Tranehoej

Tranehoej

Visiting Tranehoej has most certainly been a high light of the trip so far. We found an amazing community of people living together. They were incredibly generous people, both with their resources as well as their time and humor. We were treated to everything from fresh squeezed apple juice to lamb from their own farm to bicycles to explore the area to hours of conversation about Tranhoej and the Danish culture. This was an experience I will treasure for a long time. The following is but a glimpse of that experience…

When I first began to research intentional communities/eco-villages in Denmark there were a couple that seemed to be the more well known, Svanholm (http://www.svanholm.dk) and Munksoegaard (http://www.munksoegaard.dk/index_en.html) - (Svanholm was mentioned a few times by folks at Torri Superiore and was of particular interest to me because of the economic and governing system they have adopted) While neither of these communities have a guest house as a primary project of their community we were hoping to be able to visit the communities and learn more about some of their projects. As it was, for various reasons, we weren’t able to visit either one. But in the midst of researching these and other communities I came across a small community about 80 km outside of Copenhagen called Tranehoej (http://www.tranehoej.dk/en_summery.html)On the English page of their website, after describing their organic vegetable garden, the sheep, the goats and the chickens, it also mentions that as a member of Servas they welcome visitors…

So I sent off an email the beginning of February and a few days later received an email from Gitte Jakobsen telling us that they would be glad to host us for a night and to call us when we arrived in Copenhagen so she could give us directions to their place.

Fast forward 6 six weeks to the middle of March. We call Gitte from Copenhagen and she helps us figure out how to get to Tranehoej by public transportation - the next day we take the train to Jyderup and then catch a local bus to Searslav - where Gitte is outside waiting for us with her dog Emma. After introductions and a short walk we arrive at Tranehoej, a U-shaped compound with a courtyard of sorts in the center of the three buildings.

Gitte welcomes us inside, invites us to take off our shoes, and since I don’t have any socks - I get the warmest snuggliest slippers possible…

A former resident, Daniel, who just recently moved back to Copenhagen, happened to be there at the time and he offered to show us around the property. As we walk outside to the garden and sheep pasture we can see and hear the windmills not too far in the distance - the chickens were happily wandering around their spacious coup - we didn’t get to see the goats, but the sheep were grazing on the fields. Next to the chicken coup is the apple orchard - with nearly 175 trees - not all of which they currently harvest.

After a rest in our room, we were welcomed to dinner with the wonderful aroma of bread and chili and rice and vegetables. At dinner we meet the rest of the community - there are three families currently living at Tranehoej - they have the capacity for six families however and were excited to be welcoming a new family in just a week or two. One of their struggles seems to be the distance from Copenhagen. Families find it harder than expected to live this far from the city and there are not a lot of ways to make a living in the countryside.

But among the three families who have found a way to make it work there is a wonderful sense of community - it is quickly evident to me that this is a group of people who know each other well. They seem comfortable with one another, there was an ease around the table that felt like you had just sat down with old friends. This was a family not of blood but of intention. They didn’t just share space, this wasn’t co-housing. This was a community invested in one another and in their common life together. It was inspiring to be at their table.

Two hours later we are still sitting around the table talking, having already delved into the topics of health care, design, politics of Denmark and Salt Lake City, and immigration…in between dinner and dessert we learn that Helen, one of the residents here, works for the Church of Denmark teaching 3rd graders. I felt a connection as she talked about the current patterns of religious life in Denmark and the struggles and joys of working for the church…Then during dessert - which was crème brulee (made from the eggs of the chickens 200 feet away) and chocolate muffins and ice cream we learned about the folke high schools in Denmark - a unique kind of education that focuses not so much on learning information, or specializing in a particular skill, although that is part of it, but more on cultivating the whole person, as Helen called it - a school for life - learning to live - to be alive - to be awakened to life…They all spoke highly of this experience and felt that folke high schools have contributed to the creativity and vibrancy that is so often recognized in Danish culture.

