felt early for me, the city was already in full swing. The sun was warm and I absorbed all the impressions. At the Matthæus church, some young people erecting a pavilion - it was gone, when I came past late in the afternoon, but judging by their happy faces, something festive was going to occur.

And then it occurred to me, what was very special about the city that day - ALL the Copenhageners were happy and in a good mood. No grumpy attitudes. A collective decision to make the day a very special day. The schoolchildren I passed at Tove Ditlevsen's school (Tove Ditlevsen was a Danish author born in Vesterbro) went around in small groups with their worksheets and mobile phones - and smiled. I noticed that I myself smiled and felt a cheerful happiness throughout my body. I will never move away from here I thought, while seeing and hearing everything that also belonged to the city, dirt, rubbish, constant noise from road work and the demolition of a large building, etc.

Later in the day I was in Lyngby (a suburb of Copenhagen), and spent some time enjoying the silence of the old mill at the lake - while an duck paddled around with its rump in the air, trying to find the best of what it's considered to be especially delicious in the muddy water. It was beautiful, peaceful and meditative. But safely back in Copenhagen, I passed through the Enghave Park and here, too, was beautiful and peaceful, with people who were absorbing the heat from the Meteorologists last summer day - and they still looked happy and content.

Well, the enchanted Copenhagen could still show its other side. When, late in the afternoon I made the last purchases, the Copenhageners had become tired of being so happy and satisfied. Grumpiness appeared in the supermarket's queues, etc. I also felt a touch of this tendency - and hurried home and enjoyed the remains of the beautiful day together with Denis on our balcony.

That Vesterbro is actually something special, I have just had this confirmed through Lonely Planet, which now nominates Vesterbro to be among “the 10 coolest-neighbourhoods in the world” 
http://nordic.businessinsider.com/vesterbro-among-the-coolest-neighbourhoods-in-the-world-2017-9

Altaner på Vesterbro

 

 

Ulf sidder der stadig, udenfor Monnis butik. Det er sommer og han er blevet brun. Men noget nyt er sket – han har fået altaner over sig. Bygningen bag ham har fået 6 altaner, som vender ud mod Istedgade. Jeg vil mene, at det klæder den lidt kedelige bygning, men ind imellem har det virket lidt halvfarligt med så stort et projekt midt i folkelivet på Istedgade. Ulf fik da også stoppet byggeriet en dag, hvor han og forbipasserende risikerede at få mursten og andet byggemateriale i hovedet, fordi afskærmningen var lidt for lemfældig.

“Det der er for farligt og dårligt afskærmet”, sagde Ulf.

“Det er vist godt nok”, lød svaret fra en lidt brysk udseende arbejdsmand.

Men Ulf holdt fast i sit, så ved nærmere eftertanke og efter en dags tid, hvor arbejdet lå stille, var afskærmningen forbedret, hvorefter folk igen kunne forbipassere uden fare for nedfaldne effekter og Ulf få sin formiddagsbajer i forholdsvis fred og ro – hvis man da kan tale om fred og ro på Istedgade, men igen, det har han vist også rigeligt af ovre på plejehjemmet.

 

 

 

Nå, men det er i virkeligheden altanbølgen på Vesterbro, jeg ville fortælle om. ALLE vil have altaner og de sidste 10 år har enhver andels- og ejerforening med respekt for sig selv fået altaner til gårdsiderne. Nu er de så også, efter at Københavns kommune er begyndt at lempe på reglerne, begyndt at dukke op på facaderne ud mod gadesiden. Alt dette har udviklet en reel altan-industri. Containere fra det ene altan-firma efter det andet fylder gader og stræder og deraf afledte butikker, med alt til altanen hørende, møbler, planter, parasoller osv. osv. popper op flere steder i byen og på nettet. 

