The city seal sits on the wall at Blågård Skole, in the Nørrebro district of Copenhagen. It’s the most ethnic part of this town, and an overall wonderful place; Griffenfeldsgade right around the corner is filled with African shops, and you can walk the entire length of it without meeting anyone looking remotely like the standardized, stereotypical Dane—or even hearing Danish.

Yesterday, I saw a minivan full of young guys in robes, chatting and grinning. This morning, there was a seven-person line in front of the supermarket’s bottle machine. I’m sure it’s the most popular bottle machine in Denmark.

Also right next to the school is Assistens Cemetary. A popular place for Copenhageners on a stroll, or picnic. Think about it. How crazy is that? People sunbathing in a cemetary—what are the odds? But I like it. Why are cemetaries only for grieving and sour moods? Why should the focus only be on death, when life is what’s really worth celebrating?

H.C. Andersen, Søren Kierkegaard and Niels Bohr are all buried there. I’m sure they, and whoever put up that city seal on the side of the school, never ever would have thought that the languages spoken in the Nørrebro surrounding them would be Turkish, Nigerian, Iranian—but I hope they’d agree it’s what makes it so Danish.

Nørrebro is a place for all of us.