After a fabulous night sleep we enjoyed breakfast with Tom and Gitte, fresh apple juice from there own apples, homemade smorrebrod, (a traditional Danish bread), a selection of cheeses, and coffee.

Since our ferry to Samso didn’t leave to six, we had the whole day ahead of us and Tom and Gitte offered us the use of their bikes.

After four hours exploring the coast and the town of Havnso, we sat down to a late lunch of freshly roasted lamb (yes from their own flock), fresh bread, and more apple juice. After a short nap Gitte asked if we wanted some tea or coffee and some homemade apple cake (again from their own apples). And yes…it was delicious. The hospitality continued with the ride to the train station.

The 24 hours at Tranehoej will remain with me for a long time.

Christiania

Christiania is a social experiment in communal living sanctioned by the Danish government when a group of folks started squatting in a set of abandoned military barracks on the east side of Copenhagen in the early 70‘s.  It currently is home to just under 900 inhabitants and covers an area of 85 acres.

Christiania has had a historically contentious relationship with the police and has struggled to prevent violence associated with the overt sale of illegal drugs.

Officially, “Christiania’s purpose is to build up a self-governed society where each individual can freely thrive under the responsibility of the community.  This society shall be self-sufficient economically and common goal must be constantly to demonstrate that psychological and physical pollution can be prevented”.

The flag of Christiania:

My experience was vastly different from both the mission statement above and the several photojournalistic books written on Christiania.  In a nutshell, I found it to be best explained as a community situated somewhere between Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’ and ‘Lord of the Flies’.

I skirted roving dogs and waded through the overflowing trashheaps.  It was at this point I had the distinct impression that the best thing that could happen to Christiania might be the business end of a bulldozer.  Had I ventured farther I might have found the remarkable community I had heard of, but the hooded men giving us the once-over clustered around oil-barrel fire pits convinced me that I had seen enough.

Rather than a self-sufficient economic system, it seemed that it survived on the merits of being situated smack in the middle of one of the trendiest areas in Copenhagen (I couldn’t swing a cat on the streets outside Christiania without hitting a Dolce&Gabbana suit) and its associated teenagers looking to rebel during the day and return to six- and seven- figure apartments at night.

I hope that the reality of Christiania is much different than my experience there; but unfortunately a catchy mission statement does not a sustainable community make.  That said, perhaps Christiania lies in the subset of communities that are intentional, yet not intentioned to be sustainable.  It might have already served its purpose to the original residents and is now set adrift to succeed or fail as it will.

My advice to those who want to keep Christiania viable would be to align their vision with visitors’ experience.  Let people freely thrive, but where is the line drawn?  It may be that it was a reaction to an overly oppressive/wasteful/content city (none of these adverbs seem to fit Copenhagen, one of the world’s happiest, healthiest, and safest locations).  The architects of Christiania may have strayed too far in the direction of personal freedom, and suffer a tarnished public image and political leprosy as a result.  My guess is that without this transformation Christiania soon won’t exist as ‘Lord of the Flies’ OR The Garden of Eden.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freetown_Christiania

http://www.christiania.org/

Copenhagen bikes

It’s no secret that Copenhagen is known for its plethora of bicycles.  The benefits of cycling on individuals and communities are numerous and well-documented -- the more interesting question involves how the cycling culture emerged in Denmark and how it is systematically sustained.

Geographically, Copenhagen (and most of Denmark) is flat as a pancake.  Good news for A to B travel without getting sweaty or needing a cycling outfit.  Historically, Copenhagen has had many jobs tailored to bicycle use and many bicycles modified to suit the jobs available.  Home health care, mail and expedited delivery, and mobile food vendors along with WWII gas rations set the stage for bicycle use and civic accommodations.  Many jobs in Copenhagen today rely on the bicycle infrastructure, although bicycle messengers are less common with the wide-spread use of electronic transfer of documents.

