92 AUGUST 2016 JAN SØNDERGAARD ot long after I arrived in Copenhagen, Danish star chef Bo Bech asked: “Was it a man or a woman?” His was a more direct version of the inevitable “why” when a Dane discovers you’ve moved from Sydney. They believe theirs is the greatest city in the world but can’t imagine why anyone would leave Australia for anything other than love. But this is a love story for a city that really is wonderful in an understated way. It’s a city where the way of life is more grounded and people seem less materialistic, with a style that’s innate rather than bought. Where normal people have Arne Jacobsen chairs and Louis Poulsen lights – they’re not cheap but are acquired with an eye to forever. Where rich people ride bikes, not necessarily because they believe in sustainability, but because it’s the best way to get around town. Copenhagen is a city where authorities treat people like grown- ups instead of passing alcohol and occupational health and safety laws to save them from themselves. It’s a city with a beautiful harbour and a skyline that impresses with its human scale rather than its oversized tower blocks. A city that turned old defence ramparts into beautiful parks with running tracks and lakes and where the cemeteries are so pretty people picnic in them. Copenhagen is more than 1,000 years old with remnants of a medieval layout and boundaries defined by ancient defences, yet it feels modern thanks to an inspired approach to urban planning, which respects the old but not at the expense of the new. And it puts residents’ interests at the heart of its plans rather than satisfying property developers. How cool is a city council that paves a bike lane in granite because it looks better than asphalt, or commissions an artist to design a bridge? It’s not perfect. The bridge project ran three years late and when pollution readings on major thoroughfare H.C. Andersens Boulevard breached EU limits, instead of addressing the smog the council moved the monitors. Moreover, the council is well funded because it gets a fair chunk of the 58 to 72 per cent of the income Danes are estimated to pay in various taxes. Besides civic amenity they get free health care and education to tertiary level. So Danes rarely complain about the tax they pay. In May, we bought an apartment a block away from the Christiansborg parliament of Borgen fame. Our 99-square-metre apartment has beautiful parquetry floors and high ceilings and cost about a quarter of anything similar in central Sydney. It’s in an andelsbolig – a housing cooperative – where prices are based on the building’s finances and are regulated. You buy knowing you may not get a capital gain, but the affordability means that in our block several young parents own apartments. On sunny evenings they convene with their kids in the common backyard. Ah, sun. The January of my first winter was the worst for 45 years, with only 17 hours of sunshine. It wasn’t freezing cold, just N AT OUR FAVOURITE WINE BAR CUSTOMERS SPILL DOWN THE STREET, SITTING ON STOOPS Expat Jeni Porter shares her love for her adopted city of Copenhagen: beautiful, socially progressive and rich in culture. My place Writer Jeni Porter’s view of rooftops and street from a balcony of the Les Gens Heureux art gallery in Nyhavn, from where she works. VOGUE VOICE gloomy. I pored over back copies of Monocle, which regularly nominates Copenhagen as the world’s most liveable city, trying to fathom what constitutes liveable when the weather is so bad. The city changes when the sun finally comes out. People strip down to their underwear to sunbathe in the park. At our favourite wine bar customers spill down the street, sitting on stoops and drinking wine by the canal, undoubtedly breaking all sorts of licensing rules, but no-one worries too much. This openness has contributed to a vibrant food scene spawned by the success of Noma and now evolved into a more accessible but still distinctively Nordic style of eating. Casual is king. The hot new spot this summer is a kiosk near the old dockyards where they cook pasta on a single burner, which you eat on your lap perched on the uneven wharf. I’m writing this from my desk in an art gallery just off the pretty but touristy Nyhavn district. It’s a magic space with a classic Copenhagen view over an even skyline of tiled roofs. I can hear children from the church school playing outside. Crown Princess Mary’s youngest kids go there, and Crown Prince Frederik is often seen on the street below buying a coffee as he waits to do the school pick-up, double parking his cargo bike like other parents. When Danes hear my accent they often volunteer something like: “we love our Crown Princess”. Hers is the biggest love story – complete with tiaras and Danish tutors. Mine is more of a slow burn, but it’s enduring. Because my love is for a place not a person, I don’t have to renounce one to call the other home. ■
Welcome message from author
This document is posted to help you gain knowledge. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think about it! Share it to your friends and learn new things together.
