My first weekend in Copenhagen was surprisingly slow. Or maybe not surprising, nothing can really match the Berlin nightlife, but contrary to my Berlin self, I was completely sober throughout the weekend. It started in the western part of Sealand in Anna's summerhouse and ended on the dim streets of Vesterbro with Kathrine. We said hello to the Thai ladyboys adjusting their underpants under their dresses in Dybbølsgade. Before that we had 'last supper' in order to wash down the summer holiday before we both started internships today. Mine went well: the sun was blasting through the old old windows in Sølvgade, I got flowers from my new co-workers, did a quick interview and sent off my first little note. Now I'm tired, but in a good mood; I just had Dagmar fixed in Istedgade and was able to bike home. I forgot how amazing it is to drive down Istedgade with the late afternoon sun in my eyes while the sidewalk is filled with happy people. Now: beers on my roofterrace with an old friend.
I took home some organic flour from Anna's summerhouse and baked something for the first time in a long time.
I found my old Danish keys, and since I saw them a year ago I've forgotten which is for what, so now I have around 68% more keys than I need...
Sunday I helped my brother move out of my mom's house. As if it was the easiest thing in the world, he managed to find a 300 sqm apartment IN THE MIDDLE OF COPENHAGEN for no money with four of his best friends. They even have an American fridge that makes ice cubes. And two living rooms.
From the living room you can spit down on the shoppers and tourists walking down Købmagergade.
And there's a huge roofterrace just for them that's so close to Rundetårn, you can actually hear what people are saying up there. God.
We went to Kaffebar (the nameless coffeeshop on Enghave Place I call Kaffebar) and had beer, coffee and ginger ale while the sun went down. Discussed lucky Danish youth, journalism, future and internships before strolling down the streets of Vesterbro in the lukewarm night air.
The streets of Copenhagen aren't covered in trees like the ones in Berlin, but Amerikavej is. It's right next to my street.