Study Abroad Stories
A Letter Dedicated to the Spaces in a Danish Metropolis
By TIFFANY CHU , Massachusetts Institute of Technology (Architecture)
Dear city,
After calling you home for nearly four months now, I have been continually charmed by nearly every corner and every new city space that I discover. Despite being here through the bleak bulk of winter, I find that my most cherished memories will be of the outdoors, and of spending time in the public spaces that are delightfully strewn across the city. Whether it be a casual walk through Frederiksberg Plads, a romp through Fælledparken, biking down Nørrebrogade every morning, picnicking along Islands Brygge, or reading on a sunny park bench in Vesterbro, each spot and journey seems perfectly choreographed, and I am merely a guest dancer in the local Danish ballet of perfect urban inhabitance.
Bruce Mau even called Denmark, as a whole, “too perfect.”
Throughout this spring at DIS, I’ve been introduced to such a new, relevant way of experiencing and reading a city – such as interactions between pedestrians and vehicles, human scale as the universal measuring ruler, different methods of street paving in public squares, ground floor/storefront culture, the civic design of urban furniture, etc. – and it’s as if Copenhagen has been my gateway text for all of this. (I would say that the overarching title in bold could be: Small Things, But oh So Important. Or Copenhagen, City of Details.) This way of reading a city has made a huge impact on how I have traveled this semester – as each new place embraced me, and I tried to open my eyes a little bit wider to see the everyday life-improving details I probably wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. Through extensive walking and public transportation-ing around, I realized that subconsciously, I never ceased to comparatively hold this ‘new city’ against the candlelight of Copenhagen.
I am in continual admiration for Copenhagen’s foresight in the 1960s to gradually move from a car-traffic-parking culture to a people-walking-biking haven. I think of my daily journey to DIS at the literal heart of the city, two skips away from Radhuspladsen, and as I try to remember of all the walking streets, public squares, and green parks that I pass on a daily basis, thinking of each one fills me with a sense of happiness and…gratitude. I look back home to New Jersey, New York, and Boston, and wonder if we, too, will have the foresight to bring such delightful public spaces into American culture.
What I find fascinating is that prior to arriving in Denmark in January, I had no clear impression of Copenhagen, what it was most famous for, or what exact snapshot I was supposed to think of in my mind. Vague images of some bicycles, a few wooden chairs, a cold ocean, fashionable ankle boots, and a café or two swirled around, but never manifested itself as a distinct, underlined, BAM! mental picture. What I find even more fascinating is that now, after seeing so many facets of the city, I still don’t have a clear image. Instead, I have a quilt-like collage of visual and emotional experiences that I never want to forget.
One shining square of this quilt will be the feeling of riding my bike for the first time, and seeing the lakes come into view along the bridge. I breathed in an incredible amount of brisk freshness, and felt an amazingly drowning wave of happiness. If I had to pick one of my absolute favorite things about Denmark, it just might be the 10-centimeter rule, which we learned about in European Urban Design Theories class. The 10-centimeter rule refers to the height difference between the car lane, bicycle lane, and pedestrian sidewalk on any given street. It makes me feel safe in each respective arena, yet it does not alienate -- so simple, yet so brilliant, so thoughtful. I would say that the bike lane has been the location for some of my most wonderful experiences in Copenhagen. Biking in the U.S. might never be the same…
Another lasting image will be of Kultorvet – one of my favorite places to simply ‘be.’ Located on my way to and from University of Copenhagen’s Faculty of Theology and African Studies (where I have my human rights class, another overwhelming learning experience complete with a looming oral exam), I’ve had the privilege to see this square in all of its various seasonal cloaks. On a winter day, when other streets might be lacking life, Kultorvet was always a major buzzing thoroughfare, with hardy UNICEF volunteers enthusiastically trying to gather donations in the freezing weather from fast-jaunting pedestrians.
At night, I see this square as a beautiful moonlit intersection for young people going from trendy bar to trendy bar (or dashing in and out of the savior 7-11 on the corner), a breath of fresh air from memorable nightlife experiences. Now that it’s spring, at least four restaurants in the square have thrown their tables, chairs, and tablecloths outside, while masses of suncatchers sit, dine, drink wine, and relax al fresco. (Copenhagen café culture at its finest: there are over 8,000 outdoor seats in the inner city!).
Last week, I bought an ice cream cone from Paradis, and tried to look for a seat somewhere in the square. After 5 minutes of searching to no avail, I ended up sitting on the ground for an hour, slurping up my noisette ice cream and enjoying the Alanis Morissette-singing guitar-strumming Danish minstrel next to me. With the capricious sun warming my face, ice cream cone in hand, and leaning against Elijah Lake [name of my beloved bike], and the murmur of quiet Danish all around me, I wallowed and soaked up the city.
Dear Copenhagen, thank you for all of your corners, cobblestones, bike lanes, and other beautiful and emotional spaces and experiences. I hope that I will be seeing you soon, in the life and spaces of other cities around the world.
