Copenhagen & Historical Drag Queens?

Copenhagen!

After a great week in Berlin, I hopped a cheap flight on Norwegian Air to Copenhagen. The airplane probably seated two-hundred people and only had thirty in it, so I had a full row to myself. After feeling like a high roller on my forty-five minute flight, I landed at the Copenhagen Airport and went to go buy a sandwich (as all high rollers do). I stood there for a few seconds trying to remember basic mathematics: 1 US dollar = 6 Danish Kroner. One sandwich = 54 kroner... hold up... 54 divided by 6....no, wait, too complicated. So I busted out my handy, semi-functional iPhone, and opened up the calculator....turns out 54 is totally divisible by 6. Who knew?? NINE DOLLARS for a turkey sandwich.

As I quickly discovered, Copenhagen is one of the most expensive places on the earth. It's quite unfortunate. You can't even get a latte for less than 36 kroner... that's $6 for those of you who struggle with your basic multiplication/division tables as much as I do. If y'all know anything about me, that is a HUGE problem. While Denmark does not have a nationally set minimum wage (something about negotiations between unions and employer associations), the average minimum turns out to be around 105 kroner per hour (around $17.50) and the relatively high wages are comparable to the cost of pretty much everything. Not so ideal for the unemployed —a category which I may or may not fall into *ahem*. I think a conversation I overheard outside of the Frederiksburg-Copenhagen Mall explains it all:

American girls outside the mall:

American #1: "...We can't go in there."

American #2: "Why?"

#1: "We'll end up buying things." 

#2: "Hey now...I almost landed a job or two."

...I feel ya girl, I feel ya. Turns out eastern European prices are much more akin to my unemployed-lifestyle.

Copenhagen Town Hall is officially dubbed
"Pride Hall" every year in August

Anyway, I survived the high prices. Yes, shockingly, I lived without lattes for a few days. My unfortunate week of crackers, apples, and instant coffee was totally worth it because Copenhagen was endlessly entertaining. Let me tell you why:

I went to Copenhagen during pride week; I'll let you decide for yourselves wether or not that was on purpose. It was awesome. The streets were lined with an incredible mix of couples, friends, and families. I'm talkin' lots of families. Loads of adorable little blue-eyed, blonde kids sat on the sidewalk waving their pride flags, eagerly awaiting each flamboyant segment of the parade. They clearly had no idea what was going on when the S&M section marched on by... their parents didn't so much as flinch— the whole thing was totally casual.

The ease with which the Danish gay community and the straight couples and their non-gaybies supported one another gives me huge hope in the future. The whole parade was a celebration, devoid of any feeling of "protest," perhaps because (unlike the current situation in the States...yeah, don't be confused, I'm totally getting political right now) Denmark is known for being incredibly progressive when it comes to gay rights, so there really is no need for protest at this point. Denmark was the first country in the world to legalize same-sex unions in 1989 and just this summer they finally legalized same-sex marriage. With an overwhelming 85-24 vote, Denmark became the 11th country to do so, joining Argentina, Belgium, Canada, Iceland, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, South Africa, Spain, and Sweden. A unique feature to the Danish law is that it includes marriages in the Church of Denmark — legal, gay, religious marriage—I know, wild concept. They are one of the most inclusive societies in the world when it comes to LGBT issues, but how do they fare on racial issues...? Not so ideal, but I'll give credit where credit is due.

Anyway, the floats were blaring the most incredible mix of music from Whitney's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" to Mariah's "All I Want for Christmas is You"...I seriously don't know what's up with these Europeans and their incessant need to start celebrating Christmas in the middle of the summer (I'll provide further evidence for this in the next post), but I don't hate it.

The parade ended at the massive town hall square (appropriately re-named "Pride Hall" every August), which was bursting with people, vendors, and live music. I removed myself from the fray and headed down some side streets until I reached a corner that was hosting a free, outdoor Danish jazz concert. Everyone was stumbling around with their flags and their Carlsberg beers, which incidentally is at least two times more expensive in Copenhagen (where it comes from) than anywhere else I've ever seen. All of the music was in Danish and I didn't understand a single word, but the local people were all singing along, dancing their little hearts out, and destroying their most-likely over-sized livers. It was beautiful.