Currently, mixed-use city districts, and heavy (100-150%) taxation on new vehicles, expensive gasoline ($8/gal), and a fantastic public transportation system all promote the use of cycling as a viable alternative.  Bicycles in Copenhagen are ubiquitous, and most parked outside are virtually indistinguishable in design and color.  Their closest analogy in US cities is perhaps the shopping cart -- many look just about the same, they are very utilitarian, and you wouldn’t think twice about seeing a cluster of them in any populated area.

There are separate lanes (often with a curb separation from motorized traffic), signal lights, and (un)spoken rules about the cycle traffic.  Over %50 of people bike to work in Copenhagen, and when they don’t it is mostly because of poor weather (unlike Salt Lake City, where most folks avoid cycling because of dangerous traffic).  The bike lanes even get plowed for snow.

The city even employs a range of high-tech laser rangefinders and accelerometers to measure the bumpiness and ‘comfort factor’ of the dedicated bike lanes and to determine if the cycling surface is too rough.  Each bike can be fitted with a computer chip that will help police officers identify stolen bikes with a hand-held scanner (as the former owner of a truck that got stolen, SFPD please take note).

Copenhagen has 2000 ‘City bikes’ that are free to use (with a $3 deposit in self-serve machines) in the summer months.  The bikes are painted very obvious gaudy colors and aren’t comfortable enough to take farther than the central city.  There is also a hefty fine if you go outside of the city with them.

There is also a strong cycling culture combined with a good dose of national pride in their professional cycling teams.  Copenhagen was host to the 2010 World Track Cycling championships, and a full velodrome of spectators knew the Danish athletes by name and thunderously cheered the nuanced (to an outsider, at least) tactics as they raced around the inclined 250m track.  I felt a little bit like an American expecting to see the NFL football game at an Irish bar.

Copenhagen’s  streets are not small.  Parking doesn’t seem more burdensome than it would be in a major US city.  The cars in Copenhagen are big by European standards.  Cycling isn’t an alternative to when you can‘t drive, driving is the alternative when you can‘t get on your bike.

Trust in Denmark

What is it about the Danes that they trust each other so much?

We stayed at a hotel in Copenhagen that also offered meals at its in-house restaurant.  When we ate it was a delicious all-you-can-eat serve-yourself organic and very tasty situation.  The only thing missing was a waiter with a bill or someone asking for our room number at each meal.  When we checked out several days later the receptionist just asked us how many meals we ate, if we used anything from the bar in the room, and sent us on our merry way.  The hotel restaurant wasn’t cheap (as seems to be the custom in many restaurants in Copenhagen); breakfast was $30 each and dinner was north of $50 a person.  So, they stood to lose substantial revenue if their guests were less than forthcoming about what and when they ate.  I suppose this could be expected in a small town where everyone knows everyone, but we were in the middle of a major European city with 2 million + people, and on a street that until recently was best known for its hectic drug trade and brothels.

Later on the island of Samso we ran across a produce stand, almost fully stocked, and no produce stand owner in sight.  I watched as a guy on a moped drove up, selected some carrots and onions, put some money in a jar, and drove off.  It was totally based on the honor system.

Most of the museums we visited had coatrooms without a coat-checker -- you just hung up your jacket on a hanger by the door along with 20, 30, or 100 others and grabbed it on your way out.  The thousands of bicycles in Copenhagen were locked up, but very few used more than a simple mechanism that prevented the rear wheel from rotating.  If someone wanted they could just roll the bike away on its front wheel or pick it up and leave.

Several of the Danes that we spent time with mentioned the trust they have in their government -- education and basic health care are run by the state and paid for with taxes, and many consider the government a parental figure with their best interest in mind (although this may change with the introduction of private health care add-ons and fee-based high school programs).  In addition, we’ve seen much less of a social and economic stratification than in other countries -- many Danes seem to recognize that they have much more in common with each other than they have differences.  Perhaps a sense of empathy means that they trust each other with their well.

