the sandwich filler

Copenhagen was the sandwich filler between the bread of visiting countries that told tales of war and conflict. Copenhagen, like a nice piece of ham between mouldy pieces of bread. It just doesn't quite fit, Copenhagen was just too perfect. It felt like how I imagine '1984' suburbs to look. Eerily quiet with no human life as we tread perfectly clean pavements and board silver, spacious, grafiti free trains with no drivers. Every station looks like same, resonates qualities of the Jubilee line and the people that we do see are blond, blue haired and plain gorgeous. And the price of a diet coke was twice as much as in England!

However, dig beneath the surface and there is war. Tucked away on the east of the city is province called Christiania. Governed, not by authority of the country but the people themselves. In Christiania you cant drive a car, can't take photos and can't take hard drugs. You can't have weapons and you're part of you own little world. THere's a distinct arty hippy feel to the place, a commune of houses built and covered in grafiti art, communal toilets, bonfires and bars. On then eve after we visied Christiania back at the youth hostel, Erica and I met a Christianian called T.



T told us of how even a self-governed 'alternative' lifestyle community isn't the utopia people imagine it to be. Comes as no surprise. Christiania is a place where soft drugs flow freely but now the place is split between those that think this is ok and those who don't. The government have been fighting to shut down Christiania. It's just too easy to get a bit of what you want.

Three months ago T. saw his best mates head blown off in a fight between the police and the residents and T himself is the cause of some of the fighting. He makes a living dealing the drugs. Our conversation went late into the night as we discussed emptiness, brokenness and satisfaction not in drugs but in Jesus. God took over and filled my mouth with the words that T. needed to hear. After praying with him Erica and I went to bed praising but crying at the desperation and brokeness of even the most perfect of places.