Transcript
92 AUGUST 2016
JAN SØNDERGAARD
ot long after I arrived in Copenhagen, Danish star chef Bo Bech asked: “Was it a man or a woman?” His was a more direct version of the inevitable “why” when a Dane discovers you’ve moved from Sydney. They
believe theirs is the greatest city in the world but can’t imagine why anyone would leave Australia for anything other than love.
But this is a love story for a city that really is wonderful in an understated way. It’s a city where the way of life is more grounded and people seem less materialistic, with a style that’s innate rather than bought. Where normal people have Arne Jacobsen chairs and Louis Poulsen lights – they’re not cheap but are acquired with an eye to forever. Where rich people ride bikes, not necessarily because they believe in sustainability, but because it’s the best way to get around town.
Copenhagen is a city where authorities treat people like grown-ups instead of passing alcohol and occupational health and safety laws to save them from themselves. It’s a city with a beautiful harbour and a skyline that impresses with its human scale rather than its oversized tower blocks. A city that turned old defence ramparts into beautiful parks with running tracks and lakes and where the cemeteries are so pretty people picnic in them.
Copenhagen is more than 1,000 years old with remnants of a medieval layout and boundaries defined by ancient defences, yet it feels modern thanks to an inspired approach to urban planning, which respects the old but not at the expense of the new. And it puts residents’ interests at the heart of its plans rather than satisfying property developers. How cool is a city council that paves a bike lane in granite because it looks better than asphalt, or commissions an artist to design a bridge?
It’s not perfect. The bridge project ran three years late and when pollution readings on major thoroughfare H.C. Andersens Boulevard breached EU limits, instead of addressing the smog the council moved the monitors. Moreover, the council is well funded because it gets a fair chunk of the 58 to 72 per cent of the income Danes are estimated to pay in various taxes.
Besides civic amenity they get free health care and education to tertiary level. So Danes rarely complain about the tax they pay.
In May, we bought an apartment a block away from the Christiansborg parliament of Borgen fame. Our 99-square-metre apartment has beautiful parquetry floors and high ceilings and cost about a quarter of anything similar in central Sydney. It’s in an andelsbolig – a housing cooperative – where prices are based on the building’s finances and are regulated. You buy knowing you may not get a capital gain, but the affordability means that in our block several young parents own apartments. On sunny evenings they convene with their kids in the common backyard.
Ah, sun. The January of my first winter was the worst for 45 years, with only 17 hours of sunshine. It wasn’t freezing cold, just
N
AT OUR FAVOURITE
WINE BAR CUSTOMERS SPILL DOWN THE STREET, SITTING ON
STOOPS
Expat Jeni Porter shares her love for her adopted city of Copenhagen: beautiful, socially progressive and rich in culture.
My placeWriter Jeni Porter’s view
of rooftops and street from a balcony of the
Les Gens Heureux art gallery in Nyhavn, from
where she works.
VOGUE VOICE
gloomy. I pored over back copies of Monocle, which regularly nominates Copenhagen as the world’s most liveable city, trying to fathom what constitutes liveable when the weather is so bad.
The city changes when the sun finally comes out. People strip down to their underwear to sunbathe in the park. At our favourite wine bar customers spill down the street, sitting on stoops and drinking wine by the canal, undoubtedly breaking all sorts of licensing rules, but no-one worries too much. This openness has contributed to a vibrant food scene spawned by the success of Noma and now evolved into a more accessible but still distinctively Nordic style of eating. Casual is king. The hot new spot this summer is a kiosk near the old dockyards where they cook pasta on a single burner, which you eat on your lap perched on the uneven wharf.
I’m writing this from my desk in an art gallery just off the pretty but touristy Nyhavn district. It’s a magic space with a classic Copenhagen view over an even skyline of tiled roofs. I can hear children from the church school playing outside. Crown Princess Mary’s youngest kids go there, and Crown Prince Frederik is often seen on the street below buying a coffee as he waits to do the school pick-up, double parking his cargo bike like other parents.
When Danes hear my accent they often volunteer something like: “we love our Crown Princess”. Hers is the biggest love story – complete with tiaras and Danish tutors. Mine is more of a slow burn, but it’s enduring. Because my love is for a place not a person, I don’t have to renounce one to call the other home. ■
Related Documents