Cinque Terre

Cinque Terre (literally, ‘five lands’) is a set of towns along the Mediterranean coast of Italy connected by a walking path. They can also be accessed by car or boat, but most visitors use a combination of trains and hiking to explore the towns. I’ve even heard that the resident population of Manorola has a higher rate of boat ownership than of automobiles.

The villages are an interesting exercise in small community survival tactics, although I don‘t think they would identify themselves as an ‘intentional community‘. Their bread and butter is the seasonal tourism and fishing/farming industries, in that order. To help with large influxes of visitors, there is very good public transit to and from each town. People who live there were intertwined with the tourists - their mutual dependence seemed obvious to both. For example, we found a place to stay only because a local tried to rent us a room when he saw we were carrying a tourist guide book. Turns out the place we were originally looking for was run (and built) by his cousin who was on the other end of a cell phone thrust at me a minute later.

A large part of the income generated in Cinque Terre seems to stay in Cinque Terre - the only advertisements I saw were for local businesses, often in hand-painted signs. The way to find the best restaurant is to ask someone who lives there. Some of the seasonal restaurant owners did live elsewhere during the slow season, which attributes for some capital attrition.

The towns of Cinque Terre are difficult to drive to and park in. More automobile access might provide a longer tourist season, but would certainly alter the character that attracts people in the first place. Nor is it easy to manage the seasonal income from tourism. It requires some budgeting and allowing for certain governmental regulations that aren’t always beneficial to small, seasonal businesses. One store owner was required by his business license to remain open for 9 months out of the year, even though it would have been more profitable to only be open for 6 (many of his products have a shelf-life; when his supply outpaces the demand there is a significant amount of waste).

Many of the intentional and eco-villages we’ve encountered are an exercise in managing trade-offs such as Cinque Terre‘s seasonal dilemmas: restore an existing (inefficient) structure OR build a new one? Attract lots of people and grow quickly OR be very specific about inhabitants and grow slowly, if at all? Perhaps the answer is in how to change the ORs to ANDs.

Torri Superiore

Torri Superiore (TS) is in the town of Torri which is just outside of Ventimiglia which is just outside of Nice, which is actually in France, even though we are in Italy.  TS is a cohousing/ecovillage/hotel in a converted medieval stronghold on the side of a hill.  It only has a footprint of about 300 ft by 200 ft, but its  network of Escher-ish staircases and efficiently shaped spaces provide for hundreds of rooms.  During peak season, over 70 people can stay here.

Although a stone castle structure isn’t the most efficient in terms of heating, the architects of the TS community decided that it would be better to start with an existing structure instead of building from scratch.  The renovation process started in 1989.

TS has an entire system of people that contribute to its well-being.  Some live here full-time, year-round and divide up cooking, cleaning, administrative, remodeling, and other responsibilities.  Others arrive only seasonally and help out with farming and other projects such as furniture building. Others own sections of the village and use it as a summer home.  Others are members of the Cultural Association and contribute in a variety of ways.

We got a chance to talk with several of the local farmers that help supply TS with organic and very local food.  Olives are a big crop here, although it appears to be more and more difficult to make a living growing olives, making olive oil, or providing many other crops while staying small and independent.  Hence the mutually beneficial relationship between TS and the local farmers -- one gets organic, local food, the other gets customers, and both share the labor of maintaining/remodeling an ecovillage and farm.

The olives from the trees don’t grow into new plants once they hit the ground -- the trees that are covering the terraced hillsides can be several hundred years old, and many are the same plants farmed by the people who settled in Torri during the middle ages.  The olive trees take a while to grow as well -- often times a farmer would plant trees not for his crop but for his children 15 years in the future.

Another challenge for local farmers is the restrictive national regulations.  One farmer had worked across the US and Europe and found the ability to try different practices and innovate with farming techniques was much easier in the US due to more flexible laws.

Meals at TS are shared in a common dining area.  Although people there may have different jobs and interests, food and eating is what brings everyone together.   Dinner doesn’t start until 7:30, and when we leave around 9:30 it is still going strong.