Copenhagen Crazy

Outlandishly cool wallpaper magazine voted it the third best place to live worldwide for its diversity. Copenhagen has it all: Divine designer wear, fab food, ample art, notable nightlife, heaps of green spaces and its very own hippy commune...

Perched precariously atop a too-tall bar stool, I was sipping my Martini in a stylish bar in the city's bohemian Norrebrø district when the bartender I'd been chatting to asked: "So, do you want to come clubbing with me and my mates from the Fire Station later?" The Fire Station: obviously the name of some trendy drinking establishment. "My mates - they're firemen," he clarified. Choke, splutter, cough. Danish firemen. (Boys, read: nurses or air hostesses.) I silently thanked every god I could think of and tried to repress the urge to do back flips. You might not get as lucky as I did in Copenhagen, but you're sure to be treated to some delightful sights.

Denmark's small town capital suffers from a severe multiple personality disorder. It oozes Scandi savvy, but is colored with Dutch liberal attitudes and has even been said to seem a bit Japanese. Maybe it's Copenhageners flair for design and technology or its cavalier approach to shopping. Or maybe it's the countless sushi bars. With a population of 490,000 in Copenhagen proper - 1.5 million in Greater Copenhagen - the city feels like a giant Benetton advert: all fresh faces and astute fashion senses.

Let's Chill

Like the inhabitants of any northern city, Copenhageners make the most of their summers. As soon as the weather shows signs of warming up, they're out in the many parks and squares with picnics and puppies and the compulsory football to kick about. And when the weather isn't up to scratch, the locals are loathed to go inside if they can help it. Even at more posh restaurants, you're likely to find rosy-cheeked Danes wrapped in blankets, hovering over candles at outside tables well into the wee hours.

A night in Copenhagen must start with a hearty meal. As cutting edge as the city is, mealtimes are as old-fashioned as ever with huge spreads and boisterous banter - in the Danish eateries, anyway. (Actually, Danish food has just recently become de rigueur again after that horrible health kick we all went on in the Nineties.) Although the city has endless international options, you really can't pass up the opportunity to sample the local fare. Heaps of pickled herring might scare you, but less exotic choices are available; lots of pork and fresh fish.

When you head on to the bars after your meal, you might come across a few rowdier types swigging jugs of Windex-blue liquid in the queues outside the clubs. Drinks in Copenhagen aren't any more expensive than in the UK, but young ones still find it necessary to stock up on moonshine before having to pay for booze inside. And, again, this is a common sight well past midnight. Queues for clubs (especially on a Saturday night) don't begin to reasonably shrink until way past 3am.

Which brings us to the hour most tourists will throw their hands up, defeated by the relentless Copenhagen nightlife. Although kebabs and burgers are available, you'd do better to head for one of the unassuming hot dog vans usually a convenient few steps from the club. The infamous Danish dog with onions and pickles is a must-try at the end of a big night. Many of the clubs and bars are near Sankt Hans Tovr in Norrebrø, although there is a quaint cluster of more commercial establishments in Boltens Gaard, a hidden piazza by the main square of Kongens Nytorv. Both of which both have their own resident vans.

Danish Delight

One of the most common myths harbored by tourists is that Copenhageners avoid the main attractions. We know that Londoners are loathed to head for Oxford Street and Parisians hate to make the trip to the Champs Elysées - although they inevitably do - but natives of Copenhagen are happy to visit Tivoli a few times a year. In the summer, they can be seen strolling through the theme park, especially at nights, horsing around or just taking in a romantic stroll.

Surely the most interesting day out is a trip south of the center to Christiania. Strangely enough, it also feels like an amusement park, with the outside gate crowned in a psychedelic, multicolored painted wooden sign. There's a strict no-photographs rule in the Free Town, but you should eventually overcome the urge to snap at every oddity you come across.

Founded in 1970 as a rebellion against "the man," Christiania now has its own bars, restaurants, music, art and shops. (You'll see the Christiania bikes-cum-carts all over the city - they're incredibly popular with young, yuppie families.) The stalls that line the main path through the town sell various herbal "refreshments" and are manned by some of the most bona fide hippies you're ever likely to encounter.

"So what does "lukke" mean?" I asked a stringy-haired crusty, displaying his array of products. "It means lucky, man. You buy the joint, then you smoke the joint, man. Then, when you get to the filter, mean, you unroll it. If it says you're a winner, you could win another joint, man." "I see." "Or a gram of skunk, or a hash cupcake, man, or another joint..." "I see." Enterprising, real-life hippies.

The whole of Copenhagen seems geared toward the navigation of the city. For the warmer months, communal bikes are available via a trolley-style coin-drop system. (You get the coin back when you return the bike.) However, if you're likely to be tempted at all by any of the countless big-name or independent-designer shops, you'd do best to leave the bikes and foot/cab it.

Copenhagen can keep any range of shopper happy - from the upmarket antiques aficionado to the slinky, customized jeans junky. As for me, I fell somewhere in between. In between a few firemen, that is. For just one weekend, boy, was it ever good to be me.