In the city of the Little Mermaid, Danes go for a walk with the family, Port happy girls with their hair disheveled blonde bicycle pace and provide young people with their pitchers of beer without losing that smile so white, as Nordic.
In the city of the Little Mermaid, the walls are freshly painted and handle traffic lights without outbursts, without a single voice raised in red, unhurried. The open umbrella with resignation, Museums house the evening of the most curious and Tivoli Park entertains small.
In the city of the Little Mermaid, stress calm sea in southern Europe, restaurants are decorated with tips and the streets are filled with "good morning" and "thank you very much". The order is the path to happiness design, unpolluted, as civic scary walking quietly, will not disturb the peace of Europe as educadísimos.
The order is the path to happiness design, unpolluted, as civic scary walking quietly.
But to ignore the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen there is a place that feeds most formidable chaos Scandinavia. Is the neighborhood of Christiania, order evasion, the ghetto rebels. We ventured to cross the wooden door announcing the place like someone announces a train trip Witch.
The spirit of the 60s′ helped lift the utopia of Christiania. A hippie world, no sirens stronghold stone, religion without tangling the corners music, with rainbow painted and dreams shut in the city unless the continent Bohemian. There were grown men and their beards ideals and love marriages and free credit card. I've always identified with the hippie movement an altar to joy-more or less naive- to live without restraints.
The society is based in this location rebels against the world, without admitting that you no longer know how to rebuild their world of broken dreams.
But when we arrived we had exhausted that joy. In Christiania is just nostalgia for that illusion. The small company that is based in this location rebels against the world, a mala leche, without admitting that they do not know how to rebuild their world of broken dreams. Youth come with a curious foreign, with the curiosity of someone who knows that you are passing, Like us, Like all its streets visiting chipped. True Chirstiania tenants are very old and to start from scratch. Fugitives are known from this period and the joints are unreal pleasure. Some men smiled proud to wave your hair with fifties, defying the naysayers who never believed in that ideal, con un “Life is good in Christiania”. Another man who had assured us 35 years at the home jilted. I also saw some women toiling to clean a home of wood with a future board. But the truth is that we find no trace of Imagine the John Lennon.
Maybe so cling to what others do not see, great alternative to that one day they invented.
The murals are blurred, some hung wander among the stalls of handicrafts, with signs reading "no hard drugs", but there, intuit, life can be too hard without drugs, for those who need to keep feeding her fantasy.
Then I repented of judgment, perhaps premature, no more arguments than decadent aesthetics and an unrelenting sadness in their eyes. Maybe so cling to what others do not see, great alternative to that one day they invented. Maybe that story has a happy ending.
Cuando alejamos in Christiania, we saw that the Copenhagen restaurants were full, rubísimas the girls bike rode with panache, that tourists were smiling in the boats of the Baltic Sea and I even thought I heard that the Little Mermaid bronze sarcastically claimed that there was Christiania.