 

Selv fik vi, ved bl.a. Denis energiske indsats, altan for 7 år siden og er utrolig glade for den ekstra livskvalitet, den rent faktisk giver os. Der er mere lys i lejligheden, vi benytter den, alt efter vejr og vindforhold, på alle tidspunkter af dagen. Om vinteren fodrer vi småfuglene og når foråret pibler frem er vi som små børn, når vi planlægger den kommende sommers beplantning. Selv et lille fuglehus er det blevet til. Det blev besigtiget af en musvit kort efter ophængning, af uransagelige grunde forkastet, men vi giver den yderligere en chance til næste forår – musvitten.

På den anden side, det skorter ikke på besøg af fugle og andre dyrearter, såsom et egern i birketræet ved siden af altanen.

 

Ja, vi kommer mindre i gården nu, og indrømmet, vi savner ikke den nøje planlægning der skulle til, når vi ville spise i gården. Det var altid lidt af en diskussion om, hvem der havde glemt proptrækkeren og hvem der skulle op og ned ad alle trapperne til 4. sal og hente den. Men der er heldigvis stadig liv i gården – kan vi høre. Beboere fra stueetagerne nyder livet i gården sammen med børnefamilierne og beboere, som holder familie- og vennefester, som trods alt kræver mere plads end en altan kan give.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Og man skulle ikke tro det, men vores altan er også blevet lidt af en redningstjeneste!! To større ildebrande har vi forhindret ved i tide at advisere brandvæsenet. En, i en container udenfor fritidshjemmet og en, i en lejlighed overfor, hvor det pludselig væltede ud med røg fra et vindue i 3. sals højde.  Ja, selv en ældre mand på Ulfs plejehjem overfor, som var faldet ud af sin kørestol og lå og råbte om hjælp, fik vi reddet - godt det var sommer og hans vinduer stod åbne.

 

Ja der er liv på altanerne! Det meste af tiden er her dog så fredeligt at vi kan nyde vores rødvin i så megen ro og fred som et hektisk pulserende byliv tillader – og i dette positive øjeblik fortrænger jeg ganske, at vi har to daginstituionslegepladser lige nedenfor vores altan, hvilket i sig selv også giver mange sjove og interessante oplevelser...

Balconies on Vesterbro

Ulf still sits outside Monnis shop. It is summer and he has got a nice tan. But something new has happened - he has got balconies over him. The building behind him has got 6 balconies that face Istedgade. I think that they enhance the not very interesting building, but sometimes it seemed a bit dangerous with such a large building project in the middle of the daily life on Istedgade. Ulf was instrumental in stopping the project one day, when he and passers-by risked being hit by falling bricks and other building material, because the building site fence was not very effective.

"It's too dangerous and badly protected," said Ulf.

"I think it's good enough," was the answer from a grumpy worker.

But Ulf stood fast, and after careful consideration and one day when the work stood still, the protective fence was improved, after which people could pass by without risk of being hit by falling effects, and Ulf could enjoy his morning beer in comparatively peace and quiet - if you can talk about peace and quiet on Istedgade, but again, he has probably plenty of that in his nursing home.

 

Well, in fact it is really the "balcony wave" of Vesterbro, I wanted to tell you about. EVERYONE wants balconies and for the last 10 years, each housing cooperative and owner association with respect for itself has put up balconies on the courtyard side of their property. Now, after the city of Copenhagen has relaxed the building regulations, balconies are beginning to appear on facades facing the street. All this has lead to the development of a real balcony industry. Containers from one balcony construction company after the other, fill the streets and alleys and as a result secondary shops, with all the accessories to the balconies, such as furniture, plants, umbrellas etc etc. pop up all over the city and on the internet.

 

Even we, thanks to Denis´ energetic efforts, got a balcony 7 years ago, and are incredibly happy about the extra quality of life it actually gives us. There is more light in the apartment, and we use it, depending on the weather and wind conditions, at all times of the day. In the winter we feed small birds and when the spring approaches, we are like small children, when we plan the next summer's plants. We have even put up a small birdhouse. It was inspected by a great tit shortly after we put it up, but for some inexplicable reason it was rejected, but we will give it another chance next spring - the great tit. On the other hand, there is almost no limit to the number of birds and other animals which visit us, such as a squirrel in the top of the birch tree next to the balcony.

