how bizarre

After a rather excellent breakfast provided by the hotel that included some nice samplings of chocolate, I was ready to explore Copenhagen. Before I could even get underway I was greeted by a rather bizarre, and quite awesome spectacle.

Before you start question my idea of "awesome", I want you to scroll back up and take a good look at the man's left shoulder... that's a parrot. A live, repeating things in Danish, parrot. That man, bearded, black capped, black vested, and unable to walk, uses a scooter for want of a peg leg. That man is a pirate. A modern-day, Danish pirate.

So with that bit of weird fully appreciated, I set off for the New Harbor, which is a canal with stereotypical scenes of the city. However, after a bit of looking around, I was greeted by some sights and sounds that made my first morning in Copenhagen even stranger. A whole group of Santa Clauses with marching band instruments, was preforming in the square.

Santas with Sousaphones!

Of course, this begs the question: what were these Santas doing? Why were they dressed up on a hot July morning playing Christmas songs? Well they were just welcoming the boat load of Santa Clauses coming down the canal of course!

Santas waving flags from all kinda of different countries in the world: Sweaden, Germany, America, even a Japanese Santa with a paper fan. It was like some kind of Kris Kringle UN. They departed the boat one at a time, and , as is the habit of a boat load of Santas meeting up with with a Santa Claus marching band, they then proceeded to have a parade through town.

Just the beginning of what must have been 150 Sanatas marching down the street

I would only later find out that this was the 54th Annual Santa Clause Congressional Convention (I'm not making this up) where delegates discuss important matters, such as: official candy color (set at red & white in 1972) , issues of elvish welfare, and whether various world leaders should be considered "naughty" or "nice". Truly bizarre, but at the same time, it was kind of fun.

So, fully immersed in the Twilight Zone, I figured that it would be a good time to visit Christiania. Christiania sits on the site of an abandoned, walled military base in Copenhagen. It was taken over in the 60's and 70's by hippies, and now operates as a kind of autonomous commune of peace, love, and every thing the Mama & the Papas ever sang about. The Danish Government, naturally, refuses to allow 3 blocks of Copenhagen to break away from the European Union, but issues of tax collection and law enforcement are rather murky in Christiana. Anyway, the first thing that struck me was how clean everything was. Every square inch of walls was covered in hippie murals, and Peruvian Flute Music, bongo drums, and Tibetan Flags abounded, but I had expected all of that. The cleanliness and management of the "autonomous collective" is a testament to what hippies can actually accomplish after they stop starving to death trying to grow their own corn in New Mexico.

Mostly graffiti-free, this ex-barraks now houses the town blacksmith

One of the most impressive pieces of graffiti I've ever seen

After leaving Christiana, I climbed to the top of the coolest church in Copenhagen (a city of some rather spectacular churches) to have a look around.

That spiralling on top is actually the outside walkway to the top.

The view (not to be confused with The View)

I spent the rest of my day at Christiansborg Palace (the large central palace used for State Functions, where I saw, among other things, where the ambassadors to Denmark received... those from Bow should know why this s significant) and the National Museum.

The evening was spent with my Argentinian roommate, chatting, drinking the local beer (which we quickly abandoned for the imported fare, as Danish beer is amongst the worst in the world; I give to you as an example: Carlsberg), and listening to performance at The Scottish Pub.

Today, my roommate and I saw the famous Little Mermaid statue, which is an entirely unnecessary tourist trap, but we played right into it. Afterwards we headed over to the Danish Resistance Museum, which I would recommend to anyone interested in the history of the Second World War. The Resistance Museum chronicles the efforts of Danish saboteurs, insurgents, and underground activists during the Nazi occupation of Denmark. Though small, it's very detailed and full of both artifacts and anecdotes of the resistance.

My final tourist-oriented activity of the day was to see the apartments of the recent kings of Denmark at Amalienborg Palace. Kings of Denmark, it seems, tend to decorate their studies in the style of your great aunt Mildred, who has a hundred different pictures of family members, piles of kitsch, some rather eccentric furniture piece, and absolutely no counter space.

The rest of the day I've been just walking around the city, exploring interesting looking alleys, and taking it easy. I retreated inside when it began to rain, and have no been out since, though it looks like things have cleared up, so it's time for some more exploring.