Hip-Hop, Hot-Dogs, and Hipsters

This post, in particular, is exceedingly overdue.

My dad's birthday was August 20th, and as the most musical guy I know (you should see that man smile when his fingertips touch piano keys) I think it was appropriate that, on his birthday, I had the most musical day.

Let me take you on a photographic journey of one of the best Saturdays of my life, to date...

*cue the Wayne's World "doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo" complete with wiggling, hypnotic hand motions* (please, someone get that reference...)


I received a text message from my new friend Michael (less of a "new" friend now, due to the tardiness of this post), asking if I wanted to go to some sort of hip-hop battle. After lazing about my apartment for a few hours, I finally hopped on my bike, and after many wrong turns, at one point almost biking onto a freeway, I arrived here:

Where? I have no idea. I don't think I could find it again. But it was some sketchy (mind you, sketchy in Copenhagen can be equated to the feeling you get while walking around Beverly Hills at dusk... mildly yet unnoticeably uncomfortable) neighborhood with lots of average-looking people, rather than the typical Danish supermodels, and amateur MCs fighting for the mic. There were also tons of graffiti artists spraying giant, makeshift walls while the rest of us drank Carlsberg and ate hot dogs. Pictured below.

This is, without a doubt, the most wiener-loving country. Within my first month here, I had as many hot dogs as I've had in the rest of my life put together. Every bbq I get invited to (at least one per weekend), I always expect chicken, burgers, maybe even some grilled veggies. Nope. It's always a sausage. And it's always pork (so kosher!). I would go so far as to say that hot dogs are Denmark's national food. And really, call me immature (I would), but I also have such great difficulty holding back my giggles when I ask "what are we grilling?" and the answer is always, "Big Danish Sausages". Come on!

There is also one preparation of hot dog, served from the many hot dog trucks here, that I just can't seem to take seriously. I mean...

you get the picture.

And I'm sorry. I'll work on growing up a bit. (NOT!)

After hip-hop and hot dogs, the day just got better.

There was a free electronic festival in the park, that I had actually gone to the night before as well. I don't stop being impressed by the number of free, really rad events this city puts on. See? Pay your taxes, kids.

So many good beats, good dancing, it was surprising that the security guard was so bored, especially considering the musical act was so good. Look at that guy. How dare he yawn??

At one point, people in giant punk outfits came out to dance (odd?). And topping my list of favorite visuals to date? The most adorable little girls, trying to out-punk the punks. Classic.

The one in the yellow cardigan just won the prestigious "Sass Master of the Year" award.

At the same festival, one rose garden over (oohlala!), a giant lawn of hipsters sat drinking beers and listening to even more free music.

I may have joined. So sue me. It felt so very Euro (whatever that means), and if I spent every Saturday afternoon that way for the rest of my life, I think I would die happy. Yet I'm fairly certain, at some point I would stop fitting in with the young crowd so well...

Deserving of barely a by-line thereafter, we biked off to another street party, where a Stones-wanna-be band played to a crowd of 50-somethings (nothing wrong with that, really, just... give me a few more years, maybe).

We didn't stay long.

We biked to Amager (pronounced Ah-ma) after that to what was one of the most bizarre, magical places. I'm not sure if I had just had too much to drink, but everything about this place excited me. There was a giant circus tent with a weird bar and stage set-up, complete with bedazzled instruments (oh... the suspense!)

beyond that was the most gorgeous and charming urban farm I had ever seen (I told them I'd be back to help... if only I could put some effort into finding it again.), complete with the most adorable tree house I'd ever seen. I wish I had gotten a better photo...

And beyond that still, there was a little shanty-town of artists booths.

Back in the circus tent, what seemed like it would be performance-art started to take place on the stage. Guys in the most outlandish costumes, in gray masks started grunting. Things got weird. Things got tense.

But then they dropped the act, picked up children's toy instruments, reprogrammed to play corresponding electronic noises, looped vocals and sounds, and put on the best freaking show I'd ever seen. These guys... I'm telling you.

Un-f*ing-believable.

The whole tent was losing it. They loved it. I wish my American ears were tuned to hear what the name of this band was. Something in Danish that sounded like "Booooh". Good luck finding that...

They came complete with hot-pink unitard-ed dancers. What. A. Show.

All in all, a pretty incredible day. 4 free musical events, lots of cheap beer, bike riding, dancing. I mean, what more could one ask for in a weekend?

The next day, a few of us HLA interns went down to the harbor. I got there a little late to swim, but it was nice to catch some sun anyway. Gotta snag what little I can before it disappears completely soon. Ended my weekend with the discovery that public nudity here is A-OK (why shouldn't it be?), as I watched an elderly man shamelessly drop-trou as he changed on the dock.

No, I didn't take a picture.

You're welcome.