 

Yes, we frequent our courtyard less now, and admittedly we do not miss the careful planning, when we wanted to enjoy a meal in the courtyard. It was always a bit of a discussion about who had forgotten the corkscrew and who had to go up and down all the stairs to the 4th floor and get it. But fortunately, there is still life in the courtyard - can we hear. Residents from the ground floor enjoy life in the courtyard together with the families with children and other residents who hold parties for family and friends, which require more space than a balcony can provide.

 

And believe it or not, but our balcony has also become a bit of a rescue service!! We have prevented two major fires by ringing to the fire department in time. One in a container outside the daycare institution and one in an apartment across the road, where suddenly we saw smoke coming from a 3rd floor window. Yes, we even saved an elderly man in Ulf's nursing home, who had fallen out of his wheelchair and lay shouting for help, - fortunately it was summer and his windows were open.

 

Yes there is life on the balconies! Most of the time, however, it is so peaceful that we can enjoy our red wine in as much peace and quiet as a hectic vibrant city life allows - and in this positive moment, I completely disregard the fact that we have two day-care playgrounds just below our balcony, which in itself  provides many funny and interesting observations ...

“Aksam sefasi – Evening pleasure”

 De tyrkiske klubber for mænd i Danmark har gennem årene haft mange forskellige formål og agendaer, det være sig klubber med alt fra almindeligt samvær med vemodig snak om hjemlandet samt generel rådgivning om udfordringerne i det nye land, til klubber af mere politisk eller religiøs observans. Personligt har jeg, tidligere i mit liv, kendt til et par klubber, herunder en, hvor ældre tyrkiske mænd, velfortjent pensionerede efter et langt slidsomt arbejdsliv på danske fabrikker, sad og læste de tyrkiske aviser grundigt og drøftede indholdet lige så grundigt, og en hvor jeg, til mit studie, interviewede de dengang benævnte fremmedarbejdere (husk min alder) om, hvordan det var at “være i Danmark”. Mange år senere, blev en af de interviewede, Mahmut Erdem, i øvrigt helt tilfældigt min chef, da jeg fik arbejde i Indvandrernes Dag- og Aftenskole. 

I dag har jeg blot kendskab til to klubber her på Vesterbro. Dvs. den ene er, efter mange år på Istedgade, nu lukket og slukket og stedet overtaget af en spansk tapas restaurant. På Sønder Boulevard findes dog stadig en enkelt tyrkisk klub, som holder stand. Når den lukker, og det gør den givet, har jeg et særligt minde.

 

 

Denis og jeg har ofte overfor mændene, når de sidder på trappestenen udenfor klubben, beundret denne plante, som kommer igen år efter år, selvom vi ofte har troet, at netop i år kom den ikke. Ingen tegn at se! Men pludselig, se bare, så dukker den igen op af jorden, f..... tager ved den og den vokser sig stor, prangende og livsstolt med alle sine blomster, som først viser sig fuldt udfoldet ved aftentide (heraf navnet Aksam sefasi - Evening pleasure).

 

 

 

En dag, hvor vi igen højlydt beundrede planten, bad en af mændene os vente, mens han tog 4-5 små frø fra en af de afblomstrede blomsterstande, mens han samtidig forklarede os, at dem skulle vi næste forår putte i en potte med jord og så ellers afvente. Det gjorde vi – og planterne kom, godt nok langt fra så store og prangende som dem udenfor klubben – men vent bare til næste år....

 

 

NB! Hvis man vil vide mere om kurdiske/tyrkiske indvandreres liv i Tyrkiet og Danmark kan "Folket med de trætte okser", af Mahmut Erdem og Ole Hammer anbefales.