Speakin' truth 

After a day of some good 'ol fashioned Danish culture, I figured I'd get my nerd on and head down to the re-enactment of the Battle of Copenhagen, which I was surprised to hear was a rather popular annual event among locals. After a couple of days of crackers and apples, I caved and walked into a hole-in-the-wall sandwich place to get something for dinner. I ordered some bizarre sandwich (the menu was in Danish so I just pointed at something) and they literally rolled out some dough and baked the bread to order. I was in awe of the man making my unidentifiable sandwich. There was some sort of meat and super fresh butter lettuce...no shredded iceberg in this place. DAMN. It lessened the blow of dishing out my 54 kroner.

Then, I took my surprisingly fresh and delicious sandwich to the harbor to watch the re-enactment of the battle. This re-enactment, paid for by the city each year (let me just emphasize —paid for by the city), takes a few liberties with the history of the battle scene. The ships were full of drag queens. Drag queens everywhere. And they were fabulous. And I'm going to pretend that drag queens played some crucial role in the 1801 Battle of Copenhagen because it's more fun that way. Clearly, this re-enactment was actually part of Pride Week, but I had no idea going into it, so it was actually a lovely surprise. Now, if only I could convince those old men who play confederates each year in the Civil War re-enactments to throw in a few drag queens....think they'd go for it?

That huddle of people at the front...?
Drag queens.

Sadly, the parade and the drag shenanigans eventually came to an end and I needed to find another way to distract myself from inflated sandwich prices. I had heard about Christiana, which is the "green light" district in the center of Copenhagen. Now, I'm usually a little behind on the different colored "light" districts. It was only a couple of years ago when I unknowingly stumbled into Amsterdam's "red light" district and finally figured out what that one meant. So, clearly, I had no clue what a "green light" district meant. For those of you who are as innocent and pure-hearted as myself, a "green-light" district is one where they just sell marijuana everywhere.

This "green light" district —the community of "Christiana" — cropped up in 1971 when a bunch of hippies decided that they would become squatters on an old piece of military property in the middle of Copenhagen, which I personally think is a hilarious choice of location. Apparently, no one seemed to notice that these people had largely taken over the area until their marijuana trade was in full force, and by that time, it had such support throughout Copenhagen, that their "illicit" activities have been largely ignored by the authorities ever since. The area is basically just an alternative, gated community and once you walk through the main entrance, you find yourself on "Pusher Street." I kid you not, "Pusher Street" is the name of the main drag running through Christiana where people sell marijuana alongside Pepsi and Twix in little kiosks and cafes. There are signs throughout the community forbidding photographs, and reminding visitors that it is still illegal to buy and sell hash and weed in Denmark. Unfortunately, I can't even find a good picture on Google for you—they're very strict on the photos and I was only able to snap a pic on my way out.

The Christiana community apparently has seceded
from the EU...got any ideas, Texas?

After a week of Pride, quasi-historical re-enactments, and "green light districts," it was time to head back to Germany. I decided to take the overnight bus because I figured I could save a night's hostel rate after my week of hellish prices, but I completely forgot that Copenhagen is sort of on an island, so my brilliant plan didn't work out one bit. I got absolutely no sleep that night. Our bus was freezing cold, we had to get off once the bus pulled into the ferry, then once we were off the ferry the crazy German police spent about 30 minutes checking all of our passports (they looked at mine for all of 20 seconds — one of the irrational perks of being a white, female, American tourist), and then literally called in the passport numbers of everyone else. They ended up deporting one of the guys on the bus and then some infant that I didn't even know was there began wailing for the rest of the trip. Then I arrived in Hamburg at 5:40am. Good plan, Lexi. Good plan.