There are seldom places on this globe where one man’s inherently good-natured vision gets transformed into reality. Along my travels in Copenhagen, I stumbled upon one of its gem neighbourhoods, whose humble, utopian origins are still echoed today: the Free Town of Christiana.

The neighbourhood was once a deserted military barracks in the center of the city until the hippie-movement of the 70s called for change. In 1971, a journalist, Jacob Ludvigsen, and hundreds of squatters overtook the area to forge their peaceful anarchistic and libertarian existence with the following mission statement:

“The objective of Christiania is to create a self-governing society whereby each and every individual holds themselves responsible over the wellbeing of the entire community. Our society is to be economically self-sustaining and, as such, our aspiration is to be steadfast in our conviction that psychological and physical destitution can be averted.”

Today, the self-proclaimed autonomous neighbourhood is home to artists, vagabonds, musicians, the impoverished, and is arguably one of the best places to showcase the progressive and liberated Danish lifestyle. However, its forged-sovereignty is far from being exempt of political controversy, which becomes further complicated by Christiania’s main cash crop− cannabis.

Along Pusherstreet amongst bakeries, falafel kiosks, beautiful street art, recycled urban architecture, and street vendors peddling Christiania souvenirs, are the infamous dealers. They are consensually obliged to adhere to, like every other resident under Christiana law, no selling of hard drugs, no stealing, no guns, and no bulletproof vests. Nonetheless, under Danish law there exists a smoking ban and police will randomly raid the area for vendors. This is accompanied by onlookers’ warning symphonies of “Ost, ost, ost” (the cheese are coming) to which follows the rapid scurrying of vendors into safer pastures.

Amidst this confusion and Christiania’s controversial existence is my memory of the place. Seen for its creative, loving, and friendly nature where one perfect Sunday at a blues café, they let my friend, Pat, get on stage with the band. For over an hour, he held his own with the rest of the band. The music was fantastic and at one point I swear that every instrument I could name was on stage, even the mighty cowbell. It’s this memory that I’ll remember and it’s just as so that it is a memory because there’s one last Christianian law− NO PICTURES!