“Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.”
Søren Kierkegaard
April 3, 2019
I’m sitting in the bedroom of my airbnb. To my left is large window throughout which I can see the neighbouring apartment building which no doubt looks exactly the same as this one, and all the surrounding ones. They are built with yellow bricks, like many buildings in Aarhus, and have full length windows on each floor, forming a wide strip through the length of the exterior. Each floor looks exactly the same: there is an elevator, with a tubular light attached to the wall next to the elevator doors. It gives the effect of uniformity. In the space between this building and the next one might eventually be a garden, or have lawn laid out over it, but at the moment it is dirt.
But don’t misunderstand: I like it here. This is a newly built development in a perfect location, close to Den Gamle By (The Old Town open air museum), ARoS (the modern art gallery) and the central train station, not to mention hygge cafes and the botanical gardens. I’ve been here for less than 36 hours and I’ve taken it quite a lot of this little city…
The view might not be charming from where I am sitting, but there is something about Denmark that has always captured me (always, from the time I knew what/where it was… that was probably about the same time that The Killing came on TV in Australia). It took more than the (quintessential) Nordic noir series to fuel my love of Denmark though; this is my fifth visit in five years and I am more and more convinced that I: a) was Danish in a past life; b) am the descendant of a Dane; c) am on my way to becoming the global ambassador of Denmark; or d) am simply correct, and the rest of the world is yet to catch on. I’m not talking about the commodification of hygge or the “happiest country in the world” headlines that have people declaring that “the Dutch are so happy and friendly!” or making reference to Switzerland/another country that isn’t part of Scandinavia. For me, the way I have always thought and always acted makes sense in Denmark.
Something that struck me when I first visited Copenhagen was how quiet the city was. Not quiet like Aarhus, where the streets have few people wandering through them, and which feels like a small city. Copenhagen is bustling and busy, but quiet. I stood by the canal, looking towards the overpass to Christianshavn, and it was as if I was watching a television screen and had turned the volume down all the way. The cars were moving but I couldn’t hear them. From then on I noticed it more: the absence of noisiness.
When I describe Denmark to people this is what I tell them, that the you don’t have advertisements screaming at you wherever you go; that shops and cafes have distinct playlists rather than commercial radio stations playing; that you don’t feel as if you are constantly being marketed to. In contrast, I recall my dad coming home one day and lamenting about the introduction of “Pump TV” at the local petrol station in Perth, where you can’t even spend 3 minutes filling up your car without absurd montages of babbling people. A major train station in Sydney has recently installed television screens in the toilet cubicles…. I tried to finish this sentence by explaining why this has happened but I truly don’t know. Convenient and practical, or a complete invasion of privacy?
In addition to my personal passion, I’m also writing my PhD thesis on Danish film and television, with the historical and social context of the Danish welfare state informing my readings. And that is what has brought me to Aarhus for three months. But my research will take place in an academic setting as well as a cultural one, where I will be able to situate my assumptions and ideas in the country I am actually studying. Am I searching for lykke? Maybe. Maybe I already found it, and I’m just hoping it will endure…
The Chaos Children 