Cross-border relations - Sidewalk Skateboarding

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Cross-border relations Cross-border relations

With global warming still remaining in the Irish distant future, earlier this year the cries to flee the seemingly never-ending winter season were at their usual peak. A conscious decision was made between the North and South side of Ireland for some cross-border relations with some international sun thrown in; Copenhagen and Malmo were soon chosen as our points of distention, and with some estranged Irish skate family already living in Malmo, we soon got onto our boy Phil Evans’ case for a reunion.

Arriving in Copenhagen on our first day and just missing the last spot of sunlight, our night was mostly spent drinking and skating around with excitement, blasting at top speeds through the cities never ending bike lanes.

As knackering as this experience is there, the ground is that flat and buttery that there really isn’t much need to hire bikes whilst out in Copenhagen. If you happen to a bit of a kleptomaniac then you’ll have a field day, as there are hundreds of bikes left sitting at the side of the road, completely unsupervised.  Awaking early in our hostel to the sweet sound of snoring and pneumatic drills, we were soon out and on the next train to Malmo to visit our dear friend Phil and spend a few days exploring the terrain on offer.

This mini ramp was the warm up spot for most mornings, and being conveniently located next to our apartment we took full advantage of it whilst we were waiting for our keys to get dropped off.

With the weather taking a downward spiral for the day we persevered despite the rain and took to some nearby carparks in hopes of results.  Waterford local legend Flanders decided to keep his clothes on for a change whilst blasting this boneless into the metal bank, producing enough noise to wake up half of Malmo in the process.

Keeping the theme of ducking for shelter going for the day, we ventured onwards to find more undercover carparks. Soon enough, Phil namedropped this place. Looking more like a villain’s layer in a James Bond movie than a carpark, there was more than enough room for the lads to spread out and get a quick skate in.  On a strict diet of McDonalds chicken nuggets for breakfast every morning, Gav soon had the MSG buzz and got this fat heelflip over the rail before we were politely told to leave by the local henchmen.

This Belfaster turned Londoner and overall hairy beast decided he was going to pull a sneaky one before meeting us in Copenhagen, and went off on another mini European adventure first. Safe to say we were all a bit jealous when he arrived and told us the news.

Laying down his signature move, Creany got to shutting down this set of ledges that the city kindly let Nike SB install, whilst at the same time, Ciaran and I got a lesson in media from a drunken soul who clearly couldn’t tell we were at our wits end with him.

We quickly learned that our Malmo tour guide also happened to be an all round karaoke slayer, but not before Phil decided to get the boys set up up first with moonshine to get our vocal chords in check. Safe to say, we probably freaked a lot of people out that night with our questionable music selection in a seemingly quiet restaurant. Soon after we overstayed our welcome, we found ourselves doing front flips in the mud outside a nightclub. Moonshine is a cruel mistress…

Previous to all of this chaos, Phil showed us the heartbreaking remains of some of Malmo’s DIY spots that had sadly turned sour. We stumbled upon this sketchy quarter for a hefty session, for Phil to hammer out this hurricane, and for Gav to stock up on some GoPro footy.

Whilst waiting for some of the lads to come back from Christiania “Freetown” we wasted no time arriving back in Copenhagen with only a day and a half to spare and settled at this here spot awaiting the rest of the crew. Phili got to work starting a hefty line with this switch 180 whilst getting some nearby props from stoked tourists.

With another washout coming out way at midday, our hopes of a street skate in the spot filled haven of Copenhagen came to an end for the day, so we retreated to the hostel to dry off and get some much needed grub to fill the void. Making the most of our time left, some of us still hadn’t got the chance to visit the infamous Christiania.

Leaving it a little later than planned, we ventured over and while the sun began to set we felt a bit unsure of how much of it would be left to see. On arrival, most of what was on offer was shrouded in darkness. Unsure of what to expect we headed straight for the bowl. This is no ordinary bowl as we soon learned; with its extremely tight transition and with it being both slippy and whippy as hell only a select few of us could actually skate it without almost dying.

Receiving awkward stares from nearby lurkers in the place, safe to say it all felt slightly uncomfortable, until one of the local kids rolled in and showed us how the bowl was meant to be skated. Being quite reserved he was a difficult enough person to get any sort of a sentence out of, but he seemed keen enough when I wanted to shoot this photo. I was stoked we did, although I was half cut…and I had to ask him to do it a few times, which I think helped his keenness sort of disappear…

With our last day left in Copenhagen and after accidentally stealing what we thought was a free breakfast from our hostel, we played it safe and kept it relatively close by to the train station for the afternoon. The thing I loved about Copenhagen and Malmo the most has to be how politely rad the locals are. Some guy we had briefly met the day before – I say ‘some guy’ because his name was too hard to remember or pronounce – came thundering over to us on his bike when he saw us skating here and asked if we where the “Irish lads” from yesterday. After barely recognising him in our hungover state, he threw his bike down and started sessioning this ledge with us, chatting away the whole time. Cian slipped his way into this switch back tail, trying his best not to hit into any hotheaded cyclists in the nearby bike lane.

Kildare local and temporary Barca resident Cian O’Boyle joined us for the trip. After this trick went down we had left ourselves just about enough time to catch our train to the airport. Well…not the airport, the countryside of Copenhagen we later came to realise after about an hour of traveling. Nothing wakes you more than the panic of thinking you’re going to have to fork out another £200 for a flight home. Luckily that didn’t end up being the case.

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