"So, what do you want to see in Copenhagen?" Josefine asked me from the passenger seat of her Peugeot, reaching her neck around the headrest to get a better look at her new guest in town.

That was easy: The one thing I had even heard about.

"The hippie commune ... what's it called again?"
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I was in luck, she told me. The apartment she was house-sitting was only a five-minute walk from Christiania.
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Denmark may seem like an odd place for the dream of the 1960s to stay alive. I never really heard much about the Danish revolutionary spirit when reading about Ken Kesey, the beat generation or sex, drugs and rock n' roll. But the spirit is alive and well ... for now.

The thing is, Christiania has fallen on hard times. The Danish government has decided that allowing a bunch of strung-out heads to inhabit a converted military base in the heart of the city -- prime real estate if I ever saw any -- may not be the best option. They've still got permission to squat there at the moment, but there are storm clouds on the horizon.

Possession is 99% of the law for a reason: There's still that 1 percent left open to have your property taken back by its legal owner, in this case, the government of Denmark.


Don't get me wrong; they're all about tolerance and acceptance and all that jazz in this country. Education is free, for Christ's sake! (It was even free for foreigners until just a few years ago). Not only that, but ALL people get a place to stay in this country, from the guy who invented Lego's to the guy who invented sitting on his ass and drinking Carlsberg Elephant brews all day for a living. (Seriously, if you are a homeless person in Copenhagen, it is 100 percent by choice. There is a place you can go and simply say, "Hi, I'm homeless. Can I have an apartment?" And they'll say, "Sure, here are the keys, and here's how to get there.")

Shocking that the Danes think we're crazy, then, isn't it? Just because we want to build a little wall between the entire southern border of the United States and Mexico, we don't have compassion for the less fortunate. Whatever. These people must have been living in a cave since David Hasselhoff helped Mr. Gorbachev "tear down that wall." Fashion is cyclical, people. The Green Zone, the West Bank, now the Texas-New Mexico-Arizona-California foursome: Walls are totally back in style!

But to get back on track, Christiania used to be a place where one-and-all could come together, sing Kumbaya, and then buy hash and/or weed without fear of reproach by the police.


Honestly, I have no idea how they make a living now that it is illegal to openly sell herb, a fact that has been heavily enforced by the police since the trade was banned a few years back. The strip of wooden vendor stalls known as "Pusher Street" used to be an actual pusher street; now it's a depressing pissing contest between Christianians to see who can move the most "I am so crazy because I smoke weed!" cheesy t-shirts in one day.

You were never allowed to sell the type of drugs that President Bush used to snort in the enclave right in the heart of Christianshavn, just the stuff that President Clinton never inhaled. But still, politicians are politicians. Like Tupac said, they got a war on drugs so the police can bother me (and my dawgs in Denmark).


The some 800 or so residents of the commune are fighting to maintain their way of life. Bevar Christiania! shirts and stickers are behind every corner. Their website, www.christiania.org, offers an opportunity to send a protest mail to the Danish government. There are still the few bars and restaurants operating for the public that generate a little revenue, but it wouldn't take a regular Adam Smith to tell you that these folks are in trouble.

The poor folks at Christiania could relate to the oppression Bob Marley sang about in "Rebel Music," when he angrily denounced the police brutality a black Rastafarian was subjected to on a regular basis in the slums of Kingston.

Another road block?! Curfew. And I've got to throw, awaaaaayyy! Yes I, I've got to throw, awaaayyyyy! I tell you I, I've got to throw, awaayyyy! MY LITTLE HERB STALK!

Whether you're pro or anti, this is the way these people want to live. And they're not hurting anybody. Let's all wish them luck.