 

 

"Aksam sefasi - Evening pleasure"

The clubs for Turkish men in Denmark have had many different purposes and agendas over the years, being clubs with everything from regular gatherings with sentimental chat about their country of origin and an exchange of general advice on the challenges of the new country, to clubs of more political or religious focus. Personally, in my life, I have known a few of these clubs, including one where older Turkish men, enjoying a well deserved retirement after a long laborious life at Danish factories, sat and read the Turkish newspapers thoroughly and discussed the contents just as thoroughly and another one where I, as part of my studies, interviewed the "foreign workers" (remember my age) about what it was like to "be in Denmark". Many years later, one of the interviewees, Mahmut Erdem, became, by chance, my boss, when I got work in The Immigrants' Day and Evening School.

Today I only know about two clubs here on Vesterbro. The one is, though, after many years on Istedgade, now closed and the place taken over by a Spanish tapas restaurant. On Sønder Boulevard, however, there is still a single Turkish club that remains. When it closes, and it surely will one day, I have a special memory of it.

Denis and I have often expressed our admiration of this plant with the men who sit on the stone steps outside the club. It flourishes year after year, although we have often thought that this year it would not come again. No sign of it at all! But suddenly, just look, it pops up again, goes crazy and grows big, flashy and vibrant with all its flowers, which are first fully open in the evening time (hence the name Aksam sefasi - Evening pleasure).

One day, when we yet again stood and admired the plant, one of the men asked us to wait while he took 4-5 small seeds from one of the withered flowers, while at the same time explaining, that we should put these in a pot of soil next spring and wait. We did this - and the plants came, not nearly as big and flashy as those outside the club - but just wait for next year....

Isted Grill

Dengang mr. Lee fyldte 60, holdt hipsterne en stor gadefest for ham. Godt nok betroede mr. Lee mig senere, at han faktisk blev 61 år, men den detalje var jo ingen grund til at ødelægge en god fest.

Jeg er kommet i Isted Grill, siden jeg flyttede til Vesterbro – faktisk har mr. og mrs. Lee gennem årene reddet en del af mine aftensmåltider efter lange arbejdsdage med sene møder.

Nu er det jo ikke sådan, at mr. og mrs. Lee kun er leveringsdygtige i asiatiske retter og grillmad, nej hos dem kan man også få adresser til dygtige akupunktører. Ligesom vi har til gode at teste en særlig vietnamesisk restaurant på Vesterbrogade, hvor mr. og mrs. Lee sad ved vinduespartiet og ivrigt vinkede til os over deres egen aftensmad, da vi tilfældigt kom forbi.

For nylig, en tidlig aften, mødte vi mrs. Lee på Skydebanens legeplads, hvor hun sad og nød en stille kop kaffe, inden det gik løs med en lang aften/nat i grillen. På vej hjem mindedes vi et andet møde med mrs. Lee. Det var dagen for den årlige sommerfest i vores gade – pludselig så vi mrs. Lee komme gående mod os. Et opklarende lys bredte sig over hendes ansigt, mens hun overrasket udbrød: “Nåh sådan!” Nej, Isted Grill havde ikke mistet en kunde, men i stedet fået endnu en - for efter Denis og jeg flyttede sammen, er det som regel ham, der henter maden i Isted Grill. Så at se os to sammen, satte tingene på rette plads for mrs. Lee.

Når mr. og mrs. Lee går på pension, og det varer måske ikke så længe, for papskiltet i døren med “Lukket” dukker tiere og tiere op og angiver længere og længere fraværsperioder, når datteren i USA eller familien på Taiwan skal besøges. Og når de stopper for alvor, får vi nok endnu en ny cafe på Istedgade.

Dagens tip! Mr. Lee laver verdens bedste flæskestegssandwich iflg. The Guardian:

https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2015/may/03/isted-grill-copenhagen-roast-pork-sandwich

Isted Grill

When Mr. Lee celebrated his 60th birthday, Vesterbro's hipsters held a big street party for him. Mr. Lee confided in me later, that he actually was 61, but that small detail was no reason to spoil a good party.

