Now Leaving the EU

Lisa Preti

I hop off the metro and run up the stairs, emerge from the underground and am greeted by the hustle of Christianhavn, one of Copenhagen’s boroughs. It is 5 o’clock, and true to Danish form, just about everyone is shutting down shop for the night and heading home. The streets are filled with bikes, cars, and pedestrians--rush hour at its finest. The lane next to me on the sidewalk is heavy in volume, riddled with bikes whizzing past each other at an alarming rate. Bike bells, which serve the same purpose as car horns, can be heard as aggressive pedalers pass leisurely bikers. The further I walk from the center of Christianhavn, the less traffic I see and hear. My destination resides about three blocks from the metro station. I am headed for Christiania, Denmark’s very own “free state,” where it is possible to leave responsibilities, generic civilization, and even the European Union, behind.
I walk through the archway that leads me into Christiania. A man peacefully playing Bob Marley’s "Buffalo Soldier" on his acoustic guitar welcomes me. To my left is a small coffee shop. Ahead there is a concert venue; from the outside it looks like just the façade of a run down building, but on the inside there is an intimate stage and dance floor, and tables to sit at and enjoy the music.
I walk further and reach the top of Pusher Street, notoriously famous, and of late, infamous for its liberal sale of marijuana. Upon reaching Pusher Street, one may not initially realize the activities that casually take place there. The first indication that something less than innocent is happening are the numerous signs that read “NO PHOTO!” and picture cameras with slashes through them, ironically placed as nonchalantly as no smoking signs. There is an open-air market at the top of the street selling hemp clothing, hats, gloves, and a plethora of cannabis paraphernalia. Just a few meters away there is another open-air market; only this market is unique, as the vendors sell marijuana as casually as if they are selling hotdogs. There are a multitude of stands where buyers of all ages can walk up, purchase the strand of their choice, and make the transaction without a fear of penalty. Pusher Street is Christiania’s most densely populated area throughout the day, decorated with tourists and locals alike. Farther down Pusher Street, local Christianites enjoy a beer and each other’s company. There is a bakery open 24 hours a day and a woodwork shop.
Some people identify with Christiania as a place to safely and quickly purchase marijuana; if asked to describe it, most would say Pusher Street is the only area they could shed light on. Pusher Street is just one street in an 85-acre neighborhood. It is hardly an accurate representation of what Christiania is actually all about.
Christiania was born in 1971, when a group of hippies moved into the closed army barracks that once stood there. Their aim was the run a free state, a society based on putting the responsibility of the well-being of the community on the people who live there. Hundreds of free spirits flocked to this “free town,” and helped establish the laid back lifestyle that still exists there today. One aspect of Christiania was its liberal drug culture, and after a few failed attempts to shut it down, Christiania was named by the Danish Parliament s the city’s “social experiment.” The title became permanent in 1983, and though there had been more controversy of late, Christiania has existed since then relatively unchanged. Those who live in Christiania recognize it as a free state and a separate entity from Copenhagen, and thus do not associate itself as a member of the European Union.

I walk past Pusher Street, meandering through the dogs that roam freely throughout the streets, minding their own business. As I walk, Pusher Street disappears behind, as do the voices and the traces of marijuana as well. I see a wall tagged with the words: “NO RACISM” and “NO NAZIS.” I walk past one of Christiania’s restaurants, well-renowned within the community and in Copenhagen as well. I enter Christiania’s residential area; quaint yet quirky homes built close together, symbolizing the community the residents represent. The homes remind me of something I may find in an adult fairy tale--they are painted bold colors and contorted into different shapes. Some have spiral staircases leading to their second story front doors. Because there are only walking streets, and no cars allowed, every home has at least one bike leaning up against its side.
I follow a dirt path up a small hill. The path is lined with golden leaves, and the setting evening sun shines through the trees. Walking along the path, I notice more houses appear out of nowhere. A glance into a window shows a woman and a man watching television, about to sit down for dinner. It is so easy to lose sight of the fact that people live their everyday lives here, they raise their children here. Christiania covers 85-acres, and though this may not seem overwhelmingly large, where I stand may as well be 85 miles away from Pusher Street.
The number of people living in Christiania is somewhat stagnated, as the size of it cannot grow and thus the population has capped. It is a competitive process to live in this neighborhood, and the citizens must approve one trying to move there before he or she is admitted. Homes in Christiania often stay within families; parents pass the homes down to their children and so on. On a recent study tour to Christiania, my friend was given a walking tour by one of the locals, an original Christianite. She explained that when she and her husband could no longer lived there, her son, a business executive who lived outside of Christiania, would inherit the house. She also shed important light on the very basis of what Christiania stands for. This woman has lived in Christiania since its birth; she has seen the drug civilization grow and become an integral part of what goes on in her home community. She does not, however, identify Christiania with the marijuana culture. To her, Christiania is about so much more than the hash; it’s about the idea of living in a community where each person is responsible for its upkeep. They pay taxes, run businesses, and live the same lives as those who reside outside the protective walls.
Those who buy hash from Christiania and leave immediately after are connected with it on a very superficial level. Similarly to the Empire State Building in New York City, marijuana is not the only reason to visit Christiania. The Empire State Building is an extremely significant part of Manhattan, but it by no means defines it. Manhattan is rich in culture and has so much more to offer than what goes on in that building. Its grandeur and presence in the city is impossible to ignore, but is just the very tip of the iceberg as far as things to see there. Christiania is known for its liberal sale of marijuana, but has so much more to offer. It’s aesthetically beautiful, surrounded on one side by a pristine lake that separates Christiania from the noise and hubbub of city life. It is a peaceful oasis in the middle of a capital city, and by no means provides pleasure only to those who smoke marijuana. The entire mentality of Christiania is acceptance; they would allow anyone willing to abide by their rules to live there if space allowed. Though some people are strongly against the sale and use of marijuana, they respect this practice and don’t push their feelings on anyone living outside of their community; they keep the drug culture confined within their walls. They are not drug addicts or pushers of serious drugs; the sale or use of hard drugs is illegal in Christiania. It is also illegal to steal or to carry a weapon. The people of Christiania are by no means barbaric or uncivilized; they are simply a group of free spirited people unwilling to let go of the 1970s, yet more than willing to share them with anyone who is interested.
As I finish my walking tour of Christiania I feel as though I have entered another dimension. I have never experienced anything quite like what goes on there, and have to remind myself that just outside this oasis was the fast-paced, noisy city life that I have become accustomed to. I admire those who live in Christiania; free souls who were brave enough to start their own community, and intelligent and crafty enough to have it succeed. Running a state is no easy task, yet the people of Christiania have made it work for over thirty years now. It is fascinating to see how such a culture has evolved from the process of creating a state; the people who live there are undoubtedly a different set of people that live five minutes outside it’s walls. To them, Christiania is about peaceful rebellion, about striving in a community not run by “the establishment.” I take one more walk down Pusher Street, heading towards the exit. Two totem poles stand erect at the top of Pusher, and through them the busy streets of Copenhagen appear. Attached to the two totem poles is a sign that reads in cursive, “Now Entering the EU.” Back to reality, I think, as I step underneath the sign. Just as quickly as a time traveled back to the 70’s, it is 2009 once again.