High brow, low brow, and totally bizarre

Copenhagen is home to only 1.1 million people, most of whom are tall, blonde, and native to Denmark. Because of the socialized government's pension system, the citizens' social and economic statuses are far less stratified than in most US cities. As one medical student explained to me, Danes' even widely agree on most political and cultural matters. Improbably, then, from this small country of similar people, a diverse modern culture has flourished.

On Wednesdays, no DIS classes are scheduled. Most students instead have to attend on-site academic "study tours." For some reason my classes require very few of these, so I've began my own series of weekly Danish enlightenment programs. This Wednesday, I think I saw the country from cultural top to bottom, sliding from the most urbane modern art museum in the country, the Louisiana—to a "36th birthday party" in Christiana, where a communal bong was being hauled through the streets by wheelbarrow.

Tina Turner, singer, New York, June 13, 1971
One of my favorites from the Louisiana's Richard Avedon exhibit

(Which begs the question, how does a Dane feel upon seeing the work of Avedon, whose portraits of celebrities, artists, and vagabonds depict a distinctly American identity?)



The Lousiana's sculpture garden

As I mentioned before, you can't take pictures in Christiania without someone angrily shouting "Nej! Nej!" at you through the crowd, so this photo of our Danish friend Ask waiting to cross the street the Christianhavn will have to do.


Ask, waiting to cross the street in Christianhavn
My most recent cultural experience was one that I can hardly comprehend, let alone classify. The physician who teaches my Human Health and Disease class announced that today a beach party—with the crown prince as its guest of honor—would celebrate the opening of the new Metro stop at Copenhagen Airport. After class, my friend Katie and I hopped on the train to check it out.

As we reached the our stop, rain hammered on the roof of the car and a horde of twelve-year-olds pushed past us toward the concert. We decided to stay on the train and check out another Metro-related event, this one offering free food. There we found free beer, some strange creamy goulash being sold out of striped tents, and a handful of men and women dressed in white facepaint and old-fashioned clothes. Although we both feared that maybe we had taken the train to some strange carnie hell, the alcohol settled in our empty stomachs and we asked our new zombie friends to take pictures with us.



...I don't get it either.