I have frequented the Isted Grill since I moved to Vesterbro - in fact, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, over the years, have made quite a few of my evening meals after long working days with late meetings.

Mr. And Mrs. Lee are not alone suppliers of Asian dishes and barbecued chicken and pork sandwiches, they can also give you addresses to skilled acupuncturists, just as we haven't yet tried out a particular Vietnamese restaurant on Vesterbrogade, where we once saw mr. and mrs. Lee seated in the window, eagerly waving to us over their own dinner, when we by chance came by.

Recently, early in the evening, we met mrs. Lee in the Shooting Range playground, where she sat and enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee before starting a long evening/night's work in the grill bar. On our way home, we recalled another meeting with mrs. Lee. It was the day of the annual summer party in our street - suddenly we saw Mrs. Lee's coming towards us. A clear light broke across her face while she surprised exclaimed, "Well, that's how it is!" No, Isted Grill had not lost a customer, but instead had got an extra one - after Denis and I moved together, it is usually him, who collects our "take-away" in the Isted Grill. Seeing us together, sorted things out for mrs Lee.

When mr. and mrs. Lee retire, and it may not be in the so distant future, for the cardboard sign in the door with the handwritten "Closed" pops up more and more often and indicates longer and longer periods, while they visit their daughter in the U.S.A. or their family in Taiwan. And when they finally stop, we'll probably get yet another cafe on Istedgade.

Today's tip! Mr. Lee makes the world's best pork sandwich according to The Guardian:

https://www.theguardian.com/travel/2015/may/03/isted-grill-copenhagen-roast-pork-sandwich

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Min tyrkiske grønthandler

For et par år siden forsvandt han, uden jeg bemærkede det og blev erstattet af endnu en af de restauranter og cafeer, som langsomt overtager Istedgade. Ikke at jeg beklager restauranterne og cafeerne - jeg ærgrer mig nok mest over, at han sådan pludselig bare var væk. Han og hans butik hørte til i gadebilledet, havde til huse i en af gamle, smukke klassiske bygninger, Istedgaarden, midt på Istedgade.

 

 

 

Han var der, da jeg flyttede til Vesterbro og jeg kom der flere gange ugentlig. Så begyndte jeg at få bragt økologisk grønt og frugt til døren og jeg kom der mindre og mindre. De seneste år var mine indkøb hos ham hovedsageligt samosa, oliven og humus – og til sidst nok kun en liter mælk i ny og næ, når jeg lige stod og manglede. Så ja, det var måske nok mig og ligesindede, der var medvirkende årsag til, at han lukkede. Mest håber jeg, det var fordi, han valgte at gå på velfortjent pension.

 

 

 

Mit bedste minde med min tyrkiske grønthandler var følgende ordveksling – en ældre tyrker foran mig pegede på en melon og spurgte:

“Ne kadar?”

“Yirmi kr.”

“Ah, on bes kr.”

“Tamam”,

hvorpå jeg brød ind: “Kan jeg også få den til den pris?”

Der blev stille i butikken, overraskelsen i min grønthandlers ansigt var frydefuld at iagttage. “Du kan tyrkisk”, udbrød han. “Ah”, svarede jeg “ikke meget, men det forstod jeg”. Efter den episode havde jeg en særlig status, altid var han lidt forsigtig, i tvivl om, hvor meget tyrkisk jeg egentlig kunne, men også tydeligt steget i graderne, netop fordi jeg kunne sproget.

My Turkish greengrocer

A couple of years ago, he disappeared without me noticing it and was replaced by another of the many restaurants and cafés that are slowly taking over Istedgade. Not that I have anything against the restaurants and the cafés - I'm mostly annoyed that he just suddenly left. He and his shop belonged to the street scene, housed in one of the beautiful old classical buildings, Istedgaarden, in the middle of Istedgade.

