Pusher Street in Copenhagen, Denmark

I didn’t inhale!

I had just gotten off the train in Copenhagen, Denmark from Stockholm, Sweden. Laden with a full backpack and a full bladder, I started walking. I didn’t know the public transit system, so I decided to walk what turned out to be a few miles, which was a painfully long distance since my bladder felt like it was going to burst.

I finally spotted a hostel. I had already booked and paid for an Airbnb so I did not need a bed at the hostel but I did desperately need a bathroom. The host was friendly and helpful and I made it to the restroom before exploding. 

I was also badly in need of food and knew a hostel host would be able to help me find a good place to eat. This is the post I wrote at the end of my first day in Copenhagen in May of 2015:

What was he thinking?

Posted on May 11, 2015

I am not sure if I looked like a Hippie to him.  My hair was probably disheveled.  I had the serious backpack on my back. I had just walked a good distance. He was a host checking people in at a hostel I came upon as I was trying to decide where to eat.  I had not eaten since 8 am and by that time it was about 4:30 pm. I don’t like to eat at a place unless someone has recommended it. I said I was looking for a place to eat that was not primarily for tourists. He was very upbeat and quick-witted, something I enjoy, although my wit has slowed down some (hopefully not by half). I had first asked him if the coffee shop I heard about had a nearby location. He found one, in a very cosmopolitan part of town.  It was too far in the wrong direction, and I was looking for a meal. Whatever conclusions he had drawn about me, he recommended a place where I could get a variety of options, vegetarian if I wanted or meat items if that is what I preferred. The food options sounded good and he seemed enthusiastic about it. I did catch a quick passing mention of the word “Hippie” in the course of what he said.  I assumed that there was a 60’s theme at the restaurant there.  

It was a long walk, during which the Hippie reference remained in the back of my mind. I was just looking for a place where I could sit for a while and enjoy a simple meal.  When finally I arrived at the area to which he had directed me, there was a dirt path that led into a grubby woods filled with ramshackle booths, many painted with psychedelic colors and patterns from the 60’s. There were all sorts of really disheveled looking folks walking and lurking. I had taken a couple of pictures on the way in – gratefully of objects and not of people. 

I walked farther in hoping to find my way to the restaurant I thought I would find. He had said it was toward the opposite side from the entrance.  

It was then that the reality of where I was settled in with absolute clarity.  The handwritten sign said in large letters, NO PICTURES, HASH IS STILL NOT LEGAL.  I saw that one of the people had his face covered with a black ski mask, I am confident not for religious reasons. Some of the booths had long fringe hanging almost to the ground so no one inside could be seen. There was an odd smelling haze hanging in the air. I took one path up a hill hoping it was a way out, but instead there were people sitting everywhere with thick, dark, misshapen cigarettes in their mouths.  

I decided I wasn’t so hungry after all.  There were dirt paths spidering through the booths and trees.  I was not sure I could find my way back out.  I had visions of a police raid capturing this wayward retired pastor and hauling him off. That might make the lead article in the church newsletter in which I am listed as Pastor Emeritus.  My senses sharpened (maybe from the contents of the haze) and I managed to retrace my steps from one path to another and depart the same way I had entered.  

The area is listed on the map as Freetown Christiana.  The Hostel Host made some reference to the Green Leaf area (I think).  When I told my AirB&B host, Pernille, about my adventure, she said that the area is beginning to be infiltrated by gangs.  

Welcome to Copenhagen!  (I still haven’t eaten anything other than a scone and coffee at a shop I found along the way to Pernille and Jonas’s place.)

I was relieved when I saw the entrance through which I would make my escape, but at the same time I saw a nicely dressed young couple walking in as if they were on a proper date.  The Green Light District, an open market for marijuana, is located on Pusher Street in the area called Freetown Christiana. 

I told an older adult who had a booth in a one of the main markets in Copenhagen my story at Pusher Street and she indicated that most people think of it as a fun addition to the culture of the city.  It was an abandoned military base where some cannabis loving squatters camped out some time in the early 1970’s and never left. In a police raid a little over a year after I was wandering in that area, a couple of police were shot and later the perpetrator was discovered and, after a shoot out with the police, died at the hospital.

I guess my apprehensions were not entirely unjustified. 

• Peter