Updated: Accidentally the first essay I put up was a draft, here is the final version
Every morning when I climb aboard my black cruiser bicycle, I can go one of two ways to get to DIS. Geographically, they are practically identical—only separated by a block or two, but paying attention on the ride has opened my eyes to the deeper truths about Denmark that they expose. The first follows the 6A bus line down Tagensvej from Bispbjerg station. It is a calm ride with less stop lights, but more hills, so I have to have a little more motivation to take it. The other follows the 5A line from Nørrebro station directly through the Nørrebro district on Nørrebrogade, this ride is more hectic, but is slightly more direct and flatter, making it more attractive for lazy afternoons.
In reality, the close proximity of these two routes is the only thing they have in common. They show different sides of the Danish experience: one shows the happy, affluent, and cultured side Denmark tries to portray to the world, and the other a darker side, which exposes the deeper cultural strife that troubles this seemingly content nation.
Denmark is a happy place; in fact a recent study by the University of Leicester claims Danes are the happiest people in the world. My ride along the 6A line confirms this. It starts at bustling Nørreport station, and makes its way past Rosenborg Castle. Rosenborg Slot, as it’s known in Danish, is a beautiful structure that used to serve as the summer residence of the royal family. Today the crown jewels are on display in this building that is still not even wired for electricity. Behind the castle are picturesque rose gardens, filled by sunbathers and other Danes enjoying the meticulously kept gardens on long, sunny, Scandinavian spring days. Then I make my way past symbols of Danish intellectual and artistic pride; first the Statens Museum for Kunst (The State Art Museum) and then the Geology Museum. These massive buildings hold ancient truths in modern structures, reflecting the resources Danes have poured into the arts and sciences, led by the Carlsberg Group.
As I make my way down the clean streets, I notice new construction, bustling corner shops, a booming bike industry and active public transportation. The amount of bikers on the cycle path shows the environmentally conscious mentality of the population. There is also a distinct lack of parking lots, homeless people, and the suffocating smog that can be found in other European cities. As a fitting end to my journey I cycle past a luxury car dealership that offers Lamborghinis, Bentleys, Porsches and the like- a symbol of the economic prosperity present in Denmark today.
In contrast to the 6A line that exhibits affluence and a cultured society, the 5A line cuts directly through the Nørrebro district. Nørrebro is known as the tough section of town, sporting a higher crime rate and higher police presence than its neighboring districts. Not surprisingly it is also the most diverse part of Copenhagen I have experienced. Nørrebro has a distinct Eastern feel; shop signs are in Arabic first and then Danish. McDonalds and Burger King are nowhere to be found, replaced by schwarma stops and kebabs- more traditional ethnic cuisine. In my head I connect the two together-- Nørrebro’s reputation and the makeup of its population expose the veiled racism that is present in Danish society. Problems in Copenhagen are not blamed on economic conditions or other criminal factors, but rather on “immigrants.” An even more telling example of Danish racism is their reluctance to label children of immigrants as first-generation Danes, as is the case with first-generation Americans, instead they are slotted as second-generation immigrants, a social distinction that one can not escape. These difficulties with race relations are a strong reminder of the Mohammed Cartoon Crisis that is still fresh in Denmark’s history.
Beyond just trouble with diversity, the 5A line traces the vein of other Danish strife. The route passes the site of the former Ungdomshuset, the source of multiple clashes between police and young people, first in December, and more recently at the beginning of March. My tires roll over potholes that exist as scars from the riots. They exist where bond fires had raged through the night, while cobblestones were being hurled overhead by protestors in one direction, and tear gas from the police in the other. I pedal past corner shops that had their plate glass windows broken by bricks, and flowers laid as a sign of solidarity. The anger of the youths is still present on the walls of the building, whether it be the “69” labels spray painted on street lamps and stores, or in the anti-establishment rhetoric adorning the buildings in English.
Both these routes take me to the same destination, but the important thing to remember is that they both exhibit an important side of Denmark. Yes, this is a country that is not very diverse, and needs to be cognizant of its relations with its Muslim minority; however, it is still a country with a rich history and heritage that it should be proud of. Yes, Denmark is a well functioning welfare state, but it can not disregard the discontent shown by the youth who will run this country in the near future. The journey to the true heart of Denmark requires travel on more than one path, an effort I’m glad to have made.