 

 

He was there when I moved to Vesterbro and I came there several times a week. Then I began to buy organic vegetables and fruit, brought to the door and I came there less and less. In recent years, my purchases with him were mainly samosa, olives and humus - and finally only a liter of milk now and then, when I had run out. So yes, maybe it was me and my kind, that was the reason he closed. I hope though, it was because he chose to go on a well-deserved retirement.

 

 

 

My best memory with my Turkish greengrocer was the following word exchange - an older turk in front of me in the queue, pointed to a melon and asked:

"Ne kadar?"

"Yirmi kr."

"Ah, on bes kr."

"Tamam",

on which I broke in, "Can I also buy it for that price?"

There was suddenly silent in the shop, the surprise in my greengrocer's face was delightful to observe. "You understand Turkish," he exclaimed. "Well" I replied "not much, but that I understood." After that episode, I had a special status, he was always a little cautious, in doubt how much Turkish I really could, but I clearly acquired a special position, because I could speak the language.

                              

Skydebanemuren

Jeg ser den hver dag, og jeg ser den ikke. Den er hverdag.
Men når turister stopper op med forundring og begejstring malet i ansigterne og kameraerne bliver hevet frem, når turguiden udpeger den for grupper af turister – og, nok især som netop nu, når jeg gennem porten kan ane de lyserøde kirsebærtræer blomstre, så ser jeg den – rigtig ser den, så er den ikke længere hverdag.

Skydebanemuren.... Jeg krydser Istedgade, går gennem den lille port og ind i den anden verden. Engang var den skydebane for de kongelige og deres venner. De skød efter “papegøjer” på en pind, så kuglerne piftede vildt omkring. Ja, så vildt, at Istedgade ikke kunne passeres på denne strækning. Så blev muren bygget, der var dog grænser for, hvor mange borgere, man kunne tåle, skulle lade livet for en kongelig kugle i 1900’tallet. Derfor opførte man i 1887 den 20 meter høje borglignende mur.

 

I dag har de kongelige og det bedre borgerskab for længst forladt skydebanerne og området har siden 1950’erne været lokal park for bydelens beboere. Når jeg træder gennem porten, kommer jeg først ind på legepladsen fyldt med legende børn, pædagoger og forældre. En kaffevogn har fundet sin plads og bliver flittigt besøgt.

 

Jeg går videre og kommer forbi “stilleområdet”, hvor de unge ligger og nyder solen, så man ville ønske man igen var ung, mens andre sidder på bænkene og nyder blomsterbedene. Men alt det fortjener i sig selv flere ord, så det tager vi en anden dag.

The shooting range wall

I see it every day and I do not see it. It is an every day event.
But when tourists stop to wonder, with excitement on their faces and the cameras are pulled out, when the tour guide identifies it for the groups of tourists - and, more especially just now, when, through the gate, I can glimpse the pink cherry trees in bloom, then I see it - really see it, and it is no longer an everyday event.
Skydebanewall .... I cross Istedgade, go through the small gate and into the other world. It was once the shooting range for royalty and their friends. They shot at painted "parrots" on a pole, so the bullets whistled around wildly. Yes, so wildly that Istedgade could not be passed on this stretch. So the wall was built, there was a after all a limit to how many people you could allow to be killed by a royal bullet in the 19th century. Therefore, in 1887, they built the 20 meter high castle-like wall.
Today, the royalty and the bourgeoisie have long since left the shooting range and the area has, since the 1950’s, become a local park for the neighborhood's residents. When I step through the gate, I come first into a playground filled with children, teachers and parents. A mobile coffee shop has found its place and is frequently visited. I continue on and pass the "quiet area" where the young people are enjoying the sun, so one wishes one was young again, while others sit on the park benches and enjoy the flowerbeds. But all that deserves a longer description, so we will take that another day.